Since coming here, he lied awake in bed most nights, wrapped in the heavy silence of the manor, straining to hear anything that was not the thundering rush of total stillness. It was almost a relief to wake in the mornings when the birds began to sing, and tend to his duties, to speak with the others, and see signs of life. But night always returned to start the cycle anew. He couldn’t help but wonder if it had ever affected Hermione in that way, too.