A pale moon hung high in the cloudless sky when they snuck out of Malfoy Manor. Hermione could only describe their actions as sneaking, given they hadn't told anyone where they were going or, in fact, that they were leaving at all.

It occurred to her that she was putting an inordinate level of trust in Draco Malfoy—but at that point there was little else she could do. He seemed to think, through some sort of instinct—whether or not it was misguided was yet to be determined—that the sender of the letter wasn't interested in harming them.

The wording of the letter had been bizarre and vague, to be certain, but Hermione didn't share in his hope. Ironically, she considered the fact that it was usually the other way around, and Malfoy was often the skeptic.

Her heart clenched tightly in her chest at the thought that he might be wrong. If it was a trap, they would simply never return, and no one would know where they had gone or why.

A shudder crept down her spine at the thought, and Malfoy cast her a glance, his eyes bright against the darkness of the night sky. The address in the letter had led them to a forested Muggle park near the outskirts of London, and the street looked otherwise deserted.

"Are you still sure about this?" she whispered, scarcely allowing herself to take a breath.

"No," he returned, expression hard. Cracking his wrist, he flexed his fingers, and they sparkled with a hint of lunar magic. "But if something goes wrong, we can't hesitate. Get out and Apparate back into the Manor wards, whether or not I'm with you."

The vast swelling of nerves in her system pushed for an argument, but she clenched her jaw and remained silent. After a belated pause, she hissed, "We give it ten minutes—if no one shows, we leave."

"Deal."

The park was lit only by dim street lamps that cast the paved pathway into a dull yellow hue. Towards the forested area, the lights abruptly ended, and Malfoy drew her hand into his as he led her towards the treeline.

A single bench marked the end of the pathway, and Hermione came to a dead stop as Malfoy's hand clenched hers at the sight of a lone hooded figure that looked decidedly masculine. The hood cast his face into deep shadow, and Hermione couldn't tell whether it was someone they knew until he stood, cleared his throat, and drew the hood back from his face.

Malfoy stared, expressionless, even as a tight breath hitched in her throat.

Standing before them was Claude Arcand.

He looked at each of them in turn then around the darkness of the green space before casting a revealing spell.

Beside her, Malfoy's upper lip curled into a sneer. "You said alone. We're alone."

"We do not have much time," Arcand said in accented but crisp English. Hermione was reminded of the fact that he refused to speak anything other than French when they had met with him in Paris. "You must listen closely because I will not repeat myself."

Casting Malfoy a glance, Hermione shifted on her feet, but his face remained inscrutable. The only indication he had even heard Arcand speak was the tightening of the skin around his eyes.

"You are planning to go to France," Arcand carried on, nonplussed. "You seek to remove me as French Minister of Magic."

"A reasonable assumption," Malfoy said, raising a brow. "Why do you say so?"

"Because I know so," Arcand hissed, and it was then that Hermione noticed his hands were shaking. He cast another furtive glance behind them, and back into the forests. "Your moves have been tracked for longer than you know. Cosette has spies everywhere."

When Hermione released a sound of incredulity, Arcand's frantic stare snapped to her. "So what are you doing talking to us?"

"As I said in my letter, I have an offer for you."

Chewing on his tongue for a moment, Malfoy only stared at the man. "Why should we trust anything you have to say? You're Avance; you're in Cosette's bloody pocket—"

"I need your help," Arcand interrupted, and a thick, tense silence fell among the three of them. Clearing his throat, he added a sharp, "I am not Avance."

With another uncharitable sneer, Malfoy drawled, "Could have fooled me."

But Hermione's head fell to the side. "What does Cosette have on you? Why have you carried on her plans for so long?"

"It was not meant to go on this long," Arcand said, tugging at the collar of his shirt beneath his hooded cloak. "A few small favours, as it began. Cosette had helped me in my bid for the French Ministry, and when she asked, I could hardly say no; it all sounded harmless at the time—but I would take it back if I could."

Malfoy folded his arms. "Answer her question."

Genuine fear flashed in Arcand's eyes through the dim yellow light. "I will resign my position in the Ministry—I will even ensure the candidate of your choice is my successor, and you will have no more trouble from me. But please…" His voice choked off, expression searching. "Cosette has my family. My wife and daughter—please help me get them back."

Surprise chased through Hermione, and she met Malfoy's stare. Wordlessly, he gaped for a moment before shaking his head and snapping his mouth shut. "She has your family—where?"

"I do not know," Arcand moaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment. When he lifted it once more, he sucked in a long breath. "They are alive; that is all that I know. But as long as Cosette has my family, she has control over me."

"And control of the French Ministry," Hermione inferred. Arcand gave a miserable nod.

