Hermione didn't want to be in the lounge with them any longer than she had to. Consuming the rest of her glass of fire whiskey in a single swallow, she made her excuses to leave. Standing over the kitchen sink with the empty glass in her hand, she tried, and failed, to push away the fear that was coursing through her entire body. When they weren't discussing running away again she was able to ignore it. The waiting and the uncertainty was going to be the death of her.