After spending the entire previous day attempting to select a suitress, all Draco wanted to do was hide himself away from the responsibility—and the deadline of it. While there had been a number of ladies who had caught his eye, he couldn't shake the idea that the best choice was—almost unbelievably—Granger.

His advisers were divided on the idea, but even those opposed to her blood status had conceded the thought that she was powerful and had significant influence over the wizarding community in Britain, if not beyond.

The real question was whether or not they would drive one another insane as soon as work together. Their conversation the day before had been civil enough, but they had both been on their best behaviour. Many of his other options would be a simpler match, to be sure.

But he needed a strategist and a partner in his Lunae Amor, not just a wife.

As Draco paced the corridor, deep in thought, he nearly stumbled into his mother. As he veered to the side to avoid colliding with her, he carded a hand through his hair, feeling frazzled.

His mother's lips quirked with a hint of amusement. "Draco. How is the selection process going?"

She made it sound so clinical; wrinkling the bridge of his nose, he sighed. "It's challenging, as expected. The issue is whether I select a woman who will make a good wife or one who will be more involved with the Order but doesn't understand the nuances of high society."

"This isn't a simple arranged union, Draco," his mother said, waving a flippant hand. "There is more at stake here than blood status and etiquette. The give and take of power between the Lunae Ortus and his Lunae Amor is the most important aspect. Why shouldn't a potential choice be both?"

Grimacing, Draco hesitated. "Because the most powerful, influential, and potentially involved option is Hermione Granger."

Narcissa froze, her hands clasped together at her front, a furrow to her brow. "Granger. As in Harry Potter's friend." It wasn't a question, but a confirmation. At Draco's nod, she replied, "I see."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he frowned. "Do you?"

"I do." With a slow nod, Narcissa's expression was pensive. "She is certainly powerful in a magical sense—and her influence in Britain is almost unrivaled due to her role in the war. Draco, do not discount her as your Lunae Amor because she is not of pure blood. I think she would be an excellent option—but why on earth has she any interest at all?"

"That's what I wanted to know." Shaking his head, Draco went on. "She said she has a vested interest in marginalised populations and magical creatures."

The look on his mother's face was calculating. "And will she stand in the way of your mission with France? If things don't go according to plan?"

"I don't think so."

Silence fell over the pair of them as they deliberated the merit of such a union.

When his mother spoke again, her words were quiet. "You need to be certain."

His response was delicate as he nodded. "Noted."

He carried on his way.

While most of the banner families of the Nocturnus Order had retreated following the Ascension, a number had remained, including the Nocturnus Guard and the Nocturnus Council. They were staying in an obscure wing of the Manor, and Draco rarely had cause to run into any of them other than intentionally or through prior arrangements.

He tried not to think about how things had gone the last time someone had taken up semi-permanent residence in Malfoy Manor.

Two mornings after the open call, Draco was scheduled to meet with his advisers to finalize the decision of the Lunae Amor, because proper preparations would need to be made in advance of the bonding ceremony on the full moon.

There was a nervous lump in the pit of his stomach as he made his way into what had been dubbed the Nocturnus Wing—which included both the throne room and the strategy room—having been revived from obscurity through the imbued magic of the Manor.

He had selected three favourable options, although it was a formality. Two of them were bland and uninteresting, and he couldn't even tell them apart. The third… the third had kept him up for two nights now.

Because the only person who had expressed even a vague interest in the deeper intentions of the Order itself, beyond his position and the title at stake, was Hermione Granger.

It was certainly ironic, given he'd belittled her for her blood status for years. Which had now been made irrelevant in light of things of actual importance. Like her magical ability.

One of the ancient Nocturnus journals he'd read through in preparation of the Ascension had suggested the magic of the Lunae Ortus would recognise well enough the best potential suit for the Lunae Amor, and he wasn't entirely certain that wasn't at play. But she truly was the best for a symbiotic union, as much as they were likely to drive one another up the walls.

As much as the archaic advisers might not understand.

A hand clapped Draco on the back, jarring him from his thoughts. Turning, he offered a forced smile to Hugo Bergen, treasurer and son of his chief adviser, and the man was evidently privy to attending Nocturnus Council as well.

