Malfoy wore a scrutinising expression on his face as he eyed her from across the room that set Hermione on edge. When he sidled up alongside her with a leading stare, she sighed, folding her arms. "Yes?"

The last time she had seen him was the night they had spent on the roof of the Manor; she must have drifted to sleep in his arms because she woke up the next morning tucked safely in her own bed.

Offering her a smile, he planted a quick kiss to her lips. "You said Potter wanted to have dinner with us, if I recall."

"Harry and Daphne," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I thought you had no interest."

"I don't," he said quickly, a smirk on his face, "but—Potter works for the Auror's Office, doesn't he?"

Sucking her teeth, she lifted an unimpressed brow. "He does—why do I have the feeling you're up to something?" When he clicked his tongue, acting affronted, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Never mind—what are you up to?"

Wrapping an arm around her tense shoulders, Malfoy said, "I'm always up to something." Grey eyes flashing, he added, "But this is legitimate. I want to find out everything he knows about this whole Avance situation from a Ministry standpoint."

Considering the thought for a moment, Hermione conceded, "It's a fair point. If Minister Shacklebolt is feeling the pressure from Avance, it would be useful to know the extent of Avance's involvement here in Britain. When I still worked at the Ministry, I had a better perspective on the situation from the outside."

"Ironic," he drawled.

"But you do realize—" Tapping him on the arm, she fixed him with a hard stare. "You have to actually be social."

"I'll be social," he said with narrowed eyes. "I went to school with Daphne, remember? Doesn't make any sense to me why she wanted to marry Potter, but that's her business."

She frowned and jabbed at him in the ribs with her elbow. "I know you can be diplomatic—so just do that."

"I'll do that," he agreed. "And the more Potter can tell us about the Ministry, the better we can prepare ourselves moving forward."

It was an incredibly valid point, but his mood was already irritating enough that she hardly cared to boost his ego, so she only nodded. "I'll owl Harry today to make the arrangements. If we could keep the intrusive guard presence to a minimum, that would be nice."

He only said, "You know the guards. They do love to intrude."

Eyeing him for a long moment, she finally sighed. "You're in a strange mood."

"I'm not allowed to be happy?" he teased, facing her and running his hands down her arms. His voice dropped to a low tone that sent shivers along her spine. "I've been thinking of something else. While the situation in France is volatile, we ought to take another trip to look into things in Italy—both of us this time."

A breath hitched in Hermione's throat at the look in his gaze. "That would be nice."

"Do some digging into the past," he said, trailing the tips of his fingers to her hips, "and have some time for just us. And if all goes well—Avance won't even know we're there."

"All will need to go well." His proximity twisted her stomach into knots, and she found herself distracted by the softness of his lips. "Because especially if Avance is coming after us at home—we need to keep any advantage over them we can." Leaning up, she pressed her lips to his. "And for Merlin's sake, be careful about using the affiliation in front of anyone."

"Good point," he murmured against her mouth, resting his forehead against hers. Stepping back, he added, "On that note—I need to talk to Glenneth about something. Let me know what Potter says and I'll play nice."

Planting a kiss to her temple, he was gone before she could make any sense of him.

"You can't possibly be serious." Hermione froze on the threshold, mouth hanging open in disbelief. Lifting a single pale brow, Malfoy carried on with the task of fixing his crown securely atop his head. "Don't tell me that's what you're wearing."

"I can wear whatever I feel like," he mused, adjusting a stray piece of hair as he gazed at his own reflection. "Freedom of expression and all that."

Folding her arms, Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes outright—she ought to have known it would be like pulling teeth to get Malfoy to attend dinner at Grimmauld Place. "We are going for a casual meal," she said, exasperated.

Turning to face her, Malfoy ducked his chin. "You told me to be diplomatic. You may be attending a casual dinner, whereas I am brokering an exchange of information."

"You're serious about this."

Clad head to toe in his full Nocturnus regalia, Malfoy looked ready for a gathering of kings rather than Kreacher's signature meatloaf. Despite herself, staring at the look on his face, Hermione found herself snickering.

