Hermione stared at her ceiling until dawn, completely unsure of everything in her life.

Malfoy — Malfoy — had given her the most intense sexual experience of her life. And she wasn't necessarily inexperienced. She'd seen a few people. Had sex a few times. Orgasmed a few times with those people.

But there was something different about riding Malfoy's fingers, with less than a minute before they were caught.

And she hadn't gotten him off.

She covered her face with her hand. The same hand that had been wrapped around his cock earlier that day. (She'd washed.)

Malfoy… wanted her? Hermione her? She supposed that was a good thing? Seeing as she still needed to tell him the truth.

She whimpered in the dark. She had to tell him the truth, still.

She'd tried. She'd tried to say it, but he'd made it incredibly difficult. She knew she could have tried harder. She could have stopped everything and had a conversation before continuing.

But it was remarkable to be wanted by him. She had no idea it would be like that.

Hermione groaned and turned over to scream into her pillow. She thought back…

She'd had a plan. She would kiss him, and in his shock, take the opportunity to say, "I'm Jane. That's why I've been so nice to you. I found out a few weeks ago."

But he hadn't been shocked into silence. He'd been shocked… well, into action. Her brain had left her body entirely once he'd taken charge and kissed her back. And then his hand was on her ass, and Merlin that felt amazing.

And then she'd tried to tell him in the middle of it, and that had been terribly stupid. She knew from experience that men's brains stopped working once you put your hand on their cocks, but she'd tried anyway.

And now it was all a mess. She had betrayed him. She'd betrayed Nick, in a way.

But there was also another part of her that now knew that Draco Malfoy was attracted to Hermione Granger… And that was… truly unexpected.

What if that's all there was in this mess of a situation? She considered what it would be like if there was no Nick and no Jane. What if she and Draco Malfoy were stuck in a lift together… and she'd just kissed him. And then he'd kissed her back. And then… things.

It would be a truly wild situation. They could… move forward? Perhaps? It would be far less complicated, and yet entirely more complicated. At least in this situation, she'd come to terms with the idea of having feelings for Draco Malfoy.

But she wondered about him. Did Draco Malfoy have feelings for Hermione Granger? Would he want to see Hermione Granger again? Would any of this Nick and Jane business have mattered to him?

Hermione sighed and gave up on sleep. She got up before dawn and checked her messages.

Nick hadn't written Jane back. Which was very disconcerting. Usually he messaged her before bed every evening.

She got dressed and went into the shop, studying for the test she'd have to take next Friday to make up for the one she missed while she was in a lift, with Draco Malfoy's fingers inside of her.

As Diagon Alley started to bustle with shop owners opening up, Hermione found herself at the register, reading over her purchase orders.

A knock rapped at her front door an hour before the shop opened. When she looked up and saw Draco Malfoy, looking extremely well-rested and impossibly gorgeous on the other side of the glass, she wondered if maybe she could pretend she didn't see him, didn't hear the knock. But then his eyebrow lifted in that terribly arrogant way it had in school, and she knew she had to face him.

She patted herself down, resolving herself to fix things, and went to the door.

"Hello, Malfoy," she said, as she opened up.

"Didn't sleep, Granger?" he said, playfully. "I have no idea why, seeing as you had a hell of an orgasm yesterday."

Her cheeks flushed, and she watched his lips turn up.

Clearing her throat, she started quickly before he could seduce her into missing her opportunity again.

"Yesterday was a mistake," she said. He didn't move a muscle but there was a flash of something behind his eyes. "I shouldn't have kissed you. It was terribly selfish of me, and I don't want it to happen again until I tell you something." She watched his eyes flit over her face, and she continued, "Because, you see, your Muggle girlfriend—"

"I told you that wasn't an issue," Malfoy said harshly. His lips had lost their curve. "If you don't want to see each other again, then don't use her as an excuse."

"It's not an excuse, I'm trying to tell you—"

"Understood, Granger," he said. He turned on his heel and was across the street before she could call him back.

"Malfoy, I need to talk to you!" she said, starting after him.

"We have nothing to talk about." He started to close Black Apothecary's door in her face, before pausing. "My shop will be closed by next Friday, and then we won't have anything to talk about again."

A cold wind danced through the alley when he slammed his door. She watched throughout the day as the sale signs went up, and as customers wandered into his shop instead of hers. She waited for him to head home, but he had clearly decided to stay until midnight to avoid her if he had to.

