By the time Hermione awoke the following morning, Draco was already up. He sat on the edge of the bed, all of his concentration fixed on his wand. She eyed him for a moment, remembering the way she had seen a flicker of his old self the day before when he'd had friends and family there.

For the first time since Italy, since he'd lost his magic, she could see hope.

He didn't react when she shifted up from bed, coiling her arms around him from behind as she planted a lingering kiss to his jaw. "Anything?"

"No," he murmured, "but I didn't expect much."

The night before, only a single spark had broken free from his wand, and that had been with coaxing from her own magic.

When she tucked her feet beneath her and propped her chin on his shoulder to watch, he tested with his wand a few more times. Nothing happened, but he didn't look discouraged as he offered her a half-hearted grimace.

Taking his wrist into her hand, she grazed her thumb against his crescent, searching for the dull throb of his magic that she'd detected so faintly the night before. Hermione hesitated, fixing her efforts into the mark that bound them together, and she felt him sink a little into her hold, his eyelids fluttering.

Draco's face rolled towards hers, a hint of a smirk lingering on his lips before they brushed her own. Against her mouth he said lowly, "I swear to Merlin if you fix my magic…" Without finishing his train of thought, he kissed her again, his tongue delving between her lips with more intensity than she'd anticipated.

Her fingertips lingered against his mark as he manoeuvred her back into the bed, covering her body with his as he kissed her. A whimper escaped her lips at the feel of his hands, her head dropping back into the pillow, until they both froze.

Draco's eyes snapped open, searching hers. The echo of his magic pulsed, insistent, against her fingers, shimmering white as she dragged them against his crescent.

With a muffled curse, he dropped his face into her shoulder.

"You felt that," she breathed, pressing a little harder.

"Yes," he groaned, biting gently into the curve of her shoulder. "I can feel it."

Curious, Hermione propped herself up, testing the way her magic played against his crescent marking, and as she focused, she could feel the bond nudge against her own. Against her volition, tears sprung to her eyes as she sought his stare.

Without withdrawing his marked hand from her hold, Draco grappled for his wand, and his expression faltered as he gave it a cautious swish.

Almost as if with a delay, a burst of sparks broke free.

Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, still reaching for his magical core with as much of the affiliation as she could summon. Quietly she asked, "What does this mean?"

Fixing his wand with a tight stare, he tested another spell, levitating an empty glass from the bedside table a short distance before it dropped down with a clunk. Incredulous, he shook his head. "It means my magic isn't gone—it's only dormant. And you can awaken it."

"It's stronger this morning than it was last night," she breathed, a smile stretching across her face. "I think if you keep working on it—"

But he was kissing her again, stripping her bare, and leaving little room to speak.

That afternoon, what remained of the Nocturnus council sat before the fireplace grate in the main sitting room. Madeline was safely stowed in her room with a stack of books they'd found in the study, and Narcissa and Andromeda had gone for a walk after promising to remain within the warded boundaries of the property.

Draco felt his heart rate begin to escalate as Hermione approached the grate. It felt like so long ago since they'd left England for Italy, but the reality of it was that it had only been a little over a week. It had been difficult to keep track of days, especially since he'd been so disoriented during their stay at the Arcands' in Lithuania.

And now they had no idea what the situation was back home.

He leaned against the sideboard, folding his arms as his gaze flitted to Hugo and Dagomir, both of whom had attempted to sit on the sofa but were now pacing.

Without any fanfare, Hermione threw a handful of Floo powder into the grate and called for Harry Potter.

Several long, tense moments later, Potter's face appeared in the green flames, crumpling with relief. "Hermione!" His gaze swept the room. "Thank Merlin you're alright."

"Hardly." Draco snorted, dragging a hand through his hair and attempting to ignore the way his fingers quaked. "Are you alone Potter?"

His disembodied head glanced sidelong. "Daphne's here."

"Come through, please," Hermione said, stepping back from the grate. "There's so much we need to discuss. Without portraits listening in."

Potter's expression faltered with concern before he nodded, his head retreating. Several seconds later he walked through the still vibrant flames before they dissipated back into the grate. Hermione pulled him into an embrace, sinking into her friend's hold before she withdrew, glancing towards Draco.