"So," Hugo prompted in his Swedish accent, "you have selected one then?"

"I'm in final deliberations," Draco said, not wanting to reveal everything to the young man. Hugo struck him as spoiled, entitled, and self-important. He grimaced at the connection.

Hugo rolled his eyes. "I heard you were considering a Mudblood. Surely not?"

"As you must know," Draco ground through clenched teeth, "blood status is not the most important consideration in a union such as this. If I select a Muggle-born witch, it is no trouble with the Order. The best match is the best match."

"Technically," Hugo corrected, unabashed. "But no one wants you to sully such a pure line over it." With a conspiratorial grin, as if they were friends, he added, "Only no one has the bollocks to say it to your face."

Releasing a tight breath, Draco shoved past. "Excuse me—I'm late."

He swung open the elaborate door—midnight blue with the phases of the moon—and walked into the strategy room, ignoring the fact that Hugo followed him inside.

Elias Bergen stood inside in Nocturnus livery and bowed his head, with a murmured, "Lunae." The rest of the council rose and bowed, and Draco ventured forward with a short nod. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to grown men bowing and treating him like royalty—even if, technically, he was.

There was a brief, trivial discussion with regards to a location on the grounds to hold the bonding ceremony, and Draco couldn't figure out why they wouldn't simply use the same location as generations of Malfoys had done in the past.

Zoning out, his thoughts returned to the decision at hand.

There were three black and white photographs of three women on the table in front of him. Staring at each in turn, he found his gaze lingering on the third.

Elias Bergen rose, drawing Draco's attention, and asked, "Have you made your final decision?"

With a hint of a disdainful sneer at Hugo, Draco planted his palm flat on the photograph of Hermione Granger. Magic shimmered from his fingertips into the page, casting her visage with a silver hue as the other two photographs dissolved to ash.

Bergen nodded, his expression impassive. "Very well. You've selected a Lunae Amor."

A quiet murmur of conversation arose, but Draco found himself staring only at the shimmering photograph before him. Under his breath, he muttered, "Merlin help me."

The sound of talons rapping on glass drew Hermione from her book. Heart leaping in her chest, she paced to the window where the largest, most elegant bird she'd ever seen rested on the sill. As she opened the pane, it flew in, and Hermione blinked.

The owl wore some sort of embellished kerchief around its throat, midnight blue with silver embroidery, and eyed her with a stern glare as she attempted to refrain from laughing. It brandished a scroll of parchment, sealed with a silver wax crest.

Accepting the scroll, Hermione gave the bird a solemn nod before it departed. There was a quake of trepidation to her fingers as she unrolled the missive; evidently the sender had not instructed the owl to wait on a response.

Miss Hermione Granger

The Lunae Ortus Draco Malfoy requests your presence at eight o'clock PM this evening at Malfoy Manor. Please arrive via Apparition at the main gates.

Sincerely,

Oro Winnam
Court Scribe
Nocturnus Order

Hermione wasn't sure whether she ought to run screaming or laugh at the pretension of it all. She had only arrived home from work a half an hour prior to receiving the owl, and it was already seven o'clock. How odd that the letter would request she come by so late in the evening.

Perhaps Malfoy had literally become nocturnal.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hermione set the letter down. If the invitation was an offer, it would be her last opportunity to back out. As much as she'd tried not to think about it, little else had crossed her mind ever since meeting with him at Malfoy Manor several days prior. And while she was surprised to hear from him, his words made sense. By the way it sounded, he was looking for more than a woman to warm his sheets and carry his heirs.

Maybe she had been the only one to even suggest otherwise.

Not that the idea of marrying Malfoy sat well with her at all—but there had been a matured congeniality about him when they met, and it had inspired a shallow seed of hope that he might not be as terrible as he had been growing up. If nothing else, he understood the gravity of the situation.

And while the problem in France wasn't Hermione's fight, specifically, the rights and privileges of minorities and underdogs had always been her fight. The abuse of power had always been, and would always be, her fight.

If she were to sit idly by and watch as the situation grew worse, lives lost and populations displaced, she would never forgive herself if she'd had an opportunity to step in and had decided not to. If she had opted to be selfish.