Over the next few days, she studied her next unit, and tried to figure out how to fix things. If she told him the truth now, she didn't think she'd ever see him again. If only she could find a way to capture his mind like Jane had. He was already attracted to her.

Hermione wondered if it could possibly be that simple. Perhaps she could just invite Malfoy to dinner, and then invite him home. And then he could forget all about his pen friend, Jane. But something itched at her, and it wasn't just the need for honesty. There was something so romantic about their whole situation. Nick was so romantic. It had been his idea to have a copy of Pride and Prejudice and rose for their first date. He had been the one who didn't want to send along pictures before they met at the cafe. Nick — Malfoy — was the one who turned all of this into a sensational fantasy in the first place.

Would it be right to just ruin all that with the reality she now knew they lived in?

His shop closed the following Friday, and she watched him take the final box away midday while she was training Chris, her new employee who was not quite good at anything yet. She'd needed a new person helping Luna at Foxglove and Belladonna if she was truly going to look into opening the Hogsmeade location.

Hermione tried to pause her instructions and run after Malfoy, but by the time she'd wrenched the door open, he'd Disapparated already.

Later that evening, Nick finally responded to Jane.

Subject: re: Shall we meet?

Dear Jane,

I have been remiss. I have been quite a mess this week and didn't know how to respond to you. I would still very much like to meet you, but I need some time. I closed the store today. I don't want sympathy, so please don't give it.

But on top of all this, I went on a date of sorts last week. I thought it was wonderful in the moment, but now she doesn't want anything to do with me. It made me miss you. Perhaps it isn't fair to say these things. I felt like I was cheating on you, later, and I realize that's silly maybe.

Perhaps it's this nasty cold I can't shake.

Wistfully yours,

Nick

Hermione didn't know what to do with this. Was this helpful to know? That he still felt allegiance to Jane?

The next morning she packed up a bag and went to the address on file for Black Apothecary's forwarding mail. It was a small townhome, but in the posh part of London. She couldn't imagine Draco Malfoy living amongst the Muggles like this.

She rang the buzzer, and heard a heavily muffled voice say, "Hello?"

"Er, hello. It's Hermione… Granger."

There was a pause. "No, thank you."

She sighed. "Malfoy, may I please come up?"

There was a sneeze through the intercom, and then Malfoy said, "You are the last person in the world I'm interested in seeing right now. Please leave."

As he spoke, one of his neighbors pushed open the door to leave, and held it open for her. Hermione slipped inside as Malfoy continued, "I have a terrible cold and I don't want visitors. As much as I'd love to get you uncomfortably ill as well, I…"

His voice trailed off as she climbed the stairs and found his flat on the third floor. She knocked and heard him curse behind the door.

He opened it with a glare on his face, but Hermione could only focus on how utterly adorable he looked in a fluffy robe, a pink nose, and mussed hair.

"I said, no. You are disobeying my wishes," he said, voice groggy and nasal.

"I am," she said, pushing in. "I heard you were ill, and I wanted to make sure you had everything."

She took one look around his tidy apartment and smiled. She wouldn't have assumed that someone who had house-elves clean up after him as a child would be able to keep a flat clean, even a small one.

Malfoy sneezed, and she cast a spell over herself to protect her from his germs.

He had a cauldron going in the kitchen. "You have the cold remedies brewing already?"

He followed her with a scowl. "Yes. I'm perfectly competent. Some of us are licensed potioneers."

Ignoring him, she asked, "Have you added cayenne pepper to it?" She shucked her jacket and rolled up her sleeves.

"That's an old wives' recipe," he said, rolling her eyes.

"It's not. I heard from Snape himself that it's the best way to truly lose a cold." She pulled the pepper from her bag and immediately began chopping it.

He plopped onto a kitchen chair and watched her. "Why are you being nice to me? Looking to ride my fingers again?" He laughed, like he'd said something terribly funny, and it turned into a cough.

Hermione grimaced. "I just want to be your friend."

Malfoy sniffed. "I told you to stay away from me," he said, without malice.

"You did."

"And here you are."

"And here I am." She added the cayenne pepper and watched the potion turn.

"Why?"

She swallowed, and for lack of anything better to say, said, "I heard you were sick, and I wanted to help you."

"So you said." He stood and came to lean back on the table next to her. She was suddenly very aware of how close their bodies were.

"I should call the DMLE and report a breaking and entering," he said noncommittally.

"You could," she said, smirking. "You might want to change out of your pajamas before the Aurors get a look at your fuzzy socks."

