There was nothing she could say to that so she sat at his feet, almost cringing, as he made a show of flexing his fingers. When he set them against her shirt she could hear herself audibly sucking in her breath and her hands curled into claws.  He was careful.  He didn't let himself touch any bare skin, and Pansy had been right.  He was good at this.  Even without the melting urge to lay her cheek against his knee and just belong to him in some unthinkable, primal way, she could tell he was methodically and gently working out any soreness in her muscles.   It should have been nice. It would have been if she weren't so utterly aware of him.  She could hear every breath.  She could almost feel the blood pounding in his veins.  He was everything and everyone and he lulled her into a veritable trance as she sat there and felt his fingers and his heart and his very soul align with hers.  