"I read it. I read... I – shit." Hermione backs further away, wrenching desperately for breath, chest caught in a vice and lungs screaming for air. Despite her whooping gasps she can't seem to breathe, and dizzy panic seizes her as she clutches at the corner of Malfoy's desk for balance. The room is spinning and swaying and spots dance in front of her eyes, and she knows without a doubt she's about to faint. It seems so stupid, she thinks dazedly; collapsing into graceless heap on the floor, how embarrassing. Her fingers dig into the desk and she makes an inarticulate sound, and there is movement and hands grab her upper arms, steadying and grounding her.