There was no going back from it now—war was upon them. Nocturnus had brought the battle to Avance, on Alba's original home soil.
The castle felt different this time.
Draco grimaced at the thought of everything that had happened to lead them to this point, and he sent a silent wish into the universe—in case anyone was listening—that they come out of this mess in one piece. And if he couldn't… he would make Hugo vow to get Hermione out safely. She hadn't asked for war. Hadn't asked for a sadistic psychopath to murder her husband.
They didn't want any of this. The mantra had been playing in Draco's head for days, ever since they had set the plan into motion and prepared to leave England. If all went well, this would be the end of the matter.
But Draco had a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach that left him far from reassured.
Despite the massive Nocturnus forces; the competent guard and council; and his brilliant, persistent wife… Draco couldn't shake the thought that things were going to go wrong.
And in this sort of a situation, wrong could mean the difference between life or death.
The council and plenty of guards had settled into their lodging in the Nocturnus Castle in Tuscany. Because the space was so vast, Draco had yet to come across anyone other than Hermione and Hugo. Numerous guards were staked at every entrance, and Glenneth had spent hours the day they arrived reinforcing and layering the wards.
Some of the enchantments the mage was capable of blew even Draco's mind—it made sense, he surmised, why the council held such a position. Especially when considering the context that the operations of the Nocturnus council hadn't changed in centuries.
Hands laced around his midsection from behind, and Draco felt himself relax on instinct as he entwined his fingers with Hermione's, letting out a sigh at the feel of her face turning against his back.
"Are you ready for the meeting?" she asked, her voice muffled and resigned.
If something happened to her, he would never forgive himself for dragging her into this whole mess. But how were they to have known the truth of it all?
"Soon," he mused. "We have a bit of time yet."
In her hesitation, he heard volumes written in tension and fatigue. "Time is nearly up."
He squeezed her hand, turning to face her; though he could see the fear in the lines of her face, her eyes still held the same steely determination he had come to love and admire. The words held a deeper meaning and they both knew it. "I suppose you're right. For better or for worse, right?"
"Right." With a short, stiff nod and a forced smile, Granger tucked herself closer into his hold. For a long moment she stood with her head on his chest, eyes fluttering shut, and Draco was hyper-aware of the aggressive beating of his heart.
"Come on," he said at last, intruding on the fraudulent peace of the moment, "let's go outside for a while."
By the time they arrived at the meeting, the rest of the council was already present, including both Hugo and Tressel. The Nocturnus rooms in the castle made the wing in the Manor look like a cheap fabrication of the real thing, and the throne room was unlike anything Draco had ever seen.
He could only imagine, as he gazed upon the circular chamber, marble swirling in midnight blue and silver along the floor and up the Corinthian pillars, what the court must have been like. And the thrones, equal as they had always been, looked fit for royalty.
Because at one point in time… the Nocturnus Order had been the equivalent. Royalty in everything but a geographic domain.
Draco wondered if Nocturnus would ever again see such a rich legacy.
The thought buried a bitter twist in his gut, and he gazed upon the council, all risen to their feet. With a brief wave, he took his seat alongside Hermione, drawing peace from her mere presence.
It was difficult to fathom, the depth of clarity he felt when she was around. That there was only one acceptable outcome with the situation.
"Hello." Gazing around the table, he could see trepidation in each of the eyes staring back at him. "And here it has come that we are to go to war." Managing to keep a tremble from his voice, Draco turned towards Dagomir. "Where are we at with the Nocturnus forces?"
"The entirety of the Nocturnus Order are making their way to Italy," Dagomir said, clearing his throat. His expression was that of stern determination. "To ensure the protection of this castle and those inside of it, in the event of any possible leaks, the Order will establish themselves in an old Nocturnus fortress some distance southeast of here. Within two days, everyone should be prepared."
"Very good." Draco's eyes flit to Hermione, but she had so far remained silent and observant. "Where are we at with regards to Cosette? Her movements? Forces?"
"To our knowledge, Cosette is in Italy at the same fortress the three of you stormed in an effort to recover Claude Arcand's wife and daughter. We have a team assessing the location to determine the wards and protective spells we will face." Elias Bergen spoke, adjusting his glasses. "Although she has a tendency to vacillate. I have had eyes on her since before we left England, and she does not stay in one location long. Our window may be small to catch her here before she moves on."
