Fred couldn't sleep.

During their visit to Hogsmeade, Stefan Spencer had casually mentioned that he had opted to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, and it was obvious why. Well, obvious to everyone but Rook, apparently.

Fred didn't like it. He was willing to admit that this was partially due to jealousy, but the simple fact was that he did not trust Spencer. He never had.

After several failed attempts to fall asleep, Fred gave up. He wanted to occupy himself with something else, so, at three in the morning, he got dressed and made his way to the common room. When he got there, he almost turned around when he saw that there was another student still awake, sitting on a settee in front of the fire. But then a second look told him that it was Rook, hugging her knees and staring into the fireplace. Fred approached the armchair beside the settee cautiously, not wanting to startle her if she thought she was still alone. She didn't look at him as he sat, but she couldn't have possibly missed him. He was just wondering if he should say something when she spoke.

"Hello, Fred," she murmured. Fred could see the flickering flames reflected in her large, dark eyes.

"It's downright creepy at this point, how you always know it's me."

Rook smiled, but still didn't look at Fred. "Ever think maybe you're the creepy one for always hanging around me?"

"All the time, but that hardly means you're not a creep."

At last, Rook looked over at Fred, still smiling, and it hit him like a rogue bludger to the stomach; she was beautiful. Fred was often struck by stray thoughts of how pretty Rook was, and that was one thing… Lots of girls were pretty. Why was it that, here and now, he felt there was no word to describe her other than beautiful? "How are you still awake?" she asked. "Don't you have a train to catch in a few hours?"

"That I do," answered Fred, composing himself. "I'll sleep on the train later."

"Why not sleep now, in your bed?"

"Couldn't. Guess I'm just excited for the holidays. What about you? What's keeping you up at this unthinkable hour?"

Rook's face fell and she turned back to the fireplace. "Nightmare," she said succinctly.

"If you were doing your apparition test and couldn't seem to get your clothes to apparate with you, I think I've had that same one."

Rook smiled again but didn't laugh. There was an unmistakable sadness in her eyes, and Fred once again felt the urge to ask Rook personal questions. He could try to ask her about her nightmare, but he figured she'd avoid answering again, and his attempt at consideration would only serve to make her feel cornered. Perhaps he should just continue to make jokes and keep the mood light. Whatever he decided, however, he needed to say something soon. An awkward pause stretched out between them, and Rook was running her fingers through her hair slowly and repeatedly; a habit Fred knew to be a nervous one.

"Rook, I, er…" Fred began, still not certain what he was going to say, "I've been treading this line between not wanting to push you or invade your privacy while also trying to find some way to—to communicate to you that I-I'm here… if you need to talk… or something."

And just like that, the truth was out there. He hadn't planned to be so forthright; it wasn't something he was particularly used to, after all.

Rook looked over at Fred again, her eyes… fearful. She drew in a shaky breath and released it, and Fred knew she was preparing herself for something that terrified her.

"Fred, you've been a really good friend to me, especially lately," she said quietly, her voice strained. "And I'm really sorry for being indecisive and confusing—"

"Rook, it's all right, really—" Fred interjected, disquieted by her tone.

"No, it isn't," she cut him off, trying to steady her voice. "It's not. There is something I should have told you and George. I did something, a long time ago: something bad…"

Fred was confused. "If it happened a long time ago, whatever it is, you were a kid, right? What could you have done that was that terrible when you were just a kid?"

Rook hugged her knees tighter and tears started to slide silently down her cheeks. She was facing Fred, but her eyes were looking past him and Fred could see her trembling as she whispered, "I… I killed someone."

Before he could stop himself, Fred laughed. Even though it was obvious she wasn't joking, the thought of a fifteen-year-old Rosemary Rook committing murder was an absurd image. To think of a tiny, adorable child Rook killing anyone was laughable, and he had no idea how to process this revelation. Rook stared at him, tears and hurt in her eyes, and he sobered. "I'm sorry, Rook, it's just—Did you really kill someone?"

Rook nodded and hid her face against her knees, shuddering with muffled sobs. She lifted her head after a short while, wiping her face with her sleeve before she spoke.

