A/N: Thank you to everyone who bought a copy of Forget Me Not or talked about it online or told a friend about it! I am a USA Today Bestseller! Please enjoy this new chapter.
Subject: Friday Night
Dear Jane,
Is it odd to say that I'm anxious in both the good way and the bad way? I have butterflies and bats.
I will be at the cafe at half-past eight, reading Pride and Prejudice with a single long-stemmed red rose as the bookmark. (I read this in a book once and I've always wanted to try it. Though perhaps being a man reading Jane Austen will be enough of a giveaway.)
Anxiously yours,
Nick
Subject: re: Friday Night
Dear Nick,
Butterflies and Bats, I agree. I feel in some ways that I have more to be anxious about than you, but I suppose that's unfair. Not to say that I think you'd judge by appearances, but more so that I have other parts of myself that I can't wait to share with you.
I will look for the man reading Jane Austen at half-past eight.
Anxiously yours as well,
Jane
PS. maybe dethorn the rose before pressing it between the pages
Hermione decided to tell Ginny about the date, but a casual mention wasn't good enough for her.
"A date?" Ginny blinked at her over coffee the next day. "A date? With who? How did you meet him? Is he a Muggle? What does he look like—?"
Hermione placed a playful finger over Ginny's lips to stop her spiraling.
"I… I met him online," she admitted, blushing a bit.
Ginny looked no more informed than before. "In what line?"
"You know, the internet," Hermione clarified. "You can meet people in chat rooms and have whole conversations. You can write electronic mail."
Ginny nodded slowly. "Right. Yes, I think I've heard of it, but… you've never met him in person?" When Hermione shook her head, Ginny said, "How do you know what he looks like? Or what kind of aura he has?"
"I don't really," Hermione said, stirring her coffee. "I do know him quite well, though, even if I haven't experienced his — aura — in person."
Ginny held up a hand to stop her. "Hold on. Are you telling me you've been flirting… on the internet? E-Flirting."
"I suppose you could call it that." Hermione sipped her coffee. "I've decided that I don't care what he looks like. As long as he hasn't misrepresented any part of himself, then I'm quite committed to falling madly in love with him."
The milk Ginny was pouring into her cup splashed over the rim and onto the table. "Merlin, Hermione, I didn't know the wedding was this weekend." She seemed to think on it for a moment. "What if… what if he has misrepresented himself. What if he's quite a bit older than you? Or worse — what if his intentions aren't good. What if he's a serial killer. I read about the ones who find their victims on the interconnect."
"The internet," she corrected. "That's not Nick. I know that's not what he's like."
Ginny peered at her over her coffee cup. "I'm coming with you. Just to check it out." When it looked like Hermione would fight her on the issue, she said, "Just until I verify that you're safe."
Hermione huffed. "I do have a wand, you know."
Ginny's eyes brightened. "Oh, Merlin. Have you told him that you're a witch?"
Shaking her head, Hermione said, "No. I thought I'd wait."
But it wasn't just the caffeine that had set her leg to jangling. She hadn't been simply mirroring Nick when he'd said he felt butterflies and bats. One of her "bats" was magic. If this did go well — if they did want to see each other again — if they did become more than just internet friends — then she would have to reveal a lot to him. Not to mention that her name wasn't really Jane.
On Friday evening, Hermione put on her favorite dress, plaited her hair, and swiped on a bit of mascara and lip gloss. She didn't want to look like she was trying too hard, but then again, how would Nick know? Perhaps he would think she always looked like this.
Butterflies and bats danced in her stomach when Ginny came by at quarter past eight to walk with her. She'd chosen a Muggle cafe she'd never been in before, but she now wished she'd scoped the place out. What if it was busy and they couldn't get a table? What if there was a particularly rude waiter who ruined this entire evening? What if she saw Nick glance over an impossibly beautiful hostess when he thought Hermione wasn't looking?
She rambled to Ginny on the way over, telling her more adorable anecdotes about Nick:
He played rugby in school!
He doesn't keep in touch with either of his parents, like me.