At last Hermione spoke, leaning forward in her seat. "And are your eyes still watching her?"
Bergen's jaw clenched. "Always." Shoulders straightening in his seat, he cleared his throat and added, "Since the incident at the Alba stronghold, I have redirected my attention towards finding the person or persons responsible for passing information to Avance from inside Nocturnus. It is my belief that a member of the advising team was responsible—a man by the name of Wallace Buckley. Our movements here in Italy will not be discovered through that channel. The oath-breaker has been passed to Dagomir and his guard."
Dagomir's expression was hard, and Draco felt a shiver shoot along his spine. Even though Bergen's information was positive, Draco's blood boiled a little at the thought. He had spoken with Buckley on many occasions, had considered him, at the very least, an acquaintance. "This is excellent to learn. Disappointing, though, that Buckley was able to pass privileged information from within Nocturnus without being detected for so long."
Terse, stony silence hovered along the length of the table. Disappointing was the most diplomatic word he could think of in the moment when the power of the affiliation pulsed in his veins.
"Indeed," Bergen finally announced, his face stoic. "A shame."
Draco sucked in a deep, steadying breath, mind churning and torn between dwelling on the past and on thoughts of what was to come. For a brief instant, he met Hugo's eyes. "Once the rest of the Order has arrived in force, we will need to prepare to move."
"We will focus war operations from the fortress," Dagomir broke in. "Once we leave this castle, it is unlikely we will return until our mission here is through."
Bile churned and rose into Draco's throat at the thought that they might not return. "And her forces? Do we have numbers yet?"
Hugo shook his head, and everyone turned towards him, including Elias, his expression neutral. "Our best guess is several hundred. But there are so many old Alba strongholds Avance may be utilising throughout Italy, and there is a good chance that Cosette has additional forces yet in France."
"So," Draco announced dryly, "we might be looking at anywhere from a few hundred to… over a thousand."
Hugo's returning grimace was answer enough. "We will need to be prepared for whatever Cosette has. Our best shot will be to catch her off her guard."
"I think we can reasonably expect that Cosette knows we are moving," Elias Bergen said, his tone clipped. "Whether she realises our exact location and intent is yet to be determined. If she is aware of our occupation in Italy, I think we will see her forces moving. We should have a clearer picture of the situation in the next day or two."
"By which point," Hermione said quietly, "Nocturnus will be in place and ready."
Draco nodded. "Exactly. Very well. It sounds as if we are the best equipped we could hope to be at this point in time. Will we prepare to relocate to the fortress then?"
"Tomorrow," Dagomir said, his expression grim. "Nocturnus will be arriving via Floo, Portkey, Apparition—a variety of methods to ensure their movements are not overt."
"Good." Gazing at the swirls in the elegant marble table, Draco blew out a long breath. "Tomorrow, then, we will relocate. Ensure our eyes on Cosette do not blink at the wrong moment, yes?"
There was a stifled sort of collective chuckle, though he couldn't manage anything close to a smile. Hermione's hand slipped into his, and he gave it a squeeze, feeling her magic mingle with his own, amplified by the pounding of his heart.
At last Bergen, with a wry twist to his lips, announced, "They will not, Lunae, I promise you that."
With a jerky nod, he dragged a hand down his face, scrubbing at his eyes. "What else do we need to know right now?"
"Right now," Dagomir said, his voice a quiet calm, "all you need to know, Lunae Ortus—Lunae Amor—is that the Nocturnus Order will fight to protect you by whatever means necessary."
Despite the intent behind them, the words sounded far from reassuring. When he met Hermione's hesitant gaze, he knew he wasn't alone.
"Very well." He clapped his hands to the surface of the table, his palms itching and magic pushing to break free with the heady rush of adrenaline. "Then this meeting is adjourned. If anything changes, let us know. Otherwise… we'll meet tomorrow to finalise the relocation plans."
At a general murmur of assent, Draco rose from his seat, adjusting his tie. His face and throat felt hot, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on his temples.
Hermione walked at his side as he left the room, keeping up with his brisk pace.
