Draco frowned at the bedspread for a long moment, weighing his thoughts as he idly allowed his magic to float along the bend of his arm. At last he sighed and turned towards Hermione, who stood in the doorway of the adjoining loo in the master suite.

"I don't like it," he admitted, meeting her stare when she turned her head around.

"I know you don't," she assured, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth. "Unfortunately, we don't have much of a choice in the matter."

Draco huffed a breath, sweeping a hand through his hair. "Surely there's another option than storming a heavily armed castle."

"If there is," she said, venturing into the room and sitting on the bed beside him, "we haven't come up with it yet. If we can't get Glenneth out, we'll have to go to him. If we can get him back on our side, it could really change the tides in this war." Her voice dropped, eyes doleful as they sought out his. "Everyone knows we can't stay holed up in this villa forever."

"I know," he groused, falling silent.

"Eventually we'll run out of new things to learn; meanwhile, we run the risk of slipping up and clueing Avance in on our presence and growing strength."

Shaking his head, he looked up. "Let me do it. Avance doesn't even know you have the affiliation, and if you're found out—"

"They believe you to be dead!" Hermione cut him off, a knit forming between her brows. "You're our best secret right now—not me."

"I can't stomach the thought of something happening to you while I sit back and wait at home."

Shifting to sit alongside him, she dragged a hand along his jaw; his eyes slipped closed at the feel of her touch, of her magic mingling with his own. "I know," she whispered, "but if something goes wrong at least we'll know they didn't get both of us."

His eyes snapped open, emotion churning deep within him. "You say that as if losing you would be an acceptable cost of war."

Hermione sighed, tracing her fingertips absently along his marked wrist; he could feel the stimulation racing through him, and he caught her fingers to still the motion, a smirk tugging at his lips. As if she hadn't realised the implications of her touch during a solemn moment, she glanced away, a flush creeping into her cheeks.

"That isn't what I meant," she breathed, "but I'm only trying to think like Avance. If they were to catch me, at least they already believe there to be a chance I survived the battle. Cosette thinks Glenneth killed you."

No matter how she phrased the situation, Draco was never going to like it.

"I have an alternate suggestion," Draco murmured, taking her hand into his and pressing his shimmering palm to hers; their magic intermingled in a way that wasn't entirely familiar, and it stirred something within him, distracting his thoughts.

Drawn away from the conversation as well, Hermione released a soft gasp, pressing her palm flat against his. He could feel her affiliation reaching for his own,in a way that it hadn't been able to do before. Between her strengthened grasp on the magic and his own steadily recovering, he felt the surge of it colliding within his magical core.

Meeting his stare for a moment, Hermione offered a wry, "That's interesting." Twining her fingers with his, she added, "What's your suggestion?"

Draco hummed for a moment, testing the feeling of the magic coursing between them while he pondered the thought. "If you infiltrate the castle and you're found out—that's it. You'll be surrounded and at a disadvantage, even with the affiliation in your control. Remember, both Cosette and Elias have it as well."

Her lips thinned with a swallow as she waited for him to continue; Draco trailed his fingertips along hers, teasing her magic. "We need a decoy."

"No," Hermione hissed, drawing her hand back. He couldn't quite blame her, given the feeling of it was incredibly distracting. "You heard Dagomir; we don't have the numbers to launch an offensive attack."

"It won't be a full scale attack," Draco went on, shaking his head. "I haven't figured out the details of it yet, but what we need is to keep Avance's eyes focused externally while you and a select team move internally in the castle to find Glenneth and destroy the amulet binding him to Avance."

Although he could see she didn't like the idea of putting anyone else at risk, he knew better than to think she would dismiss the idea. Huffing a breath through her nose, she peered up at him.

"Bring the idea to Dagomir," she hedged, brow heavy with resignation. "Let's see if we can come up with something. We won't be making a move right away since Cynthia is going to see what else she can find. So there's time."

"Time," Draco breathed, the word insidious as it hung in the back of his mind. "Right."

Ever since they'd arrived in Spain, it had felt as if they had both no time and all the time in the world. The discrepancy was unsettling to say the least while their enemy sat comfortable, having seized their castle.