He's an only child too, and we've talked loads of times about how nice and how lonely that can be.
He has an incorrigible sweet tooth!
Ginny listened attentively with a calculating smile on her face.
"You really do like him," she said once they were only two blocks away.
Hermione pushed a loose strand of hair over her ear. "I do. I think we not only have a lot in common, but we really could complement each other well as people. I never run out of things to email him about. I truly don't care if he's attractive or not. Or if he's too old. I will get a lifelong friend out of this, even if I don't have sexual chemistry with him."
Ginny's feet slowed and stopped, and it took Hermione a moment to realize that they had arrived. She felt all her blood drain from her face. All of that before was nonsense. She had a deep need for this to be perfect. For him to be perfect.
"Right. Right," she said, fumbling with her handbag. She craned her neck to see if she could make out any of the faces inside the shop, but the hedges were too tall. "Okay, so…"
Reading her mind, Ginny said, "Want me to take a look?"
Hermione nodded and braced herself on a bench. Ginny skipped up the steps and called out, "Pride and Prejudice, red rose, right?"
"Yes," Hermione said, voice weak.
Ginny pressed her nose against the glass and looked in. Hermione watched her for what seemed like hours, waiting for some kind of reaction.
"Well?" Hermione prompted.
Ginny pulled away from the window with an innocent look. "Hm?"
"Well? Is he attractive?"
The pause Ginny took could have ended wars.
"Ginny!"
The redhead turned to her from the steps and said slowly, "Very attractive."
Hermione felt her chest blossom. She stumbled back onto the bench and almost laid down on it. "Oh sweet Merlin, thank you," she said.
He was attractive. Ginny said "very." Hermione had a moment to panic about how unattractive she felt most days before Ginny hummed from the window.
"He almost… You know," Ginny said, tapping her finger to her chin. "He kind of has Malfoy's… shading."
"Oh, he's blond?" Hermione said with interest. "I love that."
"Mm-hmm," Ginny said, pressing her lips together a bit manically. "I hope you do. Very blond."
"Very blond and very attractive?" Hermione felt like she could sing. "Ginny, this is wonderful!"
"He, umm… He also has some of Malfoy's like… like maybe his features."
Hermione cocked her head. "Features?"
"But you've said…" Ginny cleared her throat, and Hermione saw that her cheeks were pink. "You've said before that Malfoy is fit, haven't you?"
"I don't know if I have, but I guess if Nick's body resembles Draco Malfoy's then I suppose we're on the right track."
"Oh good!" Ginny said, smiling big. "So you do think he's attractive."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What does Malfoy have to do with this?"
Ginny looked back into the shop and clicked her teeth. "Let's just say, if you think Draco Malfoy is gorgeous, then you're going to love this man."
"Why's that?"
Ginny's smile had taken on the quality of melted wax. "Because it is Draco Malfoy."
Hermione waited a few heartbeats for the words to make sense. She stared at Ginny with slack-jawed confusion.
A bolt of concern rocketed through her limbs, and she ran up the stairs to call Ginny on her bluff.
But when she pushed her to the side and peered into the window, she found Draco Malfoy sitting at a table facing the door. There was a weathered copy of Pride and Prejudice next to his tea. And a red rose tucked into the pages.
She wondered if he dethorned it, like she'd suggested.
Hermione's brain tumbled like clothes in a washer. Snippets of conversations floated back to her.
My grandfather's shop…
A new grocer is moving in across the street.
I haven't seen my parents in five years.
"No. No, no, no," Hermione mumbled. She stepped away from the window and turned to Ginny. "What kind of trick is this?"
Ginny tilted her head. "You think this is a game? Like he knew who you were online?"
"It has to be!" she said, feeling her heart palpitating. "Why would we… That's so entirely random to meet him in a chat room!"
"What game is it then?" Ginny asked. "Did you tell him anything important he could use against you?"
Hermione tried to think, but there was only one thing important to her reputation. "The store," she said darkly. "He… We started talking about Foxglove and Belladonna!"
"What did you tell him?" Ginny asked, pulling Hermione down the stairs and away from Malfoy's view.
