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Henry tugged the library door open, wincing as the cold metal bit into his gloveless fingers. His backpack hung heavily on his shoulders, the bottom threatening to fall out from the weight of all his textbooks. This was going to a miserable Saturday. All that schoolwork he had skimped on during the last month had now come back to haunt him: this was the day he had to catch up on it, or he was going to flunk the ninth grade before it was even half over.

To make things worse, he had semester exams the week before Christmas, which he hadn't even begun studying for. Between those, and the Magical Theory books Regina had given him, he barely had time to breathe.

Henry tossed his stuff on a table, quite pitying himself as he dumped the contents out and started arranging them. This was going to suck. He was going to be here for hours, reading through all that tiny, nauseatingly dull print and being forced to retain it. This was really going to—

"Oh, goddamn it," he said, just now recognizing the tall figure behind the desk, sitting with his feet propped up on the counter as he flipped through a book: Hook.

Heny exhaled frustratedly. What was he doing here? The one place Henry had thought would always be a sanctuary from his stupid slut-face—and here he was, lounging in Belle's chair like he owned the place. Henry hadn't really been paying attention when Belle had given him the library key, so he supposed she could have said something about it then: it didn't make it any less of an unpleasant surprise.

He rolled his eyes at the prospect of dealing with Hook, and pulled out his chair to start the dreaded task of homework. Let's see, he thought, twirling his pencil. What shall I torment myself with first?

There was the history paper, that was going to be a nasty piece of work: he had to compare all the third-party political groups of the Industrial era. Why Sister Astrid (a fairy, for God's sake) would be interested in that, he didn't know.

There were the endless calculus problems, everything from simple derivatives to complicated word problems. Those wouldn't be as bad, but those were better saved for once he had been tired out some: wasting his focus on work that didn't require as much as focus was inefficient.

Then there was the biology homework: three thick chapters of complicated cell parts and functions, long words with lots of vowels and Latin names….that was a bit too daunting for ten in the morning.

History, it is, he thought miserably, getting up to find some books on the Industrial Revolution. He craned his neck, squinting to read the titles printed on the books lining the shelves. A few of them looked promising, so he plucked them off the shelf and tucked them under his arm

After gathering a small pile he approached the desk, where Hook was frowning down at a page. Henry dropped the books carelessly on the desk, and cleared his throat.

Hook glanced up from his book, raising an eyebrow.

"I need you to check these out for me," Henry said flatly.

"Excuse me?"

"The books. I need you to check them out."

Hook frowned slightly, and leaned forward in his chair to peer at the books on the desk. Slowly, he flipped through one.

"All right," he said, pushing it back to Henry. "Looks good. Enjoy."

Henry stared at him. "I mean, you have to log them out. With the computer."

"Oh," Hook said in dawning comprehension. "Right."

He slid his feet off the desk, tossing his book down. Henry tilted his head to read the title as Hook pulled the small stack of books over: Swan, Geese, and Other Waterfowl.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing. Hook glanced over.

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just looking up some facts about swans. I was trying to come up with some fresh insults for Emma, but swans are actually really boring. The most interesting thing I found was that female swans are called 'pens'." Hook blew out a breath, shaking his head. "I don't know what to do with that."

Henry raised his eyebrows, shrugging. "Well, I have to admire your dedication. Not a lot of people research to be an asshole."

"No, some of us are naturally gifted," Hook smiled sarcastically.

Henry mirrored his smile. "Can I just have my books?" he said, holding out his hand.

"Hang on. I can't figure out how to work this thing." Hook frowned at the computer. "How do I 'log something out'?"

"Just let me do it," Henry said irritably, walking behind the counter. Hook stepped back to let him take the mouse, watching over his shoulder as he typed in the identification numbers.

"What do all those numbers mean?"

"It's how the computer recognizes the book."

"Oh…Right, of course."

Henry rolled his eyes at Hook pretending to understand modern inventions, but dropped it: he didn't have time in his schedule to mock Hook, not today. Perhaps next weekend, he'd come back and make up for it, but right now he just needed his books.

"And…there you go, have a wonderful day, Henry," he told himself, ripping the receipt off the printer. "Thank you, Henry. You're welcome, Henry…"

"You are so strange," Hook declared, retaking his seat and grabbing his book. "Abnormal, even."

"False," Henry said immediately. "Abnormal is an independent Cyberman, or a Dalek with mercy. I'm quirky."

"A what or a what?" Hook said, crinkling his brow.

"An independent Cyberman. Or a Dalek with mercy." Henry smirked at his ignorance. "From Doctor Who. Obviously."

Hook snorted, going back to his book. "Spoken like a man without a girlfriend."

"Yeah, you'd know," Henry said, smiling sarcastically. "How's the single life? Molested any goats yet?"

"You really are a piece of work," Hook scoffed, flipped through the pages of his bird book. "I swear to God, if the next one is anything like you, I might have to find new friends."

Henry frowned. The next one? "What are you talking about? What next one?"

Hook looked up, raising his eyebrows. "Hmm?"

"What next one?" Henry repeated, somewhat panicked. "My mom isn't…?"

"Relax," Hook snorted, taking pleasure in his discomfort. "I just meant, since they're back together and all, if history repeats itself—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Henry interrupted, waving his hands. "Who's back together?"

Hook raised his eyebrows, looking at him as though he were extremely dim-witted. "Uh, Emma and Neal? Duh?"

