But it feels safest there – the darkest corner of the room when the reading lamp is turned off, the armchair like a fortress in her mind. An illusion of protection; a nest to retreat to. Where she sits, and sits, and sits, and lets the day drift past her without truly touching her, only moving to go pee and gulp down water from the bathroom hand basin. She does that now, wondering where Malfoy has gone, and when he will be back. Hoping he will be all right and unharmed, both because she hurt him, and because he is all that is keeping her safe right now.