They eat dinner in a silence that fills the room, hanging thick and ripe with anticipation. Hermione has to force herself to eat, too nervous to be hungry, and Malfoy picks at his food, pushing it around the plate and barely touching it. Hermione nearly speaks a dozen times, throughout the meal, but she doesn't know what to say, only that she wants to say something. To thank Malfoy, perhaps, except that seems stupid – she feels so much more than simple gratitude toward him, and thanks...it wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't communicate everything she wants to. Hermione doesn't think there is anything Malfoy would allow her to do that would do justice to how she feels, right now.