Come Fly With Me

The rendezvous was at the foot of the Rock of Monaco, on a paved path that ran with the cliff towering on one side, the ocean tumbling away at the other. This close to midnight it was pitch black and abandoned, and a few makeshift anti-Muggle charms had been set up to ensure nobody decided to take a late-night wander on the water-front.

Alfonse Guerrier had six men with him, all wearing black robes, all holding their wands without restraint or concern. He had no reason to pretend he didn't have the muscle on his side, and after the way their initial meeting had gone the week before, Matt had no reason to doubt that he would wield that muscle if he had to.

He and Selena were the first there, greeted by Guerrier in a calm and polite manner, but nothing had been exchanged but these pleasantries. That was ten minutes ago, and there was no sign of the others.

'Where are they?' Selena hissed, still in her fake uniform of a member of the Rabbit's Foot's security detail, pacing across the path and glaring back up at the shining lights of Monte Carlo.

'It's not been long,' said Matt, wishing he believed his own words. 'They'll be here.'

'They're late,' she said, 'and security was really heating up in there.'

'Furthermore,' said Guerrier, still standing with his men flanking him, 'we have no way of knowing if they have been captured. How long do you intend to wait?'

Matt scowled. 'They'll be here,' he repeated.

'I take it you do not have the Chalice.'

'I wouldn't tell you if I did. You're handing that portkey over to all of us, or you're not handing it over at all. We're not leaving without them. This deal doesn't go down unless they're all here.'

Guerrier's expression tightened. 'This deal goes down as I say it goes down, Mister Doyle. I will wait for the others if it is more likely that they have succeeded where you failed. But I will not linger here all night so Maisson can get the whole of his goon squad together to have me surrounded. He will suspect soon enough that I played a part in this. I do not need to be caught red-handed. Neither of us are men who will bother with the niceties of law enforcement and, simply, he has more muscle than I do. Our little peace accord has been thoroughly broken and he will not care that his friends broke it first.'

'You get nothing by activating the portkey now and leaving the others behind,' said Matt.

'Technically I get nothing anyway, Mister Doyle. I am in this for satisfaction and vengeance. If your fellows have failed and gotten themselves captured, then all I have gained is the ire of the Rabbit's Foot Casino, and I would much rather be on my way as soon as possible.' He narrowed his eyes. 'Though it is evident you do not have the Chalice, from your manner. The proceeds of the auction, though?'

'The vault was empty. It must have not been deposited there yet.'

'For a man who has played so much poker over the last week, Mister Doyle, I expected you to be a better liar.'

Matt flinched. 'They'll be here.'

'Someone's coming!' That was Selena, whose gaze had been locked on the path throughout the interchange.

'It's me!' called out a voice from the gloom, and Matt narrowed his eyes at the twin silhouettes coming towards the light of their wands. He recognised Albus' voice, and the second person, the one he was helping walk, was a woman - so what had happened to Scorpius, if he and Rose had met up? Despite himself, something cold twisted in Matt's gut.

No, don't do that to her, don't make her suffer through -

Then Albus entered the ring of light, and Matt let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding when he saw the woman was not Rose, but a woman he'd never seen before in his life - tall, slender, dark-haired, with a sharpness to her gaze - and swelling and bruising about her face which looked consistent with a beating.

Guerrier's men all lifted their wands, and the man himself tensed. 'Who is this?'

Albus lifted a hand, and the woman lifted both, eyes widening. 'She's with me. It's fine.'

'It is not fine, I am not involving unknown elements who -'

And then Matt's heart lunged into his throat as Albus - big, burly Albus, who was only not intimidating because he was so damned nice - let go of the woman and crossed the space to plant himself in front of Guerrier, looming over him, uncaring of the wands levelled right at his head. 'She was a prisoner of Prometheus Thane's, captured and forced to watch her employer murdered, brutalised for no reason but their satisfaction and kept captive for the past fortnight.' A muscle twitched in the corner of his jaw, and cool green eyes were locked on pitiless brown. 'She's with me. It's fine.'

