Disclaimer: If you really are that curious about whether or not I really own any of this, go to the first chapter. Which you should have read anyway! Slacker!

Lupin was sitting at the kitchen table, tense and alert. His head hurt and he was stiff, but the liberal sips he took out of a steaming cup of tea that sat by his elbow were helping to keep him from leaping up and strangling the nearest person. It did nothing for the fact that he was tired and stiff, but it was very soothing

Every line in his body was tightly wound, aching, but ready. His gaze was fixed on a square mirror that he held in his hands, disregarding the murmur of talk in the kitchen around him.

Sam stood behind him on his left; Neville Longbottom was seated at his right. They were the only silent ones in the kitchen. The rest of it was packed with chatting members of the Order, flitting from group to group, swapping ideas and glancing at the pool of silence that was the kitchen table.

"How long now?" Neville asked, leaning forward in his seat

"Not long," Lupin replied, eyes never leaving the surface of the mirror "Hannah said she'd activate it when they were about ready to go."

"Isn't it a little… late?" Neville asked cautiously, voicing the question that no one else had dared to.

Lupin didn't reply. He glanced away from the mirror long enough to find his mug and take a long sip from it, and then his attention was focused again.

Neville sighed softly, and rubbed his eyes with one hand.

Sam shifted uneasily, glancing out the window at the dark sky.

"We've got them," Lupin said quietly.

As though he'd shouted, every person in the room froze and turned to face him. He laid the mirror up against the wall, so all assembled there could see and hear it easily.

The mirror glowed an achingly bright pink, and began to play some sort of bizarre version of elevator muzak. Lupin growled lowly (something he very rarely did, since it tended to make people nervous), and Neville absent-mindedly began to hum along to the tune.

Then the screen cleared, and Hannah's frowning face swam into view.

"…can't stand this fucking… Hello, Lupin! Can you hear me alright?"

Lupin nodded, and smiled tightly. "Yes, we can hear you fine. Can you hear me?"

Hannah nodded "Clear as crystal. I've got Hermione, and we're just about to Apparate out of here, to the meeting point."

"Right. Very good. You know the way there?"

"Of course. Sam gave me the run-down after she went to check it out."

Lupin looked over his shoulder, and Sam nodded. "Very good," Lupin said, turning back around. "And how's Hermione doing?"

Hannah smiled "Oh, fantastically. She's leaping around like a big, bushy puppy. Bit embarrassing, actually." There was a muffled noise of protest from Hannah's end, and the mirror quaked before righting itself.

Lupin smiled again, and this time it wasn't so strained. "Will you put her on, Hannah?"

"Of course. Just a moment."

There was a flash of wooden floor, light blue wall, and then Hermione's face. She was smiling, but for all that, looked a little… well… greenish.

"Hello, Lupin. Hello… Um… Everyone." She looked embarrassed to see the expectant faces of the Order all assembled around Lupin's, and shrank back a little from the handheld mirror. A few people waved, and someone called out a "Hi, Hermione!"

Lupin ignored them. "Hermione, do you have the notebook?'

She pulled it out of her back pocket, and showed it to him. "I haven't parted with it since you gave it to me."

"Good. And you remember that it might not work once you get there, despite all our plans?"

She nodded, looking slightly less green and vaguely more determined. "Yes. And I should continue writing just the same, in case it's only my book that's not receiving."

"Perfect. I'll do the same. And if that should be the case, we should have the books working in a month, at the very most."

"I understand."

"Very good." Lupin paused, studying Hermione carefully "Be careful, both of you. We—" he stopped, unsure of how to say it. "—just take care, alright?"

Hermione nodded, and smiled at him faintly. Then she was gone, and Hannah had returned. Her tone was now all business.

"Right. We're all set to go, really this time. I've still got the mirror on, so though you may not be able to see, you'll be able to hear. Definitely until we get out of the country, and maybe a little after then. I don't know."

"Good work, Hannah. And you've got your tools?"

Hannah looked mildly offended. "Of course I do, Lupin. Honestly, do you think you're dealing with an amateur?"

