Disclaimer: If you recognize someone, they belong to JKR. The others are all creations of mine to fill the gaps. :) Plus, any similarities are accidental and completely unintentional.

Summary: Teddy/Victoire. Victoire's sixth year at Hogwarts is full of ups and downs. Fights with mean girls and a boy that's more trouble than he's worth, she's in for quite a few surprises. Including the realization that she might be falling for the last person she ever expects.

A/N: Part 2 of 4. If you're here before checking out Part 1: "The Start" do not pass go! This series reads best in order. See my profile for more info.

UPDATE AS OF 2021: This message is mostly for repeat readers. I've gone as given this story a bit of a clean up. You may notice a few differences if you're doing a reread. I've gone through and cut parts that were unnecessary and cumbersome, I've cleaned up a lot of the clunkier parts of the writing, I've eliminated a few things that just didn't age well. I've also updated very small details to fit better within the overall world that this series has now become a part of.

If you give a reread, please let me know what you think. If you're here for the first time, please enjoy what I personally feel is a better version of my original story. Thanks for reading either way. :)

June 2016

It was getting later—later and later over the course of a day that Victoire Weasley wished could somehow grow longer. As she stared out the window of her bedroom in the cottage that she shared with her family, she wished somehow that she could stop the rest of the day from approaching so quickly.

She sighed as she turned back and glanced around at the rest of her room. She had been home from school for only two days now, but the much needed break was already felt. At sixteen, she had just completed her fifth and most difficult year yet at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yet. Her O.W.L.s—the exams she had been stressing herself over since her third year—were finally finished; they now were off being marked somewhere where she could no longer control them. In a way, that was a very freeing feeling. In another way, it was terrifying to think about.

Academic success had always been a huge priority for her. Her parents as well, seeing as they had both been exceptional students in their day—her father had been a Head Boy at Hogwarts; her mother had been a Triwizard Champion for Beauxbatons Academy—and both had risen to the top of their classes and succeeded at so much. It went without saying that they valued good marks and had high expectations for her.

Luckily for her, getting good marks had not ever been a problem. Throughout the course of her life, she'd been constantly told that she had inherited her father's knack for critically analyzing, as well as her mother's ability to execute said things in a quick and efficient manner. And that certainly wasn't the only thing she was frequently told she shared with her mother.

Victoire stood from her bed and approached the full length mirror that hung on the wall next to her bedroom door. Staring back at her was the same reflection she'd seen a thousand times before, and at least ten times that day alone.

She was slender with strawberry blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders. She had inherited her mother's bone structure, her eyes, her nose; but she had her father's smile.

She smiled instinctively into the mirror. Even she couldn't deny the similarities she shared with her mother, but if she could have received one thing from her father, she was happy it was this.

Ever since she was a little girl, she had always thought her father had the friendliest smile she had ever seen. It was his best feature and the one thing on his face that seemed to have been unaffected after he'd been mauled and scarred by a werewolf attack in his twenties. On many occasions, her mother had told her that it was her father's smile that had made her fall in love with him; it had been the thing that had convinced her that he was the most handsome man alive. It was a story that Victoire had always loved hearing as a small child, and it made her dream of one day having a relationship similar to that of her parents. Through war and disfigurement, they were still as in love with each other now as they had been since on the day they had met.

"Victoire!" called her mother's voice suddenly. "You have a visitor!"

She snapped out of her daze and glanced at the door to her bedroom. She did? She hadn't been expecting anyone. Also her family didn't exactly live near anyone for neighbors to simply pop in.

She pulled her door to her room open and made her way downstairs, where she could smell her mother's cooking wafting out of the kitchen. Her mother, however, wasn't currently tending to dinner, but rather standing at the door chatting cordially with someone just out of sight.

"Here she is," said her mother once Victoire joined her at the door. Beyond them both, standing on their porch, a tall girl with curly blonde hair and pointed features was smiling to greet her.

"Penelope," Victoire said with a tone of surprise, forcing herself to smile despite not wanting to. "What are you doing here?"

"If I said I was in the neighborhood, you probably wouldn't believe me," Penelope said as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled. It was the kind of smile that was never quite friendly, even if it was meant to be.

"Not really. No."