Guerrier had to tilt his head upwards to watch Albus, and a long moment passed, his men still with their wands trained on the broad youth. The only noise Matt could hear through the silence was his heart thudding in his chest, and this didn't diminish when Guerrier lifted a hand and his men stepped away, lowering their wands. 'Very well. I hope you will not make a habit of this, Mister Potter. I don't want our deal changing more than it has to.'

'This change had to happen,' said Albus - but then he was nice, polite, kind Albus again, stepping back with a courteous incline of the head. 'I apologise if this in an inconvenience.'

No, you don't, thought Matt, but now this was over he had other problems, gaze locking on the path back to Monte Carlo. 'Rose, Scorpius - where are they?'

He shook his head. 'I didn't see them.'

Matt gave a curt nod as he pulled out his pocket watch. 'Five more minutes, then,' he said, voice clipped, 'and we go back to get them.'

Guerrier's eyes narrowed. 'If they are not here, then they will have been captured and, if not killed, then put under the most intense security. I am not waiting around for you to expose yourselves, and me, more than is necessary. You can go back and then even if you get out, you will not have my portkey to take you away.'

'So be it,' said Matt. 'We've got ways of -'

'We're not doing anything just yet,' said Albus. 'They've still got time.'

'I don't get how you can be so calm when -'

'Because I trust them, Matt. You should, too.'

Another tense silence, and it was Selena who broke this one, gliding to Albus' side and looking at the woman he'd rescued with a smile. 'I think Al was terribly remiss and didn't introduce you, dear.'

'Delacroix,' came the automatic response, her voice throat, accent light. Then, 'Lisa Delacroix. I am - was - Professor Dresdner's assistant.'

Selena winced at this, and moved around to her - only for Lisa to flinch back, and Selena knew better than to push such a shy away from physical contact. 'I'm sorry,' she said instead. 'We'll get you out of here soon, then all of this can be over.'

Soon. Matt glowered at the path, gut churning. 'Three minutes,' he muttered. 'And even if you're not going, I'm going -'

'We act as one, Matt,' said Albus, voice still calm. 'When we have to. Give them a -'

'Movement.' That was one of Guerrier's men, and Matt cursed himself for letting Albus distract him - but then two more shapes were padding out of the darkness, the tall shape of Scorpius supported by Rose. The relief that came from seeing them - seeing her - alive and in one piece was like an explosion in his gut that tore with it most of the tension of the evening, and he couldn't help but grin.

'You're all right!'

Rose gave him a tired look and a wan smile. Scorpius looked far worse off, battered and bruised and limping with the same leg that had been struck in Badenheim. 'In one piece, at least. We had a little run-in with the ground, and with Prometheus Thane.' She looked at Lisa. 'Who's -'

'You can explain to each other later,' said Guerrier, stepping forward. 'You have the Chalice?'

Rose's expression twitched in a way Matt couldn't quite place. 'It was in our vault, yes.'

'And you have the money from the auction?' This was directed at Matt, who couldn't think of anything to do but sigh and nod, already called on his attempts at obfuscation. Guerrier gave his own satisfied nod, at which point they found the wands of all of his men trained on them. 'Then I will take the money.'

'What?' Matt's jaw dropped. 'The deal was that you help us break into the Rabbit's Foot, and then you help us get out of Monaco without having to go through official channels!'

'Yes,' said Guerrier. 'A deal traditionally requires something in return. If you consider what you have just said, that is everything going to you and nothing going to me.'

Rose straightened. 'You wanted vengeance on Maisson and Thane -'

'Which I have, if you've taken the proceeds from their auction and the Chalice of Emrys. I don't want it back - I will consider that your gains from the evening. I am not an unreasonable man and… frankly, that thing could not be sold, could not be used, it was nothing but a target painted on me with which I could do nothing.' His expression pinched. 'But galleons? I can always use galleons. Consider that my cut for getting you Paquet, for getting you this portkey.'

'There were thousands of galleons in that vault,' said Matt. 'That's a pretty steep cut.'

