Groaning, Hermione swept her curls into a messy bun atop her head. Tapping her quill on the table, she muttered, "I thought this would at least be interesting."
Frowning, Draco clipped, "It isn't."
They had duplicated Madeline's translation of the Italian book they had found in the Alba fortress, but the content was drier than Hermione could have imagined—and she had enjoyed Professor Binns' class compared to the rest of her classmates. The book was essentially a history of Alba, but the author made it sound as if centuries of war and bloodshed were infinitely banal.
"We need to decide what we're doing next," Hermione said, setting her copy aside. "If there's more to be done in Italy, we ought to proceed. And if not… maybe we're best back in England for now. The longer we stay in Italy, the greater likelihood that Avance will discover we're here."
"If they haven't already," Malfoy grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. "I think our best option is to return home. The castle is as warded as it can possibly get, so we know it's here and safe if we need to return. Maybe it's time to check in and make sure everything is okay at home. We can continue studying this atrocious translation from anywhere."
Gazing at him, she shook her head. "I just wish there was something in here to go off of."
"Like a specific reason why Cosette has decided now is the time to kill me and steal the lunar affiliation?" At her grimace, he sneered. "The only mention I've seen of the affiliation is in mentions of its destructive power. Considering Alba was constantly losing great swaths of their organization, they sure were persistent buggers, weren't they?"
"It reiterates the reasons for their hatred of the Nocturnus Order." Eyes sweeping the text again, she said, "We only know that Alba formed as a response to the Nocturnus Order's power. But for a written history, it doesn't even say very much about why they were so opposed. You don't just form an entire magical order to oppose another order without a good reason, especially if the original order is monstrously powerful."
Dropping his face into his hands, Malfoy released a long, strangled sort of sound. "This is rubbish. We're only coming out of this with more questions. Why now? Why Cosette, and why lure me into this all using Arcand?"
Pensive, she stared at him, eyes tight. "Remember in that journal that discussed the consummation—it said the lunar affiliation has many uses beyond its destructive capabilities. Maybe Cosette knows something more about it."
"Glenneth doesn't even know," Malfoy deadpanned. "I suppose I need to work on it and see if we can learn anything else."
"Maybe this is ridiculous, given the way things are," Hermione said quietly, choosing her words with selective care, "but it sounds to me as if Nocturnus wasn't exactly innocent in all of this. They must have given Alba some reason to rise up against them with such aggression, and they certainly gave plenty of reasons to keep the feud going for so long."
Grimacing, Malfoy met her gaze. "I feel like the more we dig, the more we're going to learn—and most of it we won't like." Running a hand through his hair, he released a distraught huff. "And here we are, perpetuating it once again."
Hermione whispered, "We wanted to do good. And yet… Cosette isn't giving us an option for that."
"We can, and we will," he ground through clenched teeth. "But as it stands right now, Alba is getting in the way. We can shut down Avance and make people think twice about the prejudice we've seen in Arcand's policies in France…" He fell silent for another long moment, slowly shaking his head. "I feel like this is meant to divide us. Like we can't deal with both Avance and Alba at once. Like we're going to have to decide—do we go the path in France and work to improve life for the magical beings targeted by Arcand? Or do we chase what we've learned here in Italy…"
"Thereby continuing the brutal and bloody feud between Nocturnus and Alba," Hermione finished sadly, understanding his point. Gazing at the table where their translations sat, she said, "During the last days of the war, we came across some information and Harry felt forced to make a choice between two paths."
Expecting derision at her mention of Harry, she glanced his way, but Malfoy was staring at her intently, his stare leading.
She went on, releasing a quick breath. "We had been attempting to track down all of Voldemort's Horcruxes—inanimate objects inside which he had stored parts of his soul—but then when we learned of the Deathly Hallows and that Voldemort was going after the Elder Wand…"
"He had to make a decision," Malfoy surmised, frowning. "I can only imagine, based on your appearance at Hogwarts, how that went."
Humming in agreement, Hermione leaned back in her seat. "Realistically, though, it was too late to retrieve the Elder Wand. So Harry ultimately made his decision, his hand forced, and we kept on our original path."
She could practically see the cogs turning in his head, and he asked, quietly, "Do you think Potter wishes he had taken the offensive path? If it had still been an option. Or would he have carried on after the Horcruxes regardless."
"I think," she breathed, considering the question for a moment. "Harry learned a lot about power—and I don't think he ever truly believed anyone should have been in possession of all three of the Deathly Hallows. But he already had two, and I think I'd be lying if I said he didn't consider it."
