Legs folded beneath her and eyes narrowed in concentration, Hermione watched as white flutters of magic chased from her fingertips, swelling and drifting along the lengths of her fingers. A faint light shimmered from her palm. With a sharp inhale, the magic quieted and settled into nothing.

Grinding her teeth together, she tried again, digging deeper into her core magic and willing her faint shreds of the affiliation forth.

The situation had very nearly gone south at the Alba stronghold the week before and Hermione was determined to do anything she could to help the cause—and after seeing the way Draco had used the affiliation to distract and confound Cosette, she had been practising in her spare cracks of time.

Tension in her shoulders, she forced the magic from her fingers, watching as tendrils rolled and twisted down towards her wrist, building into a denser ball of vaporous magic. With a huff of surprise, she watched as the lunar powers danced and leapt from her palm into the air, and with a curl of her wrist, it spun above her head, breaking into a thousand fibres like firecrackers bursting in the night.

"Very nice," a voice interrupted, and she snapped her head up in surprise. Draco took a seat beside her and she scowled. Lifting a brow, he folded his arms. "What?"

"I thought I'd done it on my own," she grumbled, releasing a sigh. "I can only handle the magic when you're nearby."

"I'll go, if you like," he mused idly, a teasing smirk lingering on his lips as he ducked in to press a kiss to her temple. "But for the record, I have every faith that you'll figure it out on your own, too."

Rubbing at her forehead, where a slight pressure headache was beginning to form, she relaxed into the bench. "No, I could use a break anyways."

Summoning the affiliation to his own palm with ease, he took her hand, passing her the magic, and she caught it within her hands, gazing at the white ball of pure power. Cracking a wry grin, he mused, "Or just a head start."

Fixing her focus once more, Hermione tested the magic, separating it and pulling it one way and the next. Gathering a portion of it in her marked hand, she gazed at a small garden statuette some distance away and released the Affiliation, watching as it collided in a cloud of dust and shattered plaster.

"Mother will have your head if you start damaging the garden," Draco said from her side as he watched, arms spread across the back of the bench and one ankle cocked casually across his other knee.

Distracted, she murmured, "I'll fix it." Eyes tight, she fired the second coil of magic, and they both watched as the pieces of the statue knitted back together with a white glow until there was no evidence it had been destroyed. A wide grin split his face as Hermione gaped in surprise.

Clapping her hands to the bench, Hermione recoiled with a sharp intake of breath at a stinging in her hand. A sliver of wood from the bench was caught in her palm, and she peered closer with a grimace.

Clicking his tongue, Draco muttered, "The place is falling into disrepair with all these people living here, I swear." Taking her hand into his, he plucked the sliver free between his fingernails, and a spot of blood formed where the skin had been broken. Idly, he grazed his fingers along her skin, and Hermione watched with growing astonishment as the pinprick of blood receded, the flesh reforming before her eyes. He hadn't looked away from her hand, and he froze, tension in his shoulders.

With a cautious breath, Hermione whispered, "Did you just—"

Questioning grey eyes snapped up to meet hers, and his throat bobbed with a swallow. "I think so."

White magic still shimmered on the tips of his fingers, and he stared closer, drawing her palm close to his face. He pursed his lips, releasing her hand, and Hermione swept her fingers across where the wound had been. There was nothing.

Silently, and deep in thought, Draco drew his wand and prodded it into the tip of his own finger; they both watched as blood welled from the point, a few drips coursing down the length of his finger before he covered it with his marked hand. When he withdrew moments later, the lines of his palm an iridescent silver, his finger showed no evidence of the injury.

His eyes found hers again, and Hermione's mind was fraught with the implications. "You can heal."

Swallowing, he corrected, "The affiliation can heal."

"Remarkable." Drawing in a long breath, she stared at his hand. "I wonder to what extent?"

For several minutes, he sat in silence, testing the capabilities of the magic by tracing shallow cuts, then deeper ones, into his wand hand and healing them with his marked hand. At last he choked, "Hermione… what does this mean?"

"We knew the affiliation had more power than simply destruction," she said quietly.

"And spell-breaking," he added, though he still looked at her from beneath a furrowed brow, rattled.

Thinning her lips, she offered a smile. "Add healing to the list, then."

