"My moment has passed." Deadpan around the edges. No one is like Bellatrix Lestrange; he doubts anyone short of the Dark Lord himself could do such damage, leave him out of commission for so long. (He shows his respect for the dead in the space of those thoughts.)

It's too cold out for anything as picturesque as fireflies, not cold enough for proper weather, so there's nothing to offer scenic punctuation to the silence that falls for a time. Severus isn't sure if it's awkward or not.

Eventually, "We successfully pretended to be friends, once."