She would stare at the words on the pages of the book she was supposedly reading to dissect every word he said. With him sometimes only centimeters away, she would dwell on his fantastical ideas. Despite the twenty-seven years he lived on the planet longer than she, there were times when he was nothing but a naïve child making plans that made no sense. He had grown too accustomed to a fairly easy life to want to throw it all away. The first time they had to sleep outside because there was no other shelter, he would give up. Determined to never have to feel the chill that he did when he was a prisoner in Azkaban, he kept his home hot enough that the occupants sometimes sweat because of the unbearable heat. A common desire amongst those who were imprisoned there, she'd gotten used to it living with Antonin. He was never more irritable than when he was cold.