But he only shook his head. "I need to know the extent of this." He rose to his feet, and when Hermione simply eyed him, confused, he added, "Come. We're going to the infirmary."

A pair of Nocturnus healers were tending to several injured guards when they arrived at the infirmary. One of the rooms that had popped up in the Nocturnus Wing once Draco had announced his Ascension, the Order usually kept a healer or two on duty in the event of illness or injuries among the Nocturnus.

And when he needed to escape to his lab, Draco brewed potions that could be beneficial to the healers.

One of the women clad in Nocturnus healing robes glanced up, startled, when they entered the room. Offering a bow, she stepped away from her patient and said sharply, "Lunae Ortus. Lunae Amor—is everything alright?"

Granger was quick to offer a nod as the other healer, a young male apprentice, rushed forward.

Clapping his hands together, Draco announced, "We aren't injured. We simply need to check something." He approached the nearest guard, whose leg was propped up, a collection of potions bottles at his bedside. "What's your name?"

Ducking his head into a deep nod, the guard glanced up. "Lennart Haraldsen, Lunae."

"Lennart." Draco gestured towards his wounded leg. "May I?"

The guard nodded, stiffening as he watched warily.

Maria, the chief healer on duty, said, "Lunae, what are you doing? This man has just broken his ankle."

Focusing on the power accumulating in his hand, always lingering just below the surface of the skin, Draco stepped forward. He caught Granger's eye and moistened his lips, heart racing in his chest as he turned back to the guard and pressed his shimmering palm gently across the front of the man's ankle. He could feel the magic shifting and flowing at the point of contact, and while the guard initially winced at the touch, his eyes widened moments later.

Draco could feel the visceral tension between Granger and the two healers, who stood nearby in a thick silence.

A prickle of moisture settled on his brow at the exertion—it was substantially more than healing a cut on his palm—but at last Draco withdrew, the magic fading to a soft tingle at the tips of his fingers.

The room still hung in a state of disbelief, and two other burly guards in hospital beds peered on with interest as Maria stepped forward, pressing her fingers to the guard's ankle. Then she cast a series of tests with her wand. With a sharp inhale, she turned back to Draco, incredulous.

Mouth open in surprise, Lennart twisted his ankle one way and the next. Gruffly, he said, "You've fixed it."

Granger's fingers laced with Draco's; he gave her hand a brief squeeze before turning towards the next bed, where the guard was staring blankly at Lennart's ankle. With a thick swallow, the man met Draco's stare and choked, "Lunae Ortus."

Stepping forward, he clapped a hand to the man's shoulder. "What is your ailment?"

The man's skin was pale, and he shone with a sheen of moisture. "I've spiked a high fever, Lunae. A residual effect of a training spell."

"It's common," Maria interjected, though her tone was mildly disapproving. "The way the guards have been training these days. They often come in with lingering spell damage or magical overexertion."

Draco nodded and lifted a hand to the man's warm brow, feeling the lunar magic flowing once more from his fingers for several stifled moments. When he drew away, the man's gaze was visibly clearer, his forehead cooler.

Shaking her head in astonishment, Maria performed a series of spells and once more determined the man free of his condition. Her voice was low with emotion. "I don't know what you're doing, Lunae, but an hour ago I would have declared this sort of healing impossible."

Pursing his lips, Draco stared at the woman. "It's powerful magic—nothing more or less than that."

Three other guards were in the infirmary, and he recognised all three, making brief conversation as he tended to their ailments. Lastly, he healed a man from the advising team with a shoulder injury, named Buckley, and by the time he was finished, Maria was watching on with folded arms and a smile curling her lips. "If I'm not careful, Lunae, I'll lose my job to you."

"Nonsense," Draco muttered, cracking a grin. He looked towards Granger, who had been rather quiet as she watched on, and she gave him a curious smile. Flexing his hand, he added, "This is merely another tool we can use."

Against Avance. The words hung, unspoken, in the air, but among a group of healers and guards, he knew the gravity wasn't overlooked.

Before they left the room, Draco turned to face the guards and healers, still eyeing him with a certain measure of disbelief. Softly, he said, "This isn't information I'd like to spread around the Order just yet."

