George was jealous. He did a good enough job of not showing it, but the dead giveaway was in how he avoided mentioning Rook throughout the entire train ride to King's Cross. Fred didn't think George had gone so long without mentioning Rook since they met her.

Angelina, on the other hand, seemed ready to pardon Fred for his indelicate reaction to her confession, as she had joined him and George in their compartment along with Lee, Alicia and Katie. It was a strange feeling, the usual suspects together again, sans Rook. Fred felt like he should have been cheered by the comforting familiarity of it all, but he was not, and it wasn't just because he was so tired he hardly knew where he was.

What was happening to him? He was so desperate to stay at Hogwarts over break, he had seriously considered "accidentally" missing the train home. He didn't want to be away from Rook for so long after everything he'd just heard. But more than that… he wanted to be with her, without George.

He wanted her to himself.

Fred rest his head against the cold window, watching his breath fog the glass as the scenery passed outside. He knew he wasn't acting like himself, and he knew his friends were noticing, but he didn't care. He shut his eyes and involuntarily began to dwell on how it felt when Rook was in his arms…

What was this, exactly? Attraction? A crush? He'd had crushes before. As far as he could recall, they had been more straightforward, for one thing. Before he had started at Hogwarts, it was the older girl from the village, Crystal. Back then, Fred had been shy and never knew what to say when he saw her. When it was Angelina back in their first year, Fred was always making a fool of himself to try to impress her in ways that didn't really make any logical sense. Sure, there had been plenty of times Rook had him at a loss for words, and yes, he might have wanted to show off for her once or twice, but the things he felt when he was around her, they were a lot more… complicated than they had ever been with Crystal or Angelina.

Once Fred and George were back at the Burrow, Rook seemed to come up again and again as they caught up with Charlie and their parents. Even Ginny had Rook-related anecdotes to share, as she'd had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Rook.

"—and everyone was on the floor at that point, including Professor Lupin! I thought she'd get in trouble for using Rictusempra on a teacher, but he was just impressed by her immunity!"

"That's not one you want to mess around with, though," said Charlie as the family sat around the table that evening, eating dinner and chatting. "I got paired up with one of my roommates back when we learned it, and he laughed so hard he pissed himself right there in the middle of class. After that, he didn't speak to me for the rest of term."

"Ooh, who was it? Michael?" Ginny guessed curiously.

"I'm not telling because I know you lot still see him at Ministry functions."

"Well, now we know it's Michael!" said George with an impish look.

"But you didn't hear it from me," Charlie spoke with an innocent expression before taking a swig of pumpkin juice.

Fred made more of an effort to enjoy the festive atmosphere of the Burrow. After all, he was still glad to see Charlie, and his mum had gone to so much trouble to have a delicious meal waiting for them, as she always did.

After he had a good night's sleep, Fred was almost back to his usual self, bantering loudly with his siblings, decorating the house with them and engaging in vicious snowball combat with the gnomes that infested their yard.

But even with all this to distract him, he couldn't stop thinking about her, and though he could feign insouciance convincing enough to fool the rest of his family, he knew George wasn't buying it.

"All right, what was it you and Rook were talking about before we left on the train?" George finally asked after Fred had dodged several hinting remarks from his brother. It was after dark on Christmas Eve, and they were in the tiny room they had elected to share even after Bill and Charlie had moved out. "I get not wanting to talk about certain things, but you've been out of sorts since we left, and if something's really bothering you, I'd like to know about it."

"You mean you're jealous over Rook and you want to know if I'm competition?" Fred spoke airily, deflecting while also attempting to gauge George's feelings.

"I hope you realize how stupid you sound," said George equally lightly. "I fancy her, but you're still my best mate. You always will be."

Fred's insides felt like they were being wrung by invisible hands as he lay there on his bed. It was no longer ambiguous; George liked Rook as more than just a friend. And here Fred was, confused, petty and immature about it all, when he couldn't even figure out how he felt about her.

"George…" he said. "If you, er… fancy her… then… why haven't you asked her out yet?"

"There are a few reasons... At first I thought I just wanted to get to know her better. Then I figured she really needs good, reliable friends a lot more than she needs a boyfriend, and her friendship is important to me as well. I want to think carefully before I do anything to risk that, you know?

"In all honesty, though, Fred…" George went on, with an edge to his voice, "I hate seeing Spencer try to chat her up all the time, the smarmy git…"

"He really is such a pompous prig, isn't he? It's bad enough having classes with him; I can't imagine what having him as a tutor would be like."

"I'd like to see him giving Rook flying tips, like he tried with Angelina," George said with a slight chuckle.

"I'd pay to see him on a broom again. Try as I might, I still have yet to make Gelly laugh as much as he did that day."

"Speaking of…" George spoke cautiously, "have you and Angelina made up? She seemed friendlier on the train."

Fred paused, wondering if George was going to ask why he rejected her. "I… I dunno."

"What about Rook? Did you argue again?"

"No, nothing like that… I just ran into her while she was upset, and she said… Well, it's sort of a secret, though I know she means to tell you. She was just scared to tell us before. I think she thought we'd be cross with her for not telling us, but it's nothing bad she did… Well, it is, but not… er… It's difficult to explain."

"That's all right," George spoke uneasily, though he was obviously dying to know more. "I mean, if it's her secret, I should probably hear it from her..."

"I guess I've been a bit worried about her since, because I know she was, er… sad about the… the thing she told me. But I reckon she'll feel much better after she gets the chance to talk to you about it. I don't know if I was much help…"

"I'm sure you helped by just being there for her. I wish I had been."