"I… Well, I gave him business advice for fuck's sake."
"Did he use it against you?"
Hermione nodded, but she didn't really know if that was true. She was still trying to piece it together. They'd met in that chat room over a year ago. How could he have possibly known her intentions to open Foxglove and Belladonna back then?
"What are you going to do?" Ginny asked, biting her lip.
Hermione blinked at the sidewalk before straightening up. "Nothing. I'm going to leave him hanging."
"Stand him up?" Ginny asked. "What happened to 'your soul mate'?"
"Clearly he's not if it's Malfoy!"
Ginny stared at her. "I think you should go in and find out what he wants. Why did he agree to meet? What was in it for him?"
Hermione took a deep breath. She knew Ginny was right. There was no reason for Malfoy to throw this wrench into the works now. So she needed to find out why.
She nodded and straightened her dress.
"Do you want me to wait?" Ginny asked.
"No," Hermione said. "No, I think I can handle Malfoy."
She pushed her handbag back up onto her shoulder and marched up the stairs to the cafe door. She didn't have a plan, but one would unfold.
Wrenching the door open, Hermione pretended Malfoy didn't exist. She was greeted by the hostess who told her she'd be with her in a second.
Hermione pretended to look around—
And for a moment, she thought Malfoy was gone. It was a full three seconds before she located the top of his blond head hiding behind his own menu.
Hiding.
How did that play into the game? She'd thought he would be leaning back in his chair, smirking at her. Ready to taunt her for falling in love with—
No. No, she couldn't think it.
Her eyes landed on Pride and Prejudice and the rose, and her blood boiled. She waltzed over to his table — their table, for their date — and said, "Malfoy? What brings you to Muggle London?" She was sure to speak low, even though there was hardly anyone nearby.
Pink was blossoming on his cheekbones when he raised his head, as if only now catching sight of her. "Oh. Granger." He brushed his hair away from his face, and looked past her to the door, distracted. "Hello."
Hermione leaned one hand on the back of the empty chair — her chair — and said, "Come here often?" She pretended to just notice the book and reached for it. "Pride and Prejudice? My, my, a Muggle cafe and a Muggle book? You're certainly full of surprises tonight."
He jumped to take the book back from her before she could flip the pages. "Yes, I'm… I'm waiting for someone so…"
She stared at him. He wasn't even looking at her. He was staring at the door… waiting for Jane. Waiting for someone he fully believed was not her.
Hermione couldn't believe it. It wasn't a game. She'd honestly met Draco Malfoy — the last person in the world she'd ever want to feel anything for — in a chat room on the internet. She didn't know what to do with that.
The door to the cafe swung open, and his head snapped up, looking around her. She watched his face fall when an older man entered.
Gasping dramatically, Hermione said, "Are you on a date? With a Muggle girl? Malfoy, I never thought you had it in you."
He glared at her, but just before he could respond, the waitress popped by. "Can I get you a menu, Miss?"
"No, she's not staying—"
"I'd love one, thank you. Cappuccino, please?" Hermione slid off her scarf and plopped onto the chair. The waitress was gone before Malfoy could protest again. "So where did you meet her? Wait! Is this the Muggle friend? The one from your parole?"
His teeth ground together. "Yes. The Ministry said I needed to befriend a Muggle."
"And so you just — what? Walked into a pub?" Hermione needed to know how in Merlin's name this happened.
"No, I learned about the internet in a Muggle Studies course they let me take in Azkaban to reduce my sentence."
Everything about his body language told her that he wished her gone. He wouldn't meet her eyes, and he leaned away from her. Hermione didn't quite know what she was doing, but she knew she wasn't done with him yet.
"So this poor girl has no idea what she's in for? Or did you break the Statute of Secrecy?"
"Of course not," he sneered. "She doesn't know I'm a wizard."
"Ah. Something to look forward to later then," Hermione said jovially. "You know, Draco is not really a name in the Muggle world. I highly doubt she thinks you're entirely normal anyway."
"I gave a false name," he said. "Found in a favorite book."
