Hermione inhaled a hissing, shuddering breath between her clenched teeth. She focused on the rage so she could escape her grief and it felt so warm and seductive, like a rich red wine. Blissful, actually. With barely a flicker of resistance, she allowed the rage to envelope her in its consoling embrace. She felt it latch onto her magic and the two powers intertwined like dancers, gracefully moving all around her body. She could feel it in her fingertips, like pins and needles. She almost felt drunk with it.