The surge of it suffocated her, surprised her, and the book slipped off her lap as she clutched the sides of the transfigured stool she sat on and tried not to beg for more of that magic to fill her and strengthen the pulsing at her center and the throb that picked up, heavy like her heartbeat, in her clit. She lost all comprehension of her situation. For that brief moment all that existed was herself, her flesh, her magic - which sluggishly came to the surface of her flushed skin with a sense of liquid flames - and the heavy teasing hum of the Locket.