Hermione giggled into the swirling liquid in her glass, a sweet blue concoction made of some sort of magical Swedish liqueur. At her side, Draco chuckled, shaking his head as he blurred a little in her vision.
She had never asked for a birthday party—and most certainly not in the back half of October. But her birthday had come and gone in the midst of the post-battle haze wherein she had spent weeks in a state of emotional fatigue, her days stringing together into a jumbled mess. Draco had tried to do something for her birthday at the time, but it had ended up being a quiet, somber affair between the two of them.
And earlier that evening, Hermione had emerged into one of the large parlours in the castle to find a group of friends and council waiting in surprise.
While the Nocturnus Guard still kept regular security rotations on the castle and grounds, and they had seen Boris often enough practicing with the warding enchantments on the grounds, the castle had felt empty since the rest of the council had stopped living with them.
Hugo and Madeline had returned to Stockholm—although Hugo still Portkeyed in several times a week—and Cynthia had opted to remain in England with Ben. Likewise, Dagomir visited often, arranging guard patrols, but he had gone home to Belgrade.
He sat across from Hermione now, his eyes alert but a wry smile on his lips.
Hermione hadn't realised until the moment she had seen everyone together again how much she had missed them.
Across the room, Theo and Blaise sat in a studious game of cards with Ben and Boris, their drinks abandoned to the sides of the table.
Harry sat on her other side, an arm slung across Daphne as she tittered into his shoulder.
Hermione's attention was drawn to Hugo as he threw his head back with laughter, and a smile pulled at her lips. Hugo hadn't been the same ever since the battle—since watching Elias' own corrupted magic consume him—and since he had taken Cosette's life.
But she could see a hint of that old mischief in his eyes.
"Dagomir just doesn't want to tell anyone he had a date last week," Hugo was saying when she forced herself to focus back on the conversation.
Dagomir scowled at the group even as Draco's brows lifted high into his fringe. Folding his arms, Dagomir sunk into his seat and huffed, "It doesn't matter."
"It does matter," Hermione contradicted, a wide grin stretching her lips as she took another sip of her drink. "Why would you say that?"
Scrubbing at his beard, Dagomir remained silent, though Hermione could have sworn his cheeks flushed pink.
But Draco clicked his tongue, frowning. "Because he knows we will want to meet them. Make sure we approve of whoever he's seeing."
"True," Hugo said, before adding, "so few people are good enough for our Dagomir."
Draco jabbed a finger into the air above the table, a little uncoordinated. "You tell her—or him—" Dagomir stared hard at the table "—they need to treat you well, otherwise—" Draco's affiliation magic flared from his fingertips.
Hermione jabbed him in the elbows as Hugo guffawed loudly. Madeline giggled into her drink.
As Dagomir took a moody sip of pumpkin juice, the look he shot Hugo would have made a lesser man wither to dust.
Hermione hummed, shaking her head. "Don't listen to them. We're happy for you." Ducking her chin she asked, "Is it someone we know?"
For a long time, she had thought Dagomir to be older than he actually was because of his stern personality and the way he had always carried so much weight on his shoulders for the Order. But he wasn't that much older than they were.
Dagomir only cocked a brow and remained silent even as his lips twitched. She wasn't particularly surprised, given Dagomir's proclivity for secrecy, but if it was serious eventually he would have to tell them. As a member of the council he would be obligated to inform them of any significant changes.
Even though Hermione knew Dagomir would never allow another person to come between his responsibilities with the Order. It was a formality within the oaths more than anything.
Dagomir merely gave them all one last mockingly disgruntled look, collected his pumpkin juice, and ventured across the room to join the next round of the others' rousing game. He slipped into an empty seat between Theo and Ben, muttering something she couldn't hear from across the room. The others chuckled.
Hugo changed the subject, a mischievous flicker in his stare. "What did the Lunae Ortus get you for your birthday?"
Hermione frowned, shooting Draco a look. "I told him I didn't need anything." She could feel the tendrils of his magic curl around hers and forced her attention back to the conversation at hand. "But he insists we ought to take a trip."