Someone behind him murmured. "Well… yes."

Hannah narrowed her eyes and smiled evilly. "I heard that, Kostadin. And I'll be sure to remember it, too." Her face vanished, and everything went black as she slid it into her jacket pocket.

Lupin leaned back in his seat, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Sam walked around the table and pulled out a chair across from Lupin. The others, seeming to understand that this could be a long listen, leaned against counters and walls. Some of the younger ones perched on the dishwasher or found places on the floor. They waited, listening intently to Hermione and Hannah arguing about how they were going to carry Hermione's now quite large and heavy bag.

Eventually, the sounds of the argument trailed off, and there was a brief silence. Then, Hermione's voice.

"Ooh… I'd forgotten how strange that feels."

Hannah looked around at the meeting place. It was a stretch of abandoned beach. Not really the lovely bring-the-kids-down-to-the-shore-for-a-day-of-romping type of beach. At all. It was more of the ragged rocks, homicidal seagulls, and evil-looking-waves-that-could-mash-you-to-a-pulp-pounding-on-rough-gray-sand type of beach.

"Just the sort of place they'd chose," She sighed, rolling her eyes. "How ridiculously clichéd. Oh well," she said, dropping her bag to the ground. "At least it's not a cemetery."

"They probably think that having us go to a graveyard wouldn't exactly set us at our ease." Hermione said darkly, also setting down her bag .

"Quite right." Said Blaise Zabini from among a clump of rocks behind them, just as if he'd always been there.

Hermione and Hannah whirled around, both reaching a hand inside their jackets. They froze when they saw who'd addressed them. Blaise too, seeing them properly, gaped.

"Zabini?" Hermione whispered, looking mildly disgusted.

"Granger!" He rasped, putting a hand to his forehead.

Lupin, listening, sat up slightly, looking alarmed.

"Uh oh," Sam murmured, looking at him

"There's me too," said Hannah, annoyed, raising a hand. "I think I know you too."

Blaise blinked at her, and frowned.

"Hannah Abbot!" Hannah snapped, flushing. "Honestly."

"But," Blaise stammered, turning back to gape in horror at Hermione. "But—you're the emissaries? You?"

"Yes," Hannah said, still annoyed. "Us. Why wouldn't we be?"

Hermione was looking steadily at Blaise, chewing slightly on her bottom lip. Something had really bothered him. She remembered him as a cool, distant boy at school. He was horribly rich, horribly attractive, and had horribly famous parents. He had been in Slytherin, and even though Malfoy had essentially ruled that house, whenever Zabini associated with that group he always gave off the impression that he was doing them a favor. And now he was standing before them, still tall, even more incredibly handsome, but looking as though he'd just been rammed in the stomach by an angry hippo.

Blaise's gaze flickered between Hermione and Hannah. His look was now much less surprised, but much more panicked.

"Oh shit," He murmured. "Oh shit. What do I do now?"

Hannah had started to grin. She couldn't help it. The sight of Blaise Zabini, his immaculately tailored suit rumpled, his rich brown skin flushed, and his black hair rapidly getting less and less sleek, was tickling those little sardonic senses that had kept the childish enjoyment of seeing the high-and-mighty looking a total mess.

Of course, the grin also helped her to keep in check the hysteria that she could feel forcing its way up into her throat, but it was mainly because of the high-and-mighty thing.

"You could," she said slowly, as if he needed to have the idea spelled out for him in big, colorful letters. "Take us to your fortress. You know. Like you said you would?"

Blaise focused on her, and scowled. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to come to his senses, and contented himself with groaning and running a hand over his hair.

There was a brief moment of silence. Blaise looked at the two women before him. His thoughts were something along the lines of "Oh-shit-oh-fuck-what-the-HELL-am-I-going-to-do-not-them-and-ESPECIALLY-not-her-this-is-not-my-week-where-the-hell-can-I-get-some-coffee-what-the-hell-am-I-going-to-tell-HIM!"

