From Shell Cottage
"It's on," Remus called, having given the right password and tapped the right sequence of knocks on the radio for the dials to spin and secret wavelength to be picked up. How Tonks had convinced him that this - an underground radio broadcast that broke half a dozen Ministry regulations and had been hastily broken down mid-broadcast in the past - was safer than a walk in the part to see if someone was Imperiused, Remus could not recall, but he was almost positive he had agreed while lying in bed, late at night with his mind pointedly occupied with other matters.
How he had wound up at Bill and Fleur's rather than along side her willful pregnant arse, no one could explain, but it was true that the radio broadcasts were less likely to be broken up if they could remain under the radar, and visitors who weren't doing segments could add up to something worthy of outside note.
Remus looked up as Fleur came in from the kitchen, floating food, wine, and glasses in the air before her. Perhaps it had been she who had gotten him to say yes to the invitation to listen here, instead of attend the broadcast. "Harry, the Ministry, and safety tips," he said, catching her up on Lee's introduction.