A few of the guards exchanged a look, and he knew they understood the implication. Avance didn't know about the healing powers of the affiliation, and if someone inside the circle was passing information from the Order, he didn't want them to know.

They bid farewell to the group, lingering for a few more moments while the pair of healers began to discharge the recovered guards, and as they made their way through the corridors towards their quarters, he turned to Granger.

"Something else, isn't it?"

That same smile played about her lips, and she wore a sparkle in her eye. "It's incredible."

They had barely crossed the threshold into his sitting room, and as Draco closed the door behind him, she was on him, hands entwined in his hair and lips hard on his. Understanding her private smile from earlier, he grinned against her mouth, dragging her closer.

He made a mental note to discover obscure forms of powerful magic more often.

Later that afternoon, they came across Hugo in the small study in their wing of the Manor that served as an offshoot of the greater central library. A stack of books sat on the table before him, another open and blocking most of his face.

Draco palmed Granger's arse as he led her into the room and dropped into the seat at Hugo's right as Granger settled in across from them. Slowly, Hugo dropped his book, fixing each of them with a tight stare.

The young man had moved into a room in the wing after being displaced from his council quarters, and a new treasurer, a bland and nondescript man by the name of Tressel, had taken Hugo's place. Granger seemed to think it was infinitely amusing—Tressel the Treasurer.

"Hello, dearest Lunaes," Hugo said quietly, marking his page and setting the book down. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Granger smiled, that sparkle still lingering in her eye as she glanced briefly Draco's way. "We wanted to be sure you're settling in okay."

"Great, actually." A grin spread across Hugo's features. "This wing of the Manor is far less populated, and I find I'm able to get more done."

It was an understatement, given even Narcissa didn't live in the same wing. But Draco had been cautious not to position Hugo too closely to him and Granger so they could still have their privacy.

"And I haven't run into my father—so there's that. I'm not certain he even knows I'm still here."

Frowning, Granger leaned forward in her seat. "He'll come around. Everyone's been on edge lately, and tempers have been flaring."

"And besides," Draco said with a vague wave, "you have more important work to do for us now. Which reminds me—have you been keeping tabs on the Arcands?"

Hugo offered a quick nod. "Absolutely. They've settled in nicely—I can imagine it's been an adjustment, but at least they're back together now. To my knowledge, Avance has no way of finding them, and I've ensured they only leave their house with glamours just to be safe." Glancing between them, he added, "Would you like to know the location?"

It was no light thing, for the Secret Keeper of a Fidelius to give up the information. But Draco nodded instantly. "Best we all know—just in case something happens."

He didn't need to elaborate the sentiment, based on the uneasy look Granger gave him. But she pressed her lips into a thin smile and said, "We should go see them. Let them know we haven't forgotten them."

"Good idea," Draco said with a nod.

Hermione blinked up at an array of Gothic and Baroque architecture as their Portkey landed. "Where are we?"

Adjusting his tie, Hugo strode from the narrow alley between two crumbling stone walls and led them forward. "We are in Vilnius, Lithuania."

Draco's lips twitched as he settled into stride alongside her, tugging her hand into his. "You sent the Arcands to Lithuania?"

"Technically," Hugo clarified, adjusting his tie, "they're in a small magical district near the edge of Vilnius. But we can't readily Portkey into the direct area around the safe house—we have a bit of a walk ahead of us. And Vilnius is the largest city in Lithuania. They'll be safe here with all the enchantments Glenneth taught me."

It was late afternoon in Vilnius, by the looks of it; the air was warm with a gentle breeze and Hermione gazed around, taking in the sights of the city as Hugo led them towards the safe house.

She could feel the shift in the air when they crossed the threshold into the magical district, and Hugo drew out his wand to guide him the rest of the way. At last he came to an abrupt stop, half an hour or so after they'd arrived, and squinted towards a decrepit looking shack with a notice plastered to the front door in what Hermione surmised to be Lithuanian.

"Condemned," Hugo explained, waving a hand. "I think that's what it says, anyways. I'm sorry to say Lithuanian is not one of the languages I speak well, although it is only across the sea from Sweden."

An amused look on his face, Draco snickered. "I can't imagine they speak Lithuanian either."

