Death Eaters passed by him, their heads bowed and their postures shrunken in reverence, but he didn't acknowledge them. They meant nothing to him. None of this meant anything to him anymore. His mourning had long expired and all he cared about was getting to the other side of this hell. With her. If wearing a facade of brutality and violence was what he needed to do to achieve blissful peace with her, it was barely an inconvenience. He had been doing it since he was a child anyway.