Hermione didn't mind a lack of conversation over breakfast. She tended to keep odd hours. In her previous life, there was no telling when she would get home from the office. There were times that she had only enough time to shower off the dirt and grime from her late-night interrogation before her husband and son were awake for the first meal of the day. Knowing without being told from a very young age when his mother was not in the mood for mindless chatter, Oliver would sit patiently at the kitchen table without speaking until one of his parents asked him a question. If Antonin had also had a late night, which was frequently the case, the three of them would spend the entire meal silently chewing. She found comfort in the silence. Not every single moment had to be filled up with inanity. There was enough of that as it was.