Content Warning: This chapter contains references to magical torture and a non-graphic death that may be potentially disturbing to some readers. Please find a more thorough description at the end of the chapter if you are someone who has triggers.

Jolting awake, the first thing Draco noticed was a faceful of tousled curls. Granger's lithe, fully nude body was pressed back against him and trapped in his arms; a smile tugged at his lips as he grazed a hand along her side, allowing his eyes to fall shut once more. His body was painfully aware of her when she stretched out, her arse shifting backwards into him, and a groan escaped his lips.

Her head rolled towards him, a sleepy smile on her face as she murmured, "Good morning."

"An excellent morning," he returned, ducking in to capture her earlobe between his teeth before trailing a line of kisses along her jaw towards her mouth.

A sharp rap came from the sitting quarters beyond. Draco's eyes snapped open, and his upper lip curled with disdain. Not in a rush to rise from bed, especially with Granger so pliant and receptive, he called, "What is it?"

She released a soft giggle, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Vaguely, through the door of his sitting quarters into the corridor, a voice said, "I apologise sir—there is an important matter at hand. The Chief Adviser claims it is urgent."

Huffing an exaggerated exhale, Draco rolled to face the ceiling and shouted back, "Very well!"

"Such is life." Granger snickered at his side, a smile stretching across her lips. "We'll have to pick that back up later."

Smirking, he grabbed her and rolled her over so he could hover above her, meeting the mischief in her eyes. Ghosting his lips across her cheekbone, he said softly, "Bergen can wait ten minutes."

"Only ten," she teased, eyes sparkling as she grabbed hold of his burgeoning hardness. "It's a long walk."

A slow grin cracked across his face, and he ducked in, pressing his lips hard into hers, and muttered, "Fifteen."

Hermione cast Malfoy a sidelong glance as they arrived at the strategy room; his hair was disheveled and his tie askew, but his eyes sparkled with trouble when they met hers.

Bergen was already waiting for them, however, and Malfoy's expression fell stoic as he slipped into his seat at the council table; curious, Hermione followed suit. Looking around, he asked, "What is so urgent? Have you summoned the rest of the council?"

"I have not," Bergen announced, folding his hands on the table. "I have word from the guards monitoring the situation that there is some… unrest with some of the banner carriers. Most specifically, the ones who hail from France."

Malfoy grimaced, carding a hand through his hair. "I wondered whether that would be an issue."

"They claim Nocturnus involvement in France has made everyday matters difficult for them," Bergen said, shaking his head as if the situation were ridiculous. "That the French Minister has targeted them with extreme levels of prejudice—elevated taxes, bureaucratic hoops simply to access their vaults, among others."

Frowning, Hermione stared between them. "What can we do about this? Presumably their lives are being made more difficult due to our opposition of Avance's policy shifts."

"But they're Nocturnus," Malfoy broke in, a stern furrow in his brow. "Are they not in support of our actions?"

Bergen released a long exhale through his nose. "They are—or so they claim. But they also don't care for the disruption of their daily lives." Darkly, he added, "I would simply remind them of their sworn oaths, but many of them have been vocal with the guards, and the Nocturnus guard is not trained in matters of internal strife and diplomacy—they are at a banners insist on speaking directly with their Lunaes."

"Of course." With a resigned lift of his brows, Malfoy said, "Fine. We will speak with anyone who wishes to come forward."

Shaking her head, Hermione turned towards him. "Of course—we can listen to their struggles, and there may even be something we can do to help. But how?"

Looking irritable over the entire situation, Bergen said, "Shall we set a time, Lunae?"

Rubbing at bleary eyes, Malfoy waved a dismissive hand. "Tell them three o'clock." Turning towards Hermione with a sort of forced smile, he said, "It looks like we'll be holding court this afternoon."

Despite his best efforts to focus on the situation at hand, Draco could scarcely drag his eyes away from Granger.

Dressed in her finest Nocturnus robes and exquisite silver coronet, she looked the part better than he ever could have imagined. Seated upon her throne at his side, her lips curved with a hint of a smile when she looked his way, and something clenched tightly in his chest.

The line of disgruntled French banner carriers did little to dampen his spirits—until they began steadily approaching the dais, loudly making their demands known. Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, Draco glanced towards Dagomir; within moments, the guards dispersed, keeping the mob at bay.

