She shuddered at simply allowing the words to cross her mind. By the time she reached the bottom of the first bottle, Hermione was in the midst of a full-blown panic attack. Her heart was thudding painfully in her chest, and so fierce was the pulse-point in her neck she was worried it would rupture and spill out all over her skin. And she was restless. She would stand, pace around aimlessly, only to sit back down and rock back and forth, then stand again a minute later and repeat the process.