Hello lovely readers! Chapter 36 is here :)

Thank you to all who reviewed the previous chapter (some responses to them in the AN at the end, as usual), I really enjoyed reading them.

Just a quick note - there are a couple of instances in this chapter of lines of dialogue not in English. Now, unlike many of you, I'm not talented enough to speak more than one language, so I have to cheat and use Google Translate, which I know will not always be reliable. So please pardon any mistakes I make in that area.

So without further ado, please read on to find out what happens in this next instalment of To Be Human...

Monday 25 July, 1994:

In the twelve years since Lena had first visited Mykon's Grove, the Wizarding town had barely changed. There were still thirty or so white buildings all cramped together, their coats of paint a mixture of fresh and peeling. Plants from the magical world remained the most common inhabitants in the front gardens, and the fountain in the town's centre continued to run.

Unlike twelve years ago, however, Lena had actually dressed for the Greek summer heat, and in her short-sleeved cotton dress that stopped just above her knees and sunglasses that blocked out the glare, was able to enjoy the pleasant weather slightly more. But not by much – she would always have a natural inclination to a cooler climate, and preferably one that was a little more overcast.

Remus was also having trouble adapting to the warmest, sunniest weather he'd ever experienced in his life. Lena watched him wipe the sweat from his brow as they walked down the town's main street.

"I told you to just wear a t-shirt," she said with a slight smile.

Pushing up the long sleeves of his button-up shirt further, Remus replied regretfully, "I didn't think it was appropriate attire for a business meeting."

Lena shook her head, amused. "This isn't an ordinary sort of business."

They continued all the way to the edge of the town, where Markellos' house stood. Lena opened the front gate and led Remus to the door which, she noted with mild interest, had had its knocker replaced. Instead of the sun it had once been, it was now shaped like a tree. She rapped it against the door and half-a-minute later, the door was opened by the house's owner – who, unlike the first time she had met him, was thankfully wearing clothes, rather than just a short dressing gown.

Markellos grinned upon seeing her. "Am I glad to see you," he told her, extending his hand.

Lena, flipping up her sunglasses, shook it firmly. "It's wonderful to see you, Markellos," she said sincerely. "How long's it been, four years?"

"Since we saw each other at Hedda's party, yes," replied Markellos. He turned his gaze to Remus, who was standing a little behind Lena, and his expression became more shrewd. "So. This is him."

Lena reached behind and pulled Remus forward so he was level with her. "Yes. This is my partner, Remus Lupin."

Markellos eyed him for another second, then offered his hand to Remus too. "A pleasure to make the acquaintance of the man Lena has deemed good enough for her," he said, the corners of his lips slightly turning upwards.

Remus blinked, clearly not knowing what to say to that. Lena lightly smacked him on the arm, reminding him to accept the proffered hand. He quickly took it, muttering, "Pleased to meet you, too."

"Well," said Markellos, taking a step back, "you better come in."

Instead of taking them to his study, Markellos led Lena and Remus to his kitchen and gestured for them to sit down at the small round table there.

"Obviously," he said as they all sat, "I would love to catch up with everything that's been happening with you, Lena – and I am most intrigued to learn a little more about you, Mr Lupin. But I must address my, ah, business proposal first. If you're not interested, you can stay and we may chat as long as you like. But if you accept the job, I suspect you'll want to begin straight away."

"Sounds good to me," said Lena. Remus crossed his arms and leant back in his chair, watching Markellos with a neutral expression.

Markellos nodded. "Right. Well, a few weeks ago, I hired someone to procure a certain magical relict for me. This agent, upon successfully retrieving the object from its former, er, residence, sent a message to tell me he had secured it and would be here the next day to deliver it to me. But when he arrived, he presented to me a completely different object, and was adamant that this was the one I had asked for. Upon examining him, I discovered that some time between sending the message and coming here, a Memory Modification had been performed on him."

"You think the relict was intercepted by another interested party?" asked Lena.

"I'm certain of it," said Markellos.

"And you don't think it was the previous owner reclaiming it?"

"No, I don't think it was." Markellos' manner became more careful. "You see, the relict in question is the Medallion of Circe."

"Ah." She had seen the story of its disappearance in the Daily Prophet. "So that was you."

Remus was looking between Markellos and Lena in confusion. "I'm sorry, the what?" he inquired.

Markellos glanced at him. "You are unfamiliar with that particular artefact?"

Remus pursed his lips. "I've heard of Circe, of course. But I'm afraid the subject of historical artefacts is not my speciality."

"The Medallion of Circe," explained Lena, "is an object of particular note because although it has definitely been imbued with magic, nobody actually knows for certain what it does. The prevailing theory, however, is that the Medallion was in fact a key for something. But as to what it opens–" She shrugged. "There's only speculation: maybe a chest, maybe a room, maybe something entirely different. People have searched Circe's island for possible locks many times, but nobody's ever found anything."

"Right," said Remus. "So, who is the previous owner?"

"The Musée d'Histoire Magique."

Remus stared at her, then at Markellos. "The French Museum of Magical History?" He narrowed his eyes. "When you said 'procure', you meant steal, didn't you?"

"The Musée has no right to keep the Medallion," said Markellos quietly.

