Except, thanks for all the reviews! And encouragement!

However, if I do (amazingly) get this chapter done today(Tuesday June 17), this will be my last chapter this week because I have my exams Thursday and Friday.


There's a Time For Everything

It was like one of those scenes in movies. And it all started as his hand came in contact with her skin. He had that effect on her.

The music played in her ears—a figment of her imagination she supposed. It was the type of heart pumping, time elongating pieces of music that always—always—found its way to the most perfect suspenseful moments in movies.

Time seemed to slow as Hermione watched each and every scene unfold in front of her.

And as this all happened at once, her world began to spin. Literally. Yet not. She wasn't actually spinning. But through her eyes it was—slowly—around the three of them.

The music escalated in her ears, and Hermione wished she could cover them and muffle the sound. As if it wasn't bad enough.

She slowly watched Draco look up. Their eyes locked. The bag in her hands felt heavier than ever.

His grey eyes seemed to call to her. But slowly, he turned away.

And as he walked off towards Steph—his girlfriend, Hermione reminded herself—the music began to fade; time seemed to resume; and the world stilled. Had Steph said something?

Suddenly, as she watched Draco's retreating back, the world around her engulfed her. She was swallowed up by the crowd beside her, the noises around her, the smells surrounding her. It was as if, for a few moments, she had lost all senses, and all of a sudden, they came storming back towards her.

She stumbled back, her hand on the railing for support. Why was this happening? She needed answers. She needed facts. She didn't need assumptions and hopes.

She tried to search out Draco through the swarm of people, eyes trained on the mass of pale blonde hair but it was nowhere to be seen—he was nowhere to be seen. She turned back towards the store, preparing to retreat back to familiar territory. Because that was what the Weasley's were—familiar. And for the first time, she realized that for the past weeks, she had been completely familiar—on unfamiliar territory.

She took a step towards the store. Then, turned back around. She didn't want to face the questions. The laughs that a joke shop was bound to have. From her step, she looked over the hustle of the people that her perched position allowed. She didn't want to face that either.

She lent her weight against the railing and slid to a seat on the wooden steps in front of the shop, placing the bag in between her legs in front of her.

She waited, in sort of a daze. Because she realized something. She realized that she couldn't go on like this. Because she was the hero. She was the good girl.

And eventually, she would have to choose between being the good girl and her love for the boy. Wouldn't that be what it would come to the way it was going?

She wrung her hands in front of her, twisting her fingers in knots. Someone pushed by, kicking the bag accidentally. Her first reaction was to steady it, even as she toppled against the railing. She straightened herself back up and held the reins of the bag tightly in her hand.

Yes, she decided, reaching into the bag to run her fingers over the silky material. Because she felt like the bad person. She felt like the seductress leading the innocent man away, although she knew that was nothing like the truth. But how could she help what she felt?

She knew, that it was either her or Steph. Not that she had anything much against the girl, but she hoped it was her. She scanned for Draco again.

No, she couldn't go on like this. And she knew, neither could Steph. And Draco...Draco couldn't last long either.

It was all a matter of time. Hermione would talk to Draco before the time came. Later.


"What was that?"

"What?" Draco asked.

"That," Steph repeated, gesturing wildy. She could hear the anger in her voice, the tenseness, covering up her hurt.

"I bought my friend a present," Draco said. He had a hard time making eye contact with her.

"Don't feed me that shit. Don't lie to me," Steph yelled angrily, raising her voice.

"I'm not." Draco lifted his eyes to meet hers, knowing that there wasn't an ounce of nervousness in his face. Years of training had provided him with that skill.

Steph stared at him, searching for any signs. Finally, she sighed. "You've changed."

She reached for his hand, and he allowed her to take it. She could feel the stiffness—the reluctance. "You've changed," she confirmed.

"People change," he said in a soft voice, staring at her hands engulfing his.

She dropped his hand. "Do you think I can't tell that you're changing because of her? Do you think I can't tell you're falling for her? Do you think I can't tell she's in love with you?"

Draco's heart thumped all of a sudden as the thought hit close to home.

