The south of France was nothing like Theseus Scamander expected. It was beautiful, yes—the rolling hills, the sun-drenched vineyards stretching into the horizon, the air heavy with the aroma of lavender and grapes ripening in the sun. But there was an undercurrent of something else here, something older and more potent than mere scenery. Magic lingered in the soil, in the vines, and in the whispers of the wind. It thrummed softly beneath the surface, beckoning him to pay attention.

Theseus dismounted from his enchanted carriage, dusting off his coat as his boots hit the dirt path. The vineyard before him, Les Rêves de Lune, was unlike any he'd ever seen. The vines shimmered faintly, their leaves glinting gold when the sunlight struck them just right. Grapes hung in heavy clusters, their skins glowing as though they held starlight within.

The effect was mesmerizing, but Theseus wasn't here for the scenery. As an Auror for the British Ministry of Magic, he had been sent to investigate a series of illegal magical artifacts suspected of being smuggled through vineyards like this one. Les Rêves de Lune had come up repeatedly in his research, though no concrete evidence tied it to the crimes. Still, his instincts told him there was more to this place than met the eye.

"Monsieur Scamander?"

The voice startled him, low and smooth, with a lilting French accent. Theseus turned to see a woman standing at the edge of the vineyard, her silhouette framed by the golden afternoon light. She was striking—long auburn hair tied loosely at her back, her eyes a piercing green that seemed to see right through him. She wore practical robes, the dark fabric cinched at the waist, but her presence was anything but ordinary.

"You must be Seraphine Lemaire," Theseus said, extending a hand. He noted the faint hesitation before she shook it, her grip firm and warm.

"And you must be the Ministry's watchdog," she replied, a flicker of amusement playing on her lips. Her tone was polite, but there was an edge to it, a challenge.

"Investigator," he corrected with a small smile. "I'm just here to ensure everything is in order."

Seraphine arched a brow. "In order? At a vineyard known for its magic, its eccentric owner, and its refusal to bow to Ministry interference? Good luck, Monsieur Scamander."

She turned and began walking down the path, her robes billowing slightly as the wind picked up. Theseus found himself following without hesitation, drawn by her confidence and the spark of intrigue she radiated.

"The Ministry has reason to believe that certain... questionable items may have passed through this vineyard," he said, quickening his pace to walk beside her. "My goal isn't to disrupt your work, but to ensure the safety of the magical community."

"Safety," Seraphine repeated, her tone unreadable. "And yet, it is not the Ministry that ensures safety here, Monsieur Scamander. The vineyard protects itself."

Theseus frowned. "What does that mean?"

Instead of answering, she gestured toward the vineyard. "Come. If you're going to poke around my home, you might as well see what makes it special."

She led him through the rows of vines, explaining in clipped but oddly poetic phrases how the vineyard's magic worked. Each plant was bound to the land through ancient enchantments, maintained by her family for generations. The wines they produced weren't just beverages—they were experiences, capable of evoking emotions, memories, even dreams. Les Rêves de Lune translated to "The Dreams of the Moon," and Seraphine assured him the name was no exaggeration.

"Why share all this with me?" Theseus asked as they reached the heart of the vineyard, a clearing where a massive willow tree stood, its branches trailing to the ground like a curtain. The air here felt thicker, charged with energy.

Seraphine leaned lightly against the tree, watching him with an expression he couldn't quite place. "Because you're not the first Auror to come here, but you're the first who seems more interested in listening than accusing."

Theseus's jaw tightened. "I'm not here to accuse anyone unjustly."

"Good." She tilted her head, her gaze unrelenting. "Then perhaps you'll find what you're looking for. Or perhaps you'll find something you didn't expect."

There it was again, that edge of challenge in her voice, coupled with a hint of something else—curiosity, perhaps. Theseus wasn't sure if she was toying with him or testing him, but he couldn't deny the pull she exerted, like gravity drawing him closer.

"I'll do my job," he said simply, stepping closer, though he maintained a respectful distance. "And I hope I can do it without disrupting yours."

Her lips curved into a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "We shall see, Monsieur Scamander. The vines have their secrets. So do I."

The wind rustled through the leaves as they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words between them. Theseus felt it then, as undeniable as the magic in the air—this place, and this woman, would test him in ways he hadn't anticipated. And for the first time in a long while, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to resist.