They both glanced up at a sharp rap on the bedroom door.

"Who is it?" Draco called.

Through the wood, a muffled voice replied, "Hugo and Madeline."

A cautious smile flitted across Hermione's face as she returned, "Come in."

The door swung open, and Hugo's face peered around the corner, complete with an apologetic smile; moments later Madeline's cheery face joined him. Hugo brandished a deck of cards.

"Would you care to join us for a game?" he asked.

Draco met Hermione's stare for a moment, a slow grin spreading his face as well. They had taken to playing cards in the evenings to fill the time and manage their emotional wellbeing. He chuckled with a soft, "Prepared to have your arse beat?"

Hugo only rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "You wish."

"A decoy?" Dagomir asked, his face marred with a deep frown. "To what end, exactly?"

Draco dropped his head back to peer at the ceiling. "A distraction. We need to keep Avance's eyes away from Hermione and the guards; away from Glenneth. The last thing we need is to send a team in and have them killed or captured; Merlin knows Avance would love a chance at any information about us."

Folding his arms, Ben only offered a grimace. "Anything we do to draw Avance's attention will reveal some aspect of our plans. The fact that we've been watching their patrols or that we're making an attempt on something—or even the simple matter of our numbers."

"It will reveal we are seeking to retaliate," Dagomir affirmed.

Sinking into one of the seats in the central war chamber they'd fashioned in the barracks, Draco swept a hand through his hair. He wasn't the war strategist—and for good reason. "What can we do, then? To give Hermione the best chance to reach Glenneth unscathed and undetected?"

He had deliberately waited until Hermione was busy elsewhere—more specifically, when she had chosen to spend the morning tending to the gardens with his mother—before broaching Dagomir with the idea. Swivelling his gaze towards Ben, Draco saw recognition and understanding there.

Ben knew the situation with Cynthia still inside Avance. And it would be Cynthia who would have to assist Hermione in locating Glenneth.

He sighed, glancing towards Dagomir. "It's a good point. If we can't reach Glenneth, it's a real problem. And obviously, no one wants to put any more lives at risk—least of all the Lunae Amor."

"No more lives, period," Draco returned softly.

Although his biggest priority was to keep Hermione safe, he couldn't stand the thought of seeing any more guards lost, especially after the months they'd all spent together in Spain. None of their lives were expendable in his belief. Even while he recognised the thought to be a bit of a pipe dream, given they were still at war.

Dagomir released a sigh, dropping into a third chair with a bit of a slump to his shoulders.

"Another matter is this, Lunae Ortus: there will never come a time when we can reasonably face Avance with an army even a quarter of the size they now possess. As we've seen, with Madeline and now with Cynthia, the forced loyalty of the former Nocturnus to Avance isn't infallible."

While Dagomir heaved a harsh exhale but didn't go on, Draco found himself holding a tight breath of his own. "What are you saying?"

"There is a chance the other Nocturnus can be persuaded to defect," Ben said cautiously, his eyes sliding to meet Draco's. "But it's a risky game because we don't know for certain. And with anything we reveal, as Dagomir said, we run the chance that Avance can use it against us."

Draco jolted in his seat, looking up. "Has Cyn struggled with Cosette's voice in the same way Madeline has?"

Ben shook his head twice. "Whether because Cynthia has already learned to block it out—as Madeline has as well now—or because her loyalty to her father was already assumed."

It felt as if every path they deigned to venture down presented trouble of some sort, but they'd never anticipated this to be easy. The very fact that they were even still in the game—great stack of disadvantages though they had—spoke volumes.

"Let's give it some thought," Draco said, tugging at his hair in frustration. "If only we knew more about the loyalty shift. Most of the old journals are still back in England, and the Manor has been attacked."

"And is most assuredly being watched," Dagomir added.

With a grimace, Draco sunk deeper into his seat. "What are we to do? I can't send anyone into that castle knowing that a possible discovery will mean their deaths."

A flicker of understanding cross Dagomir's face. "We will come up with something, Lunae. I promise I'll do everything in my power to ensure the Lunae Amor has safe passage to reach Glenneth."

