Fred had no idea what he was doing. He had resolved to not make a big deal out of George's fib. He wasn't even going to bring it up! Lately it seemed like he had no self-restraint.

No self-restraint… Was it Rook? Had she really affected so much in such a short time?

Fred had put it off long enough; it was time for him to take a closer look at his own feelings toward the girl.

He liked her. It was hard to ignore. That moment in the kitchen corridor was hard to ignore, try as he might. Fred was confident the moment was one-sided, and that Rook had no idea what went through his mind then. It was just as well… They were friends, and he wanted it to stay that way.

He did. That was a relief. So what if he found her attractive? He found Angelina attractive; it didn't mean he wanted to date her. Why should it be any different with Rook? She was better suited to George, anyway, so what was the big deal?

Fred pulled himself together and rejoined George and Rook. He was glad neither of them pressed the subject when he told them he didn't want to talk about what had nettled him, though they were obviously very curious. They finished off the night on a good note, hanging out with Lee, Angelina and Alicia, all of them taking turns doing impressions. They started out with teachers, then moved on to fellow students. Lee was hands-down the best at this game, but it turned out that Rook's impression of Percy was almost as good as the twins'.

Fred slept in on Sunday. He was more tired than he realized and ended up sleeping through breakfast. Rook was in the common room doing schoolwork when he finally rose, and George was playing a game of exploding snap with Ginny. When he caught sight of Fred, George stood and walked over to him, a frown on his face.

"McGonagall picked a tutor for Rook," George spoke in a low voice. "Apparently they met at breakfast earlier. You're not gonna like this…" George cast a glance over at Rook to be sure she hadn't noticed them. "It's Stefan Spencer."

"What?!"

"Shh!"

Stefan Spencer was among Fred's least favorite people in their year. He was a Ravenclaw, so he and George only had a few classes with him, but he always managed to say something that rubbed them the wrong way. The problem was, theirs was the unpopular opinion. Stefan Spencer was intelligent, tall and charismatic, and most people liked him. The question was, would Rook?

"I don't know why I'm surprised," George went on. "He's basically Percy if Percy were popular."

It was true. Spencer was also a condescending, overachieving prefect, and it made perfect sense for him to apply to be Rook's tutor.

"What have you said to Rook?"

"Nothing," said George. "I mean, he hasn't really done anything to us."

"What has she said about him?"

"Just that she met him and they have a session after lunch."

At this, Fred walked over to Rook and sat down next to her on the floor.

"Hi Fred," Rook spoke, not looking up from her work.

"Wait, you can tell it's me without even looking at me?" asked Fred, momentarily distracted. George joined them, sitting on the couch with an amused expression. "How is that possible?"

Rook looked up, grinning. "That was just a lucky guess," she admitted, clearly pleased with herself nonetheless. "What's up?"

"Heard you met your tutor."

"Yeah, Steven… No, wait, Stefan, I think it was…"

"So… what'd you think?"

"Don't really have an opinion, seeing as he has yet to tutor me. He seems nice enough, I guess. He did give me a handshake, and then he said I have an odd handshake, but a lot of people say that for some reason. I don't understand; what exactly constitutes an 'odd' handshake? How do I manage to get something like that wrong?"

"That is a weird thing to say about a handshake," George agreed.

"Almost as weird as shaking hands with your classmate," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "I am curious though—here." He offered his hand to Rook and they shook hands. "Oh," he said. "You shake hands like a terminally ill ex-wrestler."

"What?"

"I want to try!" said George. Rook gave her hand to him and his eyes widened. "You shake hands like an angry mortician shaking hands with a dead clown."

"You shake hands like a repressed politician masturbating to pictures of Douglas firs!"

"Come on now, Rook, what does that even mean?"

"That doesn't make any sense at all."

Rook allowed herself to slack off a bit before lunch, following the twins out to the lake and across the grounds. Fred was grateful for the time they got to spend with Rook, because after that Sunday they began seeing a lot less of her. She spent much of her time in the library with Spencer, and her time in the common room was typically spent studying or working on homework. Fred and George found that they spent more time on schoolwork than they ever had, helping Rook prepare for her next aptitude tests. Apparently she would be taking them before winter break to see if she would be able to advance in any of her courses for the spring semester. Fred didn't mind helping Rook. She was easy to teach, and the three of them seemed able to have fun no matter what they did together. Quite a few times, when they'd stayed up too late thinking too hard about a given subject, their sense of humor got progressively less cohesive until they would end up in a fit of laughter over the funny sound of the word "muffliato" or speculating about the secret personal lives of their professors.

"I wonder what kind of hobbies Professor McGonagall has?" asked Rook, practically drunk on sleep deprivation.