'And after tonight I am going to have to move my entire operation out of Monaco. You think that Maisson will not realise I was involved? I may have had my vengeance, but vengeance is proving expensive. While you, of course, are acting so altruistically, for the good of all, out to get that Chalice. You take what you want. I take what I want. Everyone wins.'

'And, of course,' said Albus, eyes locked on Guerrier, 'we have no choice.'

'Of course you have a choice. But that choice is no more than how we reach the same end, rather than what that end will be. And if you resist, I will take the money and you do not get a portkey out of here. And then Maisson and Thane will catch up with you and the Chalice and you will have a very brief time to enjoy their hospitality.'

Lisa stepped closer to Albus at that, and he flinched, turning to Matt. All he did was give a curt nod.

A rasping breath escaped Matt's throat. 'Fine,' he said. 'It's not like we were in it for the money.' It was still a wrenching sensation to reach to his belt and pull out the internally enlarged pouch which contained all of the thousands of galleons - he hadn't stopped to count - that had been in the vault, and he tossed it to Guerrier.

That had been his contribution to the evening. Without it, he felt even more like dead weight.

Guerrier snatched it from thin air, slipping the drawstring open before he peered inside. Long moments passed as he rifled through the contents with his wand, satisfying himself that it was indeed the galleons, and galleons in great amount. 'Excellent,' he said at last. 'It was a pleasure doing business with you all.'

He snapped his fingers at one of his men, who lowered his wand to pull out one of the metal rings akin to the permanent international portkeys - something of comparable power would be needed for an unlicensed one to take them abroad without the French magical government noticing their transit with an item of huge magical power. 'This will take you to the location you requested, Mister Doyle. So I hope you do not take it personally when I say that I never want to see any of you again.'

Albus reached to take the portkey, and they gathered up, Rose helping Scorpius limp over to the group. 'But we've had such a lovely time together,' Scorpius sneered, falling silent only when Rose squeezed his arm. Matt and Selena joined them, and Lisa stayed close to Albus, and none of them said another word to each other or to Guerrier as the Portkey was activated.

The world spun, dragging them whipping through the air, twisting and wrenching across space instantaneously. Only because he knew what to look for could Matt catch a glimpse of the distance they covered in that heartbeat, the rushing waves of the Mediterranean beneath them -

- and then they were dumped cruelly back into the real world, into the cold and dark, the rushing of the sea still around them. Silhouetted against the stars above, Matt could see the outline of a stone house, knew they were at the top of a high hill, and looking down could see the lights of a settlement a distance below.

Scorpius grunted and staggered, leaning heavily on Rose, still, to keep his footing. 'Can I know where we are now?'

It had been agreed, when Matt said he had the perfect place to lie low, that the others didn't need to know their bolt-hole. The portkey would take them there, and this way there was less risk of their plans being compromised to Thane if one of them was captured. But now they were away, Scott-free if, perhaps, deprived of their ill-gotten gains. Matt sighed. 'Greece,' he said. 'Or, specifically, the Greek island of Kythos. One of the few isolated magical communities - that village down there is inhabited by witches and wizards.'

As their eyes adapted to the gloom, they could see they were on a broad stone front porch, granting them a fine view of the humble Mediterranean island tumbling down to the village and the ocean. Selena turned around. 'And the house?'

'I know the owner. We can use it. And this place is safe - resistance fighters working against Voldemort from abroad used this place in the war. So we can stay here, get in touch with Rose's Mum, and sort out a proper portkey back to Britain.'

'Actually…' Rose's voice was tensed, and she bit her lip as they all turned to face her. 'We don't have the Chalice. It was a fake, and Thane knew that. I don't think Guerrier ever had the real thing. He seemed honestly relieved at the prospect of getting rid of it - what the hell would he use it for? So I don't think he knew, I don't think he hid it and made a fake. I don't think his father even had the real thing.'

Selena's eyes blazed. 'So let me get this straight: We just broke into the Rabbit's Foot for nothing.'

Rose winced. 'Pretty much.'

'And we don't have the Chalice of Emrys,' said Matt, voice hollow.

'No.'

'But nor does Prometheus Thane,' said Albus.

'No.'