Penelope Shears was a year older than Victoire, though they were both Gryffindors and had shared a mutual group of friends for the past three years...though, Victorie wasn't sure the word friends was particularly apt these days. Frenemies was more like it.

She stepped out onto the porch to join her, shutting the door behind her so that the pair were now alone. She cast a quick glance out to the sea on which her house sat. It was very calm today.

"So, why are you here?" she asked Penelope.

"I've got some news for you," Penelope said in a fake cheerful sort of way that always came off as painfully insincere. "News that I think you'll find quite interesting."

"Alright," said Victoire, not even attempting to hide her disinterest anymore. She had grown tired of playing these mind games Penelope favored over the last few months, since that's what this ultimately was. It always was. "And what's that?"

"Colleen would absolutely kill me if she knew I'd come here to tell you this."

Victoire stared at her. Colleen Lynch, their…"friend." She was in the same year as Penelope, a Gryffindor as well, attractive, popular. and manipulative as hell. People either revered her, feared her, or simply hated her—sometimes all three—but she still somehow commanded a weird level of forced respect from everyone she encountered. Being friends with Colleen meant everyone knew who you were; something she wouldn't have had any other way.

There had been a time when Victoire had genuinely liked her. She'd kowtowed to Colleen's whims more readily and known her place; how it was always behind Colleen. But as the years went on, she had grown exhausted of Colleen's rather poor behavior and approach to people. It was something she hadn't known how to deal with much at fourteen, but at sixteen, she'd started speaking up more; fighting back more. This was why things between the pair were strained lately. Colleen didn't like to be challenged.

But Colleen's feelings were the last thing Victoire cared about anymore, especially once she realized that even simply existing was reason enough for Colleen to want to put her down. The second Victoire had got proper momentum to challenge her status—she'd started getting as much attention from people; boys were wanting to talk to her just as much as Colleen—things had gone to shit. Once she had decided to become her own person away from this group of girls, her life had become an endless cycle of fake friendship that she couldn't simply abandon—Colleen would never allow it—and dirty rumors meant to make her life miserable.

It was a game that never ended. A game that was never any fun.

"Then perhaps," Victoire said to Penelope, unsure if she wanted to hear this news if it had anything to do with Colleen, "you should save your neck and not tell me."

Penelope's smile faltered. She looked slightly disappointed that she wasn't getting the begging and pleading reaction she'd hoped for.

"Well, it's about Stuart Reynolds."

Victoire forced her face to remain neutral, even though that particular name did tend to give her a start. "What's about him?"

"He and Elizabeth Cole have split up."

Victoire's eyes grew wide at that; she'd forgotten not to react. That truly was huge news. "Really?"

She nodded her head. "Apparently they had a huge row about staying together now that she's finished school and because he still has another year. They decided to call it off."

Victoire looked off towards the sea again. Stuart Reynolds was a soon-to-be seventh-year Ravenclaw; he also happened to be Captain of their Quidditch team and practically perfect in all ways. He was unbelievably handsome and charming, and she had been particularly keen on him for years now. He, however, had been faithfully dating Elizabeth Cole for...she didn't even know how long at this point. Seemingly forever.

Well, until now it seemed.

"I thought you ought to know," said Penelope, causing Victoire to turn back toward her. "In case you were interested."

"You know I'm interested," she said as she crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly suspecting that there was something more to all of this than Penelope being kind enough to pass along the news. "But why are you telling me? Colleen's had her eye on him for ages now and I would think you'd save this information for just her."

Penelope made a face. "I did tell her. It's just…" She trailed off momentarily, her icy demeanor cracking a bit. "I just don't think it's very fair for her to assume that because he's single, he's hers for the taking."

"Did she say that?" Victoire asked. "That he's hers for the taking?"

"Not in so many words," she said with a wave of her hand. "But after I mentioned that I may have a go at him because, you know, I think he's quite attractive too—" She looked away. "Colleen had a real laugh about it and told me not to be silly. She said, 'Why would he go after me when there were girls like her available?'"

Victoire wasn't surprised by the comment—seeing as that was very much part of Colleen's nature—but she was surprised that Penelope actually seemed to be annoyed with her over it. She had heard some very harsh things Colleen had thrown at Penelope over the years, yet she usually took them in stride; as if it came with the territory of being her friend. It was something that Colleen constantly reminded them.

