In the days that followed the bonding ceremony, Hermione expected things to feel different. Or at least not the same. The magic within her veins quieted into a gentle pulse, consistent but hidden unless she listened for it.

Despite the way her heart had raced in the heat of the moment when she and Malfoy had kissed, with the bonds fresh in her blood and magic swirling in the air, he remained warm but polite.

And Hermione, insistent on following through with her plans, returned to work at Flourish and Blotts. Malfoy's expression was blank every time she mentioned it, and she knew it was an effort on his part to avoid expressing his thoughts on the matter, but she appreciated it all the same. It was important to her that certain aspects of her life remain as they were before, even though her own quiet doubts lingered in the back of her mind. At times, it was daunting to consider all the ways in which her life had already changed—and would likely continue to do so.

She was now, in every sense of the matter, the Lunae Amor of the Nocturnus Order—Hermione Malfoy. She fidgeted with the twisted silver ring on her fourth finger, forged through the ancient magic of the Lunae bonds. The same magic that now lingered below the surface of her skin.

Malfoy hadn't been around that afternoon before she left for work, but before she could escape, a pair of burly guards approached, reticence in their faces as they offered to escort her to her job. And she hadn't been keen on a row later, so she had acquiesced.

The bookstore was slow, given the Hogwarts school year was still in session and students wouldn't be looking for new books for months. But the handful of customers who did wander through the doors brought a sort of ease to her soul.

A photograph of her own face stared up at her from a stack of copies of the Prophet, along with a full article of speculation with regards to the bonding ceremony. The only thing they had managed to get correct was that she was now irreversibly bound to Malfoy and to the Nocturnus Order as a whole. With everything that had been going on, she hadn't had much time to reach out to Harry or Ron, but she intended to make plans to meet with them soon. Harry had already heard from her first-hand, but she could only imagine the situation from anyone else's perspective.

A pair of young women walked into the shop—presumably just a year or two out of Hogwarts—and as Hermione walked forward to greet them, they ducked down the nearest aisle. Shrugging, she returned to the register. But moments later when she looked back up, the girls were blatantly staring at her and whispering to one another.

Uncomfortable, she shifted on her feet, her eyes tightening.

"So it's true, then," one of the girls pronounced, her eyes lingering on Hermione's ring finger.

Sighing, Hermione folded her arms, tucking her hand beneath the other arm. "Can I help you find anything?"

"No." The other girl snorted. "We aren't looking for any books."

Something moved in her periphery and the pair of girls exchanged a glance, eyes wide as they edged back towards the door. One of Hermione's Nocturnus guards had moved forward, and she scowled, separating herself from the man. She most certainly didn't need protection from a pair of gossips.

"Probably best to carry on then," she said, voice apologetic. The girls took off before she could say anything else. When she turned back to the guard, his expression was blank. "I know this is your job, Ben, and the Lunae put you up to it," she began, thinning her lips, "but you can't hover. I still need to be able to do my job."

The second guard cracked a grin. "No disrespect," he said in accented English, "but our job is to keep you safe. More important than selling books."

Huffing, Hermione returned to the front counter. She would be having words with Malfoy over his babysitters. The thought jarred through her that technically, she was Malfoy now, too, and she would need to start calling him by his given name at some point.

Especially since he had made an effort once or twice at calling her Hermione.

Merlin, the man was her husband. It still felt strange.

Ever since the bonding ceremony, small magical tasks had felt effortless, as if the capacity of her magical core had been expanded with the bonds, and even non-verbal spells flew forth with ease. In between customers, she had taken to attempting some simple wandless spells in an effort to see how far the increased magical strength went. Malfoy had told her, during one of their first meetings, that he had developed a magical affiliation with the phases of the moon, and she wondered whether her own growing power was something similar.

Attempting to levitate her empty mug from the counter with only her hand—the crescent moon on her wrist sparkled with the attempt—she almost didn't notice another customer walk in.

But when he leaned against the counter and she glanced up, catching a hint of scruffy black hair, she cried out, "Harry!"