"Okay, technically," Draco interjected, a smirk curling his lips, "it's a long overdue honeymoon. We couldn't very well have left in the middle of everything that was going on."
"He's got a point," Harry quipped.
"The castle will be fine," Draco said, "given Boris has been reinforcing the wards every few days. And Dagomir's agreed to it as long as we check in regularly and keep our coins with us." Dropping his voice, he added, "But we'll be able to give him the slip if we really want to."
"I heard that," Dagomir called from across the room.
Hermione dragged her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back a snicker. Instead, she said, "He won't tell me where we're going, though."
Draco's gaze flickered to hers, his grey eyes sparkling. "Originally I wanted to take you to Italy, remember?" Lifting his hands to indicate the castle around them, he shrugged. "So let's just say we won't be going to Italy, France, or Spain."
An appreciative chuckle carried around the table.
"If you end up in Sweden," Hugo said with a dip of his chin.
"We might," Draco murmured, sipping his drink. "We'll be gone three months."
Hermione only shook her head. She hadn't asked for anything extravagant, but his original suggestion had been six months. While the Malfoy coffers ran deep and enemies no longer hovered on the horizon, she hadn't seen the sense in frivolous travel.
But according to Draco, he'd worked it all out.
And at some point during the year, she had come to trust him. With her life and certainly with their travel plans. So she had surrendered the reins and agreed.
If she was honest, she was looking forward to it. Almost every waking minute since they had wed, they had been surrounded by others. It would be nice to have some quality time between the two of them.
She met his gaze with a smile, finally nudging at his magic in return with a soft, "I'm looking forward to it."
Given the time to properly consider such things, Hermione found it to be remarkable that for the entirety of her engagement and marriage to Draco—relatively short though it had been—their relationship had been fraught with the fears and tensions of war.
It had taken some time for her to begin to let go of some of those previously unending pressures and realise that they weren't fighting for their lives anymore.
They were allowed to simply exist now.
She had come to know Draco Malfoy, Lunae Ortus of the Nocturnus Order, so well. She had felt his fears, understood his desires, and stood alongside his doubts.
But during the weeks and months that followed, after so many things had finally been laid to rest, there had been a shift.
And Hermione began to know Draco Malfoy—her husband.
The deepest dreams he sought to voice, now that they had room in their hearts to share such things.
The silver sparkle that shone in his eyes when he let down his walls with a full belly laugh. When he spoke with her, opened up to her about his past, and allowed her into his future.
At night, with him filling her and their magical cores entwined—Hermione knew there was no way to put into words the way he made her feel.
As a child she had possessed so many hopes and dreams for her life—hopes which had been dulled by a youth fraught with the realities of war. And in the years that followed, when Hermione had settled into her job at the Ministry and working part-time at the bookshop, she had begun to believe that would be it for her.
Never could she have imagined everything that was to come.
If someone had told her she would be living in a castle in Italy; in possession of a unique and powerful strain of magic; and deeply, irrevocably in love with her childhood nemesis, she might have laughed in their face.
Furthermore, that the aforementioned nemesis would have spent the last two and a half months spiriting her around the world, treating her as his queen, she would have thought she was dreaming.
It all certainly felt like a dream.
They had gone to America and spent time exploring both the magical and Muggle sides of New York before venturing to the west coast to partake in surf and sunshine.
Then north into Canada where they had spent a week at a ski lodge in the Rockies, the encroaching cold stinging their cheeks as they brutalised their bodies in snowboard lessons during the day and relaxed before the fire at night.
With winter sweeping into the air in earnest, they had taken a Portkey down into South America. Draco had been keen to hike the ancient Incan ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru, and they had enjoyed the culture so much they had lingered, travelling through Brazil and Argentina. After a harrowing expedition deep into the rainforests, they had decided to carry on.
According to Draco, Hugo had supplied them with a set of Portkeys—illegally procured, as usual—that they could use or modify to suit their needs. They only needed to decide on a specific location where they wanted to go next and when and the Portkeys would do the rest.