"Zabini," Hermione said finally. "You do realize that you have a mug tied to your pants, don't you?"

Blaise looked down, blinked, then looked up at Hermione again. She was looking at him serenely. Well, except for the smug smile creeping over her Mudblood mouth. Fantastic. This was going to be bloody fantastic, wasn't it? Wasn't she supposed to be MIA? Vanished without a trace? Gone? Not here?

He ran his hand over his hair again, forcing himself to calm down. This was not good. Of all the people he could have sent… he had to hand it to Lupin. He was a devious bastard. Sending Hermione Granger… of course, he wouldn't have known who was the leader of the King's Rebels. It was just a lucky guess.

Oh, fuck. He hoped it was just a lucky guess. Oh, fuck.

"Right," he breathed "OK. This is… OK. Just… um… surprising. You both look well."

They really did too. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

"You look a real mess," Hannah informed him. She was… umm… curvier than he'd remembered her. He inwardly groaned. They did not need two new and attractive females wandering around the fortress. It was one of the last things they needed. Hannah was grinning at him. "Do you want to sit down?"

"No," Blaise said coolly. "I think we should get going."

Hermione spread her arms open, still grinning smugly "We've been waiting for you, Zabini. We decided get our panic attacks out of the way before we came."

"Thank you very much," was his crisp reply. He had to bite back the number of decidedly unfriendly things he'd have rather said. But this was diplomacy. Blaise was usually quite good at it, but they'd surprised him, dammit. Hermione Granger… he would have to arrange to not be there when Draco found out she was around. Maybe if he could just get to Draco first… warn him, maybe…

Well. Nothing for it now.

Blaise turned around, facing the sea. Pulling out a long, very thin wand, he slashed it twice through the air in front of him, muttering intently with eyes tightly closed. The two slices he'd made began to glow purple, and then to slowly peel back, making an opening about the size of a normal doorway. Hermione saw that Blaise was shaking with the effort of pulling the door open, scowling fiercely as he mumbled. She was starting to seriously regret her magical withdrawal. It was plain that she'd missed a lot.

The purple doorway, now perfectly shaped and hovering about two feet above the ground, stopped expanding. It flashed blue, and then sank slowly to rest on the beach. Blaise dropped his arm, panting slightly.

"There. That's done," He said in an undertone. Then he turned to Hermione and Hannah. "Pick up your things. The passage won't stay open forever. Oh, and Hannah?"

Hannah turned in the act of picking up her bag, frowning at him curiously.

"The mirror in your pocket stays here."

Hannah blanched. Far away, in the Order's kitchen, there was a collective moan.

Hermione and Hannah looked at each other, both rapidly running through all the possible ways that they could keep the mirror. Finally, unable to think of one that would actually work, Hannah shrugged carelessly and dropped the mirror to the sand.

Those in the Order got one last shot of Hermione and Hannah's faces looking down at them, before Blaise smashed the glass with his heel.

There was a long, long silence. Everyone looked away from the mirror on the table, examining fingernails, hems, and patches of wall. Only Sam looked at Lupin, and so she was the only one who saw him smile softly to himself, before getting to his feet.

"That's all we're going to get, I think," He said to those assembled. "We need to get to work. You all know what it is you have to do. Go do it."

Within five minutes, the kitchen was empty but for Lupin and Sam. Sam cautiously looked at Lupin's face. Yes, he was smiling again. She frowned at him, and he looked up at her, momentarily startled.

Then he smiled guiltily. "I'm sorry, Sam. It's just… I was just thinking how I was almost relieved to be cut off. I wasn't sure how much longer we'd have to listen to them snipe at each other."

And he laughed, and enjoyed it. He knew that it was unlikely that he'd be able to laugh like this for at least the rest of the day.

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so late in coming. School is taking a lot of adjustment (A LOT of adjustment), so writing about my pet fandoms has taken a backseat to writing about Grendel, gametes, and French verbs. Woe is me… So I'm just uploading stuff I've already had written. Shame on me. Ha ha.