And then, when she was ready, she would relive every moment they had spent together. The times she turned and caught him scowling in her direction, the harsh words he threw her way because he yearned for her attention. Or, her particular favourite, the time she had caressed his cheek in third year under the guise of a slap. She’d felt his breath hitch and recognised the heated look he’d given her, the underlying want. This memory would inevitably lead to one hand trailing up to palm her breast, the other slipping beneath her knickers.