Draco observed the scene before him. He had awoken at dawn and ventured outside, feeling the warm air of the early morning on his face. The Spanish villa sat on a large open field, and the sunrise embedded a foreign peace in his soul.

Despite that he couldn't feel his own magic, he could sense the shimmer of Hermione's in the wards and enchantments protecting the estate, and though it was a poor substitute for the freely coursing magic of the Lunae bonds he so greatly missed, it was oddly comforting to feel her magical signature dancing along his skin.

Now, he had returned to the house to find Hermione and Hugo eating toast and sipping mugs of coffee in the kitchen. Draco selected a slice of rye from the stack, and a smile tugged at his lips when Hermione handed him a jar of marmalade without him asking.

They must have scrounged up some food from the nearby village while he had been brewing the day before. But that didn't quite make sense when they had used up all but a few sickles in Vilnius, and he frowned, taking a bite of his toast, before he heard soft scuffling footsteps.

"Podski," he exclaimed, his brows flickering with surprise as he glanced at Hermione. Somehow, the thought hadn't even occurred to him that the elves of Malfoy Manor were still loyal to him. With his father in prison, he was the Malfoy patriarch, and no one else could demand information of the elf. Even so, elves wouldn't have been able to get through the wards at the safehouse. "It's good to see you."

Podski dropped into a deep bow. "Podski is ever so pleased to see Master!"

Draco leaned in, fixing the elf with a hard stare. "Podski, you are not to share anything we say here with anyone—even the other elves. In fact, I'd like you to stay here with us and not return to the Manor." At the elf's eager nod, he sighed. "Have you seen my mother since we left for Italy?"

"Mistress Narcissa goes to Italy also," Podski said, looking worried. "But she takes with her a Portkey, sir."

Thinning his lips, he leaned back, taking another bite of his toast.

"So she intended to come here," Hermione mused, sipping from a brightly painted mug. "The question is whether she was actually at the battle, especially if none of us saw her there."

"We could have missed her," Hugo said, frowning. "But you'd think if she had a Portkey that was already prepared for her use, she could have utilised it to escape a tight situation. I believe she will join us when she can."

The thought put Draco at ease, but only just. Because when Hugo arose, Draco realised he was wearing his Nocturnus battle gear, but he slipped a button down shirt over top, concealing it beneath.

Draco frowned, preparing another slice of toast. "What are you doing?"

"I have to leave for a while," Hugo said with a grimace.

As Hermione offered a shrill, "What?" Draco clicked his tongue and snapped, "No you aren't."

Hugo had the grace to look chastised, but he didn't move. "I don't have an option."

Rolling his eyes, Draco shook his head, feeling an old familiar tug of irritation with Hugo. "Fine, then. Where are you going that is so urgent as to put us all at risk?"

His green stare flicked between them, and Hugo cleared his throat before announcing, "Belgrade."

Nausea embedded itself in Draco's stomach, and he set down his partial slice of toast. "You aren't going alone."

Hugo clenched his jaw, retaking his seat at the table and interlocking his hands across his friend. "I am going alone because there's no way I'm putting either of you at risk." He hesitated for a moment before going on. "In my letter to Dagomir, I arranged to meet him at noon; I'm leaving now, three hours early, because it will give me time to sweep and ward the area."

A cold feeling of dread lingered in the back of Draco's mind when he met Hermione's cautious stare. He didn't feel right about the plan.

Hugo pushed on with a grimace. "We need to know if Dagomir is on our side; if we still have the guard. And if he needs our help, this can't wait. If I miss this meeting today... it could be our only chance."

Draco swept a hand through his hair, the misery of helplessness burning in his veins as it often did and building as a mixture of despair and anger. If he at least had command of his base magic, it would be feasible for them all to go. But without even the use of a wand, Draco would be a sitting duck if an altercation arose.

"I should go," Hermione announced, her face tight. "As backup."

"No," Draco ground out as Hugo echoed him. "Not a fucking chance am I putting both of you at risk over this."

"Hugo will be at greater risk meeting Dagomir in Belgrade than you are here," she said.

Grinding his teeth, Draco refused to acknowledge the fact that she was right. The villa was so heavily warded, the air so thick with magic, he could barely wade through the doors.

"I think you should stay here," Hugo said quietly, as if he didn't know who he ought to disagree with. "If this is a trap, and Dagomir's been captured, I'll be swarmed by Avance." He swallowed, looking uncomfortable and mildly green. "And Hermione wouldn't be able to fight them all off anyways."

"I have the affiliation," she responded, shoulders tense but voice faltering. "If I need to use it."

Draco felt as if a vice had taken hold of his heart. "And are you prepared to use it to kill?"

