The sound of Draco's voice snapped her back to reality. They were both seated on the large sofa in his lounge. He was sipping at a glass of fire whiskey as he read a book and she was holding that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet but not actually seeing any of the words. It was a quaint, domestic scene that would've felt normal if the world outside the front door wasn't so chaotic. She found herself relaxing in Draco's flat far more than she should. That was the main reason she knew she couldn't stay much longer. But, even as she considered leaving, she kept contradicting herself. One moment she couldn't wait to leave and the next she was terrified to take a single step out of the door. Perhaps some of her mental issues weren't related to her potions or Rodolphus" memory charms at all. She'd lived a hard life filled with violence. It made sense that there would be some lasting neurological effects.