Isabelle was now looking back and forth between Hermione and Draco, waiting for a reply. Hermione noticed that Isabelle was wearing a bright red dress that curved around her body, her hair was up in a bun and she had on matching bright red lipstick. She was being rather patient, thought Hermione, who was sure that Isabelle had been planning this moment for quite some time. However, right when Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, a waiter walked up to their table and gave Isabelle a letter.

"This just arrived for you by an owl Miss."

"Thank you," replied Isabelle, turning white. Her hands began shaking as she opened the letter and read out loud.

Sweetie,
Your mother is not feeling too well. Her condition has much worsened from last night. If you are not busy, I would appreciate it if you came home right away.
Love, Dad.

"Oh no, I'm afraid that I have to leave. My mother has been sick for almost a month now," she added helplessly. "Draco, you stay here and finish having dinner, it's not a big deal, I promise."

Before Malfoy had a chance to reply, Isabelle was already up, and walking away. She turned around, waved, walked into a vase, blushed, and disappeared behind a corner. Hermione remained seated, unsure of what this meant. Could she leave now? Was she supposed to? After all this whole dinner was Isabelle's idea, and Hermione couldn't picture her and Malfoy having anything to discuss.

"Thank you."

"Wait wait wait, what was that Malfoy?"

"I said thank you, for keeping your information to yourself. I haven't told Isabelle about...well you understand."

"Are you trying to fool her into thinking that you're some white knight in shining armor?"

"Who are you to judge me? I am myself when I'm with Isabelle, and that self if different from how I was. I'm not ready to let her into my life completely."

Hermione leaned over the table to get a closer look at Malfoy. He was being so honest, so open with her. But then again, what could he hide from her when she already knew everything. For Isabelle he wanted to be a better man, he didn't care about that with Hermione.

"She seems nice," said Hermione.

"She is nice, really nice. I don't want to screw things up with her. I don't know how she would feel if she found out that I helped Voldemort, that I was a murderer," Malfoy shuddered and squeezed his fork.

Hermione felt pity swell up in her. Instinctively, Hermione reached out and touched Malfoy's hand. He might have been a git, and a bully, but he was certainly never a true follower of Voldemort.

Snapping out of her trance, Hermione realized that she was in fact touching his hand. His hand for God's sake! Malfoy looked like he was thinking the exact same thing, and Hermione quickly pulled away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," whispered Hermione, turning red.

"It's fine," mumbled Draco, looking very embarrassed and put out.

"I'll go," proposed Hermione. However, she remained seated and looked up at Draco through her thick eyelashes, waiting for him to respond.

"Don't leave on my accord, stay. Let's have a bottle of wine."

Before Hermione had the time to process what happened, she was sitting with a tall glass of red wine in her right hand. Taking small sips she felt much better as a warm feeling spread through her chest. Draco remained quiet and Hermione expected that he was certainly bored. Isabelle was a talker, she brought the air of happiness into the room. Hermione was more of a listener, especially recently.

"I don't think that you should let your past rule over your present life. If Isabelle loves you then it shouldn't matter to her who you were," said Hermione.

"I am sure that she would accept me, but I don't know how to talk to her about what happened. I have tried to erase those memories from my head, bringing them up again would just make everything real," speculated Draco.

"Then wait until you are ready."

"I don't know if I will ever be ready to explain that I was a monster," laughed Draco.

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Why? You would agree, you did agree," pressed Draco.

Hermione knew that he was right, or at least half right. She had never thought of him as a monster, but she did think that he was a git, and telling him that he was a good person would be a lie. Deciding to remain silent Hermione leaned back in her chair and relaxed. She didn't know how much time passed, but soon the sky outside was a shade of dark blue, and shortly after that her and Draco were the only remaining customers. No words were shared between the two, but both seemed at peace with not talking. It was nearly dawn when Draco suggested that they should get ready for work. They parted with a mere goodbye and went their separate ways. Hermione returned home and collapsed on her sofa, sinking into the cushions.