She was so frustrated at herself; for not working faster, or more efficiently; and for not getting results. This was the one thing she was good at—the only thing—and she was failing even at that. Without this research, she couldn’t get her own potion to work. The nightmares were getting worse. What little sleep she managed to get after returning from her nightly research with Malfoy was usually interrupted by vicious visions of Bellatrix torturing her. Over and over again. Each time she woke up with her arm scratched bloody. Each time she healed it.