Frowning, Granger stared at the group with consternation, her face hesitant when she looked his way.

Propping an elbow on the arm of his throne, Draco drawled, "Kindly approach in an orderly fashion." A tall man with a thin moustache approached the dais first, dropping his head into a bow. Observing the crest on his robes, Draco nodded. "Fournier. What is your issue?"

"C'est ma boulangerie," Fournier began, and corrected himself with a thick French accent. "My bakery. Four times already this month, Ministry officials have come to inspect my wares. I have received a Ministry summons for the cleanliness of my practices, and many of my customers have gone to the competitor—when everything was fine just three months ago."

Startled, Draco was suddenly reminded of their own summons by the British Ministry that they had, for all intents and purposes, ignored.

Sighing, he nodded slowly. "I see the problem."

Granger leaned forward in her seat; the man warily glanced between the two of them, but she offered a thin smile and said, "We will see what can be done about the negative attention Nocturnus members are receiving from the French Ministry. Whatever can be done, we will see to it." After a brief pause, and with a wider smile, she said to the gathered crowd, "I don't know that we quite realised the extent of it. Are many of you here with similar grievances?"

A general murmur of assent rumbled through the room, and she clapped her hands together. Eyeing her sidelong, Draco decided she was better with the politics than he was and remained silent.

From near the door, he caught Elias Bergen's eye, and the man offered a barely visible nod.

Waving a hand, her expression warm and trusting, Granger went on. "Those of you who have come to alert us of similar issues to Monsieur Fournier—you may retreat to the grounds for now."

A handful of relieved banner carriers turned and walked from the throne room; those who remained were stony faced, and Granger lifted a brow in his direction, her countenance deflated slightly.

Straightening in his seat, Draco surveyed those who remained. "Who's next?"

After an hour of listening to problems put forth, largely by French banner carriers, although a few were from Italy—which rattled around in the back of Draco's skull—he felt the beginnings of a headache coming on.

Despite most of the grievances being small and petty, Granger remained attentive; between the two of them, they offered the best solutions they could, and Draco hoped Bergen was keeping track of it all. Even though they had spoken with most of the people in court, the crowd wasn't diminishing any.

Finally, Draco peered through the mass, relieved to see no one else approaching. Pressing his lips into a smile, he spoke. "Thank you all for coming today. We've received great insight on some of the issues plaguing you all, and we can move forward with—"

His words were cut off as, from somewhere within the crowd of people, a woman's voice cried out in accented English. "Nocturnus shall crumble to dust! Like the sun, Avance will rise!"

Several things happened in an instant; Draco reached for his wand on instinct, despite that his fingers tingled with the affiliation, pushing forward with his adrenaline.

Making to rise to his feet, he was shoved back as Dagomir leapt onto the dais, a pair of guards on either side with wands aloft; chaos swept the room as guards surged into the tightly-packed crowd.

Catching his eye, Granger hissed, "Shit!"

The implications shook Draco to his core as he stared at her, heart thumping aggressively in his chest. He whispered, "Avance is here?"

"On the grounds," she breathed, shaking her head as she huffed with impatience and made to rise to her feet, peering around the guard nearest her. Following, Draco almost instantly collided with an invisible shield charm Dagomir must have erected around them, but he could see a pair of guards drag a thin, middle-aged woman from the room.

Eyes narrowing, Draco scowled as her head spun and her stare locked on his in the instant before the guards hauled her away. Quietly to Dagomir, he asked, "Where will they take her?"

"They will await your orders, Lunae," Dagomir returned as he turned his head to the side, his gaze still fixed on the crowd. "We will have to sweep the rest—no one will leave until we are certain all who remain are Nocturnus."

"How did she get onto the grounds?" Granger hissed, her wand clenched within white knuckles.

Dagomir's lip curled with disdain and the guards shifted uneasily. "We do not know, Lunae Amor—but we will find out."

Glaring at the door through which the woman had been dragged unceremoniously, Draco adjusted his tie and snapped, "Question her. Find out anything and everything she knows."

He couldn't steady the racing of his heart when Granger's cautious stare found his.

Several hours after the altercation in the throne room, a pair of guards knocked on the door to their joint living quarters, and Hermione huffed a sigh of relief. Malfoy had been wearing an aggressive path into the carpet ever since Dagomir himself had escorted them from the throne room.