"He was a m-muggle, my foster father," she said, trembling violently and avoiding Fred's eyes. "I didn't know I was a-a witch. But the really bad thing is I… I'm glad he's gone, and I know I'm a horrible person for thinking that, and I know I don't deserve to be here after what I've done, because I'm—"

Without really thinking about it, Fred had joined Rook on the settee and laid a hand on her head, stroking her hair consolingly. She fell silent and met his gaze with those guilty, fearful eyes and Fred felt a powerful anguish he had rarely felt before.

"Was he the same foster father you mentioned before?" he asked quietly, feeling as though he already knew.

"Yes," Rook whispered. "But he didn't deserve to die."

Fred pulled his hand away. "What happened? Tell me the whole story."

Rook was past hesitation at this point. She spoke in barely above a whisper, but Fred heard every word clearly as she said, "I was placed with them, Mary and Louis, maybe eight years ago. It was like a dream come true. They liked me… and I loved them. They were the first people I thought might actually want to adopt me. They were the first ones I thought of as actual parents." Rook smiled a little at the memory. "Mary used to say that we had similar names because I was meant to be with them, and she started calling me 'Mary Junior'." More tears streamed down Rook's cheeks.

"But then," she continued, her voice breaking slightly, "after maybe a month of things being perfect, Louis started to get angry. At first it was just Mary he'd be angry with, and he would get angry over things that made no sense, like… like if she didn't do something specific that he never asked her to do, or because she laughed at the wrong thing. All of it just got worse and worse. It started taking less for him to blow up and start screaming over whatever was upsetting him that day, and he went from throwing things and breaking things to grabbing Mary by the wrist, and dragging her around and pushing her, and…" Rook stopped to wipe her face impatiently. "And when he started getting angry at me too, I-I felt how Mary must have felt. I just wanted things to be the way they were before. I wanted him to like me again. I wanted us to be a family, but I couldn't stop messing up. I was always doing something wrong, and he said it was my fault he and Mary were miserable. He said there was something wrong with me, and no one would ever care about me.

"But Mary did care… That night, I knew he was going to beat me. I had watched it so many times with Mary, just stood and watched… so I knew what was coming, and so did she.

"She tried to stop him. Then he was angrier than I'd ever seen him, and he-he started on her. He had her by the throat, and she couldn't even scream. I tried to save her, but I was weak, and then I was on the ground, and I was helpless, and he was going to kill her, I knew he was…"

Fred didn't know if Rook would be able to go on. She was struggling to choke back sobs, and Fred suddenly realized that he had started crying as well.

"I didn't know how it happened," she said at last, in a hollow voice. "I didn't know until I was told what I am, though I knew strange things would sometimes happen around me: things no one could explain.

"It was a bowling trophy on a shelf on the other side of the room... The entire shelf moved toward him and fell on him, and the trophy fell on his head, from the top shelf.

"He was in a coma for two days before he died. Mary was questioned, but the angle of the blow proved neither of us hit him with the trophy. Ultimately, his death was dismissed as accidental.

"I was only with Mary a little while after that. She knew it was my fault. The shelf hadn't been near enough to fall on him the way it did, and she knew there was something off about me, so she knew I killed him, and I knew she was afraid of me. She barely spoke to me after that, and one day my social worker showed up to take me away, and Mary didn't even say goodbye…

"I tried to confess. I told different people what really happened. My therapist said I only thought it was my fault because Louis had wanted me to think everything was my fault, but I knew I wasn't normal, and I was a killer.

"Only my mother, Olida, said she believed me when I told her, but I don't know if she really believed me until she found out I was a witch. She told me… she told me it was self-defense, and she doesn't want me telling anyone else what happened because she doesn't think I should be punished for something that I didn't mean to do.

"But when I think about Louis, I remember wishing him dead so many times, and I wouldn't even bring him back if I could! I'm not a good person, Fred! I'm a murderer!" She dissolved into tears now, unable to hold back any longer.

"No, Rook," Fred spoke sharply, startled by the intensity of his own voice and the white-hot fury coursing through him. "You saved your foster mother's life."