"A lot has happened since we left England," she began, and Draco blew out a breath as he nodded.

Hugo and Dagomir lingered like sentries at either side of the room, but they all migrated towards the small room they'd set up as a makeshift council chamber. Hovering at one end of the table, Potter caught Draco by the arm, a heavy furrow in his brow.

"You haven't heard what's happened?" Potter asked, his tone quiet. "Where's your mother?"

"She's here with Andromeda," Draco replied, frowning. "What happened?"

Potter nodded with a crisp, "Good. Teddy is staying with us for the time being." Then his gaze flickered to Hermione, who approached with caution. "Malfoy Manor was attacked, mate."

Hermione released a startled gasp, clapping a hand to her mouth. The rest of the room froze, tense, until Draco ground out, "What do you mean, attacked?"

"I mean it isn't good," Potter returned with a grimace, tugging at his messy hair. "I was working shift when we got the call. It's still standing—most of it, anyways—but it's not in a good way."

Before anyone could say anything, Potter hastily added with a glance towards Hermione, "The elves claim they're all accounted for but one—Podski?"

"Podski's here," Draco bit out, his head swirling.

At his other side, Dagomir folded his arms, and Draco could have sworn he heard the man growl. "This is the work of Avance."

"A message," Hugo added, scratching the back of his neck. "A way to ensure we don't return."

"And to ensure we know they can get to us," Hermione added quietly. "Thank Merlin no one was still there."

Draco didn't want to add the obvious—that no one who had been living there was still loyal to him, aside from the small gathering presently at the villa, and the guards to whom Dagomir would be reaching out later.

But after Theo and Blaise had been privy to several conversations regarding confidential Nocturnus matters, the four remaining members of the council had agreed that it would be vital to accept any support they could from anyone they knew they could trust.

If he was honest, Draco quite thought Nocturnus could use some modernisation anyways. And that included some fresh interest.

His heart stuttered at the thought of his childhood home in shambles—and though magic had rebuilt the property more than once, a chill crept along his spine at the thought.

"So," he prompted, his heart hammering in his throat at the thought of what Potter had shared, "this leaves us here in Spain—as long as Avance doesn't know we're here."

Hugo dug in his pocket, brandishing a Portkey much like the ones they'd given Blaise and Theo, but keyed to Potter's magical signature. As Potter gazed at the item, Hugo briefly explained its purpose, the group of them settling around the table.

"We're broadening our allies," Draco mused as Potter turned incredulous eyes on him.

Between them, they filled Potter in on the occurrences that had led them from England to Spain, and he had been appropriately flabbergasted.

Blowing out a breath, Potter muttered, "This Avance is no joke."

"Unfortunately not," Draco said with a grimace. "Please, give us some good news out of England. Whatever you know."

Leaning back in his seat, Potter glanced around the table. "Since Claude Arcand stepped out of power in France, the Wizengamot hasn't been breathing down Kingsley's neck about this anymore. Which means you won't be facing any more trouble there with regards to inquiries. The new French Minister, Laurent—"

"Avance now," Draco muttered, frowning. "That backfired."

Potter only shook his head. "He doesn't give a rat's arse about the British Ministry. And I'd wager to say he doesn't care about the French Ministry all that much right now, either."

"He wouldn't if Avance has forced the former Nocturnus to stay all holed up somewhere," Hugo contributed.

Draco's eyes tightened with consideration. "So France is a nonissue?"

"Essentially." Potter hesitated for a moment before going on. "Kingsley's made no secret of the fact that he's supportive of the Nocturnus Order—even though that doesn't look like it used to, according to what you've all shared—and you have our support. As much as we can manage, anyways."

Hermione released an exhale of relief. "That's good news. Thanks Harry."

As if nervous to bring it up, Potter asked, "Do you have a plan? To get back at Avance and seize control of the Order again?"

"It's vague," Draco said, his lips twitching despite the dire situation. "Right now we're severely outnumbered and overpowered."

Although he'd been silent through most of the discussion, Dagomir spoke up, his voice soft. "Our plan will be in stealth and espionage. Avance thinks they have won. They will be careless, and they will slip."

Silence fell over the room, and Draco felt a chill sweep once more down his spine for an entirely different reason.