Ben blinked down at the pair of them; Vlad shifted at his side. Hermione could have felt the tension radiating from Malfoy even if she hadn't been able to see it in the set of his jaw. Ben announced, "We are to retrieve you as per the Head of the Guard."

"Good," Malfoy said crisply as he stalked across the threshold, glancing back at her as she followed. "What have they learned?"

"Every person remaining in the throne room was Nocturnus, Lunae," Ben said with a stiff nod. "All of their identities lined up to a Nocturnus house—but the woman we have taken into questioning was not."

"Not Nocturnus," Hermione said with a grimace as they walked, "but then how did she get onto the grounds?"

"We do not yet know," Vlad ground out, a heavy furrow in his brow. "She has not admitted to anything, but she is here alone."

"Here alone," Malfoy grumbled, "but not acting alone."

The four of them exchanged a glance, and Vlad scowled. "Not as far as we can tell, Lunae." The two guards exchanged a brief look, and he added, "The woman claims she will speak to you."

Surprise chased through Hermione, and she took Malfoy's hand into hers; his palm was clammy but he interlaced his fingers with hers, running his other hand through his already disheveled hair. "Damn right she will," he growled."No bloody Avance comes into my house." The grey in his eyes flashed dark as they met hers. "We need to find out how Avance is getting through the wards."

"The high mage and Head of the Guard are redoubling the efforts with the wards as we speak," Ben announced, his expression stoic as they rounded into the Nocturnus Wing.

Shaking her head, Hermione felt nauseous to her core. "To what effect? We thought the wards were as strong as they possibly could have been already. And now twice, Avance has breached them."

"Tell Dagomir we'll have to enact the blood rites," Malfoy grumbled, frowning.

It sounded dire—but so was the situation. Hermione only stared at him as the guards responded in the affirmative. "Dagomir is surprised the wards were breached," Vlad contributed, his brows high on his forehead. "And angry."

Ben offered a dry chuckle. "You don't want Dagomir angry."

Snickering despite the situation, Malfoy added, "If you're Avance."

Lips twitching, Ben extended an arm. "The woman is in here, Lunae. The rest of the Nocturnus in the throne room—shall they return to the grounds?"

"Yes, that's fine," Malfoy said with a distracted wave. Nodding sharply, Vlad made for the throne room. Glancing at Hermione, Malfoy reached for the door and held it open for her. Gratitude and appreciation raced through her at the thought that he didn't even try to persuade her from joining him in questioning the Avance woman.

The chamber appeared to be some sort of interrogation room, and she realised she'd never ventured inside. Idly, Hermione wondered what else existed in the Nocturnus wing she'd not had reason to explore.

Guards stood on either side of the door, and two more in the opposite corners. The woman was seated at a small table, magical vines tethering her hands and feet to the table. Dark eyes hooded, she gazed at the pair of them as they ventured into the room; her lip curled with a sneer.

"The famous Lunae Ortus and his Lunae Amor," the woman snipped in a disdainful French accent. "You do not look so special to me."

Malfoy simply squared his shoulders, rolling out his neck. The hatred in his face seared even Hermione as he stepped forward, staring at the woman. When he spoke, his voice was cold venom. "I highly suggest you tell us why you're here."

The woman's eyes met Hermione's, amusement flickering across her face. "I will not," she drawled, leaning back in her seat. "I am here only to share with you a message."

Ignoring her, Malfoy seethed, "How did you breach the wards?"

A flicker of something that might have been uncertainty crossed the woman's face, but within moments she schooled her expression once more. Briefly, Hermione caught Malfoy's gaze.

But the woman only folded her arms and responded, "I will not answer these questions."

"You are aware…" Trailing off, he allowed a smirk to come to his lips. "That you've invaded my property, and not only is this my land, but it is the land of a sovereign entity. You are at the mercy of the Nocturnus Order—and anything and everything we may do to you is fully within our rights."

He leaned forward, planting his hands onto the table. A glimmer of fear crossed the woman's face as Hermione stood, breath bated, at his side. In an instant, the woman's expression shifted, her eyes flickering to where Malfoy's hand rested on the table. Sucking in a breath, Hermione noticed a slight shimmer between his palm and the table; the affiliation making a bid for release.