The sudden lapse created a moment in which is facade disappeared. Steph caught on that. "I'm right aren't I?"

Draco didn't respond.

"Answer me damnit!" Steph screeched, slightly hysterical. She threw feeble hits at him, which he easily blocked. He grabbed her hands.

"ANSWER ME DRACO!" she yelled, struggling against him.

"So what if I care about her?" he said quietly. His hard grey eyes trained on the girl, who was still struggling.

"It's not just caring," she hissed as his grip slackened. She pushed his hands away as if something disgusting and backed up. "It's not just that."

He shrugged half heartedly, as if brushing off the statement. "Steph, you're my girlfriend—"

"Don't forget that I can stop the act at any time." She had regained her cool, and crossed her arms. Her voice was hard and unforgiving.

Draco's head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed. The coldness in his eyes that had slowly faded away due to Hermione's persistence came back to him with ease. It made Steph uncomfortable. She had never seen this. "Are you threatening me? " he asked quietly, menacingly.

She gulped. "N-no. I'm telling you."

Draco sneered. "Good, because I don't take threats. And it'd do you good to remember that." He turned around coolly and began to walk way. Her voice stopped him.

"I'm telling you as your girlfriend. I'll be damned if I lose you to some girl who I hired ."

He looked back, his eyes glinting angrily. "You won't lose me like that. But you will lose me the moment you tell." His composure scared her, as she was nowhere near calm.

"It shouldn't matter to you," she said quietly, watching his erect back. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

Draco pretended not to hear. Although he did.

He felt bad about it, certainly. That was unavoidable. But nobody threatened him. He didn't believe Steph would tell his parents the plan. She wouldn't dare.

He wanted to tell himself that it was because they had gotten so far already, but he wasn't going to lie to himself anymore. He didn't want Hermione gone. It was as simple as that. And he was sorry to have to hurt Steph along the way.

Steph was right about one thing though. This wasn't supposed to happen.


Everything seemed to happen in this room, Draco mused to himself, as he chewed the food in his mouth.

The dining room.

He didn't know the beginning of it.

After his...talk ...with Steph, he had returned to find Hermione at the steps. She had looked up, looked into his eyes, and mutely stood up. As much as he tried to swallow the "old" Draco back up, he knew Hermione could pick it out in a second. He just needed time to calm down again. To revert to the self he had become with her.

She had simply stood up, nodded briefly, and followed him as Steph appeared. Nobody spoke. Maybe it was because the three of them had come to a mutual understanding, an unspoken acknowledgement, that something big and epic had happened. Either way, there was nothing any of them could say.

They had returned home, and immediately separated. Hermione to her room, Steph to hers, and Draco to be left in the hallway in between.

He would have given anything to be able to have the courage to ignore his guilt and enter Hermione's room. But Draco wasn't conscienceless. Not even close.

He supposed they had all returned to console with their respective thoughts.

And now, here they were, hours later, eating dinner.

"Is there anything wrong with the food? The house elves can change it if you would prefer something else," Narcissa Malfoy spoke as she observed the girl pushing her food around.

Everyone looked towards Steph, who shook her head quickly. "No, nothing's wrong..with the food." And to prove her point, she forked a baby carrot and carefully placed it in her mouth. She chewed it slowly.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't even know if it was the right thing to do. Nonetheless, she rapidly swallowed her food and stood up, her chair skidding back a few inches.

She lifted her fork to clink the glass, but quickly set it down, choosing otherwise. She cleared her throat and forced herself not to look at Draco.

Because she knew if she looked at him, she wouldn't be able to go through with this. Not just because his expression would be angry. Not just because he would be willing her to shut up and sit back down. No, because as much as it didn't seem like it sometimes, she did truly care about him. And she knew that she was risking losing him.

Either way though, she figured, she would be losing him.

She focused on Narcissa and Lucius, who both stared at her intently, if not a little meanly.

"I—" she began, but her voice was hoarse. She picked up her glass of water and took a large sip. She cleared her throat again. "I have a confession to make."

"Or rather, we have a confession to make."