"Anyway," Penelope said a bit bitterly, "she made me swear that I wouldn't even entertain the idea of going after him—"

"And you agreed?" Victoire asked. "You know you don't have to do that, right?"

Penelope's face grew cold again. "You're the one who seems to enjoy the rows with her. Not me. It's not my style."

"It's not exactly my style to sit back and let Colleen dictate my life," Victoire countered.

"You know, you weren't always so rebellious," Penelope said, eyeing her up and down. "No offense, Vicki, but you certainly let Colleen walk all over you a time or two…or ten."

"And then I woke up," Victoire said.

"Whatever," Penelope said, now sounding bored. "I have to go. I only wanted to let you know about Stu."

"I still don't see why you'd want me to know about any of this," Victoire said, still confused as to why any of this was happening. Colleen, for all her awfulness, was still the person Penelope wanted to impress most.

Penelope smiled rather cooly at that. "Because you're the only one who can really challenge Colleen in getting him." She paused for a moment. "That and she made a point saying how she hoped you wouldn't find out before she could get to him."

Victoire cocked her eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I may not be as willing as you are to have a go at Colleen," she continued, "but I have my own ways of making things a little more difficult for her."

They both stared at each other for a long moment and Victoire wasn't quite sure how to react to that. As it turned out, she didn't need to because they were suddenly interrupted by the front door of the house opening. It was then that a tall, thin boy with auburn hair poked his head out and glanced at the pair of them. It was Victoire's fifteen-year-old brother, Louis.

"Hey, Vic," he said. "Mum says dinner's ready."

" Hiiiii Louis," said Penelope brightly. She suddenly stood up straighter and smiled far more sweetly than anything Victoire had been on the receiving end of.

Victoire couldn't help but roll her eyes at the display. That was the other thing about Louis—he was a fairly handsome guy, though Victoire was probably downplaying that description. If one were to ask most of the girls they went to school with, the term 'fairly handsome' would more than likely be embellished with far more colorful details. Girls adored him and often gushed about how 'proper fit' and 'gorgeous' he was. He'd become very popular in his own right, though as far as Victoire was concerned, he was just her brother.

And she hated the way Penelope was looking at him.

"Hey," Louis said, throwing Penelope the same smile he also inherited from their father. Victoire knew it was just as forced as hers had been, though he was much better at making it seem natural.

"I'll be in in a second," Victoire said, throwing Louis a look.

He took the hint, nodded, and shut the door behind him without another word. When she turned back to Penelope, she was still staring rather dreamily at the spot Louis had just occupied.

"I know he's your brother, but he is so fit."

"So I'm told," Victoire muttered, her annoyance having hit its limit. "But as you see, I have to go. Thanks for the info."

"Are you going to do anything about it? Stu, that is?"

She shrugged, not having thought that far ahead yet. "I don't know. We'll have to see."

"Wait!" Penelope said, catching Victoire as she turned and put her hand on the doorknob. "One more thing. Please don't tell Colleen that it was me who told you about this."

Of course. They couldn't have Colleen discovering that her favorite minion was dissenting, could they?

"Fine," she muttered, ending the conversation there by entering her house and letting the door shut quickly behind her. She suddenly wondered just how many Galleons she'd have if she somehow managed to acquire one for every time she heard the phrase, "Don't tell Colleen." She'd surely be the richest girl in England.

"What the hell was she doing here?" Louis asked, having appeared from the kitchen carrying a cauldron of stew on his way to the table.

"Apparently she's the bearer of good news," said Victoire as she followed her brother into the dining room, where her father and mother were already sitting. As she took her seat, her fifteen-year-old sister—and Louis's twin—Dominique, came bustling rather loudly into the room, as she often did

"Did Colleen Lynch's gigantic head finally explode?" Dominique asked, which made Louis laugh and bobble the cauldron as he set it onto the table. "Because that's really the only good news Penelope Shears could possibly bring."

"Dominique…" their mother chastised, all but used to these sorts of comments from her, but forever trying to rein her daughter in.

Dominique was a few minutes older than Louis; while the two of them had looked quite similar as children, the older they had become, the less similar they became. Louis' hair had gone darker with age; he resembled their father's side of their family more than their mother's. He was incredibly intelligent, well-mannered, and well-liked. Everyone was his friend and people rarely had a negative thing to say about him. He presented rather perfectly to outsiders, though Victoire knew better. He had issues—anxiety, for one—but he managed it and hid it better than anyone. As far as most people knew, he was as relaxed, cool, and carefree as they came.