Circling around, she pulled him into a hug, ignoring the guards when they stepped forward. But Harry only smiled, dragging a hand through his hair. "You have bodyguards?"

Cracking a wry grin, she said, "It's a long story. But yes. Ben, Vlad—this is my best friend Harry. He won't do me any harm, and we need a few minutes alone to catch up."

Nodding, the guards retreated, though she could still feel their eyes on her from a distance.

"So," Harry prompted, staring at her, "you went through with it."

Her face softened as she offered him a nod. "I meant to owl you more often, but it's been chaos. The bonding ceremony was on the full moon."

Pursing his lips, Harry stared at her. "No invite for your closest friends?"

"It wasn't up to me," she breathed, eyes stinging with moisture. "It was only for the members of the Nocturnus—"

"I'm just teasing," Harry interrupted, even as his expression fell serious. "I realize that there are certain things I won't understand and won't know about your life now. I just… Merlin, I need to know Malfoy isn't going to do you wrong."

"He isn't." It was surprising, how easily the words flowed from her lips—and disarming how readily she believed them. "No matter what's happened in the past between us… he's really grown up. And our goals now are the same. With the full power from the Lunae bonds we can begin to deal with the issues in France."

Harry nodded slowly, his face pulling into a smile. "I'm glad to hear that—and you're practically sparkling."

Casting a surreptitious glance at herself, she managed a smile in return. "That's probably related to the magic of the bonds. Everything in my life is quite sparkly these days."

"Not to mention the ring," he teased, peering closer at the curled metal, dotted with stars. "Unconventional, but it suits you."

She huffed a laugh, staring at him for a long moment. "Created with magic, you know." They both fell silent until she spoke again. "Thanks, Harry. For coming to see me—for your support. I can't imagine this has all been easy to accept."

"Ron went nuts when he heard you were marrying Malfoy." With a grimace, Harry flipped through a book on the counter as if fidgeting. "He thinks you've fallen for some trick of Malfoy's or something, but I guess I can understand why this is so important to you. Saving centaurs and werewolves and everything… always was sort of your thing."

"Yeah." Her heart clenched in her chest as she held Harry's eyes. "And Malfoy… maybe it won't be so bad after all."

"Hopefully not," Harry quipped, "because you're stuck with him now."

The idea of it didn't frighten her as much as it had at the start, though she knew they had a long way to go before they would truly feel comfortable with one another. And she didn't know if it would ever be the sort of relationship she would have chosen for herself, had certain occurrences not forced her hand. Her eyes stung once more at the thought, and she blinked away the sudden push of tears.

"Merlin, Hermione, I didn't mean to upset you," Harry said, sweeping a hand through his hair.

"It's okay," she whispered. Pressing her lips into a smile, she added, "He could be worse." Voice dropping, she finished with, "I could have done worse. With Malfoy… in this order… I'll always have a purpose, you know? It was never my dream to push out a bunch of kids and have no identity of my own."

They both knew she was referring to the almost fling with Ron after the war that had never made it off the ground.

"Even if…" she went on, sucking in a breath. "Even if Malfoy has some rough edges—so do I. And we can work on them together."

Harry wore a resigned smile when she finished talking, and his green eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "I'm proud of you, Hermione. For always doing what you know is right, even if it means putting yourself second."

She gave a watery snort. "Another thing I learned from you, I guess."

"I guess so." Casting an idle glance around the empty shop, he teased, "I can't believe you're still working here. Just like you to step into the ruling seat of an ancient magical society and insist upon keeping your day job."

Hermione felt a flicker of truth behind his words and her face faltered. "I suppose it might not work out. The bodyguards and all—Malfoy doesn't like it. But..." Trailing off, she made a face.

"But you needed something to stay the same." A soft, understanding smile crossed his face.

Even so, Hermione frowned. "I never know if I'm doing the right thing anymore."

"Trust your intuition. It hasn't steered you wrong—often." The words coaxed a smile from her at last. Pulling her into another brief hug, he added, "I have to get back to work—but I had to see you for myself. To be sure you were still doing alright with all this."

"I am."