Draco gulped, and grabbed her hand, not caring. He tugged at it violently, urging her to sit down, as he looked from the determined setting of Steph's face, to the intrigue on his parents' faces, to the paleness caused by realization on Hermione's face. His other hand reached for Hermione, but she refused to let him.

"Step—"

"Draco," his mother admonished, "let the girl continue."

And as Steph shook his hand away, he felt defeat sink around him. It was over, he knew. Their game. Their act. Them.

He turned and watched Hermione who had her eyes shut, as if in pain. Perhaps she was really in pain. He certainly was.

"You see, Hermione isn't Draco's girlfriend. I am."

Draco watched as Hermione fell back against her chair; as his father's face contorted into something between suspicion and anger; as his mother leaned back, crossing her arms calmly. He buried his head in his hands.

Steph watched as Lucius gathered his thoughts to speak; watched as Narcissa looked at her—merely looked on; and refused to watch what she knew was going to be defeat in the other twos' eyes.

She hurried on. "But Draco and I knew you wouldn't accept me. Or believed you wouldn't. So we hired somebody to purposely infuriate you."

"What would be the purpose in that?" Narcissa asked, calmly—eerily. She never raised her voice, but Steph could hear every terse annunciation, every bit of suppressed emotion, every note of authority.

"So that you would accept anyone but her."

"Accept you, you mean," Narcissa clarified.

Steph wanted to continue. She wanted to say something more, but stumbled on her words. What else was there to say? "I'm—"

But Lucius cut her off. He turned sharply towards Hermione and Draco. "Is this true?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Draco couldn't find his voice. He had never seen his father so angry, so red, in years.

"Yes," he heard Hermione say weakly. He turned around to face her, as she slowly opened her eyes. Her eyes, oddly glinting in the light.

"Yes," she choked out, her chair scraping back. The noise resounded. "Yes." And with that, she turned and fled the room.

Nearly a second after Hermione fled the room, Draco stood up, the table and cutlery shaking as he did. He turned to follow after her.

"You could not have been faking it," he heard his mother say coolly. He turned around slowly, his blonde hair falling into his eyes as he glared at everyone in the room, out of pure spite. His mother chuckled softly, her easy going demeanour fading as she leaned her elbows onto the table, arching forwards. Narcissa Malfoy meant business now. She placed one fragile hand over her husbands, calming him down. "I'm old, but I'm no fool," she said, staring into his son's eyes. "You were not faking it." She didn't seem angry at all, she seemed maybe even a little amused.

Draco paused. "No," he said, not breaking eye contact. "I wasn't."

And as Narcissa nodded, Draco fled the room after Hermione. "Good."


It's okay, she told herself as she flew up the steps. It's for the best. You yourself said something had to happen. That you would have to choose.

But it wasn't okay. Because she didn't want this. This wasn't her choice.

It's okay, she tried to convince herself. Now you don't have to talk to Draco. Now you can leave. Now you're free.

But she didn't want to be free.

She walked into Draco's room, out of habit. But the presence of Steph overwhelmed her.

She barely made it to her room before she collapsed on the bed, tears rolling down her cheeks. Draco had made his choice. He must have planned this with Stephanie. He made his choice, and it wasn't her.

Maybe she knew it wasn't going to be all along. But she had hoped. And damnit, the plummet of disappointment was bigger now.

She crawled into a sitting position, grabbed her pillow, and threw it as hard as she could at the door in an attempt to muster up rage against him.

And as the pillow fell limply on the ground, she heard quick approaching footsteps. Through her blurry vision, she stumbled off the bed and towards the door. She grabbed the handle and pushed it, just as Draco appeared.

He barely caught sight of her broken, teary expression before the door shut.

Hermione put all her weight against the door, as he struggled with it on the other side. "Hermione!" She pulled out her wand, and locked the door, before stumbling back to the bed.

She sat down, and looked around wildly.

The transfigured two trunks, and tried to calm herself down as things flew around her, packing away. But in the end, she figured "calm" wasn't going to come to her at all.

"Hermione!"

REVIEEWWWW! :)