"I did not realise the extent of the situation when you visited Paris," he explained, gesturing with a hand that now quaked with a nervous tremble. "And of course, at the French Ministry I am not safe to speak freely. Even when I met with your British Minister—I did not know if he was a man I could trust."

"So," Malfoy said, sweeping a hand along the back of his neck, "we help you find your family… you walk away?"

"As long as we are protected," Arcand said with a thick swallow, "yes. I will be no more trouble to you—my family and I will go far away. And…" His expression darkened, jaw clenched. "I will do what I can, before I go, to ensure Avance has no more hold in my country."

Frowning, Hermione asked, "How are we meant to find your wife and daughter if you have no idea where they are? In France or otherwise?"

"I do not know," Arcand said, squaring his jaw. "It is my hope your Nocturnus networks are deep enough and influential enough. Your man Bergen—he has discovered many things."

Hermione shared another glance with Malfoy, jarred at the depth of Arcand's knowledge about the inner workings of the Nocturnus Order. They would have to inform Bergen his movements were being noted. Turning back to the man, she demanded, "How has Cosette been breaching our wards? How are they following us?"

"That I do not know," he returned with a quick shake of the head. "Cosette treats me as a puppet for her own means, but does not tell me of her larger plans." With a glance down at his wrist, he gulped. "I must leave—if my Portkey returns and I am not there, this will all be for naught. I will be in touch as soon as I can, and I will follow through on my word if you are able to help me."

Malfoy stared at him for another long moment in the silence of the night, clenching his hand briefly into a fist, before he offered a single, sharp nod. "I will see what we can do about locating your family. In exchange, you will secure the candidate of Nocturnus' choice atop the French Ministry, and we will never again hear from you."

Arcand only breathed, "Oui. Yes."

Finally Malfoy extended his hand, and Arcand gave it a firm shake. With a nod to each of them, Arcand reached into his cloak and vanished.

Releasing a tightly held breath, Hermione glanced at Malfoy. "Well then."

She received a grimace in return.

By the time they returned to Malfoy Manor, it was nearly midnight, but Draco's mind was abuzz, and he knew sleep would not come readily. To his surprise, he found Bergen and Dagomir conversing in the kitchens over a cup of tea when he ducked his head in.

"Lunae!" Bergen exclaimed, his teacup clattering against its saucer. "We have not heard from you—what was in the letter you received?"

Pressing his lips into a tight line, Draco looked between them and said, "Summon the council for a meeting in fifteen minutes. We have a plan of action."

Then he made for the Council room, Granger at his side. Shaking her head as they walked at a brisk pace, she mused, "I can hardly believe it."

"Neither can I," Draco admitted, clenching and unclenching his fists as nervous energy coursed through him. "Or can I? At this point it seems as if there are few things Cosette isn't willing to do to reach her own aims. Maybe it makes sense after all, that Arcand was never at the helm of anything."

"If he was only ever her mouthpiece."

Within minutes, Glenneth and Oro arrived in the council room, the latter with his hair in wild disarray but a roll of parchment and a quill clenched in his hands. Dagomir and Elias took up their seats moments later, and just as Draco was about to call the meeting to order, Hugo arrived, looking both unkempt and disgruntled.

Draco fired him a look, and Hugo's expression fell blank. Idly, he wondered what they had drawn Hugo from and found the smallest twist of pleasure at the thought.

With the expectant stares of the council upon them, Draco and Granger explained the occurrences of the day, starting with the ambiguous contents of the letter—strategically designed to catch his attention—and concluding with their bizarre meeting with Claude Arcand in a Muggle park.

"So he wants us to find his family… and he'll fuck off?" Hugo drawled with a flippant wave. Bergen hissed at his profanity, but Hugo looked nonplussed. Perhaps he had been drinking or otherwise indulging.

Draco's lip curled at the thought, but he nodded all the same with a quick, "That's about the long and short of it." Turning to face Bergen, he added, "Cosette has been tracking your movements. So if we're going to pull this off without drawing Avance's attention, we're going to need to figure out a different plan of action."

Bergen flinched and shook his head. After a moment's consideration, he said, "I will have some of my team see what they can find. Hugo will meet with our contacts in my stead."

Although he didn't care for that idea, especially since Elias Bergen was the one who had continuously proven his worth and the validity of his contacts, Draco couldn't see another way around the situation. If Cosette and Avance caught wind that they were looking for Arcand's family, it wouldn't be good. For the Nocturnus Order or for Arcand's family. And despite the trouble the man caused them, Draco couldn't help a twinge of sympathy. He knew all too well the desperation that came from acting to save one's family. Arcand's wife and daughter were likely as complicit in the situation as Granger was.

"Fine," Draco said, conferring in a quick glance with Granger. She offered a brief nod. "Hugo—you'll take the lead on this investigation. But I hope I don't need to emphasise the need for discretion on something of this importance."