Before Remus could say anything, Lena quickly cut in. "What you have to understand, Remus, is that the matter of ownership is a little more complicated when it comes to magical relicts. See, although it's been mentioned in historical records for centuries, the actual Medallion was only discovered a little over two centuries ago, by a French Magiarchaeologist on Circe's island. And he took it back to France with him, and gave it to the Musée. But–"

"Circe was Greek," interrupted Markellos. "And she is an important figure in our culture's history. What Levoleur did–"

"The French Magiarchaeologist," Lena clarified for Remus.

"–was blatant thievery," continued Markellos. "And we have been petitioning the Musée to return it to Greece ever since, but they ignore us. So," he spread his hands in a 'so what?' gesticulation, "I finally took matters into my own hands."

"I see," said Remus after a pause. His expression, however, remained troubled.

Wanting to draw Markellos' attention from him, Lena asked, "Would I then be correct in assuming that the job you are offering me is to track down whoever intercepted the Medallion on its way to you, and then retrieve it from them?"

"Exactly," said Markellos. "Are you interested?"

The answer was definitely. But Lena could see that Remus still had some misgivings.

"Do you mind if I talk with Remus for a minute?" she asked Markellos.

He nodded, and stood up. "I'll be in my study," he told her, and left.

"What are you thinking?" Lena said to Remus softly.

Remus leant forward on the table. "I think I underestimated the amount of illegality that would be involved," he admitted.

"And that's bothering you?"

He stared down at the table for a few seconds, before looking back up at her. "People expect werewolves to be criminals, Lena," he told her quietly. "I've spent my life trying to prove that expectation unfair and discriminatory."

Lena bit her lip. "Your friends became unregistered Animagi for you," she pointed out.

"I didn't ask them to do that," replied Remus immediately, before sighing. He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be a thief."

"But this wouldn't be stealing," insisted Lena. "I told you, possession of relicts like the Medallion is more complicated than that. These aren't matters that can just be sorted out by money, and the International Confederation of Wizards has never made any laws on the subject."

Remus looked at her intently for a long moment. Then he asked, "Do you think it's the right thing to do?"

"Hiring someone to steal the Medallion from the Musée, or accepting the job?"

"The latter," said Remus, after a moment's deliberation.

"I definitely don't think there's anything wrong with trying to locate the Medallion's current whereabouts," said Lena. "And I'm willing to wager that whoever has taken it probably has less of a claim to it than Markellos does. So yeah, I reckon it's the right thing to do."

Remus stood up. "Then let's tell Markellos we're in."

Remus found the climate of Bucharest more agreeable to him than Mykonos', but it was still warmer than ideal. But there was no way he was complaining about it to Lena – not when she had given him this opportunity to experience a world that was larger than just Britain.

"So why do you think this guy we're going to see will have any clue of what happened to the Medallion?" he asked her as they turned into an alleyway.

"Because within what outsiders refer to as the 'criminal underworld', there are lots of different circles of association," explained Lena. "And while Markellos and Sârbu's don't overlap, mine – courtesy of Valeriya – do. Now, whoever intercepted the Medallion will want to make sure that none of Markellos' friends hear anything about it, so nothing gets back to him." She stopped in front of a door and pulled her wand out of her bag. "But it's quite likely that some of the interceptor's associates know something about it. And as Sârbu is an extremely well-connected man, there's a decent chance he might have heard something." She drew a rune Remus didn't recognise with her wand on the door. "After all, the Medallion is a pretty well known artefact." The rune glowed orange before fading, and Lena opened the door and went inside. Remus quickly followed her.

They appeared to be in a shop of some kind, but Remus couldn't see any products it was selling. There were armchairs on one side of the room, and a counter with a door behind it on the other. From the centre of the ceiling hung a chandelier.

Lena walked over to the counter and rang the little bell on it.

"Have you known this Sârbu guy long?" asked Remus.

She looked back at him, smiling. "Since I was seven." She held up her wand. "He made this."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "He's a wandmaker?"

"Among other things," replied Lena delicately. "Valeriya had fairly regular business with him when I was a kid." She turned back to the counter. "I had quite a crush on him."

Remus had been inspecting the chandelier, but when Lena said that, he looked at her so fast that his neck made a small crack. "Sorry, you what?"

But before Lena could even look back at him, the door behind the counter opened.

"Of all the shops in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine."

The man standing in the doorway could have been anywhere between his mid thirties to late forties. He was, Remus thought, irritatingly handsome, with brown hair that was tied back in a short ponytail, and piercing blue eyes.

"Hello, Sârbu," said Lena softly. Remus couldn't see her face, but he could tell from her tone that she was smiling. "It's been a while."

Sârbu smiled back, showing his pearly white, perfect teeth. "Much too long." His eyes flicked from Lena to Remus. He raised an eyebrow. "And who is this?"

"This is Remus," replied Lena, gesturing for him to join her at the counter. "My better half."

As he came to stand beside her, Remus wrapped an arm around her waist, and nodded at Sârbu. Lena glanced up at him with a half-surprised, half-amused expression, and he knew that the possessiveness behind the gesture had not gone unnoticed.

