By mid-morning Hermione was ready to bolt. Her earlier confidence that she could meet her fate with her head held high was waning. Rabastan had a bad habit of playing with his intended victims. He liked to make them wait until their own minds betrayed them. She struggled to even keep her mind on her work. Nothing that sat on her desk was of any importance to begin with, but when all she could think of was the wizard's cruelty, she could hardly even make the words of the parchment make any sense. Was it too late to run? She didn't have her beaded bag with her because she wasn't expecting an opportunity. Was that another foolish mistake in a long line of others she'd already made?