For the rest of the day, conversation stayed light and flippant, none of them keen to address the issues which now plagued them from all sides. Draco wished he could reach out to his mother but didn't know how.
He still hadn't slept, and Draco felt almost delirious with his exhaustion.
Beneath the surface of it all, he felt the pressure mounting. They were essentially nomads now—a cause but not a home. He didn't know who they could trust or how they could find anyone. Even Dagomir, who Draco was certain was on their side, could have been compromised.
If they were to attempt to meet up with him, and if he had been captured when Nocturnus fell, it could be disastrous.
"I can't help but wonder," Hermione said, curled up at his side in bed that night, "what Elias Bergen got from the whole situation. What was worth breaking his Nocturnus oaths without knowing the consequences. Hugo said Cosette must have promised him something."
Drawing her closer, Draco planted a kiss to her hair. "I've been thinking the same. If he wanted to rule the Nocturnus Order but ultimately was unable to do so, maybe… this was the second best thing." He gave a shrug, contemplating for a moment. "When I didn't select Cynthia Bergen as the Lunae Amor he was… unphased. Like he didn't care. I wonder whether it would have made a difference."
Hermione shifted in his embrace, discomfort marring her expression. "I doubt it. Bergen must have been working with Cosette all along."
"Not that I regret selecting you," he hurried to add, warmth tinging his face. "Even with how everything played out."
A secretive smile lingered on her lips as she eyed him sideways before leaning in and pressing her lips to his with a murmured, "Of course not."
Despite everything that had happened since they'd left the Nocturnus castle, that he had nearly died and lost his magic, and that Draco could barely keep his eyes open, he felt himself responding to her touch as always.
Dragging her nearer, he deepened the kiss, sweeping his hands along her sides as she shifted to straddle his lap.
Between kisses, she drew back, meeting his stare. "We're going to get through this."
With a self-deprecating huff of laughter, Draco held her face between his hands. The situation was so bleak it was either laugh or cry, and he was spent of despair. "I'm going to have to borrow your faith."
Pressing her lips softly to his again, she rested her forehead against his. "I'll try to dig up enough for us both." On another kiss, she whispered, "I love you."
"Love you," Draco murmured in return, his eyelids sliding shut in the comfort of her embrace.
Her warm laugh reached his ears as she shifted from his lap with a soft, "Get some sleep," and Draco didn't remember the rest.
Hermione awoke with the first hints of sun through the thin curtains, and a gentle peace swept through her at Draco fast asleep at her side, his expression soft. Quietly, she rose from bed and crept into the adjoining loo, showering and preparing for her day.
They felt startlingly cut off from the rest of the world, holed up in the Arcands' home though it had only been two nights. She couldn't help but wonder what was going on back at home and the events that had occurred following their abrupt departure from the Nocturnus fortress in Italy.
Without a safe way to reach anyone, they hadn't rushed an attempt, but it was time to learn what the situation was actually like. Of course, it was easier said than done when Elias Bergen knew so much about them and their acquaintances.
Contacting anyone without revealing their location would be a challenge, and Hermione was quite certain Cosette would be eager to finish the task of dismantling the Nocturnus Order.
It would be wishful thinking to imagine they would simply be left alone, and Hermione was a realist.
After numerous assurances from Hugo that the safety and protective wards on the Arcands' house extended beyond the garden, Hermione brewed a pot of tea and crept onto the front stoop for some fresh air.
They had spent the entire day before inside and the seclusion was beginning to get to her. A warm, early summer breeze danced across her face, and Hermione was grateful for some time alone to reflect.
And to practice.
Settling her mug on a small ceramic table, she focused on her hands, forcing herself to draw the powers of the affiliation forward.
Their current list of disadvantages was long, and even all of their possible allies combined wouldn't be enough to take on Cosette and the affiliation if she had claimed the loyalties of the former Nocturnus Order.
