"I hate it, too," he agreed immediately, a little relived to be allowed to express his utter aggravation with it all. "It's like it's just - pressing down on everything, all the time, and -" He paused. Wait. "- What the hell is Ginny doing there?" It didn't take too much imagination to think of a couple possible answers, but none of them were really anything he wanted to think about. The thought that she might actually be scared to sleep in her own bed, now, was unbelievably and infuriatingly strange. She wasn't supposed to be scared of anything.