Rook spent the second day of her winter vacation doing research on Memory Potions. It occurred to Rook that Snape probably wasn't supposed to have a student serving detentions over winter break, but it's not like she was complaining. This led her to wonder, however, why Snape would be willing to sacrifice his own vacation time to help her, if that's really what he intended to do. Rook still had a hard time believing he would so readily help her out of the kindness of his heart; she still had a hard time believing he possessed kindness or a heart.

Because Snape had never told her exactly when she was expected to arrive for her detention, Rook made a point to arrive promptly for dinner, thinking she would depart for the dungeons directly afterward. Apparently Snape was thinking the same thing. He was in the Great Hall when she showed up for dinner, and he strode over to where she sat the moment she had finished her food to wordlessly escort her from the Great Hall.

"We're just going straight to the dungeons?" Rook asked, trying to not sound too timid as they passed through the doors.

"Unless there is some pressing matter you must tend to first."

Rook shook her head. After all, what could be more pressing than her all-consuming desire to be near him? Indeed, Rook's quest for answers paled in comparison to her need to revel in his ethereal incandescence, his irresistible—

"Speak, Rook," Snape snapped impatiently. "Yes or no?"

"N-no, sir. I'm, uh… I'm ready." As ready as I'll ever be, I guess, she thought nervously.

Once they had arrived at the Potions classroom, Rook saw that Snape had prepared a workspace for them, with what were presumably all the necessary materials for the project. Snape took a seat on the far side of the prepared work table but Rook remained standing as she saw that the core component had been omitted from Snape's preparation.

"So tell me, Miss Rook," he said, watching her scan the area, "what did your studies yield?"

Rook swallowed nervously. He was helping her, it was true, and his words were entirely neutral, but her heart raced as it always did when she was alone with Snape. Though her sense of rationality knew better at this point, the rest of Rook couldn't shake the fear that Snape might curse her or worse. Reluctantly, Rook turned her back on him as she made for the supply cupboard to locate the key ingredient. She found what she needed almost immediately, and she smiled as she remembered that it had been among the herbs she preserved during her last detention with Snape. She brought a large amount of dried rosemary over to the table. Snape's eyes followed the herb as she set it down between them, then slowly met Rook's as she awaited his verdict.

"Curious coincidence, is it not?" he said, his lips curling into an odd smirk. "Though perhaps whoever named you was aware of the magical uses of rosemary."

"I-I don't think so, sir…" said Rook, straining to recall the woman who gave her the name. "She was a Christian social worker. I think she said that there's a story in the Bible about rosemary and Mary, mother of Jesus? She said she wanted me to have the Holy Mother with me because—" Rook stopped. He hadn't asked to hear the story, and she had a strong suspicion that he didn't particularly want to hear it. She ought to just stay on-task.

"It is just a coincidence, then…" Snape spoke again after a moment. "Now that the easy part is done, you shall move on to writing out a formula attuned to your specific needs. I have brought the exact books you will need for this, as well as provided data that is not yet available in any given textbook." He indicated the blackboard beside his desk, which was almost completely covered in his very distinctive handwriting.

It was at this moment that Rook thought she had figured out Snape's true motive. It was a repeat of her last detention; she was to painstakingly come up with a formula for the potion only to have Snape tell her she had done it wrong, and refuse to let her take it. Knowing him, he'd likely pour it down the drain as she watched. Rook's breath quickened as she imagined what sort of cruel expression he'd have on his face as he toyed with her life, her past, her dreams…

"Tell me, Professor…" she said, her voice tinged with suppressed rage. "Are all these books up to date?"

"Not fully, which is why I have provided you with my personal notes."

"And do you even intend to let me drink the potion when it's finished?"

Snape took a moment to answer, clearly noticing the change in Rook's demeanor. "Provided it is of satisfactory quality."

"Which, for you, is 'outstanding' quality?"

"Would you prefer I treat your mind with negligence?" Snape asked sharply. "Or perhaps you'd prefer a different objective entirely? Perhaps you would prefer more sorting and storing? I assure you, Rook, there is no shortage of ways I might put you to work if you'd rather be doing something else."

Rook held her tongue. Snape certainly had a talent for persuasion.

"I thought as much," he sneered. "Now… You have tonight and the next two nights to perfect the formula. I shall be reviewing your progress at the end of each detention, and providing further notes, if necessary. If I approve your formula by this deadline, you may commence brewing on the twenty-third; it ought to be ready for you to take on the twenty-fifth. You may begin."

"Yes, sir." Rook began her work. Snape departed for his desk, and the scratching of his quill and the rustle of parchment became the only sounds in the dungeon as Rook immersed herself in her reading. The hours passed quickly, and before she could wonder when she'd be allowed to leave, Snape was sitting across from her once more. Rook handed her notes over to him and he reviewed them as she watched, marking the page occasionally with concise notes.