He could see the sympathy on her face and looked away; in his dreams, he could still see the faces of the people who had met their ends by the magic in his veins, the night at the fortress.

But there wasn't time to dwell on that when they were in a more precarious situation now than they had ever been. He feared that Hermione, despite knowing what she needed to do, would hesitate when the moment came. In the same way he had done.

He breathed, "I can't lose you. Either of you."

Hugo rose from his seat, shifting towards the archway that led from the kitchen. Ducking his chin, he announced, "I'll be leaving in half an hour," before leaving the room in a subtle offer of privacy.

Turning to face him, Hermione clasped his hand in hers, her stare apprehensive. "I need to go and protect Hugo."

Draco felt useless, the despair of it welling up inside of him and manifesting as frustration as he dropped his face into his other hand, drawing a deep breath and finding himself suffocating.

Quietly, he said, "And what am I supposed to do if you don't return?"

Moisture accumulated in her eyes but didn't break as she stared at him. "Draco, when you were lying there… dead, for all intents and purposes, I thought the same thing." Her voice dropped to a broken whisper. "If you didn't wake up—how would I possibly go on? How was I to manage all of this on my own?"

"I can't, Hermione." He felt shame and self-loathing build at his own cowardice, the demons he had spent his entire life running from. "I can't lose you."

He couldn't stand to voice the rest of the sentiment. Because Hugo was the only other person they had, and Draco couldn't bear the thought of losing him either. But she was his wife, and nothing else could measure up.

The tears broke from her eyes as she blinked, blurring her beautiful chocolate irises as she sunk in her seat facing him. "If you ask me to stay, I'll stay."

Draco knew he couldn't ask that of her either.

He only took her face in his hands, kissing away the tears that trailed down her cheeks, before finding her lips. Gruffly against her mouth, he murmured, "You've always been the brave one."

Kissing him again, Hermione whispered, "You're so much braver than you give yourself credit for."

"I'm not brave," Draco choked, wanting to hold onto her forever. "Not if I want you to stay here."

"It isn't our thoughts that define us," she mused, her eyes sad as they met his, "but our actions. Our habits. And our character."

With a lurch in his chest, Draco nodded before drawing back. Although the word physically pained him, he blurted out, "Go. And don't you fucking dare get yourself killed."

She only offered a stilted nod.

As it turned out, the reason Hugo was so adept at procuring illegal Portkeys was that he had learned how to create them himself. Of course, they couldn't access or reveal warded property, which was why they hadn't been able to Portkey to Granada from Vilnius.

It was one of the only mundane thoughts Hermione allowed herself to dwell on as she and Hugo, fully glamoured, cast an intensive sweep for hidden magic in a small plaza within Belgrade, Serbia. According to Hugo, Dagomir hadn't grown up too far away, and it was contained enough that they would presumably be able to detect anything untoward.

The only thing he had included in his letter from the Vilnius owl post office was a time and a location, and they were relying not only on the fact that Dagomir would have actually received the letter but also that he would have understood and been able to act upon it.

So many things were hinging on the moment that Hermione found a multitude of thoughts pressing in and threatening her precarious mental state.

She and Hugo had arrived in the square two hours prior, and it was now nearly a quarter to noon.

Dagomir's appearance—or lack thereof—would determine much of how they would move forward, and could swing the matter wildly one way or the other.

As Hermione walked casually at Hugo's side—affecting the stance of a Muggle pair simply out for a walk—she realised she could feel the thrumming of the affiliation in her fingers. When she really focused in, she could detect Hugo's magical signature, faint though it was, given the rest of the people mingling nearby were Muggle.

At first she had wondered why Hugo had selected such a location, but the presence of Muggles made sense. Anyone with a wand and an ounce of sanity would think twice before releasing a barrage of magic.

"Anything?" he asked, carefully keeping his expression neutral. His hands were stowed in his pockets as he walked, and Hermione suspected he was sustaining a magic detection charm.

Fluttering the tips of her fingers in the air, Hermione shook her head with a tight smile to a couple walking by. "Nothing. The only magical thing I'm picking up on is you."

Working with Hugo on the matter distracted her from the guilt of leaving Draco behind at the villa in Granada, but only just. It simply wasn't worth the risk for him to go along when he had no magic with which to defend himself if an altercation were to arise.

They had considered the thought of splitting up, but ultimately decided they would be safer together.

Their glamours would buy them a few valuable moments if things did go sour.

The large clock tower in the centre of the plaza suggested it was five minutes until high noon when Hugo's expression tightened with a hiss. From within the trees on the edge of the park walked a man, sturdy with a thick beard, and Hermione froze mid-step.

Even from a distance, she recognised Dagomir's heavy gait and distinctive rugged look.

But he wasn't alone.

"Get back," Hugo whispered quickly. "Cast if you have to and we can Obliviate after."