Even if they wanted to try, Hermione wasn't keen on subjecting her friends to such a thing. It would be like delivering them to a slaughter, given the way Cosette had no consideration for anyone else. Some small, malicious part of her hoped the consequences of Elias Bergen breaking his oaths were dire even as she found she didn't want to think of the man at all.
It had seemed evident Bergen was involved with Cosette in some capacity—maybe that's why he had done it. But the man had always seemed inherently logical, and Hermione suspected his reasons ran deeper than that. Maybe it was connected to some old rivalry between the houses of Bergen and Malfoy that Hugo had thought long buried.
Perhaps it ran deeper than any of them yet knew.
Sucking in a long breath, Hermione doubled her efforts, forcing the affiliation to expand. She didn't care to blow a crater in the Arcands' yard and didn't know how else to test its power.
Summoning the affiliation had always come so easily to Draco, and it was with a great amount of effort that she had even done as much as she had at the moment, her heart pounding and a thin sheen of sweat breaking on her temples through the exertion.
Most likely it was due to the fact that he was the Lunae Ortus and the lunar affiliation was a natural part of his ascension, whereas she had merely developed her lunar powers through effort and practice.
It was encouraging to think that she could continue to strengthen the magic—but they were short on time and long on aspirations.
Hermione didn't know how it could all possibly come together.
According to the Arcands, there was a small magical population in Vilnius, which meant they would have access to an owl post office, and with any luck, they would be able to procure a Portkey. Although even if not, Hugo had shown a knack for obtaining unauthorised Portkeys more than once. At the least, they could Floo in directly, but they would just have to be more careful.
The fact remained that they needed to be smart with every move now.
Without a word, Hugo slipped into the seat beside her, cradling a mug of tea. He didn't comment on the affiliation she had gathered other than a wry, "Please don't shoot that at me."
Her lips twitched even as a dull throb began to pulse near the back of her temple. Huffing a sigh, she released her focus, holding the affiliation in her hands as she cast him a glance.
"Draco always makes it look so easy."
"Draco's the Lunae Ortus," Hugo returned. At least it confirmed her suspicions, but she felt disgruntled all the same. Quietly, he added, "No Lunae Amor on record has ever been able to develop full control over the affiliation. I consider us incredibly fortunate that you have."
Thinning her lips at the sentiment, she nodded. "I'll keep working on it."
Hugo took a sip of his tea, squinting into the sun. "I've been trying to determine the best way to reach Dagomir. If the guard oaths offer loyalty to the Lunae Ortus, it'll be a stroke of fortune. But he's the one in charge of the guard, and he keeps the details close."
"And what if he's been captured?"
"That's the issue."
"What we need to do—" Draco announced, dragging up a third chair; Hermione jumped, having failed to notice his arrival "—is dispatch a message that he'll understand without us revealing anything about our location or any details. In case he has been captured, we need to know."
Frowning, Hugo stared between them. "What do we know about Dagomir to let him know it's us?"
Hermione considered the thought, grimacing. "I don't know very much about Dagomir at all. He's quite private, isn't he?"
"Quite," Draco echoed.
The three of them racked their brains for a moment before Hugo announced, "He's from Belgrade."
"That's a start." Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, Hermione lifted her mug but didn't drink from it. "A way to let him know that we know him, and for him to realise it's us." She winced at her own poorly worded logic, but Draco nodded.
"Good. Hugo… you're in charge of that."
Hugo offered a sardonic smile.
Hermione went on. "Florence said she could direct us to the wizarding sector of Vilnius if we need any supplies or to send letters. I think we can reasonably send an owl to Harry."
"What about Minister Shacklebolt?" Leaning forward, Draco swept a hand through his hair. "Although realistically, the fewer people we directly contact, the better. If my mother went to the estate in Spain, we can Floo there and, at the very least, get out of the Arcands' space."
"I'll ask Harry to speak to Kingsley." Head falling to the side, Hermione thought through the logistics of it. "One owl to Harry and one to Dagomir. If we can travel directly to the estate in Spain, that's for the best."
