Tony did his best to slip his legs beneath the table without disturbing the tablecloth, and by extension, the fine china and flower vase that sat atop. Sasha, wearing a black dress just south of tasteful, took a seat across from him. She was definitely getting looks from every other patron at the ritzy establishment. Men watched her while women glared, both at her and their men.

She didn't try to hide the self-satisfied smile. Instead she primmed like a peacock as she smoothed the dress across her lap and flicked raven-black hair over her shoulder, allowing the fashion model waiter to scoot her in toward the table.

"I'll be back with those drinks," he said, his smile aimed at her. Tony didn't mind it. There was a high level of confidence in knowing that, out of all these schmucks, she had an eye for him. Plus, he could tear the head off of any of one of them.

True to his word, the waiter came back with drinks in near record time. A martini for Sasha and a plain bourbon for him. It was nice to find that the American drink was served here, and he reveled in his first swig, the burn streaking down his throat and into his abdomen.

It eased the weight that had settled in his chest. Not fully, but a little. Enough.

Sasha flipped open her menu, scanning the list as she chewed her lip provocatively. He enjoyed the sight for a moment before opening his menu. His thoughts drifted back toward the conversation with Eden.

"We're mobilizing, now," he'd said, "and I need people we can trust. Who do you trust?"

Sasha's name slipped from his lips without thought of the consequence, without considering why he might ask. It meant a lot to Tony that Eden trusted him so implicitly. Just...took his word. No complaint, no explanation, nothing.

It sucked that it was Sasha, however.

"Ooh," she cooed, running her finger along some unseen word in the menu. "They serve lamb."

Lamb was a good meat, especially rare or raw. Between the texture and the flavor, it was one of his favorites.

"What can I get you?" the waiter asked, obviously angled at Sasha. Tony smiled inwardly. Sasha didn't look for looks, she liked power. Tony had that shit in spades.

"The lamb tagine sounds delightful," Sasha purred, sliding the menu shut. The waiter stared for long moment before writing the order down, along with her preference for rare meat, and then turned to Tony.

"A lamb burger would be great," Tony said.

"Sure thing, how do you want it?" the kid asked, eying Sasha sideways again as she adjusted the top of her dress.

"Rare."

He stared for a moment longer as Sasha inspected her chest for imperfections, then left to complete the orders.

"I think you almost broke his brain," Tony said, smiling at her.

"Not my problem." She shrugged and took a sip of her margarita. "You seem...off," she said, setting the drink down. "What's going on?"

Tony chewed his lip. "Well," Tony started, trying to figure out how he was going to frame this. He'd hoped to approach it after their date. Things were coming together so quickly. "The boss has a job for you."

She didn't reply directly, simply arched a thin eyebrow, compelling him to continue.

"He says it's time we get our due, and he wants you leading the charge in London."

At this, she sat up straighter, the hints of flirtatious playfulness draining from her features, replaced by an air of competency and danger. As much as he'd prefer to bring her north with him, he had to admit...she'd make a good leader.

"London?" she asked after a moment. "Our due?"

"We're going to break the Statute," Tony confirmed, pulling a small envelope from the breast pocket of his suit and handing it to her. "I don't know the details, but you're in charge and I'm going to be leading another strike elsewhere."

He didn't know the orders written to her by Eden. All he knew was that she would be leading the attack in London and he would be leading an assault up north. He presumed it would be against Hogwarts, but he wasn't certain. He was going off of rumors and one could never tell how accurate those were.

Regardless, nothing he'd heard pointed to London being any decisive point in the plan, which meant it was probably a diversion. He didn't like the idea of Sasha leading a diversion, bait designed to draw attention away from the attack he would lead. If something happened to her...well, he didn't like to think about it.

She finished reading and stuffed the envelope into the front of her dress, against her breast, as the food arrived. She looked satisfied and nodded at him, accepting her assignment without protest.

Sasha let herself drop on the hard plastic seat of an old subway train. She adjusted her jacket and felt the envelope in her pocket. She was working her way to the center of the muggle metropolis.

Around her, she caught a multitude of familiar scents. There were, of course, the muggle odors. Sweat, oil, machinery, burning fuel and ozone. There were more pleasant ones, too.

Packmates...she had placed no fewer than three to a car on this train, and there were several others like it heading throughout London. The few vampires under her command would be outside already, they were better served in the open...or over a fire, if she had her way...but you work with what you get.