"As we speak, those who remain of the Nocturnus Guard have gathered and will be travelling to Spain tonight. They will soon return to their task of defending this Order, whatever that takes," Hugo added.

Draco wasn't certain on the specifics of that, but he and Hermione had risen late that morning, and he knew Dagomir and Hugo had discussed the matter of the guard earlier. As if following a similar train of thought, Hermione caught his eye, withholding a smile.

"On that note," Draco clipped, though he didn't expect anyone else to follow the line of thought, "my magic isn't entirely gone. Hermione and I have only just learned."

"It will take some time, we think," she said, addressing the table at large, "but my control of the affiliation seems to have stirred Draco's core magic awake again. He's been able to perform some simple wandwork."

She beamed at him as if she couldn't be prouder, and for an idle moment, Draco wondered whether he would ever deserve her unwavering dedication. He took her hand in his beneath the table.

"Excellent!" Hugo exclaimed as Dagomir nodded in approval. "It will be interesting to see whether you will be able to latch onto the Lunae Amor's usage of the affiliation to revive your own."

The thought hadn't even occurred to Draco, who had been so fixated on simply restoring his base core magic that he blinked at Hugo, startled.

Shrugging, Hugo went on. "She drew her lunar magic from the bond between you—maybe you'll be able to do the same in reverse."

As the conversation carried on, Potter eyed the group with quiet bemusement, as if he wasn't quite certain whether he was privy to the discussion at hand. But Draco met his stare with a nod.

Quietly beneath a new discussion about the guards between Hugo and Dagomir, Draco said, "You're unofficial Nocturnus now, Potter, whether you like it or not. I think we'll be doing things a little differently around here from now on. That's what your Portkey signifies."

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Potter only nodded. "Thanks, Malfoy." His gaze darted to Hermione, a grin crossing his face as he nudged her hand with his across the table. "And Malfoy. I'll do whatever I can to help."

That evening, after Potter had returned to England, Hugo and Dagomir initiated the enactment of their plan. The only details Draco had learned in the brief interim was that it would involve significant levels of espionage.

Since Draco couldn't Apparate—and in no uncertain terms was Dagomir willing to put his Lunaes at risk anyways—he remained in the villa with Hermione while Dagomir and Hugo Apparated in and out to collect the guards.

By the time the evening concluded, Draco was emotionally wrought. Many of the guards they had come to know so well—Ben, Vlad, and Boris, among others—had returned.

But the number that hadn't come to join them was sobering. Draco remembered Dagomir saying they'd had to fight their way out, and his heart mourned the loss of those who hadn't made it. Hermione turned into his side, despair written on her face, when the last of them arrived.

The villa wasn't large enough to properly house everyone, especially with Narcissa, Andromeda, and Madeline also utilising rooms, but the guards had set to work constructing makeshift quarters on the grounds a short distance from the villa itself.

Draco had been stirred as so many of the guards had approached, expressing their relief and gratitude that he and Hermione were alive and safe. Humbled and overwhelmed, they had only been able to thank the guards for their service and loyalty.

According to Dagomir—who had decided to stay in the barracks with the rest of the guard—the first phase of the plan would commence the following day.

"It almost feels strange," Hermione mused at his side as they watched the guards training and practicing through the window, "to have people around us again."

"It does," Draco admitted. In Lithuania, there had been just the three of them with the Arcands. And then the first days in Spain, the villa had felt oddly empty. Now with the return of Dagomir and the guards, and having spent time with their family and friends, he couldn't help the slow creep of hope into his heart.

Despite that, even with the highly-trained guards, they were still vastly outnumbered.

Now having learned that Malfoy Manor had been decimated—a fact that had lingered, unsettling, in the back of his mind throughout everything else—Draco was insistent his mother not return. According to Potter, the house elves had been initially taken to the Ministry to share anything they knew about the attack, but then they had all decided to return to the Manor to begin cleaning up.

Draco was glad none of them had been caught in the attack, knowing Hermione never would have forgiven herself for leaving them there when Podski had arrived at the villa.

Now that there was no one at the Manor, he supposed there wasn't any reason they couldn't come to Spain, but they had no need for so many elves. And they may yet have use for a rebuilt manor one day.