"You are inordinately slow," he commented. "Precision work will not be of much use if you're older than me by the time you write the formula."

"How old are you, Professor?" Rook asked before she could think better of it. Snape's eyes narrowed warningly. "I mean, um… am I on the right track, then?"

"On the right track, and moving at a snail's pace." Snape returned her notes to her and stood. "Get your things. I shall accompany you to your dormitory."

"You don't have to," Rook said more quickly than she meant to.

"Nor do I wish to," Snape spoke coldly. "But given there's a mass murderer on the loose, it might be prudent."

They walked to Gryffindor Tower in silence, and Snape left her in front of the portrait of Sir Cadogan.

The next day, Stefan Spencer approached her in the Great Hall as she finished her breakfast.

"Oh, Stefan!" said Rook. "I forgot you were still here!"

"I thought you might be hiding from me," said Stefan with a smile. "I'd been hoping to see you around, but I guess I've been missing you. Would you like to go on a walk with me?"

"Yeah, sure—! Just give me a second…"

They walked together, up the Grand Staircase and through the Tapestry Corridor on the first floor, talking as they went. "So why is it you're stuck here for Christmas?" Rook asked conversationally.

"I'm hoping to get top scores on my O.W.L.s," he answered. "I thought I might spend this break studying. But I'd hardly say I was 'stuck' here. I get to be with you, after all."

Rook felt her cheeks flush. She still never knew how to respond to Stefan's flirting.

"I swear I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable," Stefan said with an amused expression. "I only meant to say that I like spending time with you. It's a bit boring at home. I'm an only child, and my parents… well, they're usually in the middle of a row, so I'm not torn up about it."

Rook looked up at Stefan, feeling sympathetic. "I'm sorry…" she said. "It must be difficult."

Stefan shrugged. "I just wish they wouldn't drag me into their petty arguments. They're both selfish. I'm sure if I do get top marks on my O.W.L.s, they'll both be so busy trying to take credit for it, they'll forget to congratulate me."

"That's awful," Rook spoke sincerely. "You're so smart and capable… They should be proud of you, not making it about themselves."

Stefan turned to face Rook, grinning. "I should complain about my home life more often," he said. "I like hearing you compliment me."

Rook blushed again, but maintained her composure this time. "You can talk about it as much as you want, but if it's just compliments you're looking for, I know there are a lot of people who think very highly of you."

"I'm more interested in what you think."

"I think you deserve better, Stefan," Rook said earnestly. They looked into one another's eyes and Stefan's playful smile became an expression of gratitude.

"I'm just glad you care," he said finally.

They walked around the castle together, admiring the Christmas decorations and talking. Before lunch, Stefan bested Rook in a game of wizard's chess, and Rook spent a good amount of time apologizing profusely to her battered and disgruntled chess pieces.

They parted ways following lunch, and Rook was thinking about going to the art room when Madeline jumped out at her from behind a suit of armor.

"ROOK!" she yelled, causing Rook to jump about a foot in the air. "I need your help!"

"Cheese and crackers, Madeline!" Rook exclaimed, clutching her chest. "Have you just been waiting for me to walk by?"

"I've been waiting for you to ditch the pretty-boy prefect," said Madeline impatiently. "You said we could hang out, remember?"

"So what do you need help with?"

"I need help deciding on a gift for someone," explained Madeline. "I waited so long, and I haven't ordered anything—I'm not sure what to do!"

"You're an artist too, aren't you? Come with me to the art room. I need to finish something I've been working on, anyway."

"Wait, do you mean I should make something?"

"Of course. Aren't hand-made gifts more meaningful?"

"Not in my family. If I gave my parents something hand-made, they'd probably just ask me what happened to the allowance they gave me."

"What? Wouldn't they like having artwork of yours?"

"They, er… they don't particularly approve of my artistic endeavors. They don't particularly approve of anything I like, come to think of it, but they let a lot slide because I make good marks."

"That's horrible," said Rook, scowling. She already knew that Madeline's family wasn't very nurturing, but it surprised her that they didn't even appreciate her indisputable talent.

As they walked to the art room, Rook started to wonder about her own biological parents. Were they selfish like Stefan's parents, too wrapped up in their own lives to be bothered with caring for their daughter? Were they bigoted purebloods like Madeline's parents? With any luck, she would have answers soon.

Rook and Madeline spent several hours in the art room, playing drawing games, singing and writing silly stories together. At one point, Madeline set to work on her last-minute Christmas gift and Rook extracted her gifts for Fred and George.