Unconcerned, Hugo replied, "They'll learn. And some in the district do speak English from my experiences. Not sure about French."

Hermione idly wondered whether Hugo had dropped the Arcands in a remote country where they wouldn't understand the native tongue as a tactical move or whether it was because Claude Arcand had made things miserable for them for so long.

Before she could say anything on the matter, Hugo added, "They're fine, by the way. They seem to like it here so far. Missus Arcand studied magical architecture, and she enjoys it." At the pair of skeptical glances he received, he stiffened. "What? I've been by to visit a few times. They aren't bad people."

Sighing, Hermione glanced at Draco. "I suppose you're right. Maybe Claude made some bad decisions early on, but he was only trying to protect his family. If we didn't believe they were good people, I don't imagine we'd be here."

"It's true," Draco offered, and peered towards the ruined shack again. "So this is it?"

"This is it."

Hermione took a few cautious steps forward, and Hugo added, "You can only approach because you're with me. There are very strong Confundus Charms in place whereby any unwelcome visitors would find themselves with an array of other things to do."

"Unwelcome visitors," she mused, peering at the crumbling front walk.

"Because they might make friends," Draco inferred.

Hugo nodded, even as his expression was pensive. "But if the friends turn out to be Avance spies… they won't like the other things they're suddenly called to do."

A shiver crept down Hermione's spine at the thought. But a shimmer of magic crossed her skin, and within moments, the destroyed wreck turned into a lovely house that suited the rest of the street.

Striding up the walk, Hugo tapped several times on the door, sliding his hands into his pockets as he waited. Draco's expression was apprehensive, but she couldn't blame him, given their experiences with the Arcands.

The door swung open, and a woman with chin-length auburn waves stood in the frame, her expression wary until she noticed Hugo.

He flashed a grin with a quick, "Laba diena, Florence."

"Hugo," the woman exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Labas. And Hugo's friends—the Lunae Ortus and Lunae Amor."

Hermione blinked and offered a tentative, "Labas," in return. At her side, Draco sucked on his teeth before proffering a hand to the woman. Moments later, Claude Arcand appeared in the doorway as well, looking significantly less harried than he had the last time they had seen him in the park in London.

In the flurry of greetings that followed, Hermione found herself in the Arcands' sitting room, and a broad smile crossed her face when Meila Arcand crept into the room and gave her a swift hug with a soft, "I'm glad you're okay."

Worrying her lip as she took a seat on the sofa beside Draco, Hermione gazed at the small family. "Hugo says you're all settling in well."

"Very well," Florence Arcand responded, her green eyes bright, and Hermione took an instant liking to the woman. "Vilnius is fascinating. We assume aliases, of course, when we go out and wear glamours—Meila won't be able to return to Beauxbatons, but there is a small magical academy nearby in Kaunas where she will be able to study her potions and spellwork."

"That's good to hear," Draco said, leaning forward in his seat. "I know the situation has been unorthodox, but if any problems arise, let us know. From what I've heard from Hugo, you should be safe here—but just in case."

Claude Arcand shifted, his shoulders stiff. At last he ducked his chin and said, "Thank you—for returning my family to me. You did not owe us anything and went out of your way. From the few details Hugo and my wife and daughter have shared, it was not easy. I appreciate your efforts very much—and am pleased to see the changes happening in France under Minister Laurent. He will do well in the position."

The man's voice was thick with emotion, and Hermione felt Draco's thigh press against hers in the seat as he nodded, meeting Arcand's stare across the room. "Absolutely. You're welcome—but Hugo was the one who found them."

"And Hugo knows he is welcome in our house any time," Florence said, swiping a finger beneath one of her eyes. "As are both of you."

Draco's hand found hers, and Hermione forced a smile through the emotions brewing behind her eyelids. "Thank you, Missus Arcand. It was our honour."

And despite everything else, it was a stark reminder. He had Ascended—she had bonded with him—because they wanted to do some good. With everything that had gone wrong, as she stared at the small family, it was nice to think that something had gone right.

Author's Note: Thanks everyone for reading as always! I just love to see your theories about what's going on and who's doing what. I hope you're enjoying the story!

Squad love going out to Kyonomiko, LadyKenz347, and ravenslight!