She didn't believe him. Couldn't, really. She knew in her bones that Voldemort had done something terrible to him. Knew that, whatever it was, it was haunting him, hurting him. But she was an intelligent woman. Pushing him would get her nowhere. If he thought he needed space, needed to take on whatever was resting on his shoulders alone, then she had to let him. Regardless of whether or not it broke her to pieces to do so. She refused to allow any of the ache in her heart to show on her face. So, she swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded.