A whirlwind of emotion churned deep in the core of Hermione's being as she stared out of the window in Draco's sitting room, gazing down upon the grounds of Malfoy Manor below.
Much like in preparation for the bonding ceremony, the vast lawn was dotted with white tents—only instead of the merriment and revelry of the bonding, the atmosphere was tense and austere. Banners bearing house crests were jammed into the earth beside each tent, and try as she might, Hermione couldn't tear her gaze away as more people continued to arrive via Portkey every so often.
Not five years ago, Great Britain had been rocked by war.
And while Dagomir proclaimed the presence of the banners was a precaution and a contingency, she felt the same anxious churning in her gut as she had when Lord Voldemort was at the peak of his power.
Malfoy had stepped out to meet with Dagomir regarding arrangements for the banner houses whilst on the estate grounds, and Hermione had opted to stay behind, her mind whirring in an attempt to process everything.
Since returning to England, their living arrangements had been decidedly vague.
While they hadn't discussed the shift since Italy, they hadn't spent a night apart since returning home, and Hermione was coming to rely on his soothing presence at her side. Her magic reached for him when they weren't together, and, every so often, the crescent marking on her wrist tingled, pushing her to seek him out.
She wasn't entirely certain of the depth of the magic at play between them, but it was evident she had truly begun to accept his role in her life—and she wasn't bothered over it as much as she might have expected at first.
They were in all of this together, and he was the only person who fully understood everything that had been weighing so heavily on her heart.
Startled, she jumped away from the window when the fireplace in Malfoy's quarters flared to life. Theodore Nott stepped through the green flames, brushing ash and soot from his shirt, and moments later, Blaise Zabini followed through. The pair stared at her, hesitant, before she offered them a smile.
"Draco isn't here just now," she said by way of greeting, waving a hand towards the couch. "You're welcome to wait for him if you like." It occurred to her that it might appear strange for her to be in his quarters while he wasn't there, and she added, "He shouldn't be too much longer."
Nott dropped into a seat on the couch and announced, "He's asked us here."
With a furtive glance, Zabini strode forward and poured two glasses of whisky from Malfoy's decanter—and after a moment's hesitation, he poured one for her as well and asked, "What's outside?" Meandering towards the window where she had been watching, he choked on a sip of whisky when she accepted the extra tumbler. "Why does it look like you're preparing for war?"
Unable to find the words to answer, Hermione remained silent, gazing down on the grounds once more.
"It is a contingent," Malfoy announced crisply as he strode into the room and, without any consideration, poured himself a glass of the amber liquid. With a thin press of his lips, he added, "And that's all either of you need to know… for now."
At his last words, Hermione sought out his stare, but the grey behind his eyes was unreadable as he leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek.
Nott blew out a low whistle. "I don't envy you."
"Sounds like you're busy," Zabini quipped, "so why are we here?"
"Because," Malfoy said, entwining his fingers with hers and tugging her towards the sofa, "I needed a drink with my mates." From her spot at his side, Hermione could see the dark shadows beneath his eyes, and she wondered whether she looked much better.
Several times the night before, she had been stirred awake by his tossing, and each time, he hadn't been sleeping. Idly, she thought he had been doing worse than he had let on with her. A chilly air emanated from him at her side while he took deep swigs of his whisky, and within minutes, he rose to refill another generous portion.
"So," Nott ventured, "you aren't going to tell us about the great mass of fighters gathered on the back lawn, then?"
His hand tightened around hers in a squeeze, and he bit out, "Nope," with a heavy emphasis on the 'p'. "Technically I can't—but it's for your own good not to know more than necessary."
Shifting in her seat, Hermione watched as Zabini and Nott exchanged a glance. Then Zabini shook his head. "That's not good enough. We aren't going to sit by why you drive yourself into the ground again—that was a lesson learned years ago."
For a moment, she thought Malfoy was going to grow angry, but he only leaned back in his seat, rubbing at his eyes as he released a heavy sigh. "An old enemy of Nocturnus is on our case—and it turns out they're more powerful than we realised."
"The situation in France?" Nott asked, leaning forward.
When Malfoy remained silent, brooding into his drink, Hermione interjected, "Not exactly. It's related but separate. The banners really are a contingent though."
Finally Zabini forced an uncomfortable nod. "Fine. But if you go to war—don't you dare forget to mention it."
Grimacing, Malfoy responded with a quiet, "Noted." Then he lifted his glass and murmured, "To the people who stand by us."
Tightening her hold on his other hand, Hermione was the first to clink her glass with his; a wry smile pulled at his lips when his stare found hers.
Once Blaise and Theo had left through the Floo, Draco gave a squeeze to Granger's arm and ventured up to the roof. The moon was high in a cloudless sky and called to everything instinctive within him.