Dominique was...very different from her twin. She was very different from everyone. While Victoire may have resembled her mother, Dominique had grown into a complete clone of her—long silvery, blonde hair; big blue eyes; dainty, feminine features that most people would consider gorgeous and certainly envied. She really was a beautiful girl, but while she may have looked exactly like a young version of their mother, she acted absolutely nothing like her. Nothing like Louis, or like Victoire, or like anyone .

Dominique was a personality, full stop. Loud. Brash. Opinionated. Unapologetic. She said what she said and rarely cared about the consequences. She didn't care if people liked her; she rarely cared what people thought, which also extended to her appearance.

While she had the most beautiful hair, she constantly wore it in a funky and unkempt ponytail that looked as if she devoted maybe six seconds of her day to maintaining appearance. She was a tomboy who lived for playing, watching, and absorbing all things Quidditch. She wore clothes that were much too big for her and utterly unflattering, essentially living in ratty old Quidditch sweats and oversized jerseys; she would regularly have a fit if anyone attempted to get her into clothes that actually fit her or were in any way considered attractive.

She and her sister tended to butt heads more often than not due to their different personalities and stubborn natures. Dominique was never afraid to speak her mind, no matter the trouble it caused; the sound of the two of them arguing was definitely more common than not around the Weasley household.

"No, it's not exploded yet," Victoire said, smiling over at her sister. If she and Dominique could agree on anything, it was their shared distaste for Colleen. Dominique had never hidden it, having actually said it to her face on occasion. In retrospect, Victoire should have followed her lead.

"What'd she want then?" asked Dominique, ladling herself some stew.

"Do you really care?"

"Not really. But I'm bored, so humor me."

"It seems," Victoire said once Dominique passed her the ladle. "Stuart Reynolds and Elizabeth Cole broke up."

Dominique rolled her eyes, though Louis seemed surprised. "Really? Poor bloke. She's gorgeous."

Victoire let herself smile a little dreamily. "No worries. I'm sure there will be other girls ready to help Stuart get over her."

"I do wonder who you're talking about?" Louis joked.

"Poor bloke, indeed," Dominique muttered, causing Victoire to throw her a silent look to tell her to shut it. It didn't matter however, because she couldn't help but find her mood elevated at the news of Stuart being single. She knew she probably shouldn't be celebrating someone else's break up, but she'd always had a thing for Stuart. He was just so cute, and so charming, and he—

"So, you three are going out tonight?" her father suddenly asked, cutting into her thoughts as the group of them all tucked into dinner. "Over to Harry and Ginny's right?"

Victoire immediately felt her mood drop off once she was reminded of her plans for the evening. The plans she had been dreading all day.

"Yep," Dominique said. "Over to T.R's party."

Victoire set down her spoon with a clatter. "Why do you call him that?"

"Because that's his name…?".

"Well, his name's Ted," said their father in an equally obvious tone. "T.R. are actually his initials."

"Same diff-wence," Dominique said with her mouthful. She swallowed before adding, "It's what he wants people to call him."

"It's beyond stupid," Victoire said, feeling her jaw tense even at the thought of that nickname—if you could even call it that. "Why he ever let that catch on..."

"He obviously likes it," Louis said. "And it's not like he cares if you call him Ted or Teddy or whatever. Most people just call him T.R. In fact, Vic," he stopped to ponder something "I think you may be one of the few people who still calls him Ted."

"I will always call him Ted," Victoire said as she picked up her spoon again. "That's his name."

"You get so angry about it," Dominique said with a smirk, taking the moment to bite off an entirely too large piece of her dinner roll and stuff it in her mouth.

"Smaller bites, Dominique," their mother said, staring at her daughter as if she truly should know better by now. She quickly flipped the subject back to Ted though and said, "It is hard to believe that Teddy is already finished with school." She looked at her husband. "It seems only yesterday that Remus was in this very room telling us about this birth."

"I remember that," their father said. "It had been storming terribly that night…"

"Here we go again," Dominique said with a glance at Victoire.