Despite that they were no closer to solving the problem, Draco felt relief wash over him. He knew he could trust Dagomir with his life and with Hermione's life—the man had proved his worth tenfold—and he sank in relief with the acknowledgement of his concerns.

He rose to his feet with a nod, clapping a hand to Dagomir's shoulder; Ben and Dagomir both followed suit, alert once more. "Thanks for your help."

His mind still awash with thoughts, Draco made his way to the gardens to see his two favourite women.

"I know that look," Hermione said as she took a seat at the kitchen table across from Draco. He cradled a cup of tea between his hands, his expression pensive. "I'm already nervous; what is it?"

Doleful grey eyes found hers.

When he didn't speak, Hermione gave a chuckle to combat her nerves. "Why do I get the feeling you're planning something that I'm not going to like—but it's going to make sense."

Through the archway into the sitting room, she caught Hugo's eye and gestured towards the table. Moments later, the man slipped into the seat at the end between them, helping himself to an overly sugary cup of tea.

At last, Draco released a sigh. "We need the Nocturnus journals."

Ducking her chin, Hermione stared at him for a long moment, unimpressed. "It's too bad the Nocturnus journals are in England and we can't safely access them."

"I'll go," Hugo offered, taking a sip of his tea and grimacing. He added another cube of sugar.

"They're warded," Draco responded, lifting his chin. "Before we left for Italy, I stowed them away as safely as I could manage. I've already asked Podski if he can access them."

"Let me guess," Hermione said wryly, taking a sip of her own tea to detract from the slight quake in her hands. "He can't."

At the time, it had made sense to leave the journals protected, given they didn't know how long they'd be in Italy. But she didn't think any of them had imagined they'd end up spending the next months in Spain instead.

"He's warded out by the magic. Problem is," Draco mused as he traced a crack in the wooden table with his fingernail, "Dagomir thinks Avance is watching the Manor."

"Of course they are," Hugo drawled, "they destroyed the place. They'll be waiting for someone from Nocturnus to return." He released a sigh and shook his head. "Knowing my father, and what we can only assume about Cosette, they won't be content forever hoping we aren't going to fight back. No matter what drivel Cosette's been telling our Nocturnus fighters, she knows they didn't catch all of us that night. They'll want to make sure they clean up the loose ends."

"Loose ends being any council or guards who survived the battle," Hermione muttered, despair settling like a stone low in her stomach.

Hugo nodded. "I think we can rest assured anyone who seeks to return to the Manor is someone loyal to Nocturnus."

Hermione met Draco's eyes, his expression innocuous. She knew him well enough at this point to realise he wasn't going to back off by the threat of potential danger; idly she wondered at how much her Gryffindor side had come to rub off on him. But she felt remarkably Slytherin herself on occasion.

"So how are we going to get in to get the journals?" she asked the table, the question sitting alongside them like an uninvited guest. "And what are you even hoping to find that would be worth the risk?"

When he only sighed, drumming his fingertips on the table, Hermione bristled; he so rarely fidgeted, and it spoke to the depth of his nerves.

"Dagomir thinks the forced allegiance of Nocturnus to Avance could be shattered," he admitted at last. "Like we've seen with Madeline and Cynthia."

"Madeline and Cynthia multiplied by a thousand," Hugo muttered, his brows lifting high on his forehead. "But how?"

Hermione hummed, glancing between them. "If it can be broken, we need to ensure their lives aren't at risk. Something tells me neither Elias nor Cosette will hesitate to strike down any rogue Nocturnus." She met Hugo's gaze, apologetic.

"We'll need glamours," Hugo said, waving an idle hand, "and I can't help but think they'll have something in place to track your magical signatures. If we do this… it'll need to be quick."

Rolling out a kink in his neck, as if he'd been seated for a long time, Draco frowned. "We can't make our magical signatures vanish. Unless Hermione has some affiliation trick up her sleeve whereby we can essentially become invisible."

She snickered, despite the gravity of the situation. "I suppose if Cosette can use it to make Glenneth an amulet, then maybe we can fashion a sort of—" She dropped the thought, a different idea striking her at once. "We don't need the affiliation. We need Harry."

Scrambling for her coin, Hermione ignored both Draco and Hugo's confusion as she tapped its surface.