One day, Draco had mentioned he wanted to see as many places as they could within the three months, and after they hopped from Cape Town into Morocco within the span of a week, Hermione believed him.
They had made special stops in both Stockholm and Belgrade, surprising Hugo and Dagomir with their impromptu presence.
And while the trip had been a whirlwind in itself, they had taken their time with the things they most wanted to experience, and Hermione hadn't felt rushed. Besides that, she'd had so much fun with Draco at her side that as their time together abroad dwindled down to the final weeks, she found herself wishing they had agreed to a longer trip.
Although for as much as she had enjoyed their time exploring, Hermione began to feel a twinge of longing to return home. They had only stayed in the castle for a month after the chaos of the war settled down, and she was ready for a rest.
But Draco had one Portkey left in the case: a small tarnished silver spoon that reminded Hermione of the collection her mother had kept when she had been young. The memory stung at the back of her mind, where she had carefully stowed everything that reminded her of the parents she had lost over the years since the war against Voldemort.
As Draco drew the spoon from the case, he fixed her with a stare, his grey eyes searing and honest.
"I had one more place I thought we might go before we return home," he said quietly, taking her hand into his. His eyes flashed as he activated the Portkey, the blue light casting a pale glow across his face. "Do you trust me?"
Hermione merely snickered, rolling her eyes. "If you think I don't trust you after everything we've been through—"
He tapped the spoon against her knuckles, and before she could finish speaking, she felt the familiar tug beneath her navel, twisting her into motion.
The first thing she noticed when they landed was heat. The air was warm against her face, having just been in northern Europe in the middle of winter. Her trainers sunk into the sand beneath her feet.
The briny scent of the ocean hung in the air, teasing her senses, and distantly Hermione could hear the crashing of waves. Behind her sat a picturesque ocean cottage, all airy windows and fresh, bright colours.
Something like recognition flickered through the back of her mind as she gazed towards the distant ocean, and she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat as she whispered, "Where are we?"
The teasing warmth had sunk from Draco's face as he said, "We're in Queensland, Australia. The Gold Coast." With an effort at a smile, he added, "Potter told me where."
"Brisbane," Hermione said, thinning her lips as she drew in a breath. "My parents live in Brisbane."
Her hand still hung within his, limp and unresponsive, and he gave her fingers a squeeze as she met his stare again. "I debated for months whether I ought to bring it up, because before the wedding you said you didn't want to talk about the situation. But then we didn't have a chance with everything and…" As he trailed off, Hermione was struck with the realisation that he was nervous.
She felt his magic mingle with hers, breaking from the pads of his fingers as they grazed the back of her knuckles. Her eyes stung with moisture as she searched for the right words.
"I thought maybe," he went on, a knit between his brows, "we might be able to meet with the Healers who had been working on your parents' case. Given the healing power of the affiliation."
A breath caught in Hermione's throat, tears instantly welling in her eyes. Tears of fear, of despair, and of shame. She had kept the selective loss of her parents' memories so carefully compartmentalised for so long, tread such a careful path around them in her own mind, that she hadn't even considered such a thing. Even when she had developed the affiliation within herself.
She had learned years ago, after innumerable trips to this very coast, that getting her hopes up had dire consequences.
But still, a flicker of something akin to hope flared within her.
"Do you think it's possible?" Her voice broke on the words, and she swiped at a tear that broke from her eye.
"I don't know." Draco clenched his jaw, his face stoic. "But…"
"We could try," she whispered.
He only nodded slowly. "If you want to."
The idea that the affiliation could possibly have the power to undo the spell she had cast on her parents' memories so many years ago—the irreversible spell, according to each of the many healers she had spoken to—was overwhelming.
Even at the thought of it, she felt her magic rear to life within her, pulsing in her chest with her adrenaline.
Tears flowed from her eyes of their own accord, and she bit down hard on her lip. "Draco… I don't know what to say—"
"You don't have to say anything," he said quietly. "I don't know if this will work."