Sârbu, meanwhile, appeared to be studying Remus' face. "Fascinating," he said at last, and the reason behind the examination struck Remus – Sârbu had been identifying him as a werewolf, much like Lena had the first time they'd met. "Now," continued Sârbu, shifting his gaze back to Lena, "I suspect it's too much to hope that this is a social call."

"I'm afraid so," said Lena. "It's information I'm looking for."

"And you came to me?" Sârbu leant forward onto the counter. "I'm flattered."

"Well," replied Lena, twisting a lock of hair around her finger, "I've always found you to be an informed man."

Sârbu chucked lowly. "I suppose there are worse reputations for a man to have," he said with a wink.

Remus glared at him, irritated by both his flirtatious manner, and the fact that Lena seemed to be enjoying – even more, encouraging – it.

Ignoring the dirty look Remus was giving him, Sârbu asked, "So, what particular sort of information were you hoping to charm out of me?"

"I'm sure you heard of the recent disappearance of the Medallion of Circe from the Musée d'Histoire Magique."

"But of course," said Sârbu, his eyes lighting up."It did cause quite a stir."

Lena cocked her heard. "And would it be too much to assume," she said, "that you are also aware that the Medallion never made its way to the original instigator of its disappearance?"

Sârbu tapped his fingers on the countertop. "I may have heard some salacious rumours," he drawled.

Lena leant forward onto the countertop, bringing her face far too close to Sârbu's for Remus' comfort. "Do you like me enough to share such rumours?" she murmured.

Sârbu grinned. "Oh, I like you very much, Lena Lestrange," he said, his voice barely above whisper. "But I also happen to be, er, what's the word – ah, an opportunist."

Lena straightened up. "Good," she said, her tone suddenly more business-like. "I find it much harder to trust anyone who isn't."

Sârbu threw his head back and laughed. "Spoken like the girl raised by Valeriya Dolohov." When his mirth had subsided, he said, "All right. I can give you a name."

"And your price?"

After staring at her for a few seconds, as if contemplating something, Sârbu pulled out a scrap of parchment, a quill and an inkpot from underneath the counter. He quickly scribbled something down, then passed the scrap to Lena. Holding it at an angle which meant Remus couldn't see what it said, Lena read it with an arched eyebrow.

"You don't ask for much, do you?" she muttered sarcastically.

Sârbu shrugged. "If it is too difficult–"

"Oh, I can get it," said Lena calmly, handing back the parchment. "You'll just have to wait until I complete this job."

"Fair enough," said Sârbu, putting everything back beneath the counter. "Well then, I can give you the name – and I'm sure you'll find it's more than enough to get started on your, er, job."

Lena looked at him interestedly. "It's a big one, then?"

Sârbu snorted. "I'll say. The name," he smirked, "is Vettori."

The Vettori family was notorious throughout Europe for both its position of respect in polite society, and its frequent forays into the more criminal. Until eight years ago, it had been headed by Signor Niccolò Vettori. He, however, had met his end in a supposed nasty accident with a Chimaera – although there were many who suspected his being locked in a small, confined space with the creature wasn't as accidental as the official report claimed.

Since his untimely demise, his widow, Loredana, had taken up the position of matriarch, and had done nothing to change the direction of the family business so it might make less enemies who had no qualms about murder and access to Chimaeras. Lena had never met the woman, but knew Valeriya had had a meeting with her upon Loredana's ascension about the possibility of establishing a business relationship. The meeting had been unsuccessful.

The principal family home, in which Loredana and her three adult sons – Arsenio, Gioffre and Renzo – lived, was located in Florence, Italy. Thus, Lena and Remus spent the majority of the first few days of their investigation in the Tuscan city.

There were definitely worse places to spend the day working.

"Do you think it's possible to make this meal as well back in England," asked Remus, swallowing his mouthful of Carpaccio, "or can it only be this good here?"

It was their third day on the job, and they were having lunch in an establishment on the bank of the Arno.

Lena, nibbling on her tomato Bruschetta, shrugged. "I'm sure there are recipes available. Perhaps if you tried making it enough times, you could get it to the standard you want. You're a fairly decent cook, after all."

"What a glowing endorsement of my culinary skills," said Remus drily. "You're welcome to make dinner tonight."

"I hope that isn't an insinuation that I can't cook."

"Well, as I've never seen you make anything more complicated than a sandwich..."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "Darling, I can make highly advanced Potions that even professionals struggle with. Just because I don't usually cook or bake doesn't mean I can't." She smirked. "And why would I when I have you to do it, and you just look so damn good in an apron?"

"Is that all I am to you?" said Remus with mock indignation. "A pretty face who belongs in a kitchen?"

Licking the crumbs of the Bruschetta off her fingers, Lena replied with a wink, "You're also excellent in bed."

As Remus attempted and failed to conceal a pleased smirk, Lena felt another pair of eyes on her, and turned her own gaze to their owner, a woman sitting by herself at a table in the corner. If Lena was to make a guess, she would have said that the woman was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years old. She had carefully styled long, dark brown hair, olive skin, and large brown eyes that held Lena's gaze for a moment before looking away. But Lena could tell this woman had been more than just casually observing her.

She took a sip of water, before calming telling Remus, "I'm being watched."