"Potter had a vital mission he was keen on," Malfoy said, gesturing with a hand. "What he decided in that moment could have impacted not only Great Britain but the wizarding world as a whole. Life as we know it could look incredibly altered had the events of that day not played out as they did."
Softly, she asked, "Is this so different?"
Squinting into the late afternoon sun, Draco felt a churning in the pit of his stomach messing with his nerves, and he wondered if they had done the right thing as he gazed at Malfoy Manor.
It hadn't felt right to continue lingering in Italy without a valid path forward. Bergen had spent the previous day scouring for anything more they could find on Alba, but every avenue had come up short. After a brief meeting of the council members present in Tuscany, they had decided to return to England for the time being.
Draco preferred the warm Italian air to the rainy chill in Wiltshire and frowned as they ventured through the gates of the Manor.
Dismay lingered among those returning. Despite having spent several days in Italy, they had very little to show for their efforts—and in the attempt, they had lost one of their own.
Unconvinced that he hadn't accidentally triggered Alba's awareness of their presence, Draco felt a deep sense of unease even though they hadn't been given any reason to think so. Granger's fingers laced with his at his side, and he tugged her closer, drawing strength from her presence.
Nothing had changed with the situation. Avance was still wreaking chaos in France; Alba still breathed down their necks in Italy. The situation felt as if it were closing in on him from two opposing sides, and he was feeling the pressure.
But with regards to Granger… a soft smile danced across her lips when he planted a kiss to her temple. With Granger, he felt as if everything had changed.
When they arrived in their private wing, she ducked into her own living quarters, and Draco felt at a loss without her at his side. While in England, they largely kept to themselves—but in Italy, they had scarcely left one another's side.
He wondered whether the dynamic would shift, or whether there had simply been something in the Italian air.
Podski had already unpacked his bags when Draco walked into his bedroom, keen on a scalding shower to wash away the strain Italy had placed on his soul. Unable to decide whether the trip had been more beneficial or detrimental to their plans, he lingered for a long while beneath the hot spray until his skin was flushed with the heat.
Wrapping a towel around his hips and grabbing another to dry his hair, he wandered into his sitting room to collect Madeline's translation notes. Fatigue sat heavy in his bones, and he planned to scour the Alba history until his eyes couldn't stay open any longer.
But through the open door into Granger's sitting area, he could see her perched on the sofa, worrying her bottom lip with a heavy furrow in her brow as she stared at her own copy. She already wore her sleep clothes and looked about as tired as he felt.
Glancing up at his presence, her eyes swept slowly upwards along his frame, and a coy smile tugged at her lips. With a quick inhale, she said, "Good night."
He gazed at her for a long moment as he ran the towel through his hair and murmured, "Good night, Granger." Tossing the towel aside, he dropped his head into a significant tilt towards his bedroom.
Her chin lowered, and she held his gaze for a long moment before hopping to her feet and crossing the threshold into his quarters. As she made herself comfortable in his bed, Draco felt a smirk pull at his lips, and he breathed to himself, "Well then."
"Malfoy." Startled, Hermione froze in her spot, leaned back against his shoulder on the couch, her legs stretched before her. "There's something—page two hundred-eighty-three."
Silently, he flipped through the thick parchment of his own copy, and she waited with bated breath while he read the passage she had stumbled across. He read, "Gilberto was a great sorcerer and mage, and he developed the magic by which he could harness the power of the moon. Gilberto was slain, and it was seized—ah fuck, Granger—by a thief who took the magic for his own. The thief did declare himself Lunae Ortus and created a magical order which he could use to protect the power of the moon."
Hermione kept her gaze fixed on the page, blowing out a stuttering breath. "The first Lunae Ortus stole the lunar affiliation from another?"
"It explains why Alba has been hellbent on destroying the Nocturnus Order for so long," Malfoy said, his tone dark. "But the affiliation has been strengthened over the years by Nocturnus mages and passed on through the Ascension for centuries. It probably isn't even recognisable as the same magic anymore."
"Blood feuds have blown up over less."
"You're right," he said, leaning forward in his seat; Hermione shifted to sit alongside him, her gaze flickering to him sidelong. "So Alba wants vengeance for the stolen lunar powers, and Cosette has decided now is the time to reclaim what they believe to be rightfully theirs."
A chill crept down her spine. "Do they have any claim to the affiliation? Legally or magically, however any of that works?"