They had no way of knowing until they tried, and while Hermione wasn't sure how she could handle another letdown if it didn't work, she would never be able to let alone the idea of it now.
Worrying her lower lip, she nodded. Her voice was hoarse as she whispered, "We need to try."
And for all she knew, her parents would never forgive her for the way she had violated their minds so many years ago. Maybe they would wish she had left them in their peaceful existence as Wendell and Monica Wilkins.
Hermione didn't know what she would do if her parents hated her for what she had done; the thought had kept her from sleep for years.
But if she didn't try this one last attempt…
Draco glanced at his watch, uncertainty in his gaze as he met her eyes again. "I made an appointment at the Brisbane Medi-Hospital, in case you wanted to meet with the Healers on your parents' case."
"I do," she whispered, her eyes blurring.
He nodded. "Okay." Extending a hand, he took hers gently between his, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. His eyes flickered back up to hers. "I love you."
No matter how this goes.
The sentiment hung between them; Draco would always be at her side, regardless of what happened. Not for the first time—especially in the past two and a half months—she wondered what she had done to deserve such a loving partner in life.
Fate had certainly led her down an interesting path.
Through her tears she forced a smile. "I love you more."
Then she felt the tug of Apparition.
The Healers had been a little dumbfounded by the situation, but Draco could tell they were making their best effort to understand. The Nocturnus Order had never spread into Australia, even at the height of its influence, and Draco wasn't surprised they didn't know much about the situation, other than what they had evidently seen in global wizarding news.
Having been largely isolated, both in Spain and in Italy since the battle, Draco hadn't realised the scope of everything that had happened beyond the Order.
By the sounds of it, the details were murky, but the Healers understood who they were. And while they looked a little skeptical at the idea that the pair of them were in possession of rare healing magic powered by the moon, they had been willing to support the attempt.
Not that Draco would have allowed Healers to stop them from trying if it was what Hermione wished.
She had been largely quiet through the initial meeting, allowing Draco to take the reins on the conversation, and he wondered at the chaos that was undoubtedly passing through her mind.
Her hand clutched his like a vise as they waited for the healers to arrange a meeting with Hermione's parents. They hadn't gone into the details of it beyond that they had ways of keeping in touch with Muggles who had been afflicted by spell damage.
Spell damage. The colour had drained from Hermione's face at the words.
Draco had clenched his jaw.
He had never wanted to broach the subject too directly given Hermione's early reticence to discuss her parents, and then such things had fallen to the wayside as they ended up neck deep in conflict with Avance.
But now… they finally had the chance to consider such things.
Draco had been able to feel the initial wave of shame sweep through her when he suggested they might try using the affiliation to restore her parents' memories of her, as if she hadn't thought of it. And he knew she would shoulder the blame—he had been so cautious in proceeding with the idea—but at Potter's reassurance, he had decided to save Australia for the last leg of their trip.
Just in case.
After what felt like hours, a healer finally emerged. "Your parents have arrived via the Muggle entrance, Miss Granger," he said.
"Missus Malfoy," she corrected absently, and Draco felt a flare of pride swell in his chest. Belatedly, she pressed her lips into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Healer Bridges."
Her knuckles were white as she squeezed his hand still harder before releasing him.
Offering her the lead, Draco followed her into the examination room the healers had provided. Realising it was his first meeting with her parents—whether they understood the situation or not—he straightened his shoulders.
Instantly he recognised hints of Hermione in each of them. Her chocolate eyes and delicate features were her mother's, while the wild curls came from her father.
Vague recognition flitted across her parents' faces, as if they had seen her before but didn't understand the connection. Draco's heart stuttered in his chest at the soft, devastated smile that curled Hermione's lips.
"Hello, Mister and Missus Wilkins," she said with a nod. Hermione curled into herself, looking smaller than he had ever seen her, imposing as she often was. She gestured towards him, her shoulders tense as she added, "I'd like to introduce you to my husband, Draco Malfoy."
"Pleasure," Draco said, reaching forward to shake each of their hands.