Despite having his friends over, he hadn't been able to release the heavy burdens from his heart long enough to indulge, and he had spent most of the evening nursing his second drink quietly at Granger's side while she did her best to be social for both of them. But he could see the strain around her eyes as well and needed to escape from it all.
In the dark of night, he could almost pretend he didn't see the array of white tents on the grounds below, as if they didn't span further than he could see. Glassy moisture stung at his eyes as he bent his knees before him, propping his heels into the gentle slope of the roof.
He didn't want to go to war.
It was the singular thought that had been chasing through his mind over and again ever since the council had called for the possibility of such a thing, and Draco was beginning to suspect the constant clenching around his heart would never go away.
He'd hoped his Ascension would be enough to deter Avance and prevent war from reaching Great Britain once more. But through his actions, he had allowed for the possibility of war in his own home. The irony was bitter and difficult to accept.
One other thought sat heavy on his mind, and he hadn't brought it up, not even with Granger.
Draco didn't want to wind up in a position where he needed to kill. It all felt horribly reminiscent of his experiences during his sixth and seventh years, when the possibility had been real and direct, and it had been a decision he didn't know how to make at the time.
And now, with more power—more responsibility and the lives of thousands hanging in the balance—it felt insurmountable.
The lunar affiliation had the power to wipe a person from the face of the earth. Even if he hadn't read it in the Nocturnus journals, he would have known by the feel of the raw magic emanating beneath the tips of his fingers. Even if he hadn't vaporised the chunk of stone from the Alba stronghold into nothing more than dust.
It was too much—more than he could handle—and yet… it wasn't enough.
Uncertainty pulsed through him, his heart pounding aggressively in his chest. War was war—and if it meant defending his people, his mother, his wife, and the council…
Staring at his hand where the white magic of the affiliation glowed in an effort to break free with the moon so visible, Draco somehow knew he would simply do whatever he had to. He had created the problem with his Ascension, and it was on him to clean it up. It was the only thing Granger couldn't understand—he wouldn't burden her with such a thing anyways.
She had been everything he had hoped for in a Lunae Amor; it was almost startling how well they got on and how in tune they had become with one another. The veins of his palm lit from within, and with a heavy exhale, he allowed the magic to drift free.
Draco liked to think it was something else—something beyond the Lunae bonds pushing them together. It was connection and empathy, and maybe there was something beyond any of that. Something stronger, but yet infinitely more human. He cared about her—and the thought of losing her was more than he could handle. Not when he had dragged her into the entire mess.
Quiet steps came from the spiral staircase, and without hesitation, Draco drew her into his arms when she took the seat beside him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and planting a kiss into her curls.
Hoarsely, she asked, "Are you okay?" He didn't want to lie to her and remained silent; idly he wondered whether she had been crying, but he couldn't see her eyes. She traced the veins of his palm, and she drew the affiliation onto her fingertips like shimmering dust.
Watching as she rubbed her fingers together and the lunar magic expanded along the curves of her hand and wrist, he released a sigh. Voice low, he asked, "Are we doing the right thing?"
Granger was silent for a long moment as she coiled the magic into a small ball, holding it between her fingers. Finally she said, "I don't know." After another long, drawn out moment, she added, "I don't think there is a right thing at this point. There is only what we need to do. And what we need to do is to protect the people of the Order who look to us. It hasn't made it easier to accept that we face war, only… it makes it a bit more clinical."
Blowing out a breath, he nodded. "Clinical."
"Don't misunderstand me," she whispered, a breath hitching. "I am devastated." Her voice broke on the word, and she swiped a tear from her cheek, staring out into the darkness of the night sky. "But the only alternative is that we stand by, unprepared, and that isn't any alternative at all."
"You're right," Draco breathed, feeling something loosen in his chest at the admission. "It isn't what we want, but then, no one wants war."
Casual curiosity swelled within him, and he handed Granger a hovering ball of magic; without thinking she accepted it, taking it between her hands and manipulating it distractedly. She said, "No. No one does. But all those people down there… the banners that have yet to arrive… Draco, they're here to support you. They're here because they believe in your rule and they believe in Nocturnus. If they didn't, they wouldn't have come. When you Ascended, when we were bonded… now, in the face of war."
"They've sworn oaths," he grumbled, refusing to look at the grounds below.
Shaking her head, she only echoed, "They wouldn't have come."
Glancing her way, he met her chocolate stare for the first time. "Their faith is misplaced—maybe not in you, but in me. I'm no leader."
"But yet," she whispered, a light-hearted flippancy in her words, "you're leading an Order of thousands. And they have faith in you."
"We are," Draco corrected, reaching for her hand but stopping himself with a gruff, "Granger."
Startled, she looked down, lifting her hand to peer closer. The magic had absorbed into her skin, leaving it with a delicate glow. Sucking in a rattling breath, she experimentally opened her hand, and the magic seeped forth once more from her skin, hovering again as an orb of light.
He had never seen her possess any real control over the affiliation, and when she pushed it forward to hover in the air between them, a wry grin cracked his features.
