The lump in her throat burgeoned. Hermione forced her legs to move again and turned on her heel, escaping as quickly as possible, her retreating back a moving target for his scrutiny. She found an alcove to hide in—how bloody ironic and predictable, really— and closed her eyes, face scrunched up. There was a painful thudding in her chest. She dug the heel of her fist into the knot, trying to ease it, frustration burning through her. Her face warmed and her eyes stung. How irrational. 