Hugo's expression sobered, and he clasped his hands on the table, exchanging a look with his father. "Yes, Lunae. I will do everything in my power to maintain the secrecy of this mission."

Clearing her throat, Granger spoke to the room at large. "Preempting everything goes well in recovering Arcand's wife and daughter, he will ensure our candidate of choice takes his position atop the French Ministry." Turning to Bergen, she continued, "Do we have anyone inside who could reasonably fill the role without it being a stretch?"

"We do." Shuffling his papers, Bergen turned to the council. "Several, in fact. A long-time seat in the Wizengamot who could feasibly be conferred a popular vote when a proper election is held; a higher-up in the French Department of Law Enforcement; and a Department Head in International Cooperation."

"Fine," Draco said, bouncing between the options in his head. "I don't think it matters so long as it's not Avance running things. So the best option would be one that's actually suited for the Minister role after the disruption from Arcand's resignation—someone with the political clout to reverse all of Avance's policies. The fewer waves we make with this entire situation, the better."

There was a quiet murmur of assent, and Granger glanced his way again. Bergen jotted a few notes on a sheet of parchment. "The other good thing about the situation," she began, quietly, "is that if Arcand is willing to step down, we won't need to incite the resistance in France after all."

"Right." Staring around the table, Draco forced a thick swallow. "The Ministry will be off our banner carriers' case in France as well. Honestly, this is a good turn of events for once." With a careful but significant glance towards Hugo, he added, "So I don't think I need to mention how this will need to be our number one priority."

Squaring his jaw, Hugo murmured, "Noted, Lunae."

Turning to Elias, Draco said, "I will leave the decision on our candidate to you—but we'll need a name in advance of Arcand's resignation."

Bergen offered a crisp nod and set his quill on the table. "It shall be done."

"Very well." Thinning his lips, he nodded to the council. "That is everything for tonight—thank you for your expedient attention to this. We will meet again in a few days. Hugo, please keep me updated on your progress with the advisers."

He supposed if the role would be Hugo's one day, Draco would need to learn to trust the young man in the same way as he trusted his father. Only it was a matter of more responsibility than he would have liked to give Hugo in leading his first task—he could only hope Hugo wouldn't fuck it up.

For the first time since the council had formed, Hugo was taking frantic notes. He glanced back up again, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. "Very well. I appreciate the opportunity and will keep you informed."

"Good." Clapping his hands together, Draco rose to his feet, and the rest of the council followed. With a half-hearted grin, he departed with a muted, "Have a good night, everyone," Granger at his side.

By the time they returned to their private quarters, it was past one o'clock in the morning; when he dropped into bed, planting a sleepy kiss to Granger's mouth, it was only moments before he drifted to sleep.

Draco blinked awake, silently flinching when he saw Podski staring at him from far too close. Flashing a toothy grin, the elf quipped, "Oh good, Master Draco is awake."

Rubbing at his eyes, Draco rolled onto his back. Granger had already risen, and he could hear the distant sounds of a shower running in her old quarters adjacent to his—theirs, since she had more or less been spending every night in his bed and only returned to her quarters to bathe and dress. "Now I am," he grumbled, voice slurred with sleep. "What is it, Podski?"

"Mistress Narcissa has requested Master Draco and Mistress Hermione join her for lunch in the gardens," Podski exclaimed, his voice squeaking. "She insists, sir."

Rolling his eyes, Draco rose from bed in just his shorts, idly glancing at the clock on the far wall. "We will meet her at noon."

"Very well!" With a sharp crack, Podski vanished.

Sweeping a hand through his disheveled hair, Draco made for his own shower when a thought struck him. A smirk dragged his lips upwards as he ventured into Granger's quarters instead, dropping his pants as he crossed the threshold into her bathroom.

Through the fogged glass, he could just make out the lines of her back, and he stepped into the large walk-in shower, dragging her back against his chest as the scalding water seared across his skin.

Granger released a quiet yelp of surprise, her eyes wide as they snapped around to find his. Her lips pursed even as they twitched with a smile. Turning to face him, she murmured, "Good morning."

Eyes lidded, he swept the length of her with a leading stare. "Indeed." Draco palmed the curve of her arse, tracing the line of her jaw with his nose before taking her earlobe between his teeth, the hot water flowing over them both. "We're to meet my mother for lunch at noon."

"Okay." Dragging her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze dropped to his burgeoning awareness of her nudity with a smile. "How good of you to bring the message in person."

Backing her into the tiled wall of the shower, tendrils of steam chasing up between them, Draco lifted one of her legs, hoisting it around his hip. With a sharp hitch in her breath, she took him in her hand and guided him towards her opening without preamble, her eyes fluttering shut when he slid inside.