Henry blinked rapidly, his heart hammering against his chest excitedly. "They're back together?"

"Yes, Henry, I just said that," Hook said impatiently. "Try to keep up."

Henry stared at him with wide eyes, hardly breathing. Was this real? Was this actually happening? "Are you sure?"

"Did you know that kiknophobia is the fear of swans?" Hook looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought. "I wonder if I can somehow use that…"

"Never mind that, you idiot! Tell me what you know!" Henry exclaimed, leaning across the counter to snap his fingers in Hook's face. "Come on, out with it!"

"Henry!" Hook jerked his head from his snapping fingers, impatiently batting them away. "Stop that!"

"When did this happen?" Henry demanded.

"I don't know, couple days ago?" Hook slapped his hand away. "I said, stop."

"What else do you know?"

"What else is there to know?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you!"

"Well, I don't know, either!" Hook snapped. "Now, leave me alone! I've got two more books on swans to go through!"

"Hook!" Henry said frustratedly. Hook huffed angrily, slamming his book shut to glare at Henry.

"I have work to do," he growled. "The two of them are ganging up on me, and I need to be prepared. Furthermore, I don't know any more than you do. So unless you have a question about the average wing span of Australian black swans, there's nothing I can help you with."

With that, he snapped open his book again, ignoring Henry's attempts to pry him with more questions. After ten minutes, he gave up and snatched his books up, walking back to his table with his mind whirling.

Was this real? Was it really real? Maybe he had dozed off, and dreamt the whole thing. Maybe he was actually sitting at his table with his head down, snoring into one of his textbooks. Any minute now, he'd wake up and see his school papers scattered around him, empty and nagging him for answers. He pulled out his chair and sat down. He folded his hands. He waited to wake up.

Nothing happened.

Henry exhaled, smiling to himself as he cracked open one of the books and flipped to a chapter on the Greenback Party. It was absolutely mind numbing, but that hardly mattered because Henry wasn't paying attention, either way.

Everyone had told him, "Don't get your hopes up!" and "You're not the first kid who's wanted that, don't set your heart on it!" But they had all been wrong: he hadn't deluded himself with high hopes, he hadn't set his heart on unrealistic ideas. He had been right. Everyone had told him: Dr. Whale, David, even Emma herself…Well, well, he thought smugly. Who looks stupid now? You do.

After a while, guilt pulled him back into his schoolwork and didn't release him. Hours passed, filled with turning pages and pencil scratching. At some point, Hook said something about going to lunch, but Henry didn't even look up; nor did he when Hook returned (three hours later).

It was dark out by the time Henry remembered to go home. Hook had fallen asleep in his chair, the book open against his chest. Henry paused on his way over to the door, frowning at him thoughtfully. After a moment of deliberation, he set his backpack down and walked behind the counter to detach his hook from the brace on his left arm. Henry whistled to himself, twirling the hook in his hand before stuffing it in his backpack, and continuing on his way.

It was a little more difficult to balance on his bike in the dark with his heavy backpack, so it took him longer than usual to get back. He chained his bike to the rack, his fingers numb with cold, and climbed the stairs to the loft. He opened the door carefully, trying to keep quiet.

Neal and Emma were sitting on the couch, watching television: Emma's head leaning against his shoulder. Henry closed the door slowly, not wanting to disturb them. They looked so…normal, so right. They just seemed to naturally fit together, like they were specifically designed with the other in mind.

Henry tiptoed to the stairs, hardly daring to breathe. The screen flashed lights, blue and white, sitcom laughter softly pouring from the speakers. Henry went up a few steps, checking to make sure they didn't hear him, before sneaking up a few more steps.

Crrrreeeeaaaakkk—

"Henry?"

Henry froze. Shit! "Yeah?"

"Why were you gone so long?" Emma asked, standing up and coming to the foot of the stairs.

"Homework," he said, turning around and looking down at her. Neal joined her at the foot of the stairs, standing behind her with his hands in pockets. "I had to do a lot of catch-up work, so…yeah."

"You get everything done?" Neal asked.

"Mostly. I still have some biology stuff to do, but it's okay. I like biology. We're learning about cell division and fusion and stuff, and cell processes…" He wasn't sure why he was rambling, why he was so nervous. Neal and Emma stared up at him with raised eyebrows as his mouth ran off random facts about cell metabolism and ATP.

"…and the released energy reforms ATP, and the whole thing starts all over again." Henry smiled down at them awkwardly, knocking his fist against his leg in a nervous gesture. Emma opened her mouth, her tongue clicking against her teeth.

"Wow," she said. "Looks like you're going to pass that biology test."

"Yeah, so am I," Neal grinned.

Henry adjusted the strap of his backpack, wincing at the weight. "Well, I think I'm just going to head upstairs. Get ready for bed. You too go back to your show."

"Actually, I think I'm going to take off," Neal said, turning to Emma. "So, I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Emma said, her gaze flickering to Henry as Neal grabbed his coat off the rack. "See you."

"Bye, Dad, " Henry said, waving from the stairs.

"Bye, Henry," Neal said, wrapping his scarf around his neck. "Bye, Em."

"Bye."

They had moved out of his sight, by the door; Henry was too far up to see anything from his angle, but he could partially hear them whispering by the door: his name was mentioned a few times, but other than that, he couldn't say. If he had to guess, he'd say it was something about waiting to tell him anything.

Henry smiled to himself, shaking his head as he climbed the rest of the stairs. Parents. They were so adorable at this age.