But it was horribly dry and she was wrung out and weary, and before long the words were blurring on the pages. Hermione wondered what the Order had done with Pansy Parkinson as a sliver of moonlight slipped through a gap in the curtains and fell across her book. And then, flicking idly through the crisp pages of her book, having given up the pretence of reading, Hermione's mind wandered to the Order – to Harry and Ron and everyone, who all seemed so far away. Not just in distance – and Hermione had no idea where this safehouse even was, so she could be on the other side of Britain for all she knew – but mentally.