Remus frowned. "Watched in the professional sense?" he asked in a low voice.

Lena nodded.

"An employee of the Vettoris? Or the Ministry?"

Before they had left England, Lena and Remus had discussed the possibility that because of his known association with Sirius, the Auror office were keeping a close eye on Remus, and might see his leaving the British Isles as an attempt to meet up with the wanted criminal, and have him followed.

"She's definitely not from the Ministry," said Lena. "And I don't think she's behaving inconspicuously enough to work for the Vettori family."

"It's a woman?"

"A very pretty woman," murmured Lena, sensing the watcher's eyes flicking back to her. Deciding to take a gamble, she told Remus, "I'm going to head to the bathroom, and see if she follows me."

Looking concerned, Remus said , "All right, but be careful."

"Aren't I always?" replied Lena, smiling as she stood up. She quickly wound her way around the tables, and to the ladies' room.

There was nobody else inside, so Lena went over to one of the sinks while she waited to see if the woman followed. Sure enough, in just under twenty seconds, the door swung open again, and Lena quickly turned on the tap to wash her hands.

The other woman's eyes rested on her momentarily, before she headed for one of the cubicles.

Watching the woman in the mirror, Lena said, "Non eri molto sottile nella tua osservazione di me." You were not very subtle in your observation of me.

The woman paused at the cubicle door. Then she turned around, smiling. "Surely a beautiful woman such as yourself is used to being admired by strangers," she said in an accent Lena recognised as Greek.

Lena turned the tap off and grabbed some paper towel from the dispenser. Wiping her hands, she faced the woman.

With her face coated in makeup, Lena did look more conventionally beautiful than usual – an exercise less in her vanity, and more because her normal sickly appearance would be more likely to cause wariness. But she wasn't naive.

"Not frequently enough for it to disguise the fact that you've been watching me for an entirely different purpose," she replied evenly.

The woman cocked her head. "And what purpose would that be?"

Lena didn't know that yet, but she had no intention of letting the woman know. "A professional interest," she said simply. "Not a personal."

Taking a step closer, the woman said, in an unmistakeably suggestive voice, "Perhaps it's both."

A flash of black on the woman's left inner wrist caught Lena's eyes. It appeared to be a tattoo of some kind, but the way she had positioned her arms meant that Lena couldn't make out what it depicted.

Thinking quickly, she extended her left hand. "Then may I inquire what the name of the interested party is?" she said smoothly.

The woman accepted the hand with a flirtatious smile. "Theodora," she answered.

Lena returned the smile. "Charmed." But just as Theodora started to draw back her hand, Lena tightened her grip on it, and quickly turned it over so the mark on the wrist was visible.

The tattoo was of a black circle surrounded by eight wands that were pointing outwards. It was a symbol Lena recognised well.

She dropped Theodora's hand, staring at her in shock.

Theodora, on the other hand, was grinning delightedly. "Oh, you have no idea how long I've wanted to meet you, Lena Lestrange."

"How do you know my name?" asked Lena sharply, moving a few steps back so she was closer to the bathroom's exit. She reached around behind her to pull her wand out of her waistband. "And why do you have that symbol on your wrist? The Orkístike haven't existed in nearly a millennium."

"On the contrary," said Theodora, "we've just kept our existence a well-kept secret for a millennium. And as to how I know your name – how could we, the most devoted followers of Hecate's legacy, not be aware of the one who currently possesses the Orb?"

Lena had learned about the Orkístike not long after she had begun her research into Hecate's Orb as a child. After Hecate's death, her most loyal acolytes had started an order, one dedicated to watching the Orb, and to whomever's hands in which it fell. Their purpose was to wait for the one person who successfully Mastered the Orb, and then pledge their loyalty and service to them.

But everything that Lena had heard and read said that the Orkístike had been disbanded in the early eleventh century. To say she was shocked to discover they still existed was an understatement.

"I don't have the Orb anymore," Lena told Theodora. "I haven't for seven years."

"One does not need to physically have the Orb to possess it, dear," said Theodora, looking amused. "It is to be bound to it – and as you are not dead, you are still bound."

Unable to help herself, Lena touched her chest. "It's left its mark, yes," she said. "But that's where our connection ends – and I don't want anything else to do with it," she added firmly.

Theodora looked at her curiously, as if studying her. Then she said, "Perhaps you do fear it now. But you still want it. Even the death of your grandmother could not completely erase such a desire."

"No," said Lena vehemently, unnerved by how much Theodora knew of her life. "I am done with it. I don't know where it is, and I don't want to know." She narrowed her eyes. "And I certainly don't want anything to do with you and your creepy friends."

Theodora's jaw tightened. She was clearly having some difficulty restraining from snapping at Lena.

Not interested in anything else the woman had to say, Lena turned around and headed for the exit.

"You were eleven."

Her hand just about to reach the door, Lena paused.

"I've read the accounts from others throughout history who the Orb has allowed to attempt to Master it," continued Theodora, and Lena could sense her moving closer. "I know when you first laid hands on the Orb, it offered you a choice – to suffer eternal torture, or the release of death." Her voice became quieter. "You were eleven, and you refused to give up your life, even to end an unbearable pain."

