Hermione hustled in, carefully seating herself and rearranging her notes in her lap. She flapped at hand in the general direction of whatever Harry was stuffing his face with.
"Yes, of course." Then she frowned. "Don't you get a lunch hour?"
Not that she was any stranger to the working lunch, herself; Hermione often took lunch and sometimes dinner surrounded by centuries-old books in the Archives, but that was a habit she'd developed back at Hogwarts (particularly during her over-scheduled third year) and not one she was familiar with Harry having. She hadn't realised the Auror department was so overworked.
"Anyway." Hermione spoke rapidly, like she did when she was about something work related. "I'm sorry to prevail upon you, but I've been dragged kicking and screaming onto the gala planning committee. The theme this year, loosely speaking, is personal accounts. I've been tasked with gathering anecdotes and memorabilia."
She offered what she hoped was a winning smile. "Please say you'll contribute. I've encountered terrible rudeness already and I don't want to look like I'm unwilling to help."