Images of his sculpted shoulders and the barely visible outline of his taut stomach flashed vividly before her eyes. The witch’s breathing was tattered. She reached for the blanket, pulling that higher up to her chin. She dug her fingertips tightly into the edge of the blanket, trying to tire out her breathing and raucous imagination. Yet her consciousness resisted common sense. Malfoy imprinted himself on her mind with ticker tape.