Her message shone briefly before vanishing.

HQ when you can. Bring cloak.

Draco peered over her shoulder as the message faded away into its golden face, and recognition dawned, a cheeky smirk spreading across his face. "You and I both know Potter wouldn't—"

Her coin warmed with a response, and Hermione flashed him a smile in return.

Be there in five.

Quietly, she mused, "He just might."

Hugo, who still looked bewildered by the entire exchange, only poured himself another cup of tea with too many sugar cubes. "It sounds like you've got a plan, so I'll leave it to you for this one." He took a sip from his heavily steaming cup, and Hermione grimaced.

Several minutes later, Harry arrived via his Portkey, peering into the kitchen before joining them at the table. Reaching into his shoulder bag, he brandished a familiar piece of folded cloth, its surface rich and shimmering.

Hugo's eyes nearly bulged from his face. "What is that?"

"I had to sneak out of work, but Kings understands," Harry said by way of greeting at last. "Robards knows I've been working on something with Kingsley, so he doesn't ask too many questions."

"This," Hermione said, weighing the heavy fabric in her hands, "is an invisibility cloak."

Draco eyed the fabric with a strange mixture of disdain and curiosity, and Hermione tried to remember whether Harry had ever used it to get one up on him. At last, he turned cautious eyes on Harry. "May we borrow it?"

"If you return it. And by the way, you won't all fit under it. Two adults maximum unless you want to run the risk of detection," Harry said, before adding in an aside to Hugo, "if you believe the legends, it's the invisibility cloak."

The blood drained from Hugo's face, and he merely gaped at the cloak, his tea forgotten as he gingerly prodded the fabric of it. Hermione supposed that was enough of an answer.

"Next you're going to tell me you all know where the Elder Wand is," Hugo breathed, forcing a swallow as he continued to gaze upon the cloak with awe.

Hermione, Draco, and Harry exchanged a glance; Hugo's jaw dropped open.

"You wouldn't believe the story if we told you," Draco said at last then turned back to Harry. "It's a dangerous task, Potter, so if I die, I can't guarantee you'll get it back."

Firing him a scowl, Hermione attempted to put the thought to the back of her mind.

Harry only gave him a mild one-shouldered shrug, cracking a crooked grin. "I'm good at dangerous tasks."

"Actually," Draco mused, freezing as he stared at Harry, "that isn't a bad idea. How much do you know about the current state of Malfoy Manor?"

As understanding dawned, Hermione could see Harry's expression shift. "More than anyone else in this room. And by the way, are you insane?"

"Is it that bad?" Hermione asked, catching the cogs churning in Draco's mind.

"It isn't as bad as it was," Harry admitted, "given the elves have been working to restore the damage. But—Malfoy, there are ward signatures on the grounds we can't get through, and quite frankly we haven't wanted to try. We couldn't track them back to either Malfoy or Black lineage."

"Cosette. Or Bergen." Draco's jaw clenched hard, his gaze dropping to the cloak on the table between them. "I need to retrieve something that may end up game-changing to the cause." When he glanced up, his lips twitched with a smirk. "Or it may end up proving useless and dangerous for no reason."

"He wouldn't be crazy enough to have set Bergen wards," Hugo reasoned, "knowing I'd be able to break them."

Hermione clicked her tongue, attempting to process the situation. "Cosette, then. We don't even know her family name—not that it matters because we likely wouldn't be able to dismantle them anyways."

Draco tilted his head towards her, cocking his brows. "Not even with spell-breaking magic?"

"Possibly," she hummed, rubbing at her temples. "But I don't think we should rely on it. If you're going, you'll need to get in and out as quickly as possible."

"Fine." The word was clipped, but beneath the casual veneer she could see the tension in Draco's shoulders and in the lines of his face. "I'll arrange to go at some point." He gestured towards the cloak once more. "Potter said two. Would anyone care to come along?"

Hermione had just opened her mouth to speak up when Hugo snapped, "I'll go." She wasn't surprised, given the man's proclivity to put himself on the line for his Lunaes—ever since he'd begun to take his role seriously, anyways—but she debated the idea of overriding him anyways.