Squaring his shoulders, he said, "I was raised always to dress a step above—"

"A step!" Hermione exclaimed, a laugh forcing its way free. "Try the whole stairwell. Admit it—this is a play to flaunt your power over Harry. An immature and transparent one, might I add."

Though he had the power of the world at his feet, Malfoy could still be astoundingly childish. But picturing him seated at the grimy table in Grimmauld Place in his elegant robes and crown only exacerbated her mirth, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing outright, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

He adjusted the knot of his tie, lips twitching. "Fine—it's a play to flaunt my power over Potter. And I never claimed to be mature—or opaque."

Shaking her head, Hermione gave his forearm a squeeze. "Merlin knows how it happened, but you make me laugh, Draco Malfoy. We leave in ten minutes—change!"

When she turned to walk out from the room, judging by the look on his face, she thought he quite knew exactly what he was doing.

Fifteen minutes later, Malfoy strode into her quarters, dressed in a navy oxford and dark trousers, straightening the knot of his tie. Peering down at her, he lifted an unimpressed brow. "Is this acceptable, oh great Lunae Amor, queen of fashion choices?"

Eyes narrowing, Hermione stared at him for a long moment—long enough for his expression to tighten—but he didn't avert his gaze. Sighing, she fixed his tie, smoothing a wrinkle from his shirt. "Are you going to be in this mood all night?"

"Would you prefer I isolate myself and brood?"

She forced a smile. "No."

Pressing a kiss to her lips, he breathed, "Then yes."

Twining her hands around the back of his neck, she said, "I appreciate you doing this."

"Please," he scoffed. "You gave up your life for this. This is the least I could do—although I wish you would have let me wear the crown."

Biting down on her lower lip, Hermione said, "I ordered you something from one of your mother's catalogues. Consider it a late wedding gift."

Malfoy's expression faltered when she stepped out of his hold, a furrow of consternation in his brow. "I don't have anything for you."

"I don't need anything," she huffed, waving a hand. Moments later she returned, and he watched as she swapped his tie clip for one in the shape of a crown, three midnight blue jewels embedded in the silver. Within a small box was a matching set of cufflinks, and he swallowed as she secured them in place with a quiet, "There. Now you'll have your crown with you."

The look on his face released a swarm of butterflies into her stomach and sent her heart into freefall. "Thank you." With an impossibly soft kiss, he said, "Now come on—we're already late."

When she stepped through the Floo at Grimmauld Place, Hermione relaxed in the familiar atmosphere. But moments later when Malfoy followed her through with a hand to her back, recognition dawned on how much everything had changed.

Not only was she married, but she had come to operate on an entirely different plane of existence at Malfoy's side. She no longer indulged in frequent lunch and dinner plans at the Leaky or gossip over drinks. Her life now felt infinitely more complicated in comparison.

She didn't regret the mantle she had taken up, but it was a stark difference from the life she had previously led.

And when Harry strode into the sitting room with a sparkle in his green eyes and pulled her into an embrace, she felt strange when they broke apart. Daphne spoke quietly with Malfoy for a moment before smiling. "Welcome, both of you."

Scratching the back of his neck, Harry said, "Malfoy—and Malfoy."

Hermione fixed him with a look. Lingering by her side once more, Malfoy slipped his hands into his trouser pockets—a tell of his nerves—and said with a nod, "Potter. Thanks for the invite."

In a moment of tense hesitation, the two men stared at one another. Then, with reticence, Harry extended a hand. Considering him for a moment with shrewd eyes, Malfoy offered his hand as well. A breath chased from Hermione's lungs when they shook hands and stepped apart.

The four of them settled into the sitting room; Malfoy took the seat beside her on the sofa, and if she didn't know him any better she might have thought he wore unaffected confidence. But in the slight jiggle of his knee she recognised his hesitation and pressed her knee against his own.

"So," Daphne prompted into the silence, "how have you both been settling in since the wedding?"

Pressing his lips into a thin approximation of a smile, Malfoy said, "Well, thanks."