Each of the Grangers—Wilkins—looked at him as if mildly bemused. Draco wondered what her cover had been if she had met them before in this capacity.
"We just need to do some basic tests today," Hermione went on, a breath hitching as she glanced his way, seeking comfort in his eyes. Instantly, Draco curled his magic around hers, bolstering her courage. She drew in a long breath, blowing it out before she spoke again. "Nothing to worry about."
The Wilkins' frowned, as if they couldn't quite comprehend why they had been summoned to the hospital. Draco wondered if they had been Confunded in some way.
But within moments, he could feel her spooling her magic, and he threaded his own into the cracks between them, offering his magic to her to do with it as she willed.
Silent tears broke from her eyes, chasing unhindered down her cheeks as she gathered the glowing white magic of the affiliation into her palms. The Wilkins leapt back in shock and horror, freezing in surprise halfway to the door.
But Hermione only whispered, "I'm so sorry," before she released thin, shimmering coils of magic from her hands. They danced through the air, brightening the room, and Draco felt the magic in his own soul, could feel the purity of her intent, and his chest tightened.
He watched as the affiliation, still streaming from her fingertips, swirled into her parents, looking for all the world like trapped memories breaking free and returning home.
Draco watched the beauty of it, a breath caught in his chest. Time hung as if suspended as her magic swept through the room.
The Grangers' stares glazed over, their eyes slipping shut, and at last Hermione dropped her hands with a choked sob before she shifted back towards him. Draco tugged her hand into his, feeling the warmth of the magic still emanating from her palm, and he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
After a terribly drawn out hesitation, her mother's eyes fluttered open, followed by Mister Granger's.
A sharp gasp tore free of Missus Granger's lips. "Hermione?"
Hermione hesitated at Draco's side, her tears still streaming free as she bit down hard on her bottom lip with a voracious nod. She blew out a breath. "Mum. Dad."
The Grangers exchanged an incredulous look, confusion knitting their brows, before they turned back to their daughter, who still stood at Draco's side, her shoulders tight as if she didn't know what to do.
And indeed, her parents looked uncertain, like they didn't quite know what to make of the situation either.
"I have to explain a few things," Hermione said, her voice small. Draco gave her hand another tight squeeze. "But I'm so happy to see you again."
Before Draco could comprehend anything else, Hermione was wrenched from his side and into her mother's arms, both women crying.
Emotion swelled within his chest, and Draco felt a stinging at his own eyes as he pressed his lips into a thin line, meeting her father's stare. He gave a tight nod.
Then Missus Granger pulled back, holding Hermione at arm's length as she said, "You're damn right you need to explain this."
But there was no malice in her words, and Draco caught the twitch of Mister Granger's lips.
Quietly, Draco said, "I'll give you three some time alone."
Her father mouthed a mild 'thank you' before stepping in and pulling his daughter into his arms. Draco slipped from the room and closed the door behind him, a lightness within his soul he hadn't felt in a long time.
On the grounds of the hospital, Hermione followed her magic to find Draco waiting for her, perched on a hill as the sun began to set, casting the world in shades of orange and gold.
It felt fitting for the day they'd had.
She still couldn't believe the magic had worked, elation mingling with her disbelief and swelling in her chest into a perfect storm. Her parents remembered her.
And after eight years apart, they understandably carried certain reservations. It would take time to rebuild their trust in her. But Hermione was willing to do so; she had always expected that would be the case. Many years ago, she had attempted to put herself in her parents' shoes and had come to terms with the fact that they would have every reason to be upset with her.
That was before she had watched the last grains of hope slip like sand from her fingers.
As she had painstakingly explained the entire situation that had ultimately led to her extracting her parents' memories of her, watching their expressions flicker through a range of emotion, she had done her best to keep her expectations low.
But then they had spent the rest of the afternoon talking, laughing, and crying together.
And while Hermione had wanted them to properly meet Draco, she respected that he had left her alone with them. To reconnect—and to begin the vital process of healing.
