Pansy was speaking, worried, but Hermione couldn’t pay attention. The other witch’s words might as well have been wind blowing in her ear. The burning was getting worse with every second. Sweat ran down her temples and down the back of her neck, soaking strands of hair and plastering them and her clothes to her skin. She looked down at her hands again. At any second, she expected to see her skin begin to blister from inside out. 