Hermione nodded and added, "It's been interesting, to say the least. But we haven't killed one another yet—and dare I say it, sometimes we actually get along."

A stifled chuckle crossed the room. Daphne announced, "Well, that's good news, considering."

"Considering Granger's stuck with me for life," Malfoy quipped with a bit of a bite.

Harry wore a look as if he'd plastered a close-lipped smile to his mouth and was determined to keep it there no matter what happened. Daphne rose and collected a bottle of Firewhisky, pouring four glasses.

Taking a grateful sip from her glass, Hermione added, "Or the inverse, more likely."

"So Malfoy," Harry ventured, "what's your quidditch team?"

Latching on to the safe haven of conversation, Malfoy nodded. "The Falcons. You?"

"Puddlemere." After a moment, Harry added, "Quite the match between them the other week."

"I'm afraid I missed it," Malfoy said, wincing. "We were… out of the country for a few days."

"Oh!" Daphne exclaimed with a smile. "Where did you go? Was it a honeymoon?"

Glancing sidelong at Malfoy, Hermione wished they had discussed more about what was off-limits as far as conversational topics. France was more likely to be public knowledge, and they needed to keep their interest in Italy private.

But he shook his head. "France—on business, I'm afraid. Not so much time for play right now."

A smirk lingered on his lips, and at the unpleasant look on Harry's face, Hermione swallowed, forcing a smile of her own. Hoping they could find a natural segue into the topic of the Ministry and Avance's influence, she said, "We've been working with some of the magical beings who have been marginalised by Minister Arcand's radical new policy shifts."

Malfoy nodded, placing a hand to her back between her shoulders. Hermione wasn't certain if the gesture was meant to be one of affection or to steady his nerves, but his expression was unreadable. "We have seen some small successes—and some, not so much."

"Right," Harry said, leaning forward in his seat. "I heard something about that—centaurs, right?"

Hermione sighed a breath of relief. "Right."

"From what I've heard," Harry said delicately, "you're stirring the waters with the Wizengamot."

Malfoy snickered, glancing away. "Unfortunately, the Wizengamot has no jurisdiction over the actions of the Nocturnus Order—try though as they may."

When Harry's expression tightened and he opened his mouth to speak, Hermione cut in, "Harry, you don't know about anything between Ministers Arcand and Shacklebolt, do you? Whether they've been in contact at all?"

Considering the question, his face hard, Harry said, "Kingsley had a meeting with Minister Arcand a few days ago. He looked… not entirely well afterwards."

"Arcand was in England?" Malfoy lifted a brow, glancing at Hermione.

Twisting his mouth to the side, Harry nodded. "That was when I heard about the Wizengamot." He turned to face Hermione, entwining his fingers. "Jurisdiction or not… they can make things unpleasant for you—I'd be cautious if I were you."

Malfoy's hand on her back tensed, and Hermione leaned back in her seat, carefully weighing her words. "Prior to this meeting between Shacklebolt and Arcand, the Wizengamot were mostly supportive of our actions in France."

"You're right," Harry said quietly, sharing a glance with Daphne. "They were, for the most part. And I've probably said too much already."

There was a hint of caution in his tone that Hermione was sure Malfoy caught as well. Pressing her lips together, she nodded. "Of course."

With the same banal smile retaking his face, Harry said, "A group of us are going to the Leaky next week for Dean's birthday. You two ought to come by. They'll be projecting the game."

Malfoy's grey eyes flickered to meet hers. Under his breath, he said, "Italy." Then clearing his throat, he spoke louder, "Thank you for the offer—Hermione and I will be away for a few days this coming week, and we aren't yet sure when we'll return."

With a shrug, Harry met Hermione's stare across the room. "Absolutely. Well, if you can."

"Thanks, Harry." Doing her best to ignore the roiling churn in the pit of her stomach, Hermione sunk deeper into Malfoy's touch, focusing on the bond coursing through her at the contact. When had she lost the ability to connect with her best friend? "We'll do our best."

Clapping her hands together, Daphne announced, "Dinner should be nearly ready."