She could smell many of Scarag's children in the tunnels, too. The massive spiders were something she found distasteful, but they made convenient shock troopers, so she didn't complain. Muggles hated spiders, and they'd focus more on them than the human-looking werewolves she led.

It wasn't a full moon. That was too bad, she could only imagine the buffet that she could feast on in a full city of muggles, unrestricted by worries of the Statute being breached. Eden was taking care of it, and they were making themselves known.

The only thing that could make it sweeter is being able to feast, to gorge herself on flesh and blood. It was hard to feel satisfied when she was a full wolf, and no amount of chewing on a human had the same effect when she hadn't turned. It was a pale shadow, but it would have to do. Now was what they had.

Breaks began to squeal and muggles readied themselves to exit, each of them planning on going their separate ways...each unaware that there was almost no chance they'd get there. Not today.

Today, they would serve their true purpose in life. Today, they would realize they're not the top of the food chain. Today, they'd be struck down in a big way. The world was about to change, and Sasha would lead the charge.

"Yer tellin' me!" the mountain of a man roared, laughter booming almost as loud as the thump of his fist on the bar. His two companions laughed as well, and as Eden looked around the little establishment, he didn't catch even the slightest hint that the giant was bothering anyone with his loud behavior.

Not a giant, but a half-giant perhaps. Maybe three-quarter, if there was some genetic math that worked that way. He was certainly larger than any normal man, Eden included, but not so much as the giants he'd seen.

Eden took another sip of his firewhiskey, feeling the burn run down his throat and spread down to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"Strange drink," Eden murmured to himself, swirling the remaining contents of the glass before setting it back down on the old wooden table. He'd had it before, of course, but he had a certain fondness for muggle alcohol and didn't frequently partake in either variety.

He drummed his fingers against the side of the glass for a moment before glancing back down at his pocket watch again. It had only been a few minutes since he'd last looked. He sighed.

Across the bar the door opened. Cool air was sucked in, causing the candle and torch flames to flicker. A pair of soldiers stepped in, talking animatedly.

They walked to a booth near the entrance, allowing the door to close behind them. As it closed, the stream of cool, fresh air was replaced by the warm, fragrant scent of pumpkin and cinnamon that emanated from behind the bar. It turned out that the rumors were true about the baked goods in this little town.

Eden did his best to ignore the newcomers as they greeted the sorta-giant. Hagrid, they called him. They had a brief, but audible conversation about mundane things and Eden took another sip of his firewhiskey.

The key to blending in was not looking suspicious. He'd altered his appearance already. Elongated his nose, shored up some of the wrinkles on his face, changed his eye color to green. Worst of all, he grew short, peppery hair along the sides and back of his head.

All of it would be gone within the next few hours, thankfully. Just enough time to kick things off, and not one damned moment more.

Tony had tried to convince him to drink a polyjuice potion, of all things. Did the wolf even know what went into those? Hair! Like hell he was drinking someone's hair.

The fact was, even though he was on the most wanted list in America, and even though TFA likely knew he was in this country, Hogsmeade was probably the last place that anyone would think to look for him. The little village was what they liked to call a "green zone," friendly. The proximity to the school, to Dumbledore, and likely their base, made Hogsmeade the least likely place to find him, and thus he stood a fantastic chance of hiding in plain sight here.

The proof was in the pudding. He'd shown up a few hours before, walking up a dirt path. He strolled confidently into town, past several patrolling soldiers who didn't so much as glance at him. They'd ignored him entirely. He almost regretted changing his features, but he recognized it as necessary, just in case they actually had taken the time to memorize his face.

Eden looked at his watch again. Another few minutes down. The waiting was painful, but the plan was set in motion. He looked down beside him, to the leather satchel. Unable to help himself, he cracked it open.

He'd folded the invisibility cloak in so that the signet of the Deathly Hallows faced up. He liked looking at the sign...liked thinking about how close he was to having all three of them. How close he was to getting Bellatrix back.

Eden drained the remainder of his glass in one swig at her memory, accidentally slamming the glass down on the table as the burn coursed through him.

"Another?" the rather chesty bar owner asked, already holding the bottle in her hand. Eden, his throat still burning, simply nodded. She poured and left him to it as he cleared his throat and checked the watch again.