With a last grin, he said, "I can see that. Better than I thought." Clapping a hand to her shoulder, he turned to leave. "Talk soon, yeah?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

As Harry walked away, he turned and threw over his shoulder, "Malfoy."

A bright laugh burst from her lips as she swiped at the tears that finally broke from the corners of her eyes.

Staring out the window onto the vast grounds below, Draco felt a racing in his heart.

He'd been plagued with a sense of urgency—a deep anxiety—ever since the bonding ceremony had been completed.

He had Ascended to the seat of Lunae Ortus of the Nocturnus Order. Now, he had his Lunae Amor. It was time to venture into the work that needed to be done. Bergen and his team of strategists had been plotting the best way forward with the Avance situation in France, and Draco would go there soon to see things for himself.

He had caught wind that the British Ministry wasn't thrilled with the idea of the Nocturnus Order establishing itself once more on their doorstep—not that there was anything they could do about it, since Nocturnus operated outside of public government—until they heard he was attempting to deal with the French Minister and resolve things in whatever way possible. Before Avance toppled the French Ministry itself and initiated another war.

Despite the fact that France had never sought to intercede with the war in Britain, Draco knew the same wouldn't hold true if the tables were to be turned.

But there was one additional matter that had to be dealt with first—one loose end that needed to be tied up.

He jumped from his thoughts at a knock on the door of his living quarters—the door through which only Granger had access. Hermione. He kept catching himself slip, because she wasn't Granger anymore. She was his Lunae Amor—his wife.

Turning from the window, he cleared his throat. "Come in."

She edged into the room, lingering by the door and twisting her hands. "I wanted to speak with you about your guards following me to my job—"

"No," he murmured, eyes tightening. "While your life is under threat, and while you insist on working, you'll have guards keeping an eye on you. They are tasked to look out for your best interests, however that looks."

Her eyes flashed. "But they're interfering—"

"As is their duty." She frowned at him, opening her mouth to argue, but he went on. "It is their job to keep you safe from danger, no matter the cost."

"Two young girls aren't danger." Folding her arms, she rolled her eyes.

Draco sighed, walking from his place at the window to stare at her. "And what if two young girls were two assassins under Polyjuice? What if they were paid off? If they'd been Imperiused?" She fell silent but continued to scowl at him. "Our work here is more important than either of us. I'm not sorry to say it, but our work here with Avance is more important than selling books."

A heavy tension sat in her shoulders, even as her expression faltered. Quietly, she said, "I don't want to quit my job."

"I know. And this is my compromise."

Ire crackled in the depths of her eyes, and it stirred to life the newfound magic within Draco's soul; his lips pulled into a smirk as something hung in the air between them when she relented. Draco didn't understand all of it, and he wasn't keen to exploit the bonds between them, but it was fascinating all the same.

"While you're here and already angry with me," he said, averting his gaze from hers, lest he indulge the magic racing in his veins, "I need to talk to you."

The frustration was gone from her voice when she straightened her shoulders. "About?"

"I've secured an appointment," he began, gauging her reaction, "to see my father."

Humour twitched her lips as she muttered, "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"Unfortunately, he's difficult to forget." Draco barked a singular laugh before taking a seat on the loveseat. Idly, Granger took up the seat beside him. "We won't need to stay long—and a part of me is dying to see the look on his face when he realizes all that's happened in the last month."

Granger tittered. "When he learns you've married a Muggle-born."

Eyeing her, he nodded. "Among everything else."

"Fine. I'll be sure to wear my finest robes."

Draco laughed; there was something about her wry sense of humour that put him off his guard, and it wasn't entirely unwelcome when it seemed every aspect of his life lately left his guard otherwise lifted. "We have a Portkey into Azkaban in one hour. And tomorrow, we meet with the council. Bergen and his strategists have been debating the best way forward with the Avance situation. It's time we begin."

A nervous energy radiated from her as she nodded and echoed, "It's time."

The gloomy atmosphere of Azkaban prison always seeped through Draco's skin to embed his entire being with a melancholy sort of doom. He had only been to visit his father a handful of times since his incarceration at the end of the war, and largely at his mother's insistence.