"It's almost beginning to feel like a real Order again," Draco muttered wryly under his breath, meeting Hermione's stare.

She tucked into his hold, the pair of them basking in the chance to relax for a short while without the fate of so much hanging over them. She breathed, "We'll get there again. It may be hard to believe now, but I have faith."

"What do you think brought it back?"

Being without his magic was the most vulnerable Draco could remember feeling. Not even realising he'd been playing into Avance's tricks from the start had left him feeling as useless and exposed.

Her face softened as if reading the sentiment in his stare, and she took his hand into hers, pressing a soft kiss to his crescent marking. Against his skin she whispered, "Belief."

Draco himself had harboured no belief that his magic would return—if anything, he'd been resentful, succumbing to the despair within his bereft soul.

But there was no judgement in her stare, and he sunk into the feel of her magic, recognising the now vaguely familiar prod of his own weakened core. Bringing her hand to his mouth, he planted a kiss to her palm.

"What did you think about what Hugo said earlier?" he asked, trying to keep his tone disinterested. "About the thought that I might be able to develop the affiliation again through the bond."

"I think," she whispered, tilting her hand to graze his jaw, "you're capable of so much more than you believe. I think it's absolutely possible." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and he could see the glossy sheen to her eyes. "The magic relies on intent, remember?"

He'd already considered, somewhere distant and murky, the level of intent Hermione had been infusing into the bonding marks to draw his magic back out. But it occurred to him in that moment how much it must have cost her—how much of her own belief she'd bestowed upon him when his own was lost.

Ducking in to press his forehead against hers, he whispered, "I won't let you down again."

She only shook her head. "You never let me down. If anything, you've only proven to me how strong of a man you are. The strength of a person's character is in how they respond to adversities not successes."

Draco faltered, drawing away. "And I crumbled when faced with adversity."

"No," she whispered, a sparkle in her eyes as they met his, "you've only begun to rise once more. My Moon Rise."

Draco huffed a laugh, a grin spreading across his face despite himself. "Merlin. Of the two of us, you're the better leader."

Granger shrugged, her head dropping into a tilt as she gazed at him. "Maybe. But one day you'll learn to stop underestimating yourself. Then you'll see what I see—and I see a wonderful leader." Her gaze drifted to the grounds where the guards still practiced, balls of light hovering and illuminating the darkness. "They didn't follow you here because of oaths. They aren't out there, pushing themselves well into the night, because of their oaths."

Blowing out a breath, he nodded, steeling himself with as much conviction as he could muster. "I sure as hell couldn't have done any of this without you."

Her face softened. "I could say the same. It's all been a team effort—and this is just another challenge we'll face."

"We're going to face it," Draco mused, his stare lingering through the window. "We're going to push through this, no matter what it takes." Sinking a little, he added, "It's going to take a hell of a lot."

Hermione's gaze flickered, and she released a titter, taking his hand into hers. "It is," she admitted. "Probably more than we even realise just yet. But we have something they don't and that's true loyalty. We've seen it with Madeline; a person who isn't truly loyal to Avance can't be forced if they don't believe in it. And those guards out there fighting, Hugo and Dagomir, our friends we've spoken to in the last two days... they believe in Nocturnus."

Tears broke from her eyes, trailing silent tracks down her cheeks as she whispered, "They believe in us."

Draco clenched her hand a little tighter, feeling his heart lurch in his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips before drawing back. "I'd follow you to the next world and back."

"And you," she whispered. "I love you."

Her hand in his acted like a lifeline, and Draco felt his heart racing in his chest. "I love you, too."

A secretive smile curled her lips, spreading into a full grin as she gave his hand a squeeze. "Draco."

His brow knitted as he glanced down, following her gaze, and his breath stuttered. Her hand shone with the affiliation where it held his own, and when she released him, the veins of his palm were illuminated with the slightest hint of white, reaching towards the tips of his fingers.

Ever so faintly, he felt the thrum of powerful magic.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. Thanks as always for reading. I'm getting into writing the last handful of chapters and I'm really excited to share the rest of this story with you. I hope you're all well.

Alpha and beta squad thanks to Kyonomiko, LadyKenz347, and ravenslight.