Monday arrived and Draco Malfoy was up and out of bed at stupid o'clock – deliberately.

This is it.

I'll have the truth today.

He thought obsessively as he walked to his closet, paying extra-attention to his chosen attire that day, aiming to arm himself with the confidence he knew he'd need for what he was about to do: confront Granger – on purpose.

Should I just ask her point-blank? He wondered as he decided on a dark grey three-piece suit, a black dress shirt, a black cravat, and shiny (also black) dragonhide shoes.

Have you been going to any muggle bars recently, Granger?

No, he couldn't simply ask her that!

If She were Jean and realized that he was Jake before he had the chance to explain himself, She'd never look at him again – or worse: could even accuse him of having known the truth from the beginning and being using Her for some nefarious personal reason.

No.

He'd lose her forever then.

NO!

He had to think strategically.

Once Draco was fully dressed, with his hair perfectly slicked back – but with not enough hair gel to be stiff – he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

He looked fucking good.

Hopefully She'd think that too.

If his theory proved to be true and Jean Lewis and Hermione Granger ended up being the same person, Draco would work on finding out who was the man Granger loved and make sure he never set eyes on her again (and then Draco would court her, shower her with love and adoration, marry her and fuck his heirs into her fucking perfect body).

However, in case his theory proved to be wrong and the two women weren't the same person... well, then he was certainly going to court Jean for he had no doubts she could make him forget Her – it had only been two days since he last saw Jean and he already missed her kisses and yearned to feel her under him again.

After having a light breakfast – since his nerves were making him somewhat queasy – Draco threw floo powder into his fireplace.

It was time to find out the truth.

Draco walked from the Ministry Atrium towards Her office thinking about his plan: he was going to wait for Her inside the office and make her talk about her Friday evening.

Simple.

Only not, because when he reached the Post-War Amendments Department, Draco realized he'd have to improvise, for She was already there on her chair behind her desk.

"Granger." He greeted with a charming smile.

She clearly hadn't been expecting to see him there that early, for her head snapped towards him and she looked surprised.

Draco didn't miss the way her eyes took in his perfectly put together look, but her approving gaze quickly turned angry and she seemed somehow offended by his presence.

"What are you doing here this early?" she harshly asked. "Is the world ending?"

"What?" he frowned, failing to understand what she meant.

"You're here, at work, before nine." she added dryly, tilting her head to the side and adding in a mocking tone: "Or, has your department managed to throw us all into some sort of alternative reality where you respect work-hours?"

Draco just shook his head and approached her desk, refusing to reply to her taunt, reminding himself he was there on a mission.

"What does the J on your plaque stand for?" he asked, stopping in front of her desk with his hands in his pockets – trying to appear casual and unaffected.

Granger, who had been paying attention to her papers, slowly looked up at him and frowned, clearly finding that question very odd. "So, you came to work at 7 a.m. because you need to know my middle name?"

"Yes."

She seemed to consider his reply, looking at him with a mix of suspicion and concern.

"It's Jane, Malfoy." She replied, glancing once more at him before looking back at the papers on her desk.

Draco nodded, unable to hide his disappointment; he had hoped it would be Jean and then he'd have his confirmation (or at least another sign that put Her closer to being his Jean).

"What is it, Malfoy?" Granger exhaled in annoyance, looking at him from the other side of the desk. "What do you want?"

"How was your weekend?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him, seeming extremely suspicious of that whole situation now, "Why did I broke your nose on third year?"

Her question took him by surprise, but he quickly realized she thought he was someone Polyjuiced into Draco Malfoy.

"I was celebrating the hippogriff's death." He replied, "I'm me, Granger."

She nodded, apparently convinced, "So either tell me what you want or leave, Malfoy. I'm not letting you ruin my good-humour today."

"Had a good weekend then?" he took the chance to ask.

She seemed to ponder for a moment if she should reply or not, and then she did: "As a matter of fact. Yes, Malfoy. I did." Her tone and smirk making it clear she meant more than just 'rested-and-chilled' – she meant sex.

Fuck. Draco fisted his hands, suddenly fearing knowing the truth as he looked at her face; if Granger wasn't Jean, that meant she had fucked a man and that man hadn't been him.

As much as he'd planned hooking up with Jean again in case they ended up not being the same person, the idea of Her with another man still had him seeing red.

"What is it, ferret? Why are you still here?" She asked, angrily. "Having trouble coming up with insults this early?" She rested her quill on the desk and folded her hands on top of her papers, looking at him scornfully: "Let me help you: what about my blouse buttons? My large hips? My hair perhaps?" she gave him time to reply, adding when he didn't: "Nothing?"

He just shook his head, refusing to make any provoking comments about her body now that he knew how much it hurt her.

