"After... everything," she had to appreciate how he purposefully skated around mentioning the war, "I was stuck in the Manor for months. Almost a full year, actually. My punishment, as the son of a sympathizer." The bitterness was worn down, like water smoothing over a rock. An inescapable thing, that bitterness. But tempered by time. "The elves were freed and, though they chose to stay, they didn't really want much to do with me. Fairly, I guess, considering I spent a good two or three months drinking every drop of liquor this house was hiding. Which was a lot. When I ran out and demanded that what was missing get restocked, Daisy refused and locked me in the library when I threw a tantrum about it." He was smiling lightly at the memory, something Hermione couldn't fathom. Humor, when discussing such a dark time.