Nodding, Hugo pressed his hands together. "We'll keep our footprint as small as we can manage. Which reminds me, the Arcands don't want to move again. They don't believe our presence here has compromised their wards since the three of us remain the only secret keepers."
"Fine," Draco said, waving a hand. "It's one less thing to worry about right now."
They all shared a silent nod in agreement, and Hermione felt her mind already tracking through the next steps, growing jumbled.
"If we can reach Dagomir," she began, dropping off with a grimace. The dull headache from overexerting her grip on the affiliation was beginning to grow in pressure, and she took a long sip of her lukewarm tea.
Draco dropped a reassuring hand to her back. "We'll be able to learn more about the situation. And until then, we'll need to proceed with the other angle. If Minister Shacklebolt is able to help, he might need to be our feet in London until we can sort through the rest of it."
Rubbing at her head, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "I'll tell Harry to expect a Floo call, then. It's safer than divulging information via owl."
But Hugo and Draco both stared at her, matching furrows to their brows. Draco's hand on her back tensed. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," she said, her tone a little breathy as she forced another thick gulp of tea. "Just a bit of a headache."
"Maybe Florence has something to help."
With a smile that felt a little too bright, Hermione nodded. "Shall we prepare to go into Vilnius?"
Hugo leaned back, folding his arms and swinging one ankle over the other knee. "Glamours, disillusionment," he listed, eyes tightening. "Plain clothes, I think."
"Polyjuice would be ideal," Hermione conceded. "But I can't imagine we have any of that handy."
"Let me just whip up a batch," Draco drawled, and the hint of a smirk on his lips was enough that she had to force herself from tearing up. He'd been so devastated since waking up without his magic, while she had expected him to be angry.
"We won't be able to access any of our bank vaults without drawing attention to ourselves," Hugo said, "and by extension, revealing our presence here in Vilnius—which could draw unwanted attention to the Arcands."
"I don't have much here with me," Hermione admitted. Thankfully she'd kept her small beaded bag tucked in her Nocturnus battle gear, but there wasn't much for money. "Maybe ten or twelve galleons worth."
Draco grimaced and added, "Everything is at the manor or the castle."
"I have…" Hugo scrounged in his pockets, drawing out a small handful of coins. "Seven galleons, nine sickles, and four knuts."
The three of them shared a tense smile, before Draco announced, "It'll have to do."
Through the entirety of their excursion into magical Vilnius, Draco was on edge. Florence Arcand had offered to show them the way, but they had been unwilling to put her at risk if something were to go wrong and they were discovered.
The street was small but featured the essentials. An apothecary, where Draco was able to pick up some supplies; he had a suspicion potions would come in handy. And if they could get to the Malfoy residence in Spain—which, at this point, he was hinging the majority of his hopes on the possibility—he would be able to access a cauldron and brewing equipment.
Hugo had drafted a letter to Dagomir, and from a quick glance at it from afar, all Draco could tell was that it was only a few words on a page, and he didn't think it was English. Meanwhile, Hermione had written a letter to Potter, requesting he keep watch for a private Floo call.
It was safer than putting any details on paper if their owl was intercepted. And they weren't willing to put anyone else at risk. Enough people had already died over the delusions of a madwoman. And if Draco had a say in it, only a few more would follow.
He hadn't yet informed Hugo that Elias Bergen was on that list.
However, the inconvenient fact remained that Draco still had no way to access his magic. At one end of the magical street was a grimy looking wand parlour, and he had checked his glamour before slipping in. But the wandmaker didn't seem to care who he was, and he also didn't seem phased by the fact that Draco couldn't produce magic with any of the wands.
But he had selected one all the same, imagining it to be the one that felt the best in his hand since he had no way of testing it.