He looked down. "Fuck." He disappeared into what she could only assume was his bedroom, and returned in grey Muggle sweatpants and a t-shirt. Hermione averted her eyes before she accidentally salivated on his carpet.

She poured a glass of the remedy potion for him, and sprinkled lime juice in as the last step. He wrinkled his nose, but drank it anyway. Steam poured from his ears briefly, and when he spoke next, he seemed to have cleared his sinuses.

"Thank you, Nurse Nightingale," he said. "You can leave now."

She ignored him and started cleaning up his potion station. "You live quite modestly."

"I had to," he said quietly, and when she looked at him, he continued. "The Ministry seized it all."

She felt her chest tighten. "So… So what will you live on, without the apothecary?"

He waved his hand, as if it didn't matter. "I'll have to figure something out, I suppose."

She busied her hands, and paused before speaking. "I was being very selfish when I offered you a job before, yes. But I am opening a location in Hogsmeade." She glanced at him shyly. "You wouldn't have to see me at all."

He scoffed. "You think I want to work outside of Hogwarts castle?"

"Then I could take Hogsmeade," she said, looking up at him, surprised they were talking about the subject further. "You could take the Diagon location."

He blew his nose in a handkerchief, obnoxiously, and said, "Then I'd have to break my rule of never stepping foot in one of your shops."

She smiled at him. "We could levitate you in, every morning."

He slid his gaze over to her, and there was a merriment in his eyes that she caught before he turned it into a glare. She went to wash his cauldron in the kitchen sink.

After a pause he asked, "Are Muggle doctors any good?"

She tilted her head at him. "You want to see a Muggle doctor for this cold?"

He dropped into a chair and shook his head. "No, no. My… the girl… Jane. Her parents' memories aren't good. She says the Muggle doctors can't help much, so I was wondering if Wizard ones could."

Hermione stared at him, her lips parting. He remembered. And he was thinking about it.

"Um, no. The wizarding doctors also probably couldn't help." She turned away from him and washed his knives. "Jane? Is that her name?"

"Mm-hmm. I thought you knew that?"

Hermione stared at her hands. She wasn't sure now. Did she? Was she supposed to? She pivoted the subject.

"You're still talking to her? I thought you said she didn't want you."

She peeked at him from her place at his sink. It was oddly domestic. And comfortable.

He looked over at her, and he must have thought something similar — that or the cold medicine was taking time to work on his brain fog — because his eyes dropped over her hips and legs.

"If you're still worried you got in the way of something, don't be," he said.

She placed the final knife down on his counter and moved back to the table. "So you're not seeing her," she prodded.

"I never was," he admitted softly.

Hermione knew that wasn't what it felt like, because she'd lived it too. It felt like they were seeing each other, even if they weren't.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"That night you found me waiting for her at the Muggle cafe?" he said. "She stood me up."

He was staring out his window, his posture sagging in the chair.

"She didn't come?" Hermione said. "Did she tell you why?"

He waved his hand again. "She tried, but it didn't make sense. She wants to try to meet again, but I don't know…"

"You should," Hermione said, a bit too quickly.

He pulled his eyes from the window. "Why's that?"

She approached him slowly and sat in the chair next to him, their knees almost touching. "Because I think you're a better person with her in your life."

His lips pressed in a thin line. "You don't know that."

"I do," she said. "You're better. You're different. And I think she knows a part of you that you don't share with others."

She watched his eyes float over her face. It shouldn't have been a surprise when he leaned forward, and still she was shocked when his hand cupped her jaw.

"I—We shouldn't," she whispered against his lips, just before they touched hers.

His grey eyes sunk into hers. "Why not?"

"I think you should be with Jane," she said softly. "I want to be your friend."

He didn't pull back from her. "Friends can do this, sometimes," he said softly, and brushed his lips over hers.

Every hair on her body came to attention, giving her goose pimples. He slanted his mouth over hers, and she opened for him. His lips parted, and his tongue was soon curling around hers.

"We shouldn't," she repeated when he let her breathe, but her resolve was weakening. "You're ill."

"I saw you cast that charm over yourself," he said. "You won't get sick." His mouth dropped to her neck.

"No, I mean… You aren't necessarily in your right m-mind…" She whined the last word as he sucked on her pulse point.

"I haven't been in my right mind for a while now," he whispered.

Gently, she pressed her palms to his shoulders and pushed him back. His pupils were black, and she didn't think it was from the cold.