"It's hazy subject matter," he said, browsing down to the next paragraph. "I'd have to speak with the mage to be certain, but regardless of what Alba claimed was theirs from centuries ago, the affiliation has been the defining feature of the Lunae Ortus—obviously—since the Nocturnus Order originated."
"And then there's the most pressing detail," Hermione whispered, "being that Cosette believes she can kill you and take it back."
His lip curled, as it often did, at the mention of Cosette's intentions. "Let's also keep in mind," he mused, "that this is written in an Alba history book. Even if this feud goes back to the very start of Nocturnus, surely there is a certain level of bias here. If you read the same passage written in a history of the Nocturnus Order, I can promise you they would claim Alba to be at fault."
"I'm sure you're right," she said, idly jotting on a sheet of parchment. "But the most important element here is that Cosette believes this sequence of events. For all we know, the first Lunae Ortus was the one to develop the affiliation, Alba stole it, and the Lunae reclaimed it and developed the Nocturnus Order to protect it." When he chuckled, she merely shrugged. "History is often convoluted without context."
"History is written by the victors," he quoted, leaning into her side. "But in this case… Merlin, there has been crazy bloodshed on both sides. Betrayal on both sides… I don't know that there are any victors here. Nocturnus chose to fade into obscurity rather than risk the affiliation being taken."
"And Alba has never let up," she marvelled, shaking her head. "It's all ridiculous, quite frankly. What if we were to talk to Cosette—"
Malfoy cut her off with a bark of laughter. "Have you been reading the same journals I have? I don't think there's ever been a civilised conversation between the leaders of these two organizations."
Unwilling to let the idea drop so easily, Hermione hummed, flipping the pages back. "It's the twenty-first century now. Do you honestly think Cosette wants to take Alba into war?"
"I think," he said delicately, "Cosette has been quite forward in drawing me out for her own purposes. There's only one affiliation, and she clearly wants it."
"Okay, but just say there's a chance—"
She was interrupted by a loud rap at the door that led into the corridor. As they shared a look, Hermione felt trepidation settle into her nerves. The last time anyone had visited them in their quarters had been when they had received a letter threatening her life prior to the bonding ceremony.
A stone-faced contingent of three guards stood at the door when Malfoy swung it open. Standing at his side, she tensed when even Ben, one of the friendliest of the Nocturnus guard, regarded the pair of them with a grimace.
"Lunae Ortus—Lunae Amor. There is something you need to see immediately."
Dread filled the pit of Hermione's stomach, and Malfoy's hand instantly caught hers as he nodded. "Lead the way."
"We've only just noticed it, Lunae," Ben said as the guards flanked them, wands drawn. "But the last patrol passed that way six hours ago."
Malfoy's hand squeezed hers tightly, and Hermione could see the hard set of his jaw. The group remained silent as they ventured out onto the grounds towards the front of the Manor.
Hermione could hear water as they approached the great fountain, but it lacked the cohesive flow it usually had. A breath chased from her lungs as her heart dropped simultaneously in her stomach.
One of the guards announced in a thick Eastern European accent, "We don't know what it means, Lunae."
A massive chunk of broken stone, rough and jagged around the edges, crushed one side of the fountain, as if it had been dropped from a great height. Water sprayed haphazardly from the fountain in all directions, creating a disjointed ambient noise.
Malfoy's expression hardened, his eyes narrow as he released her and stalked towards the broken stone. With a wave of his hand, the water ceased, falling silent. Hermione could barely draw breath as she stared, transfixed, her heart pounding desperately in her chest. As she rounded the side where the stone formed a square edge, a sharp inhale caught in her throat.
Drawn faintly, in a rough hand, was an image of the sun rising over the horizon. The symbol on the book that contained the history of Alba—the same emblem that had been stitched into the sheath of the sword Hugo had found. Implicitly, she felt as if the stone must have been from the collapse at the Alba stronghold.
His words quiet and quaking with barely contained ire, Malfoy drawled, "I know exactly what it means. It's a message."
Fear coursed through Hermione as she stared at his back, the guards at a loss to her sides. Moisture stung at her eyes, hot and insistent, but something stayed her approach.
Clenching his hand into a fist at his side, Malfoy splayed his fingers wide. With an anguished cry, he twisted his wrist upwards.
A ball of pure white power chased from his palm with ferocious speed, and before Hermione could even comprehend what he had done, the power collided with the broken chunk of stone. Within seconds, the stone vanished, and through a thick haze of rubble and smoke, Hermione could see it was gone, its remains decimated to nothing more than a pile of dust.