Malfoy's motivations still didn't exactly mesh with the drastic measures he was taking, but he had been more open with her about it than she had expected. Maybe he truly had grown up since the war. But everyone had, to an extent.

She found herself staring at the contents of her closet, mind spinning with the possible implications of such a meeting. Disinterested in impressing Malfoy, as there were bigger things at stake, she selected a dress in a deep navy blue. It wasn't ideal, and the style was a few seasons back, but surely Malfoy was aware she hadn't made his final list for her fashion sense.

By the time she was dressed, her curls tamed from a long day, and stifling a yawn, it was nearly eight. Blowing out a long, anxious breath, Hermione Apparated to Malfoy Manor before she could think better of it.

Draco bristled as he felt the shimmer of the wards, informing him someone had crossed the threshold of the grounds. With his father in Azkaban, he had taken on the role of patriarch, and along with it, a whole host of other responsibilities. Not counting his duties now as Lunae Ortus.

"Podski," Draco spoke aloud. A small elf in the Malfoy crest appeared at his side. "I will retrieve Miss Granger myself when she arrives. Please prepare a tea service for my meeting. And… perhaps also include a decanter of the fine whisky."

"Very well, Master," Podski responded, ducking into a deep bow. "Podski will do that right away."

When the elf disappeared with a crack, Draco carried on towards the front gates. It was a beautiful, clear night, early hints of spring on the air despite the chill of the evening. The moon was already high in the sky, and Draco felt a keen awareness of it, as he always did now.

There was something rejuvenating about the moon—energizing—and it went along with the lunar affiliation his magic had developed through his Ascension. The moon quite literally gave him strength.

He hadn't yet learned how to channel the power he absorbed from the moon, but he knew he could do so, and he also knew his Lunae Amor would influence that as well.

Granger waited outside the main gates, and something like surprise flickered in her gaze when he greeted her. "I thought you'd have elves to get the door for you."

"I do," Draco said with a nod as he slipped his hands into his pockets. "And the guards, if you can believe, tried to insist they be the ones to retrieve you, so they could borrow your wand."

A hint of a smile curled Granger's lips. "Guards or babysitters?"

With a huff of a breath, Draco muttered, "A little of both, to be honest. Or so they try."

As he led her up the walk towards the Manor, he found himself lost for words even though they had many things to discuss. But there was something peaceful about the calm of night with Granger at his side.

Finally she said, "I can only imagine you invited me here for a reason beyond a quiet walk through the grounds in the dark."

Draco offered a smirk. "No, that was all. Just a quiet walk." She granted him a short laugh, and he added, "We have much to talk about. I only thought you might like to see the grounds properly."

Curiosity sat on her face, tension in the set of her shoulders and the uneasiness in her gait. But she only said, "Fine."

"Part of being the Lunae Ortus," Draco began, in an effort to fill the silence, "is that I've developed an affiliation with the moon. I can channel its strength through my own magic—or I will be able to, anyways. After the bonding ceremony."

"Fascinating," Granger breathed, without a hint of sarcasm. "That sounds like powerful magic."

He cast her a look. "It is."

For a brief moment, he debated moving their meeting into the gardens so he could prolong his exposure with the moon, but Granger looked cold even with her cloak on, so he led her towards the house instead in slow, measured steps.

"I suppose you know why I've invited you here."

Lifting a brow, she responded, "You've either selected me or this is a very roundabout way of turning me away."

Draco frowned as they reached the Manor, and once in the foyer, he hung her cloak on a coat rack. He hadn't wanted to start the evening on the wrong foot and had requested the elves allow him free reign in welcoming her. "You were the best option with regards to what I'm looking for."

"Very well." Granger dipped her head in a nod. "Then I suppose the fact that I showed up should tell you my answer."

Glancing at her as they walked towards the Nocturnus Wing, he slid his hands into his pockets. "So you're going to marry me?"

"How romantic," she teased, something alight within her eyes.

Draco snickered. "This isn't about romance, Granger. I can't promise you romance—and if that's what you're looking for, maybe we should—"

"I was joking."

He frowned, uncertain how to navigate the waters between them. As youths, they had never connected due to house lines and his own ingrained prejudice about her blood status, and then the matter of a war came between them. And now, as adults, he didn't know what to say to her.