But as she closed her mouth, she recognised the truth of the matter, and it was the same one they had discussed days prior. They couldn't stand to go on potentially dangerous missions together in case things went poorly.

As if understanding her train of thought, Draco reached for her hand, entwining their fingers.

At last Harry sighed, looking among the group. "I should go. I know the state of things in England the best, and there are areas of the Manor you won't be able to access." A roguish grin slipped across his face. "Besides, I'm Nocturnus now, aren't I? And Hermione will never forgive me if I don't bring this arse home safely so there's added incentive."

Briefly, Hugo looked as if he wanted to argue the matter, but he merely pressed his palms together.

"Technically," Draco mused, "if you're Nocturnus you shouldn't be calling me 'this arse'."

Hermione snickered despite herself; she didn't want anyone to go, but Harry had a point. If they would have trouble getting through the Manor—despite that Draco should be able to Apparate directly inside once they were back in England—it was best they knew about it.

Not that she wanted Harry to put himself at risk any more than she wanted to see Draco leave.

But he only relaxed back in his seat. "Fine. Whichever of you wants to come may do so."

"Potter's right," Hugo said, a mildly begrudging acquiescence. "He may be of more use to you in this situation than I will."

Hermione could see it cost him a lot to speak the words, but she offered him a soft smile anyways before turning back towards Harry and Draco. "I know I don't need to voice the disastrous results that could come out of this if something goes wrong. If you're detected, or if they learn that Draco isn't dead after all."

"You do not," Draco murmured, giving her hand a squeeze, "but we appreciate it all the same."

And Harry was an Auror. He was used to these sorts of situations even though they had underestimated Cosette before—and now she had a mastermind strategist at her side in the likes of Bergen.

"Please be safe," she only whispered, clinging to his hand. "And for Merlin's sake, let's hope there's something of value in those journals."

"Journals, eh," Harry muttered, sweeping a hand through his messy hair. "Alright, Malfoy. When are we planning this ill-contrived raid on your own home?"

"When they'll be least expecting it," Draco hummed, slipping a hand beneath the fabric of the cloak and blinking at it when it vanished. "With any luck, they don't realise the value of what we're going for, and it'll only be that they're monitoring the place for activity."

Hermione swept her gaze across the small group. Her lips twitched. "You'd best go while Cosette is getting her beauty sleep."

"Good point," Draco huffed.

Silence fell over the group of them with careful thought, before Hugo rose and collected a sheet of parchment and a quill from the desk, jotting notes. With a sidelong glance, Hermione could see he was making a list of details they'd need to consider, such as timing, glamours, wards, and several other lines she couldn't read as his writing grew messier.

Idly, Draco continued to toy with the cloak, his entire arm vanishing beneath it before he looked up with a wide grin. "Where did you even get this, Potter?"

"From my father," Harry returned with a shrug. "So it goes, the Potter line is long descended from Ignotus Peverell, the third brother."

Draco released a low whistle. Hugo looked up from his work, his eyes wide once more as he stared at the cloak then slipped his own hand beneath the edge to watch it vanish.

Hermione clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she fought a smile. Even in the midst of war, boys would be boys, and it was wonderful to see the ones most important to her bonding. She tapped a finger on Hugo's page and said, "You haven't factored in Dagomir."

They all groaned.

"Dagomir will need to approve of this, won't he?" Draco asked with a resigned sigh. "Hopefully he sees the value in it, given he was the one who mentioned the possibility in the first place."

Hugo flashed a grin. "Let's hope he isn't in a mood to fight."

Hermione released a titter, clapping a hand over her mouth as a wry grin spread across Draco's face. "We're talking about Dagomir here."

"What about Dagomir?" asked a gruff voice as Dagomir himself paced into the kitchen, lifting a brow when he saw the group of them sitting there. He blinked owlishly, as if he hadn't anticipated hearing his name, and withdrew a large bottle of pumpkin juice from the icebox.

Taking a long swig, he peered over Hugo's shoulder to read his list and offered the table at large a grimace before pulling up a chair. "It sounds like we need a plan."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'd love to hear your thoughts about how this is going to play out! Hope you're all keeping well.

Alpha hearts to Kyonomiko; beta squishes to ravenslight.