The fountain, while broken, stood untouched.
Eyes wide, Hermione stared at the heavy lift and fall of his shoulders, his head downcast. Then without a word, he paced off into the grounds.
When the guards regained their senses and made to take off after him, Hermione held up a hand. Despair wrenching at her heart, she breathed, "Let him go."
Fury and desperation coursed as one through Draco's bloodstream, and he couldn't blink without seeing red. He had called an emergency meeting of the Nocturnus council upon returning to the Manor, and he couldn't stand to look at Granger for the fear in her eyes.
Fear of him.
The thought that Alba had come to England—had invaded his home.
His mother lived here. His wife. His entire council and the guards, the mages, and the healers of the Nocturnus Order. He felt a personal responsibility for each and every person who resided in the Manor, and to know that Alba had invaded that safety set his hackles on edge even as if left him feeling vulnerable and helpless.
The message was loud and clear: they attacked Alba in Italy—and Alba had brought the fight back to them.
The implications were so far reaching as to feel boundless. Not only did Alba know of their interest, but they also knew of the ruined stronghold. They had most certainly seen it as an act of war—of a continuation of the long and bloody feud between Alba and the Nocturnus Order.
The wards on Malfoy Manor were as comprehensive as possible. And after becoming the base of the Nocturnus Order, Glenneth had reinforced them beyond anything Draco could have imagined. But still, Alba had made it onto the grounds and destroyed their fountain. Rage churned in Draco's stomach.
They could have attacked him or Granger; they could have done any manner of things.
But they had left all of it untouched but for the fountain. A cruel, mocking point that they had more power in the situation than he even realised—that they could come and go as they pleased.
It meant Malfoy Manor wasn't safe—it meant anywhere they went wasn't safe.
All around him, the council discussed potential options, the repercussions of the fallout at the Alba stronghold, and the possible paths now that their knowledge of Alba had been revealed. But Draco couldn't hear a word of it.
Granger sat silently at his side, her chin held high and her eyes red and glossy. Draco didn't even have it in him to offer her comfort in that moment; he didn't have any to give.
Because all of it was his fault.
He had put every one of their lives at risk through his Ascension—through painting a target on the backs of every man, woman, and child of the Nocturnus Order. Through being unable to control the lunar affiliation, fresh and strengthened—he had been the cause of the Alba stronghold crumbling to dust.
Breathing heavily, his fingers curled into a fist.
Bergen spoke, but the words fell muffled on Draco's ears. Twisting his mouth to the side, he stared at his council—at the team who had been so proud to help him bring the Order together again at last. He had failed each and every one of them. But mostly, he had failed Granger, who deserved better than another war.
"What do you think we should do, Lunae?" Bergen asked, turning towards him with expectation. They all turned to stare at him with expectation, except for Granger.
He had frightened her when he had released the affiliation upon the stone from the fortress—but he hadn't known how else to direct his pain and fury.
With a shuddering breath, he choked, "I don't know." Staring around at all of them, waiting for his determination, for his decision, he managed only, "I don't know what to do about any of this anymore."
Granger's fingers grazed his beneath the table, and he clung to her hand like a lifeline.
"I think," she announced, and the collective eyes of the council landed on hers, hurting and uncertain. "We have to proceed with the only option we presently have available to us. Alba has presented us with a deliberate call to war—we must act to defend ourselves and our people. We must do right by those who look to us."
"Lunae Amor," Dagomir exclaimed, his expression wrought with anguish, "are you suggesting we go to war?"
"I am suggesting," she said, her tone devoid of emotion, "we act to stay ahead. We cannot let Alba come after us and find us off our guard. At the very least, we must be prepared."
Bergen gave a short nod. "Very well. We will prepare for the almost certain eventuality."
Sweeping a hand through his hair, Draco pulled all remaining shreds of sense together and said, "Very well. However it looks, we will act to defend the Nocturnus Order—as this council has always done."
Author's Note: Hi everyone. Thanks as always for reading, and I sincerely hope you're enjoying the story. I'm so appreciative of your feedback and kind words, but a special shout-out to the silent readers who are managing to hold it together right now. I'm honoured you're along with me for this journey in these challenging times. I hope you're all well, and thank you to those who have reached out to me with wishes of health and safety! Things are okay here right now, and my province has begun to slowly re-open.
Alpha and beta hugs to my wonderful friends Kyonomiko, LadyKenz347, and ravenslight.