"Draco, we all have emotional baggage. I’ll be honest, I have PTSD. I still carry that stupid beaded hand bag with me if I leave the house outside of work stuff- I’ve at least made those steps forward, I used to carry it with me everywhere."  She sat back and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. "I don’t like taking others along when I apparate, even though I know there’s nothing chasing me from place to place anymore, and my house is under a fidelius charm among other things- and I still answer the door like there’s a fucking death eater waiting on the other side. I know my mum is concerned for me, though she never says anything, and my dad has called me paranoid to my face."