"It wasn't unbearable," said Lena quietly, staring at the door. "The very fact that you had to live with it meant that it could be borne."

Slowly, she turned around to face Theodora, and her stomach twisted at the look of admiration on the other woman's face.

"You," breathed Theodora," are the youngest person to ever survive their first encounter with the Orb. By decades. And despite being separated from it for seven years, you are still alive." She took another step forward, so she was only a foot away from Lena. "Do you really think," she whispered, "that the Orb would ever relinquish its bond with you?" She held a hand over her chest. "We have waited over two thousand years for someone to be worthy of Hecate's legacy. I know in my heart that someone is you."

Lena stared at her for a long moment, then gave her a small smile. "But I don't."

Monday 1 August, 1994:

Lena wanted to tell Remus the truth about who Theodora was. She really did. But every time she opened her mouth to tell him, a lie came out. So now Remus believed Theodora, as a Greek witch, was simply interested in seeing the Medallion returned to Circe's homeland, and would be doing nothing to impede their efforts to retrieve it.

The said retrieval was to be attempted exactly one week after Lena and Remus had accepted the job. Discrete interviews with associates of the Vettori family had allowed them to determine that the most likely current location of the Medallion was a trophy room in the family home in Florence. An inspection of the house's outside informed Lena that there was only one way to enter the house without setting off the incredibly sensitive Intruder Alert Enchantment, and that was through the front door.

So Lena sent Signora Vettori letter requesting a meeting, under the pretence that as she had found Valeriya an unsuitable business partner, perhaps the lady would find Lena more agreeable. To her relief, Signora Vettori agreed to a meeting at Lena's suggested time – Monday morning. A time, which Lena had discovered, when all three Vettori sons would be engaged in business elsewhere, leaving their mother alone in the house, and thus making it easier for them to extricate the Medallion.

"And it will work for precisely four minutes and seventeen seconds?" Remus asked Lena, inspecting the vial of potion she had handed him.

"Precisely," affirmed Lena. "That should be plenty of time to cover your entrance." She gave him a second vial. "And this should be enough for your exit."

The potion was a Temporary Invisibility Draught of Lena's own design. The plan was for Remus to take it and slip inside the Vettori House the same time the door was opened for Lena. While she would keep Signora Vettori distracted with her 'business proposal', Remus would search the rest of the house for the trophy room and Medallion. If he found it and could take it without being hindered by any protective enchantments the Vettoris had put on it, he would grab it, drink the second lot of Potion and signal to Lena that he'd been successful, and she would find a way to end the meeting, and they would quickly leave together and get out of Italy before the Vettori family was any wiser. If he couldn't locate it or was unable to retrieve it, he would signal to Lena that he'd been unsuccessful, and she would tell Signora Vettori she was interested in a partnership moving forward, and arrange another meeting.

The only concern was that Remus would be without a wand, as the potion was not strong enough to conceal an object that magical as well as the Medallion. This snag in the plan was making Lena incredibly anxious, but Remus assured her he could handle it, and she didn't want him to believe that she thought he wasn't capable enough to be her partner for the job.

Two minutes before they entered the house, Remus took the potion and immediately vanished. Satisfied that he was completely concealed, they walked up the street on which the house was located, and knocked on the front door at precisely the agreed meeting time. Fifteen seconds later, the door opened.

"Miss Lestrange, I presume?"

Signora Loredana Vettori was a tall, wiry woman with greying dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. She appeared to at least be in her mid-fifties, and her lined face wore an expression of both interest and wariness.

Lena smiled politely, and extended a hand. "Correct. It is a pleasure to meet you, Signora Vettori."

Signora Vettori shook her hand and invited her inside. As Lena crossed the threshold, she could feel Remus right behind her.

"Why don't we go through to the drawing room?" said Signora Vettori, gesturing to her right. "And may I offer you anything to drink?" She smiled thinly. "I am afraid I don't have tea."

"I'm all right, thank you," replied Lena, as she felt Remus lightly tap her shoulder, indicating he was going to head upstairs to begin his search. "Please, let us sit down and talk. There is much we have to discuss."

"Of course," said Signora Vettori, leading her through to the drawing room. The lady of the house took a seat on the chaise lounge, and Lena sat opposite in an armchair. "I must say, I was surprised to hear from you, Miss Lestrange. I assumed you would be working alongside your aunt, at least at first, rather than starting off in this business completely independently."

Lena smiled, and spread her hands. "What can I say? I prefer to work alone."

It was an incredibly strange sensation – and quite disconcerting – to not be able to see your own body. It was quite different from the odd occasion Remus had used James' invisibility cloak at school. So even though it made him more vulnerable to detection, Remus was relieved when the potion wore off and he could see all his limbs again.

Quietly and thoroughly, he checked each room on the house's second floor. It was in the last room that he found the Medallion. It was around the neck of a marble bust, which was situated in the centre of a long table, surrounded by other objects that he imagined Lena would probably be able to identify, but were a mystery to him.

He approached the table carefully, and looked at it closely, trying to deduce whether there were any protective enchantments. It would have been much easier with a wand, but Lena had taught him some signs that would be visible to the naked eye. None, however, jumped out at him.