"You should try to meet Jane again," she said. "I am positive she will come this time. How could she not?"

His eyes jumped between hers, and he lifted his hand to circle one of her wrists. His thumb brushed her pulse.

She swallowed, and before he could dismiss the idea, she sat back and said, "Tell me more about her."

"I've told you plenty," he said, tiredly.

"What false name did you give her?" Hermione prodded. She was determined to appeal to the romantic side of Draco Malfoy with her scheming.

He sighed and crossed his arms. "I don't think I'll tell you." He shot her a coy smirk.

"No?" She smiled at him. "Why not? You mentioned it was from a book? Should I guess?"

He shook his head. "I think I won't give that to you, Granger. It's special. It's for her."

Something fluttered in her chest. He was still just as invested in the perfect fantasy of the situation they'd gotten themselves into. The kismet of meeting someone on the internet who truly understood you. She knew she could tell him now, but there was something else up her sleeve.

"Do you think she gave her true name?" she asked.

Malfoy blinked quickly, brows furrowing. "I… I thought so."

"Jane is the name of the protagonist in my favorite book, so—"

"Jane Eyre," Malfoy said. "It's one of hers as well."

He looked off over her shoulder, rubbing his chin. She thought he might be ready to piece it together. Everything was working in the right direction.

"I guess what I mean is," she said, "don't worry about anything. She may be afraid of letting you see the real her as well."

He snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not afraid."

Hermione frowned. "You should be. You're rarely pleasant."

He glared at her, but it lacked the usual punch. She smiled at him and stood.

"I'll let you rest," she said. She dropped a hand on his shoulder as she passed. "Feel better, Draco."

She let herself out.

On Monday, when there still was no message from Nick to Jane about meeting, she sent an owl to Malfoy.

Malfoy,

I'm going to be in Muggle London today doing some shopping. If you've recovered, do you feel like poking into some clothing stores owned by young women?

Hermione

Two hours later, she was walking with Draco Malfoy, introducing him to frozen yogurt.

"But is it truly yogurt?" he asked, poking it with his spoon.

"It's Muggle magic," Hermione said. "Don't question it, Malfoy." She stopped and pointed at a shop. "This one? Looks very bespoke."

Malfoy nodded and they wandered through the store until the owner approached. She was in her forties with an eclectic personality. He sent Hermione a shake of his head, and they left.

"What do you hope she looks like?" Hermione asked, once they'd left a third store.

Malfoy shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"But it does," Hermione said. "Anyone who says it doesn't has been handsome their whole life."

She looked both ways before taking him across the street, missing the way he stared at her.

"Handsome my whole life, eh?" He grinned at her.

"Well, I personally didn't like the slicked back look, but at least you dropped that."

"And how old were you when you first thought me handsome, Granger?" He hung back, forcing her to stop and face him. He pressed his lips together to bite back a smile.

She sighed melodramatically. "What an incredibly vapid question from someone who thinks looks don't matter."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said with a devilish grin.

"What does that mean?"

"I mean, I'll tell you the first time I thought about you, if you tell me yours."

Hermione felt her knees wobble. She blinked at him, waiting for him to laugh at her and tell her it was a joke.

"Well, it won't be a surprise, of course," he said, still smirking at her. "I'm sure every bloke at Hogwarts saw you at the Yule Ball and had a panic attack."

She felt her chest tighten. "Oh… I…"

His smirk dripped off his lips. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

She cleared her throat and shook her head. "I… Yes, but in a good way, I suppose. Um…" She looked past his ear and said, "Well, you were always handsome, weren't you? I guess I thought about it most in—in sixth year."

Hermione turned and continued walking, not waiting to see if he was with her. When his shadow joined hers on the sidewalk, he said nothing for a bit. And then, "You appreciate the brooding, distracted type, then?"

She didn't dare look at him. "Well, I said my favorite was Jane Eyre, didn't I?"

He laughed at that. And she made sure to find another clothing store quickly.

That night, Nick wrote to Jane, and Hermione didn't know why it confused her emotions so much — that Malfoy had a lovely day with her, and then immediately wanted to message Jane.

Subject: re: re: Shall we meet?

Dear Jane,

I've been thinking about you. If you are still interested in meeting, name the time and place. I would very much like to get to know you.

Sincerely yours,

Nick

Hermione read it seven times. It felt different.

Sincerely yours

That wasn't like them at all. They always used playful adverbs. Sincerely. She didn't know what to do with "sincerely."

