When the last of their friends had filed out, Draco's smile trembled and then disappeared.  "I'm sorry," he said.  He sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter.  "There were things I didn't want you to know because," he hesitated and Hermione wished she had something in her hands she could twist. Standing here with nothing to do and nothing to say was agony. She hated these sorts of emotional scenes.  They felt uncomfortable. They felt wrong.  And if she knew anything about the man standing before her she knew he wasn't one for this sort of thing either.  He didn't open up. He didn't share. That was the root of their problem:  he'd locked himself away in that barren room and told her nothing. This had to be as miserable for him as it was for her.