Which made things all the more awkward since there was a good chance she was going to become his wife.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he announced, "We should discuss some things."

Granger nodded, the trace of teasing humour from moments before gone from her countenance. "I imagined that was why you asked me here."

Draco paced forward, pushing open the elaborate door of the throne room; Granger stopped on the threshold, wide-eyed and startled. He strode ahead, crossing the large expanse of the marble floor, before taking up a seat on one of the thrones. Eyeing her where she still stood, he dropped his head to the side.

"Take a seat, Granger."

Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "Where?"

Rolling his eyes, he smirked. Mockery was, if nothing else, safe ground. "The only other seat in the room. See how it feels."

Tentative, Granger made her way to the throne at his side. Within moments, she sunk into the plush fabric of the seat, looking small in its impressive height. She mused, "It's very comfortable."

"Of course it is; it's a bloody throne." Chuckling, Draco watched as she made herself at home; when she sat tall, she looked regal. She looked like she belonged there. "I know you don't like house- elves, but here at the Manor we employ six. They make a modest living wage and are entitled to several weeks of holidays a year, which they all regularly refuse."

A flush coloured Granger's cheeks. "Thank you for letting me know."

Gazing out into the abyss of dark marble, he went on. "A lot has changed around here since the war. I thought you'd like to know. The drawing room… has been demolished and rebuilt. Along with many other spaces where he regularly held court with his Death Eaters."

She released a tight breath but offered only a nod.

"Podski," Draco said. Startled, Granger gave him a look, until Podski appeared in the room with a cart bearing a full tea service along with the whisky Draco had requested.

"Master." Podski dropped into a deep bow, and with a snap of his long fingers, a small silver table appeared between them. The elf's eyes widened as he took in Granger. "Mistress is lovely!"

"Thank you, Podski," Granger said with a warm smile. "And thank you for the tea! It looks fantastic."

Podski flushed a dull pink. "The pleasure is Podski's, miss!"

With a crack, the elf Disapparated. Draco waved a hand. "Podski's prepared tea, and also, we have whisky."

Hesitating, Granger fired him a look. "I feel like we might need whisky for this. But let's start with tea."

Unable to stop a grin, he nodded. "That sounds like a good plan."

Draco kept a close eye on the way she prepared her tea. He hadn't been lying when he said romance wasn't a part of the arrangement—it certainly wasn't his forte, anyways, and this marriage was one of duty and influence over anything else. But there wasn't any harm in getting to know things about Granger—such as how she preferred her tea—if they were going to attempt to spend the rest of their lives together in one piece.

Granger was attentive as he explained the basics of the bonding ceremony and what sort of role she could play in the Order as his Lunae Amor. Once he'd exhausted what he knew, he turned to her. "Have you any questions?" Pausing, he added, "Who am I kidding; of course you've got questions."

Her lips twitched as she took a sip of her second cup of tea. "Will we require a contract?"

"Yes." Draco nodded. "I convinced the advisers to allow us to have this meeting in an informal manner when they tried to insist upon attending for the formal side of things. As a compromise, the advisers will draft a contract between us in advance of the ceremony."

Silently she nodded, deep in thought. "You mentioned the bonding ceremony doesn't require consummation of the marriage."

"Straight to it, then," Draco muttered under his breath, thinking they might need the whisky shortly. "No. It isn't a part of the bonding ceremony. The bonding is between you, me, and the lunar powers of the universe."

"I suppose I always thought an ancient bond like this would require consummation to go into effect," she mused, as if to herself.

Snickering, Draco shook his head. "You sound disappointed. We can if you like."

Her cheeks flushed, and Draco was glad he wasn't the only one embarrassed over the topic. "That isn't what I meant."

"The contract will include consummation at some point, as well as the production of at least one heir." Attempting to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible, Draco rose and poured two healthy portions of whisky. Granger offered a grateful nod. "Obviously, that will require both of us."

She managed a delicate, "Obviously."

"But," Draco went on, "I don't love the idea of being forced into it. And there will be no rush on that side of things—especially since we have more important matters at hand to deal with. So at the very least, we'll have time to grow more comfortable with each other."

Her voice dropped. "That's fair. I imagine I'll need to live here?"