Remus took a deep breath. "Well, here goes nothing," he muttered to himself, and reached out to take the Medallion. But just before his fingers touched the chain, a low voice came from behind him.

"Cosa abbiamo qui?"

Remus spun around, his hand diving into his pocket for the second vial of the potion. Apparently, the youngest of the Vettori sons – Renzo – had not gone to the meeting at which he was expected. His red nose indicated that a cold might be the cause of his lack of departure. He was pointing his wand at Remus, a nasty smirk on his face.

Realising he wouldn't have time to pull the vial out and drink from it before Renzo hit him with a spell, Remus quickly dived to the side. As he did, he grabbed something heavy off the table and chucked it at the armed wizard. The object, an idol of some description, exploded in the air as it was hit by the curse Renzo had fired at Remus.

He was now snarling at Remus, saying something else in Italian that Remus didn't understand. But he got the violent gist of it.

Remus had landed near a cabinet. As Renzo began to fire another curse at him, Remus gave the cabinet a shove, and it toppled over in the direction of Renzo, who stumbled back just in time to avoid being crushed by it. Taking advantage of his distraction, Remus launched himself at Renzo, knocking him over. As they fell to the ground, Renzo's wand flew out of his hand.

"Your connections certainly are wide-spread–"

Signora Vettori broke off mid-sentence as there came a noise from upstairs. Both her and Lena's eyes flicked upstairs.

"That must be my son, Renzo," explained Signora Vettori, and it required a great deal of effort for Lena to not visibly tense. "He has been ill, and I thought he would still be sleeping at this hour–"

Then came an even bigger sound, like something large crashing to the floor.

This time, Signora Vettori looked more concerned. She began to stand up.

Lena automatically drew her wand and Stunned the older woman, who crumpled to the floor with an expression of surprise. She quickly followed up with a Body-Bind, then ran out of the drawing room and up the staircase.

'If you die, Remus,' she thought to herself, 'I'll kill you.'

Remus may have been taller than the youngest Vettori son, but Renzo was broader and stronger. He managed to roll them over so he was on top, and squarely punched Remus in the jaw. Remus grunted in pain. His grip slackened on Renzo, who staggered to his feet. Just as he was about to stumble over to where his wand had landed, Remus shot his hand out, grabbed Renzo's ankle and pulled, making the larger man trip. Remus pushed himself to his knees, trying to stand up so he could retrieve the wand first, but Renzo kicked out at him, his foot catching Remus in the gut.

That hurt like hell. Remus clutched his stomach, but tried once again to push himself off the floor. But before he could, Renzo had crawled over to the wand, and was now pointing it at Remus, his expression livid.

"Cruc–"

Lena suddenly appeared at the doorway, and brought her wand down in a violent, slashing motion. And as she did, Renzo's outstretched right arm was severed from the elbow, and fell to the floor.

Renzo let out an ear-splitting scream, as blood gushed out of the severed limb. Remus was unable to tear his eyes away from the gruesome sight, until Lena, whose wand was still trained on the screaming man, spoke to him.

"Get the Medallion," she ordered.

Unthinkingly, Remus stood and went over to the table, where he took the Medallion off the bust. As he brought it over to her, he began to say, "Lena–"

But she just grabbed him by the hand and tugged him out of the room. They raced down the corridor and the staircase.

"Where's the mother?" asked Remus as they reached the front door.

"Stunned and in a Body Bind," replied Lena, wrenching it open. "We need to go, Renzo's going to get over the shock soon and will call his brothers back."

"But his arm–"

"Come on," she insisted, pulling him out the doorway, "it's time to get the hell out of Florence!"

"Let me see it."

Remus allowed Lena to unbutton his shirt. She hissed through her teeth when she saw the large bruise on his abdomen, and he in turn winced when she lightly poked it.

"You're lucky he didn't rupture anything," she murmured. Mortimer, who was perched on her shoulder, nodded in agreement.

He was lying on their bed, with Lena kneeling beside him. They had decided it would be too dangerous to go straight to Mykon's Grove to hand over the Medallion to Markellos, but Lena had sent their employer a message as soon as they had gotten back to the Swiss house to let him know they had it.

"Well," said Lena, "I'd try kissing it better, but..." she rolled over so she could reach her bedside table. She opened a drawer and pulled out a small tin. "I expect that this will do more good."

She took off the lid, then gently covered the bruise on his stomach as well as the one on his jaw with the yellow ointment inside it, and Remus began to feel its effects almost instantly. When she'd finished, she put the tin away. Then she lay down on her side next to him, stroking his hair.

Mortimer, evidently sensing that even with Remus injured there was a chance he and Lena might begin canoodling, hopped off her shoulder and scurried out of the room.

There was a short silence before Lena softly said, "I'm sorry. I was leaving far too much to chance with that plan, and I should never have–"

"Lena," Remus cut her off, reaching up to touch her cheek, "it's okay. How could we have known that Renzo would still be there?"

"By being more thorough," Lena pointed out. "The whole thing was too risky, Remus."

"But we got the Medallion. We completed the job." He smiled at her. "Let's consider the whole thing a learning experience."

Lena gazed down at him. "Why are you so nice?" she whispered, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger.