The conversation tapered off from there, and they both fell asleep soon afterward. Early Christmas morning, they joined the rest of their family around the Christmas tree and began unwrapping their gifts enthusiastically.

Fred identified Rook's gift with ease, as hers had arrived in a large envelope that she had elaborately decorated with an escheresque black-and-white ink pattern. It did take him a moment to distinguish his gift from George's, as they had identical proportions and their names had been artfully blended into the pattern on the envelops.

After opening their usual hand-knit jumpers from their mum and putting them on while acting surprised and asking her where she had managed to purchase such quality products, Fred and George both reached for their respective envelops from Rook. Initially, Fred assumed she had gotten them the same thing. People had a habit of doing just that, which was fine much of the time, but occasionally they would receive duplicate gifts that made very little sense to have duplicates of, even between two people, though nothing could be much worse than the time an uncle of theirs gave them each a single bookend, or when the same uncle gave them two brooms made for cleaning and not flying.

As it turned out, Rook had handmade them each a comic book. She had used the spell Fred had taught her to bring the stories to life, and many of the comics in his book seemed to be inspired by Fred's own antics.

Fred flipped through the meticulous creation with great interest, neglecting his unwrapped gifts in favor of the book. When he reached the end, he saw a note from Rook on the last page:

Merry Christmas, Fred!

I decided to make this for you because I'm cheap! I know I told you I'd show you my drawings of you when they're good enough, but these are a work in progress. I'll get it right one of these days!

Your friend,

Rook

Fred couldn't help grinning as he read the note. Personally, he thought the drawings were spot-on, but he didn't exactly have an artist's eye. He flipped through the book again.

"These are excellent…" George muttered, admiring his own, which seemed to contain entirely different comics. "They're about us—the three of us."

"I wonder how long it took her to make them?"

They moved on to unwrapping their other gifts. The Weasleys compared their spoils and tried on their new clothes and accessories. Percy was immersed in the biography of Dugald McPhail, the most boring Minister for Magic Fred and George could find a book about. Their mum was wearing the flower-shaped brooch Fred and George had given her after she'd opened their decoy gift of a dozen dung bombs, though she kept looking at it suspiciously as though she thought it might start squirting water. George showed Ginny his gift from Rook, but Fred tucked his away discreetly. He wasn't ready to share it just yet.

After lunch, George wanted to go flying, but Fred didn't feel like it. After a bit of wheedling from Ginny, Fred agreed to let her take his broom out to the clearing with George.

"But I swear, if I don't get it back in one piece, you and George are both dead to me!" he called after them as they left.

Once they were gone, Fred withdrew the comic book again. The first few panels depicted him and Rook on the Hogwarts Express when she came to after fainting. In the comic, however, Fred and George managed to successfully trade Rook for a trebuchet. He was surprised she remembered so may details from their first meeting… Perhaps she had written about it in her journal.

Charlie walked into the living room unexpectedly and Fred hurriedly stashed the book out of sight once more. Charlie sat in an armchair with a mug of hot cocoa and took a grateful sip.

"It's things like this you miss when you move out," he said, whipped cream on his upper lip.

"They don't have hot chocolate in Romania?"

"Not the way mum makes it, no," Charlie chuckled. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Fred answered, a bit too quickly.

"If there's one thing I know for certain, it's that Fred Weasley is always up to something," said Charlie before taking another sip. "I haven't been gone that long." Instead of a witty retort from Fred, there was a lull. Charlie eyed him curiously. "So tell me about this new friend of yours! Rook, isn't it?"

Fred shifted uncomfortably. "Haven't George and Ginny told you enough, or do you need her blood type as well?"

"Are you not friends with her?"

"Do I have to talk about her nonstop just because we're friends?"

"Of course not. But so far you haven't had anything to say about her… Almost as though you're avoiding it…?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, between you and me…" said Charlie, lowering his voice as he leaned closer to Fred, "I sort of suspected you don't particularly like her. Was being friends with her George's idea?"

"That's not—She is my friend, okay? I like her. There's no reason I wouldn't. She's funny, in her own bizarre way, and she's smart—smarter than me, I'd wager, but not a know-it-all about it, and she's—" Fred stopped, realizing he was rattling on. "She's my friend."

"That's my mistake, then," said Charlie with a mischievous expression. Fred rather thought that none of what Charlie said was by mistake, and he began to feel slightly paranoid.

Later that night, Fred was holed up in his room, avoiding the potential for any more awkward conversations. He was ready to be back at Hogwarts; he didn't know how much more of this he could take.

As he crept downstairs for a glass of water after his parents had gone to bed, he heard Ginny's voice emanating from the living room.

"—it's pretty obvious at this point."

"She's my friend, Ginny," Fred heard George's reply from where he stood at the base of the stairs.

"So? She fancies you."

"You don't know that."

"I do, and I know you fancy her—"

George laughed. "That's one way of putting it. She's beautiful and funny... I think about her all the time and I miss her like mad, even though I know I'll see her soon enough…" there was a long pause, and then, "The more I think about it, the more I think I… I might be in love."

"Oh my gosh—!"

Fred had heard enough. He retreated up the stairs, struggling to not make any noise as he went. Once he was back in his bedroom, he leaned against the door, thinking hard.

There was nothing George had said that Fred didn't feel for Rook himself. He found her beautiful, he loved seeing her smile, hearing her laugh… he thought about her more often than he'd ever admit, and right now… all he wanted was to be with her.

If he felt all these things, did it mean he was in love? And if it did, what could he possibly do about it if George was in love with her too?