It had taken her the better part of a day to write and draw the comics for each of them. Now she put the finishing touches on them before enchanting them with the spell they had taught her. As an afterthought, Rook added a note to Fred at the back of his book. She realized she owed him quite a bit. She had no idea what sort of state she'd be in now if she hadn't had the chance to talk to him before they left. She hoped that she hadn't burdened him too much with her problems, and that he liked her gift for him.

Rook paused as her quill hovered over the last page of George's book. George… She missed him terribly. He had promised to give her flying lessons when they got back, and Rook couldn't help looking forward to the time they'd be spending alone together. Did he have any idea how much she liked him? She wasn't even sure how strong her feelings were. They felt quite strong, but she really had no basis for comparison.

"Uh… Madeline?" she said, putting her quill down.

"Hmm?"

"Are you, um… involved with Robert?"

Madeline laughed. "Involved in what way, hmm?"

"Like… romantically?"

"Why, do you want to ask me out?" she teased.

Rook rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

Madeline eyed Rook knowingly. "Is this about the Weasley twins?"

Rook sighed. "They're two different people, you know."

"But they're both in love with you, and you're being torn asunder!" Madeline exclaimed dramatically.

"What is this, a soap opera? I was just asking a question, okay?"

Madeline smirked. "Yes, we're involved," she answered. "We've even kissed!" She covered her mouth with her hands as she gasped theatrically. "What about you? Are you involved with anyone? Maybe with that prefect, or… oh what are their names… George or Ted?"

"It's Fred and George," Rook corrected her irritably. "No, I'm not. I've never—I mean, I don't know for sure, but I think… I think I might really like… someone."

"You can't tell?"

"How could you tell?"

"Come to think of it, that's a fair question. For a long while Robert and I were just friends, and sometimes he just annoyed me… but then he started dating this Ravenclaw girl…" she chuckled humorlessly. "I guess while I was tearing her hair out, it occurred to me that maybe I was just a little bit jealous."

"Wait, what? You got into a fight with her?!"

"I know. I should have cursed her while her back was turned. Guess it just goes to show it was an act of passion."

"You're scary, Madeline."

"I'm joking, Rook. She actually started it. But it did make me realize how I felt about Robert."

Rook mulled over Madeline's words. She had definitely been jealous over George before, though not to the point of wanting to fight anyone, or even to the point of dislike. Still, if she had to watch him kiss some other girl…

Rook found herself distracted by thoughts of George as she sat in the chilly Potions classroom that evening. She read and re-read the dense pages of The Magic of Memory, only absorbing about one word every ten minutes.

As she worked, Snape was busy brewing a potion of his own. When Rook had asked what it was, he had cryptically referred to it as "liquid obedience training" and refused to elaborate. Rook found it somewhat disturbing, as she was fairly certain Snape did not have any sort of pet.

"Disappointing," Snape said when he had completed his work and moved on to skimming through Rook's notes. "At this rate, you'll most certainly miss your deadline."

"I'm sorry, Professor."

"Don't apologize to me," he spoke brusquely. "Your best chance of recovering your memories depends upon you taking the potion on Christmas day." He set her notes down unceremoniously. Rook stared. For whatever reason, he was invested in this, and she no longer believed it was because he had some torturous plan to crush her hopes. Could he possibly feel some empathy for her? It seemed unlikely… If he cared that much, he could easily tell her the proper formula.

"I'll work harder, sir," she assured him. "I'll make sure I finish the formula by tomorrow night."

Snape allowed her to take the books with her back to her dormitory, and she spent the next day in the Gryffndor common room where neither Stefan nor Madeline could distract her. Only Ron, Harry and Hermione shared the space with her, and they remained by the fireplace, occupied with their own intent research. Rook did not even stop to wonder what they were up to, and continued to work diligently. Her efforts paid off, for when she met Snape after dinner, she had a finished formula to present for his review.

Snape studied it silently. Rook had made sure to write it out clearly, and she sat literally on the edge of her seat as she awaited Snape's usual scathing remarks.

"Peppermint…" he muttered. "Are you hoping to make the concoction more palatable?"

"No, sir… I just thought it would work well with the rosemary…"

"I was being facetious. Peppermint is an interesting choice, though not a preposterous one. As for the rest of your formula… I would use more flaxseed, unless you wish to spend New Year's Day reliving the event of your birth."

"Th-That could happen?"

"It's unlikely," Snape admitted, "but use another teaspoon of flaxseed regardless." Rook nodded. "The rest is passable," he went on. "You may begin brewing immediately."

Rook could hardly believe it. She quickly set to work, and Snape supervised all the while.