Hermione's throat tightened. The Great Gatsby. She'd heard Nick talk about it enough, but she hadn't assumed there was a correlation between the character Nick and her Nick.
Her Nick… who didn't even exist. He was just Draco Malfoy dressed in a costume.
She felt so cheated. She'd thought she could have fallen in love with this man. This man that sat in front of her, being the exact opposite of everything she wanted.
"Is she late or are you early?" Hermione asked, her voice acerbic. She was feeling the shame of her delusions, and it was making her bitter.
Malfoy pursed his lips. "I'm… early."
He wasn't. Jane was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. Hermione settled forward on her elbows. "Do you think she got cold feet?"
His nose wrinkled. "What's that?"
"Muggle expression for having doubts." She took her cappuccino and a menu from the waitress. "Thank you. What's good here?" she said, opening the menu with interest.
"You're not staying— she's not staying," Malfoy said, trying to get the waitress's attention.
"So what does she look like?" Hermione asked over her menu. "What does she do?"
Malfoy shifted uncomfortably in his chair and brushed his hair back. "She's… she owns a clothing store. She makes her own items."
Hermione lifted her brows at him. "How nice. And? She's pretty, I assume?"
She watched as his throat clicked.
"You don't know?" She faked astonishment. "You — Draco Malfoy — the vainest person I've ever met in my life, are on a blind date?"
"That's not fair," he said. "We both know Gilderoy Lockhart. And Rita Skeeter."
Her lips twisted, trying to smile, but she wouldn't let them.
"No, I don't know what she looks like," he admitted. "We've gotten to know each other in the way that matters."
She bit her tongue, ready to argue that beauty does matter when you don't have it as naturally as him, but she felt a morbid curiosity growing. Unable to stop herself, she asked, "Well, what do you hope she looks like?"
He shook his head at her. "It's not important. She's…" He ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous gesture, she could now recognize. "I know she's my age, based on how old she told me she was when the Berlin Wall fell. I know she has incredible business savvy. I know she's honest and values people over possessions."
As he spoke, he looked over her shoulder, describing a perfect woman — describing how he saw "Jane."
"I know her favorite books, I know that she gets cold at the slightest breeze, I know her hair is a bother to her. She has notebooks upon notebooks of to-do lists that never get crossed off. She doesn't have any siblings, but always wanted them. I know she cries watching films but never reading books." He took a breath and looked at her. "I know everything I need to know about her."
Hermione's chest felt tight. He was describing her with such reverence, that it scared her.
Her voice croaked, "So it doesn't matter to you what kind of person walks in the door tonight? She could be — the exact opposite of what you'd want…" She swallowed. "And you'd still want more of her?"
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her, but before he could speak, the door squeaked open, and they both twisted to look. A petite young woman walked in and immediately looked around the cafe. Hermione turned to watch Malfoy's brows lift in hope…
When the girl found her friend at the table behind them, Hermione felt a strange rage take over her. The idea that she could never have been "Jane" to him. That there was no flash of hope in his eyes when she walked in. Her face hardened.
"I think you're full of shit, Malfoy," she said. He tilted his head. "You don't even know this woman. You've romanticized the hell out of her, obviously." She snorted. "But you haven't shared your true self with her, so why would you expect her to? She has no idea you've been in prison, right? No idea that you were locked in there for believing that people like her are inferior. That they don't deserve to take up space."
His gaze was ice on her. "No," he said simply. "But I guess that's the thing I admire most about her. Something you can never grasp, Granger." He lifted his chin. "She knows that people change. She believes in forgiveness. She would never rub someone's nose in their mistakes after the years they've put into trying to be better."
Hermione's cheeks were hot. "Are you, Malfoy? Trying to be better?" She laughed. "Or are you just trying to get laid?"
His lips pursed. "Please leave. I don't want her to see you when she arrives. I'd hate for her to get the wrong idea about the kind of company I keep."
Her jaw clenched, but she did as he asked. "Have a lovely date, Malfoy. If she ever turns up."
Hermione twisted her scarf around her neck and left before she said anything else she'd regret.