She told him "Jane" would love to meet him at noon on Saturday. And an hour later Hermione sent Malfoy an owl, asking if he'd like to take a walk on Saturday morning.

"So you're meeting her today?" Hermione asked, faking surprise incredibly well.

"Mm-hm." Malfoy walked next to her with his hands in his pockets.

"Where?"

"We'll meet at the bookstore in Notting Hill — that one we happened upon, last week — and then I don't know. Maybe we'll have lunch. Maybe we'll walk."

"How will you know it's her? A rose in a book again?"

"No," he said, shaking his head, smiling at the ground. "No gimmicks this time. We'll just be two people meeting in front of a bookstore."

Hermione brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Fascinating. Are you excited?"

When he didn't respond, she glanced at him. His eyes were straight forward.

"I'm… anxious, yes," he finally said. "But I think it's time."

She smiled at him, and the corner of his lips curved at her.

"It's almost time for Horace to leave, yes?" he asked.

She nodded. "He's not leaving technically. He's moving to part-time until the end of the year, assuming that I will be taking on the brewing of the beginning to intermediate level potions. I need only six more weeks at the course, I think, and then I'll be able to brew." She tilted her head at him. "You know, Horace brewed from home. I haven't seen him in several weeks. Someone who could take his place would have minimal contact with me—"

Malfoy laughed. "You just can't let it go, can you?"

She stopped on the sidewalk, forcing him to do the same. "I only need someone for several weeks. The interim."

He sighed. "What happened to eager Granger, ready to finish her unit in record time?"

"Oh, I can absolutely do it without you," she said, scoffing. "You would just be doing me a favor, really."

"Do I owe you a favor, Granger?" he said, eyes dancing. "Last I checked our tally, you owe me a few things…"

She felt her cheeks flush pink at his insinuation. "Well, I… I brewed you that cold remedy."

He hummed in agreement. "Yes, I suppose that was worth an unfinished handjob."

She coughed, blushing bright red. Hermione turned to keep walking. "No matter. I'll be fine."

They continued for another ten minutes before Malfoy mentioned it was time for him to get ready for Jane.

"You're changing?" Hermione asked, looking him over. "Going to turn on the Malfoy charm?"

"Is this not charming enough for you, Granger?" he said, referring to his pressed trousers and grey jumper.

She did nothing but smile in return. And before they could part ways, she put a hand on his arm, stopping him. He looked down at her hand.

"Do you think… Do you ever wonder…" she asked, looking between his eyes. "If I wasn't Foxglove and Belladonna, and you weren't Black Apothecary…"

He watched her intently, letting her words come to her.

"Or even… if we weren't Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy." She stared into his eyes. "If there wasn't… history—"

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I think about it."

She watched his gaze dance over her face, dropping to her mouth and back up.

Shaking herself with a smile, she said, "But we are, I suppose." She cleared her throat. "Please, write me tonight. Let me know what she's like."

Malfoy didn't nod, didn't say goodbye. So Hermione walked away on her own. She didn't look back at him.

She walked around the block, and then Apparated home, deciding to put on a sundress. She brushed mascara over her lashes and used a bit of gloss on her lips. At noon, she Apparated back to Muggle London. She ambled down the streets of Notting Hill until she was just around the corner from the bookstore. She took a deep breath, and brushed her fingers through her hair.

When she turned the corner, Malfoy was faced away from her, staring in the other direction, waiting for Jane. She watched him run a hand through his hair, nervously.

She only took a few steps toward him, still half a block away, when he turned to scan the street in the opposite direction.

The minute his eyes landed on her, she smiled.

His brows drew together, a confused grin pulling at his cheeks.

When Hermione kept walking toward him, she watched his lips pull together in a question and then that question got stuck in his throat.

She was four steps from him, biting her lip, hoping he'd understand—

Malfoy stepped back.

He was frowning at her. "What are you…?"

"Hello, Nick," she said softly. The name only Jane would know.

She breathed in the moment — the way the breeze tousled his hair, the way he'd changed clothes just to meet her, the way his eyes danced over her.

It was incredibly romantic. It was everything "Nick" would have wanted from this moment. Nick with his Austen and roses. Nick who'd asked her if she'd ever heard of a fellow called Lord Byron. Nick who had been holding his breath for this moment for months.

Hermione watched Malfoy's eyes take her in, and slowly narrow.

His face hardened into something familiar. Something she'd seen years ago turned in her direction. Her heart dropped as he glared at her.

Hating her again.