'You don't think he lied?' said Matt. 'Let us take a fake when he's got the real thing, to make us think he doesn't have it?'

'It's possible,' said Rose. 'But I don't think so. It's not like we'd be hot on his heels right now if we thought he had it.'

'So it's still out there, somewhere. Only we don't know where.'

'Yes.'

'So,' said Scorpius. 'Here's the million-galleon question: What the bloody hell do we do next?'

Eva Saida woke.

No, that was wrong. She wasn't Eva Saida any more. She was Lisa Delacroix, and she couldn't just say it, she had to believe it. Think it until it was true, until it sank into her mind and her heart and she didn't just say the name, she breathed the name, the identity. They had to be fooled, had to trust her implicitly, or this entire scheme would fail.

She didn't like the scheme. But Thane had asked her to do it, and so she would do it.

Guerrier had never had the Chalice. Nor had, they believed, his father. They had gone to such desperate lengths to break past his security in Monaco that she couldn't for a moment believe this was a fake to throw off the trail. It had taken the very best people doing their very best work to get into his safety deposit box, and if Guerrier had wanted a diversion, there were far more effective ways of doing it.

Somewhere down the line, over the long, long centuries, someone had swapped the Chalice of Emrys in Reynald de Sablé's tomb for a fake.

Thane had been beside himself with rage at the discovery. He'd not ranted or raved, just stood there in a cold, pitiless fury. And then he'd said they were going back to Paris, because if he was going to have to put up with a group of children on his trail, he was going to put them to use.

He would continue to hunt for leads for the Chalice, of course. But he said Malfoy, Potter, Weasley and the others would conduct their own hunt, too, and he was convinced they were resourceful, convinced they were more than just schoolchildren. And so she would be placed amongst them to watch them, steer them if necessary - and, if they found a good lead on the Chalice, or got their hands on it themselves, she could get in touch with Thane, and thus would they turn an inconvenience into a resource.

Eva - Lisa - had not been convinced. But then, as she'd told herself, to 'rescue' her and begin this plan, they had to successfully break into the Rabbit's Foot in the first place. Maisson would have refused to go along with the plan, so they could do very little to make it easier for them to succeed.

But succeed they had, which meant she had been 'rescued', which meant that they were considerably more resourceful and competent than she had given them credit for. Even if they'd been double-crossed by Guerrier at the last moment. That, at least, could not have been easily avoided. Not if they wanted his help getting out of the country, and they almost certainly needed it.

So now here she was. Given a room in this house on this Greek island and, despite herself, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep with an exhaustion she hadn't known she'd felt. And now she was awake, watching dust-motes drift past the window through which spilt the morning sun, watching them settle upon the plain floorboards. It was a simple, plain place - and from what Matthias Doyle had said, it sounded an excellent place to lay low.

She had to give them some credit.

Eva - no, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa - sighed and lay back on her pillow. She ached. Downing had not, despite Thane's warning, been gentle. He had used fists and he had used magic, and had barely hidden his relish at what was purportedly a theatrical display to help her win enough sympathy to be believable. The two of them had been at each other's throats for years on end, and he had not passed on the chance to put her in her place when she couldn't, shouldn't fight back. When she had been helpless.

A long time ago, she'd promised herself she wouldn't be helpless again. To break that promise felt worse than the apprehension at the role she had to play.

And it was why her flinch at the knock at the door, when nobody could see her, was real. Not a part of the act. Normally she would tell herself, when playing a role, when infiltrating undercover - because this wasn't the first time she'd done this - that if she could cling to any facet of truth inside herself, she should do so. It would make it more believable.

She didn't like clinging to genuine helplessness.

So she had to swallow down on the ancient and yet familiar taste of panic before she could answer the knock, drawing the bedsheets up. 'Come in?' At least she didn't have to pretend she couldn't speak English. Lisa Delacroix had been a professional.

The door swung open and there stood Albus Potter, holding a tray. His broad, honest face was furrowed with what apprehensive concern, and her gut twisted. 'I was just checking if you were awake,' he said, voice faltering, 'and if you wanted, er, some breakfast.'

