Lily dropped her hand when he did, her breathing uneven and deep. The hex had hurt, no doubt, but she'd been able to push through, work through, cast her own spell...
"But I don't hate you," she said doubtfully, just as he cast the spell again and her body heated up under his power. Her breath caught, and she found it no easier to push the pain aside.
Embrace it. Let it fuel your anger. Hate him. Hate him. Hate him...
Her fist clenched her wand. Hate him. If she could hate her father, she could hate Rabastan Lestrange... He was hurting her, pushing her, urging her on, and his spell never lessened. He was hurting her!
Lily tensed, then threw every bit of strength she could find into her hex, her voice strong and clear as she cast it, her wand steady.
The pleasure of the spell eased the burning sensations again, and she smiled, eyes locked on his.