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Who: Ron and Hermione
Where: The Safehouse on Hoy
When: 20 March, 2002 - Close to moonrise
Status: complete

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Hermione watched Ron for a moment, lifting a small spoonful to her mouth. It was about all she could bear to eat and when he set his plate aside, she put the tin down. She could hear the clucking of tongues from various friends at her lack of eating. Already it had taken somewhat of a toll on her. At least no one had commented on her baggy jumper.

With a sigh, Hermione turned to her satchel. Part of her wished he'd say something more, but the other part of her was glad to escape into fiction. She pulled a tattered copy of David Copperfield. She sat down on the floor, opting not to take the chair because he didn't have one and it wasn't fair; she started to read.

"Chapter one. I am Born. Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night." Hermione rubbed the back of her neck, butterflying the book in one hand. "It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously...."

She looked up, dropping Dickens to her lap. "Are you sure you don't mind this? I could find something else. Or go outside... I think maybe I could apparate to Aberdeen and back before the moon rises and get you something you'd enjoy more..."

Good lord, she was babbling. Babbling! Was she that much on edge?