Now, emotionally spent and with a joyful heart, she found him, arms propped on bent knees as he gazed out upon a beautiful Australian sunset.
Hermione only tucked herself into his side, resting her face on his shoulder.
"How can I ever thank you for this?" she asked, the words barely a whisper.
"You don't need to thank me for anything," he said, a gentle reverence in his tone as he slung an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. "You had the magic to help them yourself. I only planted the seed. How are they?"
"They will need some time to get past this," she breathed. "But I always knew that would be the case." She caught his gaze, smiling. "They look forward to meeting you—I told them we would be staying here for a while so…"
"So we will have plenty of time," Draco said. "I look forward to getting to know them too."
"Thank you for giving me time with them today."
He only snickered, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to take this from the three of you. I'll have plenty of time to get to know them now." He tugged at a curl that had broken free of her bun, teasing his fingers along her scalp, and Hermione's eyes fluttered shut at the feel of it.
When Draco spoke again, his voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear him.
"You might want to wait a bit on the next surprise, though." The words were wry, almost flippant, but Hermione's eyes snapped open to find him watching her.
A breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean?"
Draco dragged a hand down her spine, his fingertips gentle as he gazed back towards the sunset, painting the sky into a beautiful array of colour and light. He planted a kiss into her hair.
"I wasn't sure at first," he said softly, "when your magical signature started to shift. I couldn't tell why—and then it clicked. And we haven't exactly been the most careful recently."
Hermione's heart plummeted into her stomach, seeking out the warmth of his stare as adrenaline flared to life within her.
"I only just found out," she whispered, "and I didn't know how to tell you yet."
She hadn't even considered the fact that he might be able to sense it in the connection between their magical signatures—the seed of life that had just begun to grow within her.
Draco waved her off, and she caught the depth of emotion in his stare, a soft smile curling his lips. "We're going to have a baby."
Hermione nodded, tears spiking at the corners of her eyes. "I know we wanted to wait a little longer after everything—"
But he only drew her closer. "I'm so happy."
"You aren't scared?" she asked, voicing the niggling doubts that had crept in over the last days since she had herself discovered the truth.
"I'm terrified." He chuckled, and Hermione could see the moisture in his eyes too. "I don't exactly have the greatest frame of reference for how a father should act. All I know is that I've learned what not to do."
A watery laugh slipped from her lips. "You're going to be an amazing father."
"I have every faith that you are going to be the most phenomenal mother, Hermione." His eyes shone with raw vulnerability. "And no matter what, we have one another. That baby is going to be so loved."
Anticipation built within her, a genuine smile breaking across her face. "Imagine the council."
Draco snickered. "They'll spoil him rotten." When her lips twitched he added, "Or her."
Her stare landed on the sky, stunning colour streaking through a lone wisp of cloud. "If it's a boy, he will be the Lunae Ortus one day. When we decide he's ready." Drawing in a breath, she added, "And he'll be raised in Nocturnus tradition."
"Yeah." She could see the appreciation in his face, and he offered another soft smile as he trailed his fingertips along her abdomen. "And if it's a girl… she'll raze the world like her mother."
The smile drifted from her lips as she met his stare again, the flecks of silver in his eyes sparkling gold with the brilliant light dancing around them.
"Are we ready for this?" she asked, just barely a breath.
Draco dragged her in for a kiss, tasting her lips briefly before drawing back. He laid his temple against hers for a moment as he released a long breath.
"We're ready for anything life throws at us now." A smile curled his lips, the life that stretched on before them dancing in his gaze. "And this is just the next adventure."
Tears in her eyes and peace in her soul, she believed him.
Author's Note: I'm feeling a little sniffly, friends. I can't believe we're at this point. I'll post the epilogue in a couple days and otherwise Nocturnus is done. I can't express how much all of your support has meant in pushing through with this story.
Chapter 56 is a day early for two reasons - NaNoWriMo begins tomorrow, and I have a new project coming out. But it's a little different, so stay tuned!
Infinite love to Kyonomiko and ravenslight for all their help with this story.