"Yes." Taking a long swig, he winced. "Do you have a flat or something? You'll also likely need to quit your job."

"What?" Her gaze snapped to him, a furrow in her brow. "Why can't I continue to work? And for the record, I have two jobs."

Draco rolled his eyes. They had survived almost an hour of amicability. "Because, Granger, you'll have duties with the Order. As we've already discussed, you'll play a key role as my personal adviser and strategist. And besides that, you'll be in the public eye now, even more than you already were. Your life is tied to the prosperity of the Nocturnus Order, and I'll not have you kidnapped or something to be used against us—"

"I won't be kidnapped," she exclaimed, scowling. "Merlin, you make it sound as if I'm some helpless bloody—"

"Granger," he huffed; she fell silent. "These are not my rules. If you think you can just do as you please and also sit in the ruling seat of one of the most powerful magical orders in history, you're sorely mistaken."

"I'll continue to work," she snipped, "and you can include that in your contract."

His tone was deadpan. "You'll be the first Lunae Amor to do so."

"Fine," she said, her voice rising, "then maybe it's about time!"

Pressing his fingers into his temple, Draco took a long draw from his whisky before pouring himself another glass. "It isn't about oppressing you and your rights as a woman, as I assume you're thinking; it's about the fact that you simply won't have the time to contribute adequately to multiple fronts. Your role here is a full time position."

Granger sipped angrily from her whisky for a long moment as his words sunk in. Finally she announced, "I will leave one of my jobs and keep the other. And in advance of the ceremony, I'll take some time off."

Blowing out a breath, Draco muttered, "Fine."

This was a bad idea.

Looking both displeased and uncomfortable, Granger shifted in her seat, looking around the room. "Will you direct me through my responsibilities? Or perhaps you've some texts I can read—"

"I can do that."

"When shall I move in?"

Draco chewed his tongue for a moment as he stared at her. "Whenever you like before the bonding ceremony. Perhaps sooner might be better, so you can grow accustomed to things as soon as possible. You'll have tailors and handmaidens to prepare you. I can show you to your quarters if you like."

"We won't be sharing?" Her brows were high on her forehead, her expression otherwise stoic, as if trying to maintain her civility.

"That is something that will be up for discussion," Draco said simply. "I figured you wouldn't want to. Your quarters would be beside mine in the same wing."

With a nod, she said, "Fine." She slammed the last of her whisky. "Is there anything else we need to discuss tonight?"

Wincing, he shook his head. "Maybe that's enough for one night. I'll have the contract drafted, and we can go through it once more before it's finalized."

"Very well." Rising to her feet, she stepped down from the dais with her arms folded across her front, and Draco followed, feeling exhausted. "I will make the arrangements we've discussed on my end, and plan to move in within the coming week."

"Good." Draco was relieved it was one thing they wouldn't have to argue on. The last thing he needed was a wife who refused to live with him. "I'll owl you some materials if you return them as soon as you're through."

Chewing on her lip, she extended a hand. Amused, Draco shook it. "That sounds acceptable. Thank you."

"Thank you." After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Hermione." When her brows lifted, and she opened her mouth to speak, he ran a hand through his hair. "I'll have to call you something other than Granger. Please don't fight me on changing your name."

The skin around her eyes tightened, and for a second he expected another round. "I will concede this one, for the sake of your archaic little order."

"My archaic little order," Draco repeated with a chuckle, "that has more power than you can imagine."

For a long moment, Granger stared at him, and there was something he didn't recognize in her expression. But then she released a tight breath. "I respect what you're doing. For what it's worth. That's why I'm here."

As he held her stare, feeling something tighten in his chest, he nodded. "I appreciate that. And… I think we can make things work. It won't always be easy, and maybe it won't be what you would have chosen for yourself under other circumstances…"

"But it isn't about me," she said quietly. "And it isn't about you."

"Right." Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, having Granger at his side. He fought a grimace at the thought. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

Author's Note: Thank you all for your wonderful support with this story so far. A lot of elements are about to be set in motion and I hope you'll stick with me as we dig deeper. :)

Alpha love to Kyonomiko and LadyKenz347, and beta hugs to Ravenslight. Go give them some love!