It's cold. It's not normally this cold, I guess we must be delving into winter. My fingers are numb, tingling with pins and needle. It's making it hard to write, I don't really know why I'm writing. When found everything will be destroyed or taken to Voldemort for trophy. I wonder what we would be eating back at Hogwarts right now... roast and potatoes, corn, carrots. Here we've got some crackers we knicked from a corner store to places back... Butterbeer sounds nice, but when does it not... maybe something stronger, firewhiskey to take the edge off of the cold. Hermione keeps trying to start a conversation, she seems a lot more tense since Ron left. I won't let her wear my locket in case it makes her feel worse. I can tell she's staring at me, she wants to know why I'm writing. That makes two of us. She's too curious for her own good, but that makes her our 'mione. I think I should go talk to her... but I'm going to take this thing off my neck first. I swear when I wear it all of my thoughts sound like me but my voice... it just comes out as him.
Harry takes off the locket and lays in bed for several minutes, seemingly deep in thought. He put down his quill and parchment and just stares at the ceiling of the tent until his eyes go fuzzy. Hermione is about to say something, ask if he's feeling okay like she did moments ago presumably, until she sees Harry get out of his bed. He walked across the floor and sat down right next to Hermione's slumped, defeated form where they sat in silence for a while.
" We're going to make this work you know. Everything is going to be okay." Harry mumbled as he looked into Hermione's tear streaked face.
"I know," Hermione's voice was but a whisper into the cold night of September ninteenth.
A/N: Mmkay well I really tried, but this is my first attempt. A lot of the typos are intentional, I don't think Harry would care much about grammar at this point. Please leave me some constructive criticism so maybe my next try could be A LOT better! Much love, Jamie.