"Because one of us has to be," replied Remus without thinking, and he immediately regretted it.

Lena let go of his hair and sat up, tension visible throughout her body as she turned away from him.

'Idiot,' Remus berated himself, grimacing as he pushed himself up too. 'You know how saying that sort of thing affects her.'

"You think what I did to Renzo was disproportionate retribution," said Lena quietly.

Remus placed his hand on her back. "I think you acted instinctively."

Lena turned back to face him. "That wasn't instinct," she told him. "Instinct would have been killing him. Cutting off his arm was me being merciful."

Remus frowned. It was that kind of talk from Lena that brought everything Valeriya had told him back to the forefront of his mind. "Lena–"

"He was going to use the Cruciatus Curse on you, Remus!" said Lena, clearly distressed. "He would have tortured you to find out who hired you to get the Medallion, and once he found out, he would have killed you!"

'So tell me, Remus – just what the fuck do you think is going to happen if you get yourself killed?'

A lump began to form in Remus' throat as Valeriya's question reverberated in his mind. If she acted this way at the mere threat of harm against him–

The problem was there was just something so bloody attractive to him about her intensely protective nature. And that was so often the case – the very same things that concerned and frightened him about Lena were also things that he adored.

So instead of telling her that her instinct to kill Renzo worried him, Remus leant forward and kissed Lena. If this action surprised her, she didn't show it. Instead, she put her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back until he was lying down again, with her hovering over him.

Just as Remus was trying to figure out which way of making love to her would cause the least discomfort given his present injuries, Lena pulled back.

"I have to go back out again," she said.

"Why?" asked Remus, half-groaning with the frustration of being denied the intimacy for which he'd been hoping.

"Because now we've got the Medallion, I need to acquire the asset which Sârbu asked for."

The mention of Lena's childhood crush was more than effective as a turn-off for Remus, and his look of distaste did not slip past Lena.

She grinned. "Why, Remus Lupin, I do believe you're jealous."

"Am not," grumbled Remus.

Lena quirked an incredulous eyebrow.

Remus sighed. "Fine," he admitted crossly. "But is that unreasonable, after the way you flirted with each other?"

"Of course it's not unreasonable. He is, after all, a very attractive and charming man. It's completely understandable that you would feel threatened."

Sitting up, Remus glared at her. "Threatened? By that twat?" He scoffed. "As if. I could take him."

"At what, a quiz on Hinkypunks?"

"You little–"

Lena let out a shriek of laughter as Remus, ignoring the pain in his abdomen, shoved her back and climbed on top of her, pinning her arms down. He brought his face down to hers.

"I'm a dangerous man, Lena," he breathed. "A werewolf. Don't forget that."

She gazed into his eyes intently. "I never do," she whispered. "But you choose to be a nice man. A kind man." She smiled softly. "And that's why Sârbu could never compare to you. That's why I love you."

Remus let go of her arms, placing his hands on either side of her face and kissing her. As Lena opened her mouth, she slid her legs out from underneath him and wrapped them around him. Then, just as Remus was running his tongue along the underside of hers, Lena threw all of her weight to the left, rolling them over so she was on top.

"But I really do have to go now," she said, dismounting him.

Remus pushed himself up so he was resting on his elbows. "Alone?"

"It's a one-person job," Lena told him as she got off the bed. "Besides, I'd rather that someone stay here with the Medallion."

"When will you be back?"

"Late, I imagine. Don't wait up for me." She picked up her wand and bag. Just as she was about to leave the bedroom, she paused, and turned back to Remus. "Darling?"

"Yes?"

"Regarding your jealousy–"

Remus waved a hand dismissively. "It's really nothing, Lena. I'm just not used to seeing other people flirt with you."

"I was just going to say," Lena said after a short silence, "that if I caught someone looking at you with too much interest, I'd probably gouge their eyes out."

There was another pause.

Then Remus gave her a small smile. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I'm sure you would."

Remus waited up for Lena as long as he could, but exhausted from the morning's adventure, he fell asleep shortly after midnight. When he woke up at half-past seven, he was alone in bed, but upon seeing the shoes Lena had worn yesterday standing nearing the doorway, quickly headed downstairs. As he did, it occurred to him that the ointment Lena had applied yesterday had worked – his bruises were gone.

On his way to the kitchen, he passed the living room. He continued on for several metres, then halted. Slowly, he walked backwards and looked inside the living room once more.

"Lena?" he called out.

"Yes?" her voice answered from the kitchen.

"Why is there a man gagged and bound to a chair in the living room?"

For there, in the centre of the room, was a man who Remus had never seen before in his life, and he was tied to a plain, wooden chair. He looked to be thirty-ish, and appeared to be unconscious.

Remus glanced to his left as Lena walked up to him, holding a mug of tea in her hands.

"He's Sârbu's price," she said simply, taking a sip.

"Sârbu's price is a person?"

"Yep."

"And you've kidnapped them?"

"I suppose that's a fair way to describe it."

Remus closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Fucking hell, Lena."

He heard Lena sigh. "I thought you might react like this."

Opening his eyes a crack and squinting at her, he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "Oh, I'm sorry, were you expecting a high-five?"