Under his breath, a smirk pulling at his lips, Malfoy muttered, "Thank Merlin."

After a frustratingly stifled evening, Draco was pleased to return to the Manor. It had been challenging to find many things he could discuss with Potter when they led such different lives, and the only common ground—Quidditch teams—was something in which Draco hadn't had any time to indulge since he had Ascended.

Even Daphne, with whom he shared a house at Hogwarts, lived a life of trivialities and gossip. Deep down, Draco wished his life had not become the complicated mess it was now—but for all the downsides that comprised life as the Lunae Ortus, it was his responsibility.

They had enough problems to deal with, and the only good part of it all was that Granger was at his side.

But upon returning from Potter's house, she had retreated into her own quarters with a half-hearted smile. Her energy had dulled progressively as the evening went on, and he could feel it in the weak prod of her magic against his own. Draco wondered whether she regretted everything yet—because with the way things were going in both France and Italy, it could only be a matter of time before she began to wish she hadn't become involved.

After changing into a plain t-shirt and sleep trousers, Draco ventured into her sitting room, but she wasn't there, and the door to her bedroom was closed.

Hesitating, he debated whether he ought to retreat—but she had reached out to him on numerous occasions, and steeling his nerves, he tapped on her door. At a muffled "come in," he opened the door.

Granger laid on top of the covers in a tank top and shorts, half of her face buried in her pillow and a book propped open before her. It was the first time in weeks he had seen her read anything other than the ancient Nocturnus journals. Dropping down into the bed beside her, he leaned back against the headboard.

Glancing sidelong at her, Draco released a breath and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she said, idle and flippant, and he lifted a brow. Sighing, she marked her page in the book and set it aside. "No." Her hand found his and tugged him down to lay beside her; despair hung heavy on her face. "I feel like I can't talk to Harry anymore. Like I can't… I don't know, I can't relate."

"I know," he said, holding her stare. "I felt the same with Blaise and Theo to an extent. Like there's so much going on here—and we can't talk about most of it. The idea of going to the Leaky for casual drinks feels like a foreign luxury now."

"Right," she whispered, the word a quiet exhale. "I know what we're doing is important. But I don't know that I was ready to give up everything."

"But yet," Draco said, the words lingering between them, "you did. Your job—both jobs—and your flat."

"I did," she repeated.

"And…" he went on, trailing his fingers along the curve of her hip, "you walked into this complete unknown. For no reason other than you felt compelled to step up and take responsibility for something that had nothing to do with you."

Moisture shone in her glassy eyes, but she stared at him, unblinking, in silence.

Sweeping the pad of his thumb beneath her eye where a tear broke free, he sighed. "Unfortunately, what we're doing isn't easy, and these waters aren't charted. Most people don't and won't understand. Hell, I question every day whether I shouldn't have just let things run their course—especially after learning the truth about Avance. I'm not exactly the altruistic type."

"But you couldn't," Granger whispered.

"I couldn't," he echoed. "Not after everything that happened last time I stood by and failed to take a stand." Staring at her for a long moment, he felt his heart churn and stutter. "Maybe I'm a consolation, and I can accept that. But you are beautiful, you're courageous and brilliant, and maybe none of this makes sense now. Maybe it will never make sense… but in your heart, Hermione, you know you're going to make a difference."

Silent tears broke from her eyes, sadness etched on her face as she stared back at him. "You aren't a consolation. You're the only other person in this world who I feel like I can talk to now."

Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, lips lingering against her soft skin. When he drew away her eyelids fluttered, but she moved into his arms. Drawing her towards his chest, he shifted to drag the covers over top of them; magic pulsed between them and raced through his veins.

Eyes closed and dried tracks on her cheeks, Granger asked, "Stay here tonight?"

He nodded, tightening his hold. "Absolutely."

Author's Note: Thanks everyone, for your continued support on this story. It's the most ambitious thing I've ever undertaken, and your kind words honestly mean more than I can say. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Next time, Italy!

Thanks to my awesome alphas LadyKenz347 and Kyonomiko, and my rockstar beta ravenslight!