But she only stared at it, drawing it one way and back with her hands, and whispered, "What else can you do?" She left it to hang, illuminating the space above her, and she cast him a soft, secretive smile. "Maybe it's about time we learn everything there is to know about this magic."
The orb danced forward, sparkling with the light of the moon, and pressed against the wards Draco had established on the roof to prevent him from falling to his death in case he ever slipped.
But Granger's eyes narrowed with focus, and the orb spread out along the invisible wall of the wards, before breaking through. Surprised, Draco reached a hand forward to realise the wards were gone. He whispered, "Spell-breaking."
Contemplative, she said, "Cast a glamour or something."
Hesitating for a moment, Draco cast a spell to turn his own hair dark. Snickering, Granger glanced at him for a moment, her lips twisted to the side, before she shook her head. "It doesn't suit you." Then refocusing on the magic, she drew it back towards him.
Only in knowing she couldn't hurt him did he not wince when the magic of the affiliation passed through him; in an instant, he felt his own magic wrenched from him, and his hair was blond once more.
Staring at the silver orb, Granger mused, "Spell-breaking indeed." Then with a great sigh, she shifted closer towards his side, allowing the ball of light to hover alongside her. "I don't know the best path here. If we can find a way to avoid war, we will. But our options feel so limited, and we simply can't leave our people undefended."
Melancholy unfurled in his chest once more as he offered a slow nod. "You're right, we can't. But that's all I know. I don't know how we're going to face this down, or how we can make it through."
"I don't either," Granger admitted, wringing her hands. "But it isn't anything we can solve tonight."
There was a familiar sparkle in her eye when he glanced her way, and she leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. Biting down on her bottom lip when she drew back, she whispered, "I'm going to get ready for bed. Good night."
A smirk curled his lips and he replied, "Good night, Granger."
Watching as she descended from the roof, her ball of light following along in her wake, Draco hopped to his feet and chased her down the stairs. Catching her on the threshold between the balcony and the bedroom, he drew her into his arms, pressing her back into the wall as he ducked in, kissing her. He could feel the smile on her lips as her arms coiled around his neck, her soft curves melding into the lines of his chest, and his heart jolted to life when her tongue teased his.
They had been together a handful of times since consummating the Lunae bonds in Italy, and while her touch was both a comfort and a thrill, he would be lying to himself if he said it was nothing more than physical gratification, despite that they hadn't discussed the situation at any length. All she had mentioned was that the Nocturnus healers had provided her with a potion to prevent procreation until they were ready.
It was strange, to be married to someone and not know entirely where they stood with one another. But something felt different when he yanked her shirt over her head without preamble, nearly stumbling over her feet as she dragged him towards the bed.
Granger released a bright laugh when he pushed her down into the mattress, tugging her jeans from her legs as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt before pushing the fabric from his shoulders, her lips scarcely breaking from his own. Rolling to straddle him, she made quick work of his belt and trousers, her eyes sparkling as she planted her hands on his shoulders while he kicked the trousers free of his legs, wrenching his socks off.
Staring down at him, she swallowed when he reached up to release the clasp of her bra, taking her breasts in his hands before turning her once more so he could lave her throat and collarbone with kisses, one hand reaching beneath the waistband of her knickers to find her wet and ready for him. Groaning into her neck, he slipped two fingers between her folds to collect the moisture there, dragging his thumb in slow circles across her clitoris and basking in the soft sounds she released beside his ear.
Distractedly, she tugged at his pants, taking hold of his straining cock between her fingers, and chest heaving, he pulled his shorts the rest of the way free before divesting her fully of her knickers.
Without hesitation she kissed him again, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth as she positioned him at her entrance. With a muffled curse against her lips, he drove into her, eyelids fluttering at the feel of her walls tight around him.
Tasting each of her quick breaths and coveting her moans, Draco pushed into her, stealing kisses as the magic between them coursed, celebratory, in his veins. Granger's fingernails dragged down his back as she arched into him, breathing his name as she chased her release.
She broke with a cry, seeking his lips as she rode out her orgasm, and with a few more thrusts Draco's vision darkened with his own as he emptied into her, stilling with a quiet groan. Only their erratic breathing filled the darkness of the room until he drew out from within her, collapsing alongside and drawing her close with a kiss to her temple.
Her eyes fluttered open to find his, and she cast a cleaning spell on each of them before drawing the covers over them both. A demure hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she leaned in to plant a final kiss on his lips before she drifted to sleep in his hold.
For a long while, Draco watched her face soften in rest, his mind churning with thoughts until the fatigue grew too great and he succumbed to the blessed darkness of sleep.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I'm so happy to have people along for this ride. I'm always thrilled to read your theories so feel free to share what you think. I hope you're all still keeping well.
Mega-hugs to my alphas Kyonomiko and LadyKenz347, and my beta ravenslight.