After a few more brief stops, they had spent the majority of their pooled funds, and Draco was angry with himself that he hadn't been more prepared before leaving the castle for the fortress. Even Hermione had brought her extended bag, and while she had other supplies, money was in short supply.
It was another reason Draco was desperate to reach the residence in Granada. But most importantly, he hoped with every fibre of his being that his mother had escaped the battle in Italy and that she remained unaffected by the shift in allegiances.
If she had somehow been swayed towards Cosette, they would need to subdue her to keep their location a secret.
This was all, of course, ignoring the other potential result—that Narcissa had been among the fallen at the fortress. But it was the one possibility he refused to dwell on.
Enough things had gone wrong already, and Draco had to believe his mother had made it out.
He wanted to reach out to Blaise and Theo, if for no reason other than to find out whether any backlash over the situation had reached the rest of wizarding England. If news of Nocturnus' fall was public.
If nothing else, it would give them insight into Cosette and Bergen's plans. Draco's lip curled at the thought. He hoped the affiliation was giving them a difficult time. Merlin knew he hadn't been able to wrangle it within a matter of days.
He met back up with Hermione and Hugo at the top of the street, although he didn't immediately recognise them as they exited the owl post, glamoured as they were. Draco himself wore dark hair, a heavy brow, and a sturdier build.
At a subdued signal, they all retreated towards the Arcands' house, which was only a ten minute walk and afforded them a chance to get outside without too much concern.
"What did you say to Dagomir?" Draco asked as they approached the yard.
Hugo shrugged. "Just a time and location, near his hometown. And I wrote it in Swedish."
Hermione's head snapped up in alarm; she looked strange with blonde hair. "Does a location seem unsafe? If someone intercepts the mail, we could be walking into a trap."
"Not if we've prepared in advance," Hugo mused, "and swept the area."
Draco felt the shimmer of the thick wards across his skin as they re-entered the protection of the safehouse, and some of the tension sunk from his shoulders to know they were secure once more. But as Hugo had been unable to procure a Portkey, they would have to Floo directly into the Granada home.
Having spent two days lingering in Vilnius, Draco was restless and anxious to learn anything about the situation, so the three of them had decided to leave shortly thereafter.
Hugo reinforced the wards, ensuring none had faltered by their presence in the home and the yard, before they ventured inside. The Arcands were gracious, suggesting they were happy to help.
Florence pushed a small bag of potions into his hands, her eyes shimmering, and Draco was oddly touched by the gesture. Although a number of years younger, the woman reminded him in certain ways of his own mother.
"Thank you," he managed with a sharp nod, "For your care and hospitality. I cannot say how much we appreciate it."
Claude offered a stern nod in return, looking between the three of them. "Should you need our assistance again, you'll have it."
Hugo's expression faltered as he clapped the man on the shoulder. Meila jumped forward, hugging each of them in turn with a warm exuberance, and the tense atmosphere dissolved.
"Thank you," Hermione said, as the group of them crowded around the fireplace. She clasped Florence's hand in her own for a moment. "For everything."
Florence's returning smile was warm.
And before Draco could stand to be tempted to stay somewhere comfortable and safe, he clasped a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the grate. Within moments, the three of them were gone.
The first thing Hermione noticed upon entry to the Malfoy residence in Granada, Spain was a warm, welcoming colour scheme of terracotta and sandy beige.
The second thing was that the house appeared untouched.
She didn't have to say anything to see the hope slough from Draco's shoulders, his face stoic but stare flitting around.
Without the loving touch of house elves, a thin layer of dust had accumulated on the floor and the furnishings; a stale acridity hung in the air, as if undisturbed for some time.
Hugo ventured a few steps into the sitting room into which they had emerged, but Draco hesitated, carefully scanning the space. Hermione walked up alongside him, slipping her hand into his. Though he glanced her way, his grasp remained loose, and it was a long moment before anyone spoke.
"At least we have a safe place," Hugo drawled, idly toying with a figurine on the mantle.
Draco's eyes were narrowed, but his lips pursed, and she didn't think he was keen to respond.
