Her wrists were raw and marked from the rope. So were her ankles. She moved a little carefully, as if she was indeed sore from the previous night—judging by the sounds he’d been forced to hear, she had every reason to be. Her hair was so long, streaming down in a thick curly mass all the way down her back and to the bed. It was wild and tangled, as if Malfoy had bunched it in his fist repeatedly.