His magic felt trapped, confined, shining through the veins of his palm, and he pushed through the nearest set of doors. The Italian air was still warm as evening approached, and he blew past the guards posted at the door, ignoring their surprise.
Wrenching at his tie and feeling his stomach churn and pulse with an upheaval of nausea, his fingers tingling with the persistency of the magic within them, he noticed Hermione had fallen back, giving him space.
War.
The word echoed, resounding, clanging around the interior of his skull and bringing forth a migraine. He fell into a cold sweat as he advanced further from the castle, onto the heavily warded grounds, and he could feel the magic of the protective enchantments at odds with his own.
Beyond the eyes of the guards, a tremble overtook his body, a quake that began in his fingers and through his great-grandfather's ring that adorned his left hand, glowing with a faint white shimmer he could no longer control. Alone in a vast field, a low cry broke from within him—devastation, anguish, a longing for the control he didn't have anymore. Maybe he had never had it.
As his eyes fluttered shut, his fingers tensed and released, the Affiliation bursting forth with a strength he had never seen. A massive beam of white that he could see even through his closed eyelids broke free, and the earth shook as it collided with the ground partway between the castle and the towering stone walls beyond.
The pent up magic poured from his hand in a rage, and with its release, his heart slowed, the shake receding from his body. It had been too much all at once. And Draco couldn't contain it for so long, not when things had been so volatile.
Panting with the exertion of it even as he felt the magic weaken and dissipate at last, he blinked open to gaze ahead of him, his vision blurred.
The grounds before him were in ruins, and at the epicentre laid a crater the depth of two men in height and thrice as wide. Draco shuddered, his hand falling to his side, but he didn't dare approach any closer. As his heart steadied, his breathing once more returned to normal, and the heat chasing through his veins settled.
Granger came alongside him, blinking at the destruction he'd wrought, her eyes glassy. In silence, she slipped her hand into his, her cool skin soothing on the heat that still lingered in his palm. The magic that had roared in his veins only moments before quieted.
Her head dropped to rest on his shoulder, and though she said nothing, her quiet strength at his side in that moment said everything.
The moon shone a cool silver, high in a cloudless sky, and it felt more symbolic than ever.
Here in Italy, at the ancient seat of the Nocturnus Order, Hermione could feel her own fledging magic of the affiliation humming in her veins as she stood on the Lunae terrace, her eyes fluttering as a chill in the night breeze danced across her face.
They would relocate tomorrow and prepare the fortress as a base for war. And from there…
Her mind had been wild with the implications, the possibilities, ever since they had decided to return to Italy. This trip had a sense of finality to it, and it had been difficult to quell the fear chasing through her at the thought that things might not go their way. There were simply too many unknown elements with Avance to predict anything.
In an effort to distract herself, Hermione pressed her palms together, feeling the lunar magic build in the friction and allowing the silver threads to pulse from her fingertips and build into a brilliant orb.
Arms laced around her middle from behind, and instinctively she sunk back into Draco's warmth as he ducked his chin to rest on her shoulder.
Her eyes remained fixed on the magic as she released it from her hands, and they both watched as it floated up into the air of its own accord, shimmering and breaking apart in the breeze.
At last she breathed, "I wish we knew what to expect."
Humming, he turned to face her, planting a kiss to her cheek. "So do I. But without knowing anything more about Cosette's forces…" Trailing off, he added firmly, "Not tonight. We're as prepared as we can be for now. Let's not talk about this tonight."
Hermione relaxed, allowing her eyelids to flutter as her magic reached and entwined with his, humming and alive in her veins. Slipping a hand beneath the thin material of her jumper, Draco palmed one of her breasts, the pad of his thumb brushing her nipple through her bra.
Pressing back into his chest with a sharp inhale, her lips curved with a smile, heart rate jumping to life at his gentle, teasing touches.
"Being here always reminds me of that first night," she whispered, her voice coming out a little hitched.
He hummed, planting a trail of kisses to her throat as his hand slipped beneath the cup of her bra, tweaking her other nipple with more intention. Quietly, he said against her throat, "Same."
Despite the chill of the night air, Hermione felt warm, reaching back to rest a hand on his thigh, her fingers curling in the fabric of his jeans. The moon high in the sky above them called to her, awakening the magic of their bonds in her veins.