"Don't make me worry about you, Malfoy." She was eyeing him as if he was about to drop dead at any minute. "Are you sick? I can floo-call your mother if-"

"I'm fine, Granger. But since you mentioned my mother," he decided to use that to change the subject: "she's told me you've declined her invitations for her Saturday Tea Parties. Thank you for that."

She lowered her eyes to her papers again, but Draco could see a sudden stiffness on her shoulders.

"Don't worry, Malfoy, you won't see me in those matchmaking teas. Only women fishing for a rich husband go to those affairs."

"You're not looking for a husband, Granger?" he asked, needing to know.

"Not the likes of you." She sneered, standing up from her chair, her eyes sparkling as she glowered at him. "I want a husband that values me above status or appearances. A man that appreciates all the things boys like you see as flaws in me."

She stopped in front of him and smirked, continuing: "I want a man that sees my large breasts as sexy, that loves how they make my shirt buttons nearly pop open." She touched her hands to said shirt and Draco noticed she had indeed two buttons open, the valley between her breasts being exposed nearly indecently.

He gulped, feeling a little lightheaded as all blood suddenly ran south.

Please, Merlin, let her be Jean; She has to be her.

She went on, her hands moving down her body: "I want a husband who loves my ample hips that make my skirts seem too tight; a man that sees them as the perfect place to hold on to as he fucks me."

Draco felt utterly incapable of replying anything, he had no blood in his brain anymore.

"Therefore," Granger added. "If you're afraid I'll show up at your stupid little Tea Party – don't be. When I decide to marry, it'll be to a man, Malfoy. Something you-" she poked a finger on his chest, "are not!"

He had thought Granger couldn't be any sexier in his eyes, but there she was: putting him in his place, showing him she knew she was fucking perfection with all those curves, button-downs and tight skirts.

She has to be Jean. Please, I'll offer sacrifices to all fucking muggle Gods...

"Malfoy?" She snapped her fingers in front of his face and he looked at her, seeing her confused frown. "Malfoy? That's it; I'm calling your mother." she decided, going towards the fireplace.

"Don't. There's no need to bother her this early." Draco quickly replied, clearing his throat before asking: "That was a cute little speech, Granger, but tell me: have you met such a fool of a man?"

She smiled at him, smugly. "Yes. I met him. A real man, Malfoy. Not a schoolboy who shouts insults at a woman just because she doesn't fall at his feet like all the others." She tilted her head as if she was analysing a curious specimen under a microscope. "That's your problem with me, isn't it?"

Not really, most days I actually love that you don't idolize me. He thought, but didn't reply out loud.

So she went on: "All women sigh and giggle when you walk by. Be it by your looks, your title, or your vaults, they all want you." She shook her head.

"But not you." He couldn't stop himself from speaking. "You must talk back and have the last word, right, Granger? As if you're always right."

"I am always right." She smirked.

Fuck. He wanted to push her on that desk and fuck that smug smile off her face.

She slowly walked backwards towards her desk and leaned back on it, arms on her sides, hands touching the edge of the desk, eyeing Draco contemptuously, as if he was just too stupid to understand how incredible she was.

"You know." She said when he remained silent. "I might accept your mother's invitation to the next Tea Party. If only to see how right I am in my opinion that women that go to those things are all dim-witted puppets that will agree to every stupid word you say just because you're rich."

Draco clenched his jaw, focusing on his plan – his mission: "And who was he? The man that-"

Granger shook her head, laughing. "It's none of your business, Malfoy."

"If you don't even give me a name, I'll be compelled to believe he doesn't exist." he smirked and saw exactly what he wanted: she stood up straight, feeling challenged.

"Get out." She glared at him.

He shrugged and walked to the door, taunting her: "You needn't make up an imaginary boyfriend to make me jealous, Granger."

She moved towards him as he walked through the doorway to the corridor.

"Fuck you, Malfoy. And his name's Jake." then she slammed the door on his face.

And Draco was glad she had closed the door, for if she hadn't she'd have witnessed the stupid-looking grin that took over his face as he felt giddy with relief. Actually, Draco had never felt more relieved in his life (well, maybe the day Voldemort died, but still).

She's Jean! Granger is my Jean!

He ran a hand down his face, thanking Merlin the corridors were still empty as he practically ran to his office, trying to control his fast-beating heart.

When he finally closed his office door behind him, he tugged on his cravat and finally let out the laughter that had been bubbling inside of him.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, running his hands through his hair.

She was Jean!

Jean was Her!

And he had had her. They had kissed and-

Fuck.

He sat on his chair, breathing hard and trying to focus on all he knew – Granger had obviously enjoyed their night together, she liked Jake; but Draco couldn't forget the reason she had gone to the bar where they met in the first place: she loved someone who didn't return her affections.

So now Draco had to find out who that fucker was and make sure he disappeared.

Then the courting of Hermione Granger would begin.