Damn it, he was so young. Except he was only a year or two younger than her, and then there'd been how he'd fought his way into the Rabbit's Foot - that wasn't the act of a child…

She blinked, forcing her heartbeat to slow from the thudding race that had started at the knock on the door. Old habits. You're not nine years old any more. You are in control. This is your deception. The helplessness is a front. Don't feel it, or you'll lose control.

Fucking Downing.

'Some breakfast would be - yes, thank you.' She moved to sit up, still in the battered clothes she'd been wearing in the Rabbit's Foot. 'What time is it?'

'Ten o' clock. I didn't want to wake you earlier, you seemed like you needed the rest.' Albus crossed the room and put the tray down on her bedside table, and the smell of scrambled eggs filled her nostrils. 'I hope you like eggs; I can do something different -'

'It's fine.' She made herself smile up at him, because men liked it when she smiled, and she had to get this man on-side. He was the dominant personality, the leader, and if he vouched for her, all of the others would fall in line. 'Thank you.'

He nodded, wringing his hands together as she reached for the tray, and she could see his eyes flickering across the side of her face. 'How - how're you feeling?'

'Not great,' she said, and that was easy to say honestly. 'But - getting better. Thank you - I seem to have a lot to thank you for.' She made her smile go sad. 'For breakfast, for healing, for getting me out of there -'

Slight quaver of the voice. Hint at being broken, traumatised, but he can make it better, he can save you…

'You don't need to thank me. I mean - I couldn't leave you there. I couldn't leave anyone as their prisoner, but not with what they were doing to you…' He bit his lip. 'Was it - you don't have to talk about it. Was it Thane?'

Despite her cover, she couldn't bring herself to paint Prometheus Thane as a pitiless, brutal thug. He was more than that. She shook her head. 'No. Another one. For the pleasure of it. They called him Downing.'

She saw his expression twist, and remembered that Albus Potter had broken Elijah Downing's arm in an interrogation. Suddenly she liked him a lot more. 'I know Downing. He's a nasty piece of work.'

'He is.' She dropped her head, let her hair form a veil to hide her face, and realised she was too damn hungry to pretend she didn't have an appetite. Besides, it would please him more if she ate the eggs. And they did smell good. So she tucked in.

She heard him shifting his weight, heard the floorboards creaking underfoot. 'Would you like me to let you get some more rest, leave you alone -'

'No,' she said - not because she didn't want to be alone with her aching bones and the memory of Downing's fists, but because she had to start getting her claws in. 'I mean - I would rather not be alone. Stay. Please.'

And that would please him, so it was sensible to say. She saw his small smile as he nodded, saw the concern in his eyes as he dragged up a stool to sit next to the bed as she ate. It was all too raw, too close, too much like genuine comfort, and so she swallowed her mouthful of eggs so she could break the silence. 'What happens now? I know you were after the Chalice…'

'We want to stop Thane from getting it, yes. We think he intends to use it to enhance or strengthen Phlegethon - Eridanos - this virus springing up across the world. It's the Council of Thorns' weapon, their best way to spread fear and control and to weaken governments so they can seize control. So the last thing we want is them making it better.'

She nodded. 'It was what they wanted the Professor for.' This time her flinch was forced, and she congratulated herself on regaining control. 'He was - they questioned him, he led them to Paris, he put them on the path to Guerrier, and when they thought they had the Chalice, they killed him. I don't even know why they left me alive…'

Except I killed the real Lisa Delacroix in the dungeons of Badenheim Castle, but let's not worry too much about that fact.

'I'm sorry.' There was such genuine warmth in his voice that she couldn't help but feel comforted, even if she had no grief for the Professor or the girl. 'Were you two close?'

'No, not really - he only hired me when the Council took an interest in him, he suspected he was a target for a while. But they - they tortured him in Badenheim until he broke, and then again in Paris -'

It was time to cry. Thane had been delighted when he'd discovered, all those years ago, that she could cry on cue. It was useful to have a young girl on side who could look pitifully vulnerable and sob, and as she'd grown into a woman, it remained useful. She preferred to not play these roles, when she could best anyone Thane threw her against with a wand, but such tools could not be left behind.