As if sensing her attention, Malfoy glanced at Hermione and lifted his hands, slipping them into his pockets.

Mind rapid with comprehension, Hermione stared hard at the woman and said, "You would really rather talk to us than wait and deal with the guard. Because you won't like what comes from them. We'll give you a few minutes to consider your options."

The woman continued to stare at them, amusement mingled with apprehension, and Hermione casually nodded towards the door; Malfoy followed her from the room and released a string of curses on the other side.

"She isn't going to talk to us," he said, lips pressed into a thin line. "It was never about talking to us."

"It was about verifying you're in possession of the affiliation," Hermione concluded, her voice soft and breathy. "Which means Avance needed to be sure it's obtained its full strength. That's why she's come here."

"And why she intentionally sought our attention," he growled out, pacing the corridor with an irritated huff. "What is Avance's game plan here? How did they plant someone inside the banner carriers? And how did they know we would hold court?"

"If I may," Ben interrupted, his hands clasped at his front. "Would only have been a matter of planting the right bug in the right ears for the French banners to complain, Lunae."

"You think Avance arranged for us to hold court?" Hermione asked, exasperated with the situation. "How could they have—"

"Because they've been a step ahead of us this entire time, haven't they?" Malfoy drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. "They arranged the fucking Ascension—of course they could have convinced the right people to cause a fuss over the situation in France."

Ben scowled, folding his arms. "She cannot leave the grounds, Lunae. You must submit her for further questioning if she refuses to speak."

Malfoy looked directly at her, and Hermione felt a shiver chase down her spine. Pain and uncertainty hovered in the depths of his stare, and she could feel his reticence through the crescent at her wrist. Her chest felt tight, her breaths coming in quick as she found herself unable to tear her eyes from his.

Torture. Ben was referring to torturing the woman for information, and they all knew it.

"If she manages to escape, Granger," Malfoy breathed, his face pained.

Because they both remembered, Hermione knew—even if they hadn't discussed it in so many words—the way his aunt had tortured her in the same manor.

With a shaky nod and tears stinging at her eyes, Hermione opened her mouth.

"Lunae!"

At last Malfoy looked from her towards the interrogation room where one of the guards from inside stood, looking frantic. Malfoy rushed forward, Hermione and Ben on his heels.

"She swallowed something—I don't know what happened—" The guard exclaimed, clapping his hands to the sides of his head as he ducked down beside the woman.

The woman lay on the ground, her skin pale and eyes blurred with tears, her body twitching. A mass of white foam spilled from her lips, and she stilled.

Gaping wordlessly, Malfoy stared at the woman, a surprised furrow in his brow. "She just—you've got to be fucking kidding me—"

Tears sprung from Hermione's eyes, streaming silently down her cheeks as she stared at the woman's lifeless body laying on the floor, magical tethers still binding her to the table. Hoarsely, she whispered, "How?"

"She hardly moved, Lunae," the guard exclaimed, shaking his head. "It happened so fast, and then she was on the floor."

Countenance stiffening, Malfoy nodded. "She was willing to die rather than to be interrogated. She must have had poison—a capsule or something—see if you can figure out from her blood. Merlin, this is fucked up."

"It doesn't make sense," Hermione breathed, glancing his way. "Not if her aim was to be captured to speak to you. Unless she was able to pass on what she had learned about the affiliation somehow."

"Or her plan just went wrong," the guard bit out, drawing his wand; he looked a little queasy, an unpleasant bow to his mouth. "I will get her to the Nocturnus healers."

"I've alerted Dagomir," Ben advised from the doorway.

Staring at everyone, Hermione couldn't make sense of anything other than the feel of Malfoy's hand slipping into hers, gripping hers like an iron vice. Moments later, thoughts swimming in anguish, she felt herself dragged from the room.

Content Description: In this chapter, a woman from Avance infiltrates Nocturnus court. When caught and taken for questioning, she refuses to speak, and when threatened with magical torture to learn how she got onto the grounds, the woman ingests a poisonous tablet and takes her own life. If you'd like a full description of the chapter, I'd be happy to provide one in a PM.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading everyone! I really appreciate all your kind words.

Hugs to my wonderful team, Kyonomiko, LadyKenz347, and ravenslight.