Disclaimer: I merely own my thoughts! The rest is JKR's!

Warnings: ho hum, not a lot, if anything?

Authors note: There was some researching on the Lexicon, but if I missed anything or am not portraying things well, I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts. Also I probably should have edited a little more heavily, so if you catch anything, let me know! Thanks, Enjoy! Oh also, since there are only 3 code names in this one, and one is Draco, I'm not including the full blown list, but Tartarus is Ginny Weasley and Hecate is Malcolm Baddock.

To an outsider it probably looked ridiculous, but they were assuming no one was looking closely at what wild animals were doing at night. A raccoon was clinging to a hyena's scruff as it loped along side a red roan pony, who seemed awfully comfortable around the large predator beside her.

They'd been traveling for three days, moving the moment the sun went down and going as far as they could before either the sun rose again, or exhaustion set in. Their first stop was a herd up in the midlands of the country, one of the largest herds that they could find record of.

Draco loped along easily, glad that his hyena's endurance was far more impressive than his human form could ever hope to achieve. He had a lot of time to think as they moved, but he hadn't had any success in controlling his nerves yet. He knew this was dangerous, and probably stupid, but he didn't know which humans to trust, and which to hate right now.

Centaurs were proud, long lived, and revered children's innocence above all else, but the ministry was making a huge mistake thinking that they would take these offences quietly. If Draco could only figure out how to make their similar desired ends yield a cohesive force, he could maybe just maybe really impact this, thing. Not quite a war yet, as Voldemort was hiding behind the ministry, playing them like his little puppets. He knew that centaurs also didn't believe in meddling in the affairs of men, but if the affairs were murdering their children, surely some meddling was necessary?

Tart nudged Draco awake, the three of them had slept under a small rocky over hang, beside a creek, curled together, too wary of attracting attention to light a fire, and too weary to set up the intricate spells that might allow for a powerful enough ward to conceal the flames. He stretched, blinking up at the reddish sky. Tart could shift and graze, it was time for Draco to hunt, then bring his left overs back for Hecate to shift into and eat. He gently removed the smaller boy's head from his side, letting him sleep on, and nodded to Tart, rising and shifting. He was bone weary in any form at this point, but they were getting close, all of them could smell it on the wind. A sweet, dusty, scent that was somewhere between herbs, horses, and magic.

He moved along, eventually catching a fat hare, carrying it back to the rocky outcropping, tearing off a leg for Hecate, before laying to tear the small animals body into delicious shreds. Hecate blinked himself awake, looking a little sick at seeing Draco tear into a rabbit as his first waking sight, but quietly shifted and began pulling strands of muscle from the leg, neatly and meticulously polishing off his breakfast.

They hadn't done an overwhelming amount of talking since the first night, where they'd discussed a plan, gone over the dangers, and how daunting their task was, since then just the occasional joke, but the serious nature of this task compared to their rowdy previous missions hung over them, and in the end they were too tired to joke much, and too worried to bicker much either.

Tart eased herself down onto her front knees, nickering softly to Hecate, who abandoned grooming himself to climb up, careful to only grip her thick, reddish mane with his claws, and not the thinner skin across her back. When she straightened up, and Hecate appeared to be safely clinging to her back, Draco nodded to them, and began to move north, his nose down close to the ground, following the sweet, rich, magical scent of their targets.

Draco stopped, his ears pricked, lashing his tail in warning to the others. Tart halted, Hecate peering curiously around her head. He could hear hoof beats, other than Tart's. He shifted, signaling to the other. Hecate leapt down from his perch, shifting once his feet touched the ground, Tart shifting as soon as he leaped off of her.

The three stood still, hearing the hoof beats approach. They were unmasked, Draco didn't want them to seem threatening, and wanted to make it clear that they were young, hoping this meant the Centaurs might not immediately hurt them. Draco squared his shoulders, chin raised up confidently hoping that his nerves didn't show.

Over the crest of a hill came a group of six male centaurs. The one in the lead was a fair skinned, brown furred centaur with a thick jagged scar slicing down the center of his chest. He stopped, a few feet from Draco, his companions coming to a stop behind him.

"What are you doing in our forest, werewolf?" His voice was deep, melodious, and hypnotic almost. Draco swallowed nervously and had to take a steadying breath before answering.

"We've come for your help."

One of the other centaurs, a grey bodied horse, with black hair and a black tail snorted rolling his eyes in clear mockery of Draco. Draco didn't mind being mocked, at least not when one of the other strong possibilities was being shot through with an arrow.

Their leader looked amused for a moment, but just nodded, clearly waiting for Draco to go one.

"I'm- I'm called Chaos. I've been sheltering all the children, that I can find from, you- Voldemort, and the ministry. But I need help, and I know we've no right to ask, beg really, but we were hoping to come up with some kind of treaty or trade, we could protect your foals in our wards, with your help, if you were to help us get more of own and maintain the wards."

The words tumbled out in a rather less graceful than he would've hoped breath, but there, he hadn't been offensive or anything, and he'd been about as humble as he knew how. The centaurs were all watching him, their high cheek boned faces hard to read, and stoic. He saw the anger flash through a few sets of less guarded eyes when he mentioned the foals, and tried not to look terrified. These centaurs were huge, much larger than Draco had expected, and they looked as if they could fight him easily, in any form, singlehandedly, every one of them.

"We do not participate in the affairs of men," the fair skinned leader said finally, his deep voice even.

"We aren't men," offered Tart quietly, pausing before continuing, her voice wavering, but determined, "We're just children, all of us."

The centaur just shook his head slowly, but as he turned, Draco couldn't help it, he spoke up again, danger be damned. "Come on. We have the same goal, we can't live under these regulations. I'm a werewolf, my fugitives are either condemned by their families for not believing murder is right, or condemned for being born to the wrong parents. We just want to live out this stupid war, but we need help, and we can't trust people. We need your help, and we can hide your foals with our own brothers and sisters, we can all just fight against the killing of innocents just because they happened to be born or made in a way not approved by some stupid minister, or some stupid Wizard."

Their eyes all flashed, but before any response could be offered, Draco shot his ego in the face, and begged. "Please? Please just- At least consider it? We can wait, we'll wait here, but we need help or we won't make it, and it isn't our fault, it isn't our fight."

Draco met the pale brown eyes of the leader squarely, his own stormy eyes determined. He knew that someone, some centaur somewhere would have to agree to this, who wouldn't try to at least consider all the options?

The tall, pale centaur held his gaze, his deep eyes feeling like they were reading every facet of Draco's very soul, his reserved face slightly taut, and the gaze felt as though it burned through Draco's core for an eon, before he broke the gaze, and the lead centaur merely nodded slightly.

"Then wait."

And with that, they all turned as one, their even tempo-ed hooves carrying them away.

"God, what a cryptic species. Can't they just say yes or no?" Tart said sulkily, but a smile was across her freckled face. Draco smiled, and then laughed, feeling slightly elated now that his nerves were temporarily eased.

Hecate gave them a weak smile, adding, "At least we aren't dead, though."