"Look, why don't you come through to the kitchen, have a cup of tea, and I'll explain things a little more clearly."

It was Remus' turn to sigh, but he followed her to the kitchen and sat down at the table as she made his tea.

"The man in the living room is named Bram Koning," began Lena. "He comes from an influential family in the Netherlands. His father's fairly high up in the Wizarding government there."

"This just gets better and better," muttered Remus.

"His father's position," continued Lena, ignoring the interruption, "allows Bram to get away with a lot of bad behaviour. And I mean bad." She set down a mug in front of Remus, and sat opposite to him.

"Criminal activity?" asked Remus.

"Assault, Muggle-baiting, the dealing and using of illegal substances – that sort of thing," said Lena. "About ten months ago, his drug dealing got him into a dispute with the youngest son of the Karga family."

"Karga?" Remus had heard of that name before. They were supposedly the richest family in Wizarding Turkey.

"Yes. Now, the Kargas are pretty shady, but they have a code of honour which they take pretty seriously. So when the dispute escalated, the Karga boy challenged Koning to a duel, which he accepted. But when it came to the duel, Koning cheated, having Karga, unbeknownst to him, drugged shortly beforehand. Koning killed him, and the Karga family have had a price on his head ever since. Sârbu is interested in collecting that reward."

Remus ran a hand through his hair. "So he's a bad guy. A murderer. Okay. But that doesn't mean that the family of the victim should take justice into their own hands. There are proper channels for this sort of thing–"

"But there aren't, Remus," said Lena earnestly. "Not really. This was an international incident. The Turkish Law Enforcement doesn't have the jurisdiction to investigate a Dutch wizard living in the Netherlands, and the influence of Koning's father means that the Dutch won't look into the incident."

"But the International Confederation of Wizards–"

"Is in the business of making laws, not ensuring that they're upheld," explained Lena. "They don't actually have a body who polices international crime. That's left to the individual countries involved in the incident , and international co-operation really only happens when there are fears that the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy may be broken – like in the cases of Grindelwald and Voldemort, even Sirius. Koning's killing of the Kraga boy doesn't fall into that category."

It was a lot for Remus to take in. He knew the criminal justice system in Wizarding Britain wasn't perfect – Sirius was proof of that – but he had always believed in the principle of it. He hadn't realised how complicated the situation could become on an international scale.

"What will happen to Koning when Sârbu hands him over to the Karga family?" he finally asked.

"They'll most likely torture him, then kill him," said Lena evenly.

"And you're okay with that?"

Lena took a long sip of tea. When she'd swallowed, she said, "How could I condemn them for doing what I would in their position?"

Remus stared at her, and Lena calmly held his gaze. He could not see in a single doubt in her eyes.

It was at that moment he almost told her everything Valeriya had said to him. How there was something twisted, something destructive, something irredeemable inside of her, and it was his greatest fear that that something would take over everything else.

But Remus held his tongue. Because if Lena thought he didn't have faith in her, how could she ever have faith in herself?

Fun fact: So about halfway through writing this chapter, a ring-tailed possum decided to move into the large flowerpot that sits outside my bedroom window, and has been living there since. It's sleeping in there as I write this now, and I like to think of it as a sort of silent writing companion.

Anyhoo, how did everyone like the chapter? As I've mentioned before, I feel like writing action is a particular weak point of mine, so I'd be interested to hear if anyone has any thoughts on that - and of course, any other criticisms you might have. Personally, I'm still not keen on the ending.

Responses to reviews:

Laurafxox: It's so interesting to hear your thoughts on this version of Voldemort. One of the key things I've wanted to explore in this story is the idea that a terrible person might still do good things, and vice versa. I find the questions of 'what is unforgivable' and 'where is beyond redemption' fascinating, and there are so many characters in Harry Potter that are great case studies for that.

Iris Quincy Rosewood: Fleetwood Mac are great :) As to being on the edge of your seat, I only hope I can get you to stay there, moving forward :D Regarding lurking, I completely understand what you're saying, and I do super appreciate the nice comments I get. On the other hand, I also totally get why some people are reluctant to review, because that's how I am on this site - just because I hate not being able to give feedback face-to-face, or with the depth I'm used to when peer-reviewing. That's why I usually try to give a proper response to anyone who asks a question in their review, or highlights a particular thing they liked or didn't like.

Einklley: Some very interesting predictions :) Yes, I'd say that Lena's choice in songs is incredibly reflective :)

rebelforcauses: That's very lovely of you to say :) I hope the re-reads hold up, because I'm constantly questioning the decisions I made earlier in this story.

Littlecosma001: I'm glad to hear that it makes Lena seem more real. One of the biggest difficulties of writing this story is trying to make someone as out-of-the-ordinary as Lena feel somewhat believable.

Mika: To someone like myself who is limited to only understanding one language, your grasp of English is pretty damn impressive :) And I really appreciate the reviews you do write, they're incredibly encouraging :) I also appreciate your fabulous taste in music :D I had no idea that Amy Winehouse did a version of 'Will You Love Me Tomorrow', so thanks for making me aware of that!

As always, I'm happy to answer any non-spoilerish questions you may have, so always feel free to ask them!

Hopefully the next update won't be too far off. So until then, cheers!