"She hates me…"

"He would have killed you too!"

"I deserve to die…"

Fred took her firmly by the shoulders, and said, "Look at me, Rook." She complied, her eyes bloodshot from crying. "You deserve to be happy. You say you're glad he's dead? Well, so am I! I'm glad he's dead, and I'm glad you're here, because I—" Fred stopped short. "I don't know what George and I would do without you," he said softly. "We… we care about you."

Rook uncoiled and hugged Fred tightly. His heart raced as he wrapped his arms around her slim, tremulous frame. He felt so many things in that moment, he had no idea where to start sorting through any of it. He was angry that Louis still tormented Rook even in death, he was scared witless to hear Rook say that she deserved to die, and he was devastated by how much it all clearly hurt her… But then there were other feelings stirring inside Fred: relief, exhilaration and... longing.

Fred pulled away and Rook released him. "I'm sorry," she muttered, hiding her face in her hands.

Fred didn't trust himself to speak right away. His mouth was dry, his voice seemed to be caught in his throat, and his heart was beating painfully fast. He wanted to say more. He and George would be leaving Hogwarts in a matter of hours, and he needed Rook to know that the world was better with her in it.

"I wished… I wished someone dead once, too," he admitted. "Last year." He realized that he had never said this aloud, not even to George. He strongly suspected, however, that George had felt the same. "There was someone in the castle attacking students. No one died. But Ginny… they almost killed her. I didn't even know who it was, and I wanted them dead.

"All that time, though, I didn't know—I didn't know that it had been Ginny doing all those things."

Fred could see the surprise in Rook's face out of the corner of his eye. He was watching his fists clench tightly at the memory.

"I should have been looking out for her. If I had been a better brother, maybe she would have told me what was happening to her. She had been possessed by You-Know-Who, through his old diary. She was scared and alone and she almost died, but she still blames herself for the whole thing." Fred looked at Rook. "Do you think she should? Do you think it was her fault?"

"No!" Rook answered immediately. "How could I? She was only eleven, and you said You-Know-Who was really powerful!"

"Right. So why is it your fault Louis died? He only did all the things he did because he thought you and Mary couldn't fight back! Do you think I'm a bad person for wishing death on someone threating my family?"

"No…"

"There you have it. I understand why you feel guilty, but you don't have to carry the weight of it around with you anymore. I think you're a good person, Rook, and a good friend."

Rook nodded tearfully. Her lower lip trembled, and he wanted desperately to hold her once more, but couldn't work up the nerve.

"Hang on," he said, a thought occurring to him. "No one knows about this except your mum and this Mary woman?"

Rook nodded, confused.

"That's not right."

"What isn't?"

"I'm not too familiar with how they deal with under-aged witches and wizards in the Americas, but that sort of thing would draw a lot of attention from the Ministry here. They have ways of tracing magic, especially in mostly muggle households. I'm sure it's some witch or wizard's job to intervene in cases like yours, so how is it no one noticed at all? Maybe it really was just a freak accident?"

Rook shook her head. "I know what happened." She paused to think. "I guess it must have something to do with why no one knew I was a witch until I was older…"

"You had to have been hidden deliberately. That's the only thing that makes any kind of sense."

Rook's eyes were wide. "Fred—I don't remember anything before I was five years old! Do you think someone, my birth parents, maybe, magically erased my memory to help hide them?"

Fred was taken aback. Apart from being surprised that Rook was missing a huge portion of her life, it was hard for Fred to imagine a parent erasing their own child's memory so completely. "Th-That would be quite extreme," he said, "but I guess they might have, though they might have done it to hide you. It's possible they went into hiding because of You-Know-Who. A lot of people did back then."

Rook's tearstained face was pensive. "But my memory had to have been erased almost a year after You-Know-Who disappeared."

"There were other dark witches and wizards they might have been hiding from. After he fell, a lot of You-Know-Who's followers fled Britain."

He heard a sharp intake of breath from Rook, and Fred looked at her, realizing what he'd just inadvertently implied.