"Well, she likes cats…"

"Maybe she sews little cat outfits!" Rook exclaimed enthusiastically. "Like an elf outfit for Christmas, or a dragon costume or—!"

"Maybe she and Filch are in a faculty cat appreciation club together," Fred sniggered.

"Maybe she turns into a cat and gossips with Mrs. Norris!"

"And wears the cat outfits herself!"

"Keep it down, Rook," George laughed in an equally loud voice. "It's the middle of the night!"

"We don't want to disturb McGonagall while she's making a tiny cat outfit for herself. It's very delicate work!"

Rook was literally rolling on the floor laughing at this point. Once she had recovered, she sat up with some difficulty and stared at her books and parchment.

"What were we doing?" she asked.

"Researching the Wit-Sharpening Potion."

"Right, right… What does that do?"

"Helps you think goodly."

"Ugh… I need some of that to get through my next tutoring session."

Fred and George exchanged a look.

"Is it not going well?"

"It's not that, it's just… I don't know, I'm just so slow, you know?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You seem like a pretty quick study to us."

Rook hugged her knees despondently. "I just get the feeling that he gets impatient with me. I mean, he is a lot smarter than me…"

"Yet not smart enough to do his job, which is to help you," Fred spoke acidly.

"Fred's got a point, Rook. A teacher is supposed to be patient. Doesn't really help either of you for him to be making you feel stupid."

"I don't actually know if he's really impatient with me, though," said Rook in a subdued voice. "I mean, it could just be me being insecure."

"You don't need to be. You've made loads of progress, Rook!"

"And Spencer's a git," Fred added for good measure.

"He's not that bad," said Rook. "Now I feel bad for talking behind his back. He has taught me a lot."

Fred wanted to go into detail about all the reasons he already thought Spencer was a git, but once again hit a roadblock in the form of not being able to articulate exactly what was off about Spencer without sounding jealous. He was willing to bet George was following a similar train of thought. Ultimately, they dropped the subject and the three of them were soon retiring to their respective dormitories.

"I don't like this," George murmured as he and Fred descended the spiral staircase.

Fred didn't need to say anything. It was clear enough that they were in agreement.

The next evening, while Rook was enduring yet another tutoring session, Fred and George made their way to the Quidditch pitch with their fellow teammates. It was the beginning of October, and their captain, Oliver Wood, was desperate to win the Quidditch Cup before he graduated. As much as Fred and George liked to tease Wood, they were fully committed to helping him achieve this goal. They dedicated one-hundred and ten percent of their effort to training three evenings a week, in spite of the relentless rain and cold that only seemed to worsen with each passing day.

They followed Harry through the portrait hole to the common room one evening, after a particularly brutal practice, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What happened?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," Ron explained, pointing at the notice. "End of October. Halloween."

"Excellent!" Fred exclaimed. "We can take Rook to Zonko's! I need more stink pellets, anyway."

"Where is Rook? You'd think she'd be done with Spencer by now…"

It was just then that Rook climbed through the portrait hole herself, a pensive look on her face. The twins watched her wander absently to the fringes of the room, seemingly on autopilot. She didn't even notice them until they were sitting beside her on the couch.

"Are you okay, Rook? You're even spacier than usual."

Rook looked at them nervously. "I don't know, I… Something happened and I just kind of reacted 'cause I-I was caught off-guard."

"What happened?" asked George with apparent concern. "Did Spencer do something?"

Rook blushed vividly. "He—Spencer, that is—he asked me out… on a date."

Both Fred and George were speechless. Fred, for one, was genuinely not expecting something like this, though once again he felt he should have. Spencer had always said he preferred "smart girls", even though it was obvious he cared more for looks. Incidentally, Rook had both, and he'd been with her one-on-one several days a week for some time now.

"That's, er," said George. "That's… Well, er, what do you make of it, Rook? Are you—er, I mean, do you like him?"

Rook buried her face in her hands. "I don't know. I hadn't considered it, but then—"

"What did you say?" Fred blurted.

"I said yes, but I-I was on the spot, and no one's ever asked me out before, and I-I didn't know what to do."

It had been a while since Fred was genuinely irritated with Rook, but he certainly was now. Did she like Spencer, or didn't she? If she didn't, why didn't she just tell him no? What was so hard about that?

George, on the other hand, seemed sympathetic. This pissed Fred off almost as much. He was the one who fancied Rook! Was he really going to comfort her over this?

"It'll be all right, Rook," said George, though clearly with some difficulty. "You just need a chance to, er, think about what you want and-and do that."

Rook stared at George in a way that told Fred that Rook already knew what—or rather who—she wanted, and it definitely wasn't Spencer.