Breathless, Hermione offered a nod, sliding her hand into her pockets. "Remember, our glamours will only hold up until they detect our magical signatures."

The second figure was smaller, a hooded coat obscuring their head and face, but the slight stature suggested female.

Eyes widening, Hugo muttered, "If it's Cosette, we get the fuck out."

Dagomir and his accomplice neared the clock tower as it reached noon, a series of loud, low rings beginning to reverberate across the small space, and Hermione took a moment to survey the situation from a distance.

Although the pair were walking together, and it was almost unnoticeable, Dagomir's hand was coiled around the woman's elbow, his grip tight as if holding her in place. As if her presence wasn't entirely willing.

Hugo's altered gaze flickered briefly to hers.

As they neared the clock tower, Dagomir's green stare lifted and locked immediately on Hermione's without hesitation, and a jolt of adrenaline chased through her heart. They still didn't know whether Dagomir had escaped the battle or been captured, so for all they knew they were walking into a trap.

But Dagomir stared hard at them, as if through their glamours, for a long, stifled moment.

And then relief broke across his face, chest sinking with a heavy exhalation as he dragged his partner forward.

Hugo choked out something in Swedish, pacing forward, and Hermione hissed, holding her ground.

Until the woman removed her hood, tears breaking from her eyes.

It was Madeline.

"Hugo," Hermione said, and the man stopped mid-stride, tension rising in his shoulders. "She isn't loyal."

Instantly, it made sense why Dagomir appeared to be dragging her. But Madeline's face had lit up with joy upon seeing Hugo's glamoured appearance, and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Hugo," Dagomir ground out, his tone more affected than Hermione had ever heard. Lowly, he asked, "Lunae Amor?"

When Hermione offered a minute nod, he dropped his head instantly into a deep bow, and when he looked up she noticed his eyes were glassy. She softened, feeling some of her steely resolve dissipating in the face of the situation. Sharing a brief look with Hugo, she mused quietly, "Let's go somewhere we can talk."

Dagomir nodded, squinting into the sun. "Come on."

Leading them towards a small maintenance shack, Dagomir cast a casual glance around before taking hold of the handle and releasing the lock with a non-verbal spell. A variety of tools hung from the walls, equipment and supplies stacked on shelves, but without hesitation, Hugo and Dagomir set to work warding the small building from the inside.

Hugo dropped his glamour, and, cautiously, Hermione did the same. She found Madeline's gaze lingering on her, and a frisson of unease crept down her spine.

Madeline's vows were to the affiliation like the rest of the Order, but she huffed a breath, her lips twitching. There was something mildly irreverent in her tone that set Hermione on edge. "Dagomir's taken my wand and has me bound up."

When Hermione peered closer, she could in fact see the faint shimmer of magic around Madeline's wrists.

Hugo stepped back from his work with the wards, eyeing Madeline with caution, as if he couldn't decide what to make of her. Quietly, he mused, "You're alright." Then he glanced towards Dagomir. "Thank you."

Dagomir responded only with a grimace. "It has not been a good few days. For the love of Merlin, someone tell me the Lunae Ortus is alright."

Exchanging a glance with Hugo, Hermione shifted on her feet. "He's alive."

Expresion darkening, Dagomir stared between them. "He's injured."

"His magic," Hugo clipped, his tone faltering. "We nearly lost him, but the Lunae Amor saved him in time. We've been with the Arcands at their safe house." His eyes drifted again towards Madeline, expression tight, hands clasped firmly together as if he might reach for her otherwise. "Why hasn't your allegiance shifted?"

"It did," Dagomir bit out. "Nearly took me out before I could get her bound up." Hesitating, he eyed the rest of them in turn. "She's been… fighting it."

"Fighting," Hermione whispered, marvelling at the thought. "Because of Hugo?"

Silent tears trailed down Madeline's cheeks as she held Hugo's stare, offering a tight nod. "I don't know what happened down there but—all of a sudden, I wasn't fighting for the Order anymore but for Cosette, and—" Choking on a sob, she fell silent, and Hermione waited with bated breath. "And all I could think of was you, Hugo."

As if releasing the last of his resolve, Hugo pitched forward, taking Madeline into his arms, murmuring in her ear.

Dagomir grimaced and took a step away towards Hermione, his stare dark and foreboding. "Here's what I know: Cosette and Elias have the affiliation. The Nocturnus oaths of the Order have shifted to Cosette, but the guard remains loyal to you and the Lunae Ortus."

A breath of relief chased from Hermione's lungs even as she didn't know what to do with the rest of it.

Dagomir went on after a moment. "We had to fight our way out and nearly didn't make it, but the guards who survived are safe and waiting for your order. I don't know where Cosette and Elias went."

