Severus would never grow accustomed to coming back to someone in his space. Even when he crept into his quarters after midnight, stealthy and quiet, just knowing she was sleeping behind her closed door nagged at him like a splinter in flesh. He felt himself questioning and adjusting his behaviour, his speech, his tone, automatically envisioning scenarios he would need to extract himself from. Eventually she would break down crying and he might have to comfort her—he would have to prepare for that. The Carrows might find it sporting to use her as their favourite pincushion—he would have to prepare for that as well. 