"And everyone was here," Victoire added, smiling automatically and mimicking her father's tone. "Uncle Harry, Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione—they were all in hiding here from the Death Eaters when Ted's dad—"

"Remus," her father interrupted. "If you're going to take the mickey on my story telling, you better get the details straight."

"Right, sorry," she said with a chuckle; Dominique and Louis laughed, too. "When Remus came through the door on that stormy night—"

"Windy and stormy," her father said as though he was thoroughly enjoying this. "It was very windy."

"Windy and stormy night," she added. "Anything else?"

He smiled. "No, that's fine."

"And so then Remus announced that he'd had a baby boy. They named him Ted, after his grandfather, and then everyone drank in celebration."

"The end," Louis said.

Their mother smiled at their father. "I think you've told that story before."

"Once or twice," Louis teased.

"I've heard it at least ten times," Dominique said.

"Twelve here," said Victoire.

Their father laughed as he helped himself to another helping of stew. "You know, one day when I'm not around, you're going to miss my stories."

"But at least we'll be able to recite with impeccable detail," said Louis. Everyone at the table chuckled.

"It really is lovely that Harry and Ginny are throwing Teddy a party," their mother continued, blowing on her stew to cool it. "You all should have such fun."

"That's to be decided," Victoire grumbled..

"I thought you and Ted were friendly again?" asked her father, who had just swatted Dominique away from helping herself to her third dinner roll. "That your fall out was in the past?"

"We did, sort of..." Victoire said, thinking about how she and Ted had spent the last year not speaking to each because of...stupid people. Not that any of that mattered now, because they had made amends recently and were again speaking to each other. But speaking to each other didn't mean they were as close as they used to be. They were still barely friends.

"You knew they would, of course," said her mother. "They both have been friends since they were babies. It was silly to throw all of that away over a disagreement."

Her father nodded as if to agree, though Victoire said nothing. She couldn't help but think how true that would have been if it was only something as trivial as a "disagreement". In reality it wasn't that simple.

"I'm done eating," Louis said, having inhaled the last of his stew. "I'm going to go and change for the party."

"How did you eat so quickly?" asked her mother, looking as if she thought there might be a hole in the bottom of his bowl.

"I suppose I should get ready, too," Victoire muttered, pushing the half full bowl away from her after having barely touched it. She knew she would have to listen to her mother coax her into eating more, but the truth was she wasn't particularly hungry. Dread and anxiety often made her lose her appetite.

She trekked up the stairs to her bedroom, where she went straight to her wardrobe and began to flip through item after item of clothing, nixing each one as she passed it. She knew it honestly didn't matter what she wore to this party, but yet nothing seemed right. What does one wear when being forced to confront a group of people she'd rather not have to spend her evening with…?

"What do I wear to this?" she asked out loud to herself, not expecting an answer, but getting one nonetheless.

"Clothes," Louis said, having walked through her open door and giving the room a quick look around. "Have you seen my brown shoes? Did I leave them here? I can't find them anywhere."

"No. Sorry," she said, watching as Louis turned to leave as quickly as he'd entered. She wasn't left alone for long though; Dominique had entered right behind him and was holding up two Quidditch jerseys.

"Blue or red?" she asked.

She didn't even look at her and continued to search through her wardrobe. "Red, I suppose." She looked back at her. "They're both awful."

Dominique shook her head. "No, you're wrong. The Harpies are playing amazing lately. Their Seeker is leading the league in catches."

"You know what I meant," Victoire mumbled, pulling out a plain looking, form-fitting t-shirt and holding it up for her sister to see. "Why don't you borrow something of mine, Nic? Something not so...Quidditch."

Dominique made a face that could only best be described as disgusted. She glanced at Victoire's open wardrobe. "Everything is so…girly."

"Because I'm a girl. So are you, in case you've forgotten. And look, this isn't girly at all." She held up the shirt and gestured to several more that were still hanging. "It's a t-shirt, it would just happen to fit you. It's a neutral color; no frills or anything like that."

Dominique glanced back down at the jerseys in her hands, holding them up once again for Victoire to look at. "Blue or red?"

"Blue," she mumbled begrudgingly. "At least it's a little more form fitting that that potato sack thing you've got in your other hand."

"Red it is," Dominique said, nodding before she turned and went straight back into her own room next door. Victoire didn't even know why she bothered with her...