Hermione nodded, feeling a swell of emotion in her chest. It was the first good news they had received since everything happened in Italy. "And Madeline? Is she trustworthy?"

"I don't know," Dagomir breathed, shaking his head. "But she was in my path, and I knew Hugo would have killed me himself if I'd left her behind."

"Interesting," Hermione whispered, "to think that the allegiance is fluid like that. That her loyalty to Hugo overpowered that of the Order."

Folding his arms, Dagomir frowned. "It's fragile. She's tried to attack me more than once."

"Noted." Head spinning with the information they'd learned, Hermione managed a tight smile. "It's good to see you. I'm glad you're safe."

Dagomir only dropped into another low bow. "And you, Lunae Amor."

She met his stare, forcing a thick swallow. "You gave us the time to get out of there. I've no doubt we all would have been killed." Coiling her fingers around the man's arm, she nodded. "Thank you. We were fortunate to have you at our side that night."

The man seemed beyond words, his expression tight. He said quietly, "It was my duty and my honour."

Hermione met Hugo's stare where he had untangled himself from Madeline's embrace, his eyes red, and she glanced away in an effort to give him privacy. But he cleared his throat, adjusting his tie.

"Where is the guard now?"

"Not far from here," Dagomir announced. "They wait for a command. Where is the Lunae Ortus?"

A skittering of unease danced across Hermione's skin, and when she glanced up, she found Madeline's stare on her, something unnerving in the woman's blue eyes. Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line, meeting Dagomir's stare.

The man huffed a sigh, and with a twist of his wrist, the invisible shackles binding Madeline's hands tightened and Hugo shifted on the spot.

Hermione asked, "You're certain there's no way for Cosette to tie into her and track us?"

Standing firm, Dagomir said gruffly, "I am not certain of that."

It was an impossible crossroads when they couldn't simply leave Madeline on her own. After everything Hugo had already faced, she didn't see fit to ask that of him. But they couldn't take her to the Malfoy villa in Granada without putting everyone at risk.

As if sensing the tension of their hesitation, Madeline sniffled, sinking in on herself. "I understand if I can't come with you."

"No," Hugo snapped, though the word was half-hearted. He had demonstrated the strength of his loyalty in walking away from his father, but Hermione wasn't sure whether the same would hold true with his girlfriend.

Hermione frowned, attempting to sift through the possibilities in her head while the others stared on. At last she sighed, shaking her head. "Hugo, we need you with us."

And if Madeline's wavering hold on her loyalty to Hugo were to falter at any point, inside a house with the rest of them—if she were to somehow break free of Dagomir's bonds—it could be disastrous.

"Occlumency," Dagomir grunted. "If you can manage it. It will prevent Avance from tracking her down, but it won't keep her from breaking her allegiances again."

Hugo rushed, "She can. Well enough to keep me out, at least."

Hermione could see the anguish in his face at the thought of losing someone else, and it was that thought that weakened the tension in her muscles; with a long sigh, she nodded. "Madeline will come with us. But we'll need to keep her separate until we can observe what's happening with her allegiance. And Dagomir, you'll need to maintain her bonds."

"Yes, Lunae Amor," Dagomir said with a sharp nod.

Madeline's presence embedded a deep crack in their already wavering foundation, and Hermione wondered whether they would come to regret it. But for everything Hugo had done, she had to allow this concession.

Pressing her palms together in an attempt to ground herself, Hermione stared for a long moment at Hugo. His affinity for Madeline could be a weakness or a strength, and she needed to know it would be the latter.

He gave a firm, steady nod.

They could learn from Madeline's allegiance so long as they could control her if she slipped.

"Fine," Hermione said, a little breathy. "We'll go. But if something happens—"

It was Dagomir who spoke next, his words leaving no room for argument. "We will take care of the matter."

In that instant Hermione wondered at the depth of what he had experienced since the moment the tides of battle had shifted in Italy. Whether he'd had to watch his guards fall in battle. Hermione couldn't stand to think about it, but still, the faces of the guards she'd come to know and trust drifted in the back of her mind.

Ben, with his easy grin and jovial mannerisms. Vlad, quiet but secure and protective. Boris, with his quick and efficient spellwork.

Uncertainty still lingered in the back of her mind, practicality fighting with sentimentality.

But Hermione blew out a breath and nodded. "We'll go back to the villa. And we'll take the rest from there."

Hugo nodded, gratitude flashing in his stare as he pulled Madeline into his arms and vanished. Exchanging a grimace with Dagomir, Hermione took hold of his elbow and, turning into Apparition, felt herself pulled into a wild twist of magic.

Author's Note: Thanks as always for sticking with this little story. I appreciate all your wonderful feedback, even though I don't always have a lot of time to thank everyone individually.

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