His hands tugged idly at the hem of her jumper, and Hermione obliged, lifting her arms as he peeled the fabric from her body and snickered as it caught momentarily on her hair.
Fingers toying with the closure of her jeans, he whispered by her ear, "My queen."
Moisture sprung to her eyes in an instant as she grappled back to find his hand; his fingers squeezed hers as he went on, both of them staring out beyond the balcony into the darkness of the rolling Tuscan hills below.
"One day," he said, the words coloured with melancholy, "all of this will be your domain. As it once was—as it should be."
With such reverence it sent a shiver down her spine, he pushed her jeans from her hips. One hand kneaded her breast, the other slipping into her knickers, his fingers grazing her clit with feather light touches that caused her body to flare to life with desire.
Chest heaving as his pressure increased just slightly, she reached a hand around the back of his head to coil her fingers in the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, twisting his face towards hers and brushing her lips against his.
His breath tangled with hers, tongue teasing hers as his fingers trailed further south, sliding into her as his thumb took up patient circles on her clit.
"Draco," she murmured, a breath hitching in her throat at the slow onslaught of sensation. Hermione could feel the bulge of his arousal against her arse and ground back against him in the idle rhythm he'd set with his fingers. Blindly, she reached back, fumbling for the closure of his jeans and slipping her hand into his pants, dragging her fingers along his hardness.
Pressing the side of his face into her temple, Draco groaned before tugging his shirt over his head with one hand, his fingers escalating in pace as he dragged his teeth along the line of her jaw. In a swift movement, he released the clasp of her bra, tossing it to the stone floor of the terrace; her nipples pebbled in the night air as her head fell back against his shoulder.
Their magic danced in the air between them, the cold shimmer of moonlight beaming down, and Hermione increased her pace, her desire for him building low in her belly.
With a whispered, "Fuck," he pushed his jeans the rest of the way off, and in a quick moment, his hand withdrew from her knickers; a surprised laugh bubbled from her lips as he swung her up over his shoulder and hauled her from the terrace to the bed, dropping her into the bedding.
In an instant he was above her, his lips desperately seeking hers, hands dragging along her curves, grabbing hold of her arse as he pulled her knickers from her legs. He toed off his own shorts before a smirk tugged at his lips and he flipped her over on the bed, dragging her arse towards him and pressing her front down into the quilt.
Dragging her bottom lip between her teeth, a cry broke from her lips at the intensity of the angle as he thrust deep inside her, his palm reverent against the cheek of her arse and his chest grazing her back as he set a quick, desirous pace so unlike his slow teasing on the terrace.
With each thrust, she cried out at the feel of his fingers curled hard around her hips and his breath hot against her ear. Her magic was alive and bright with the bonds that ran through them, and she reached for the crescent at his wrist, a smile tugging her lips as he groaned, nonsensical, into her ear.
The light of the moon shone from above, his pale hair white and silver, eyes sparkling with the magic between them as they sought hers.
She was close, feeling her body spiral towards some precipice, and without losing momentum, he turned her onto her back, covering her with his body and seeking her lips once more, his thumb drifting towards her clitoris with one swipe.
A soft breath of his name tore from within her, silver dancing on the inside of her eyelids as she broke around him, her magic swirling in her veins and reaching for his as he followed moments later, the comforting warmth of his body collapsing atop her.
Draco's eyes fluttered open, sweeping his fringe back from his face, and a hint of a smile played at his lips. He pressed one long, sustained kiss to her lips, withdrew from within her, and tugged her close into his chest, a thin sheen of sweat gracing his skin.
As Hermione snuggled into his embrace, pulling the sheets up above them, her eyes slid closed with fatigue.
Quietly, she whispered, "I love you."
His grip only tightened, and for a long moment he didn't speak. Just as Hermione was about to succumb to sleep, he breathed, "I will raze the fucking world for you."
As the words settled around her, she believed him.
Author's Note: Hi everyone. Thanks so much for reading as always. I sort of can't believe how much of this story is published. As of today I'm working on chapter 46, and my earlier estimate of 55-60 chapters I think should hold? Within a few anyways. I hope you liked the chapter!
Much love as always to my bomb team, Kyonomiko, LadyKenz347, and ravenslight.