She quickly changed into her own outfit, something comfortable and suited for a back garden party, and had started to brush her hair in front of the mirror before Dominique returned yet again. She'd plopped herself down on the nearby bed and had begun pulling on a dirty old pair of trainers that Victoire was seconds away from telling her to keep away from her clean bed linens.

"You're really not looking forward to this tonight, are you?" Dominique asked.

"Not really."

"Why not? I mean, this is T.R.'s—"

Victoire shot her a look through the mirror.

"Sorry... Ted's party."

"And I'm happy for him. It's just..." She sighed. "The people that will most likely be there—"

"You mean his friends?" she asked, leaning back against the wall that Victoire's bed was propped against. "Too good for that geeky Hufflepuff crowd he runs around with? Not up to your usual cool kid standards?"

"Oh, shut it, Nic," she said, turning away from the mirror to face her. "You know that's not it at all."

"Then what is it?"

"How about the fact that some of them aren't very keen on me?"

"Feeling seems mutual."

"Not for all of them," Victoire mumbled. "Just…" She trailed off.

"Celia?" Dominique asked, referring to Ted's longtime girlfriend.

Victoire said nothing. She didn't want to talk about Celia and how much she couldn't stand her; how much she'd changed Ted—who before her had been the best friend that anyone could have ever asked for. Celia had been the reason they'd had a falling out; she'd been the reason they were barely friends today.

She never wanted to talk about her.

"She's the one who went and convinced most of those Hufflepuffs to hate me," Victorie muttered. "They all think I'm an evil cow who was 'so mean' to Ted's girlfriend—"

"Celia," Dominique reiterated.

Victoire ignored her. "I just know that any chance she gets to stare me down or be rude to me tonight, she'll take it."

"I think most of that is in your head," Dominique said, which immediately prompted Victoire to attempt to counter that and jump on the defensive.

Dominique held up her hand to silence her. "Not all in your head, mind you, but some. I know she's been a bitch to you, but—"

"It's not in my head," Victoire said. "She acts so innocent in all of this, as if I just decided to hate her one day, but I tried with her. I wanted Ted to find someone and be happy, but she…" She made a face. "She decided to hate me from the start and shit talk me to everyone who would listen."

"That's the part I think you have all in your head," Dominique said. "Did she talk some shit? Probably. But it was to a few friends. It wasn't to everyone . It wasn't even to most of Hufflepuff. I mean, Vic, you're not exactly unliked by the masses. You're obnoxiously popular."

Victoire chose not to dignify that comment with a response. Perhaps Dominique was a bit right; it was only a small collection of Celia's friends who didn't like her, but that didn't change the fact that for a year, the one friend she'd cared most about had been among that collection. She and Ted had lost a year due to Celia's shit-talking and drama. She'd lost her best friend and she didn't even know if she'd ever properly get him back. Yes, they'd reconciled, but who knew if things would ever be the same. Who knew if they would ever come close? It was still too soon to tell.

This last year truly had been the worst.

"To be honest," Dominique suddenly said, cutting through Victoire's thoughts," I've always thought Celia was jealous of you."

"Why on earth...?" Victoire began, swinging back around to face her sister. "Why would she be jealous of me? There's not a single reason—"

"Oh, please stop," Dominique said with a roll of her eyes. "Don't act as if you don't see why Celia—a plain and rather average girl whose boyfriend grew up with—" She put on her funny voice once more, "' The Victoire Weasley' , someone most of these idiots at school would give their right arm for a chance to take out—"

"Stop it," she said, throwing a nearby pillow at her.

"—wouldn't be jealous!" Dominique finished, dodging the pillow easily. "Vic, you and Teddy used to be so close. Of course Celia was jealous of you."

"But she never had a reason to be!" Victoire argued. "Teddy and I have never—not once—crossed that line. We were always only friends. She had nothing to worry about."

"Didn't you fancy him back in the day?"

Victoire looked at her as if she were mental. "Do you mean when I was five and he was the only boy I knew who wasn't directly related to in some way. That doesn't count."

"I was merely pointing out that at some point…"

"For the love of Merlin," Victoire muttered, feeling more frustrated with her sister now than she had with Penelope earlier—and that was saying something. "I'm done talking about this. If we're going to this party—" She looked at the clock, seeing that it was nearly time and feeling the dread well up in stomach. "Let's just...get it over with."