So she put the back of her hand to her mouth, made a show of trying to stifle a sob, and willed tears to spring up for a man whose life she had only cared about when his death had become inconvenient. 'I - I'm sorry -'

When he reached for her free hand, she flinched without meaning to. She didn't need to pretend that she'd always hated being touched, and with the pain from Downing so fresh, that aversion was all the more vivid. But she steeled herself, let him take her hand, because even if he saw her flinch, saw her sad, he would feel better if he thought she was letting him in.

Yes. Play the brave hero, comforting the broken girl. And then you'll see only that.

'You don't need to be sorry,' he said, voice low, urgent, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. 'You went through a lot. Rest. Take it easy.'

She drew a deep breath and made it quaver, acted as if he was giving her strength to regain her composure. 'Are you still going after him?'

'We're going after the Chalice,' said Albus, and winced. 'Not sure how, yet. But we're working on it. And we have to get it before Thane does.' He squeezed her hand lightly. 'But don't you worry about that. We can get in touch with your employers, with your family, let them know you're -'

'No!' She'd planned for this, but let the brief panic at being caught out fuel her reaction, because this fear needed to be believable. And so she made herself clutch his hand with both of hers, made her eyes widen with fear, summoned every inch of pain to look truly afraid and truly needing. 'No, they - I don't think that would be wise.'

He frowned. 'Why not? People will want to know you're all right…'

'Yes, but - we were betrayed.' She closed her eyes as if slamming back memories, then made herself meet his gaze, pleading. 'Our travel plans were supposed to be secure. I was providing the Professor's security, I did my best, but they caught us at the end of one of our private portkeys, we were betrayed from the inside, ambushed…'

All of this was true. It had been easier to bypass Dresdner's security protocols by buying off someone who'd arranged them. In truth, Lisa Delacroix had never been a bodyguard, just a paper-pusher, but she had anticipated needing to explain her expertise with a wand, and it wasn't as if a bodyguard masquerading as an administrative assistant was that odd under the circumstances.

'If I resurface, if I go back - I don't know if they think I know something, if I won't be compromised again…' Captured again. She let those words go unspoken, projected them with her earnest, worried gaze locked on his, tightened her grip on his hand pleadingly.

'Okay, okay.' He tried a reassuring smile, took her hands in both of his, nodded. 'We'll keep word of you silent for now. But we can see about arranging you somewhere secure to be, to stay, until this is over…'

'It'll be over when Thane's done. When he doesn't need the Chalice.' She made a show of steeling herself, drawing another deep breath. 'I know that needing to be rescued isn't exactly the best way for me to convince you that I'm useful, but I am trained, I do know what I'm doing and… they killed the man I was supposed to protect. If I help you, I can protect myself, put things right, and stop these people…'

He watched her for a long moment and her breath caught, worrying that she'd laid it on too thick, too soon; made too much of a show of wanting to be involved when she should have left it a day, maybe, played the vulnerable card more.

No. She needed a shot of steel running through her if she was going to keep his attention. And she'd watched them in Paris, she'd seen how they operated, she'd read his body language. He walked amongst them and spoke without assumption - just knowing, even subconsciously, that he would be listened to, be followed.

He was the key to all of this. If she got him on side, the others would be a piece of cake.

'Okay,' Albus said again, and once more he smiled that small, reassuring smile. 'I'll talk to the others; we're still figuring out what we're doing. But you've got more experience of Thane and his people than us, and I saw your moves in the Rabbit's Foot; you're damned fast. I think we could use all the help we can get, and you've hardly got less right than us to go after him. But - I'll talk to them.'

Smile. Reward him. And she did, and got a shy, pleased smile in response, but it wasn't his smile that struck her, but his eyes. The bright green eyes of Albus Potter, unwavering, warm, full of promise, conviction. They told her everything would be all right, they told her he would stand by his words, they helped banish a little of that old, hollow sense of helplessness that made her still hate being touched, that was genuine and that Downing had re-awoken.

But above all, they told her that she could easily make this man dance to her tune, and that where he danced, the others would follow.