She’d awoken with a jolt this morning, an idea piercing through the layers of her subconscious forcing her awake. It took her sleep-addled brain a couple of seconds to remember where she was, and then a couple more seconds to realize that she was alone. Disappointment settles in her stomach, as she notices the cup of coffee and note on the bedside table. She hates when he doesn’t give her a chance to say goodbye. She was certain that a well-trained doctor would say that she has an anxious attachment style. Ironic considering before Draco Malfoy her attachment style had been nonexistent.  