Narcissa visited Lucius Malfoy every few months, although Draco wasn't sure whether it was because she actually liked seeing him or if it was just because they had spent so long together that she didn't know how to exist fully independent of him. Either way, he had never felt fit to ask.

The need to protect his Lunae Amor sang in his magic, and he had to ignore the instinct as Granger—Hermione—walked at his side into the visitation room after undergoing the proper protocol.

Draco had never been raised with the expectation of Ascension, despite that most of his advisers and council members had always been prepared for the eventuality of it. As such, his father needed to know. His lip curled at the thought of it—perhaps if his grandfather and father had Ascended instead of falling prey to the ambitions of a madman, Draco's whole life would have looked different.

Granger's hand slipped into his, whether in providing strength or in seeking it, he couldn't tell. But he welcomed the contact as it steadied the racing in his veins. Her fingers grazed the band of intricately twisted metal on his ring finger, and his lips pulled into a hint of a smile.

But once inside the room, Lucius Malfoy's stark presence wiped any trace of happiness from his countenance. His father looked worse every time Draco visited, his skin sallow and stretched across the bones of his face. His hair, bedraggled and knotted the last time they had seen one another, had been shorn close to his head. Draco's father, once so elegant and aristocratic, looked every bit the prison rat he had become.

Lucius Malfoy sat on a hard chair at a small table, but Draco could still see the way his prison robes hung from his gaunt frame.

"Father."

"Draco—and…"

Ignoring the attempt, Draco drew Hermione's seat out for her before taking his own; she took her seat with poise, eyes tightening as they fixed on his father.

Lucius sounded almost incredulous as he worked it out. "Miss Granger?"

"Father, this is my wife, Hermione Malfoy." As Lucius huffed a sound of surprise, he added, "My Lunae Amor."

For as long as the silence gaped between the three of them, Draco started to wonder whether his father hadn't heard him. The man simply stared back and forth between them, his mouth hanging slightly open, before finally he leaned back in his seat, clasping his hands across his stomach.

"How unfortunate." A sneer reminiscent of old lingered on Lucius' mouth.

Draco frowned, uncertain how much his father even knew about the Nocturnus Order—given neither Lucius nor his father Abraxas had ever Ascended—and opened his mouth to speak, when his father laughed, cold and mirthless.

"You've opted to sully the purity of the House of Malfoy—and for what? Some useless, archaic order with all pomp and no substance—and with more enemies than you could possibly believe." Lucius' eyes were cold as they met his own, and Draco straightened in his seat.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Draco sneered, feeling the noble magic of the Ascension stirring within him. "Given you've been locked in here for so long already." If his father was taken aback by his tone, he didn't express it. "The Nocturnus Order still possesses more power than you will ever know—and they most certainly are not useless."

Beneath the table, Granger's fingers nudged against his own—an offering of strength—and he wrapped her smaller hand in his.

His father didn't deserve the whole truth of the matter. He would rot in Azkaban, and Draco was already exhausted with his presence. "All you need to know," he huffed, "is that I'm fixing the fucking mess you left Mother and I in after the last war. Because I won't see my children dragged through the mud of the reputation you created."

Lucius' scowl was ice—and were Draco still a younger, lesser man, he might have cowered at the revulsion in his father's face. But Lucius only dragged his stare to land on Granger. He drawled, "Poor girl. What ever has he manipulated you into? A short union it will be, then. History does have a tendency to repeat itself… I would know."

Granger only lifted her chin. "Draco, I believe it's time to go."

Turning to face her, he allowed a soft smile to come to his features, knowing it would infuriate his father. "You are absolutely correct."

Helping her to her feet, he led her from the room without another look back.

Author's Note: I'm so thrilled you all enjoyed the bonding ceremony last chapter! Your reviews made me grin like an idiot. Next week, we'll begin diving into the situation in France. Thanks so much for reading!

Alpha hearts as always to Kyonomiko and LadyKenz347, and my rockstar beta is ravenslight! Go give them some love!