Moody knocked at her door. This was the third time in two days he had done so.
"Soon," was all she said, before escorting him outside.
The clock hanging on her wall ticked loudly as she stared at it. For some reason, all she did lately was sit in bed and study the clock. It seemed to amuse her at any length, because she would give out sudden barks of laughter at odd times. Harry and Ron thought that time traveling might have addled her attic somehow, but were too busy to stop by and shake her out of this clock-staring nonsense.
It was sweltering hot, hotter than she had ever remembered autumn to be. But outside cicadas sung their songs and crickets chirped greetings to one another. It was as if nature itself was revolting against Voldemort and his plans.
She lay back, her arms crossed behind her head, and wished fervently that Draco would hurry up and discover her message.