Growling lowly at the sensation, he slammed up into her with a teasing, "You know I aim to please."

Narcissa was waiting for them by the time they arrived in the gardens, and Draco approached with caution, knowing his mother was likely to be upset with him. Podski had already prepared a spread of finger sandwiches and tea, and Draco drew Granger's seat for her, slipping into the next chair and selecting a few items.

With an idle sip of her tea, Narcissa flashed a tight smile. "Hermione, dear, it's lovely to see you. And Draco."

"And you." Beaming, Granger filled a small plate of her own, offering Podski a gracious nod when he eagerly deposited a cup of tea in front of her. "The gardens are looking lovely."

Chewing a bite, Draco flashed her a look.

"Indeed." His mother's displeasure with him was written in the tension of her shoulders even as she took another nonchalant sip of tea. "Plenty of time to work in the gardens, you understand." He fought the urge to roll his eyes when his mother's blue stare swivelled to land on his. "Especially when my only son opted to leave home on his birthday and did not return for dinner."

Sighing, he took a long sip of ice water. Granger's eyes snapped to him as well, and he felt implicitly outnumbered. But what startled Draco the most was the hint of hurt in her chocolate gaze. Her voice was soft, a furrow in her brow. "I didn't know it was your birthday."

"I don't care to make a big deal of it—-which my mother knows." Turning back towards Narcissa, he added, "Hermione and I went to the fair in Chippenham, and we had a lovely day."

Something like recognition flickered in her stare, and Granger's expression softened with a bit of a smile. "That was your birthday?"

"It was." Tugging her hand into his, he gave it a brief squeeze. "And it was the best I could have asked for." They were in polite company, otherwise he would have brought up the way she'd had sex with him outside in the rain to cap it off.

But given the dusting of pink on her cheekbones, she had already made the connection.

His mother released a begrudging sigh even as her lips twitched with a smile upon observing them. "Very well, then. I suppose I'm not the only woman in Draco's life anymore, am I? I confess it isn't something I've had to deal with very often."

Before Granger could say anything, Draco murmured, "You are not—but you will always be my mother, and I apologise we didn't make it for dinner."

Proffering a small wrapped package, his mother clasped her hands together as her smile widened into something genuine. "I am glad you didn't spend the day holed up in that council room trying to solve too many problems."

"As am I," Granger exclaimed with a sharp nod. "And had I known, I would have—"

"It's fine." Draco cut her off, giving her hand another brief squeeze. "I wanted to spend the day with you and I did."

Emotion flickered once more across her face, and swallowing, he glanced away. Slipping his fingers beneath the edge of the gift wrap on his mother's gift, he flashed them both a banal smile. Inside was a small felt box, and confusion lanced through him as he met his mother's stare, snapping open the lid.

Hesitant, Narcissa said, "Glenneth, your high mage, approached me after you all returned from Italy—he said there was a chance the item was lost altogether, but it was one of your great-grandfather Septimus' possessions when he was the last Lunae Ortus. It took me some time to find it in the Malfoy vaults."

With a skip in his heart, Draco slid a handsome silver ring from the box, observing the fine detail in the metal. A crescent moon shimmered on the face of it, stars carved from sapphire embedded on either side. An unexpected swell of emotion sat heavy on his chest.

"He told me…" Narcissa continued, as Draco handed the ring to Granger for her perusal. "I didn't understand the specifics of course, but Glenneth said it will help you to hone and control your new powers."

At his side, Granger sucked in a tight breath and handed him back the heavy ring. Gazing at it for a long moment, feeling the significant weight of it in his palm and his soul, Draco offered his mother a nod. "Thank you—this means a lot."

Slipping the ring onto the middle finger of his marked hand, Draco felt a frisson of power chase the length of his arm, his fingertips pulsing with the magic within them. Adrenaline raced through his veins at the feel of it, pushing once more towards the crescent on his wrist and through the veins of his palm. With a twist of his wrist, white magic burst forth from his fingertips, dancing and hovering in the air before him.

His mother watched as the magic dissipated, emotion clear on her face as she stared between the two of them. "Happy birthday, Draco." Dabbing at her eyes with a serviette, she smiled. "I know what you're doing hasn't been easy, but I'm proud of you both."

It was rare to hear such an expression from his mother, and Draco clenched his jaw, reaching for her hand across the table.

Lost for words, he only nodded.

He had done all of this to keep his mother away from the dark forces that had once plagued her life. And now, with lunar magic pulsing through his veins, he was more convicted than ever.

Author's Note: Hey friends! I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Nocturnus. It's my birthday so I'm updating both of my WIPs today (because I can :P) if anyone's following Beyond and Again. Thanks so much for reading!

Alpha and beta squad love to Kyonomiko, LadyKenz347, and ravenslight!