So she ventured forward, dragging him along by extension, and peered into the next room, a large airy foyer. From what she could tell, the residence was large. Nothing like the manor, but they could easily use it as a new base of operations.
When Draco didn't respond, she glanced his way, her voice dropping. "Narcissa is smart—if and when it's safe to do so, she'll join us."
At last he bit out, "Unless she's no longer loyal to us. In which case, it's a massive risk to stay here."
The thought hadn't quite registered with Hermione in that way; Narcissa had a Portkey to directly access the villa, and if she were to bring Avance with her…
"I wish we knew more about this," Hermione said, some of her frustration seeping through. "About the seizure of the affiliation and the allegiances of the Nocturnus Order."
"It's so theoretical," Hugo admitted, looking uncertain. "In my knowledge, the affiliation has only been seized by rogue members from within the Order itself—and even then, it was so long ago that the information is insubstantial."
Gently, Draco extracted his hand from Hermione's, and quietly he asked, "Will one of you please ward the property? I'm going to see about doing something useful."
Despair tugged at her heart at the transparency of his melancholy spirit, but Hermione merely watched as he ventured further into the house. A spasm of fear swept through her at the thought of someone entering the home, and Draco having no magic with which to protect himself.
But as they watched him walk away, a slump to his shoulders, Hugo murmured, "He just needs some time. The disappointments are stacking up."
Hermione managed an uneasy nod and drew her wand to set to work.
He couldn't contain the wild churning in his head, the frantic pulsing of his heart. The affiliation was gone; he had no way to use his magic; he didn't know whether his mother was loyal or whether she was even still alive. For all he knew, she had been at the fortress and hadn't made it out.
They had covered a lot of ground, and he thought he would have seen a glimpse of her at some point during the fight. It was the only thing that gave him any hope at all.
All he could do for the time being was to attempt to do something of use, and the best way to stem the anxiety in his heart was to make himself busy. The villa had a small potions lab in the basement; it wasn't anything as elaborate as the one he'd operated at the manor, but it offered a few cauldrons and other equipment he would need.
Since they had left most of their things at the Nocturnus castle and he had no way to return to Malfoy Manor undetected, it would be prudent to begin a few useful medicinal brews.
In the back of his mind, Draco considered the thought of brewing up a potent poison. If he couldn't use his magic, he could still come up with a different way to take out Cosette. But now, with the full force of the Nocturnus Order at her command, it would be useless.
He wished he knew more about the situation. How had Glenneth been pulled in by an Imperius curse when he was such a powerful mage? Was the spell he had used the only means of drawing forth the affiliation?
Was Glenneth still alive, and if so, was he still under Bergen's control?
If they could somehow wrest the affiliation back… It was a dangerous consideration when they were at a complete disadvantage on every front.
As he set to work, Draco felt peace and tranquility spread through him the way it always did when he focused on a complicated brew. It was something he could do without magic, although having a wand would certainly have sped up the process. But at that moment, Draco was keen on anything to distract his mind.
His mother was out there, and he had to believe her vows were of loyalty to him.
The entire situation was presently rife with uncertainty, and he could only hope there were others still on his side. With any luck, Hugo would be able to meet up with Dagomir, although that in itself was taking a risk if the Head of the Guard had betrayed them as well.
It was a bitter thought, to consider that so few of the council were actually on his side.
Once more, he berated himself for his naiveté in trusting Bergen.
But it was no good now; the hands had been played, and all he could do was adjust course and alter his strategy. Which, as of now, was nonexistent.
Carefully, he diced some roots, scraping them into the cauldron. For the first time since he had awoken at the Arcands' home, he felt some semblance of control. This was something he could manage, and for several hours, he lost himself in the meticulous work.
Author's Note: Thanks so much as always for reading. I appreciate you all so much.
Alpha and beta squad creds to Kyonomiko, LadyKenz347, and ravenslight.