She'd tuned him out unintentionally once she noticed her hair was shifting colors on its own. She made a concentrated effort to get it to stop, but it wouldn't, the mix of emotions running through her was too chaotic for her to really control it.

He kept going on, and if he noticed the hair, he didn't say anything, which she was grateful for. If she could focus, she would be impressed by his concentration, the effort he was putting into the assignment, but she was too wrapped up in her own panic to see it.

The squeeze of his hand on hers brought her out of her reverie, eyes wide as she looked up at him again. His question caused the panic to bubble over and finally the urge to bolt couldn't be denied; she made some half-hearted excuse that didn't make much sense and practically ran out of the common room into the corridor.