Because she had started brewing a day early, the potion would be finished by Christmas Eve; Rook's unofficial birthday. Rook would never have guessed that she would receive such an incredible birthday gift, from Snape, no less! She made her way to the Potions classroom on her own after dinner on Christmas Eve to find Snape writing at his desk.

"Merry Christmas Eve, Professor!" Rook greeted him excitedly.

"You know what to do, Miss Rook," he said in a bored voice, not even bothering to look up from his parchment. Rook set to work on the final steps of the potion without hesitation, and after a little over an hour, the potion was at last ready to drink.

Snape inspected the brew carefully, but Rook was not worried. She had followed every step precisely and she knew intuitively that this potion was exactly what she needed it to be. She just knew that she was about to see the face of at least one of her biological parents, and she could not contain her anticipation.

"Well? Can I drink it?"

Snape sat down across from Rook, pushing the potion off to the side before entwining his fingers and considering her with his desolate black eyes.

"You are aware that the memories you may unearth might very well be painful—even traumatic?"

"I'm not as stupid as I know you think I am, Professor," said Rook boldly. "I was in foster care. Don't you think I've seen enough to learn to expect the worst?"

"Once you know, you cannot go back."

"I don't intend to," Rook spoke resolutely.

Snape studied her a moment longer before ladling the potion into a glass and passing it to Rook. Rook reached for it with a shaking hand and grasped the glass firmly, casting an apprehensive look at Snape before bringing it to her lips.

She drank. Fortunately, it tasted much better than it smelled. In an odd way, it tasted like Christmas. She finished the potion in one draft, and set the glass down gently.

The seconds felt like hours as she awaited results, but slowly, slowly… they came to her. Or rather, they surfaced: a face, a sound, a color… They appeared in her mind's eye as though they had always been there; she had just never thought to think of them until now.

She felt compelled to close her eyes. Clenching her fists, she tried to picture the face of her father…

"He died before you were born, Lina."

That voice… Mom! Her heart was racing as she pictured a face with soft, kind features framed by wavy blonde locks. Rook concentrated… Her mom had been called… Avarie.

"I love you, Avalina."

Tears formed in Rook's eyes. Her mother loved her. She had never doubted it back then. She knew she was loved.

So why was she abandoned?

"Stay here, Avalina. Whatever happens, stay here and don't make a sound."

A shiver ran through Rook where she sat. It was Christmas Eve, and Rook had been at the playground with her mom. When they got home, it was to see their gifts torn apart, their belongings destroyed, their decorations smashed… Her mom had quickly ushered her into the nearest closet.

"Stay here, Avalina…"

A man stepped into the living room, smiling sadistically: the man from Rook's nightmares. She had all but forgotten about him, but his blonde hair and green eyes were unmistakable. Rook saw him through a crack in the closet door. He had a wand in one hand, and he grabbed her mother by the throat with the other.

"Did you think you'd be able to hide forever?"

She remembered… Rook remembered everything. She remembered how scared she had been, and how she almost cried out loud as she watched this strange man attack her mother. She remembered how her mother had pulled a wand out of her jacket, and how confused she was. Rook had never seen a wand or magic before. She had no idea what was happening, but her mom managed to incapacitate the man long enough to get them out of there.

It was Christmas Eve. There was no snow… the climate was too warm for snow, but Rook remembered wondering what Christmas was going to be like with no presents and no tree.

Her mother had erased her memory, outside of a shelter across town.

"I love you, Lina. I will come back for you as soon as I can, okay? I love you so much."

"Miss Rook…"

"I will come back…"

"Rook!"

Rook's eyes found Professor Snape, who had stood and walked around the desk to stand beside her, his face somehow even paler than usual. He summoned a handkerchief and held it out to Rook with a rigid expression. Rook took it absently, only slowly coming to the realization that her cheeks were drenched in an unrestrained stream of tears.

"What do you remember?" Snape spoke in a voice so gentle, Rook thought she must be imagining it. Still, she answered, feeling the need to vocalize what what going on inside her head.

"There-there was a man—a wizard," she said quietly. "He broke into our house on Christmas Eve. H-He attacked my m-mom…"

"What did he look like?"

"Blonde, tall, with green eyes… I don't remember hearing his name."

"Perhaps mid to late twenties, at the time this happened?"

"I-I'm not sure…" Rook replied, concentrating. "That seems right... Why?"

Snape did not answer right away. He took a seat beside Rook, his face grave. "I could be… mistaken," he said at last, "but he matches the description of a particular Death Eater: one of the Dark Lord's followers."

"Who? Why would he be after my mom?"

"If he is indeed the person I'm thinking of, his name was Ryley Casta. He was a Slytherin, six years my senior when I attended school here. As far as anyone knew, he vanished when the Dark Lord fell. Tell me about your mother. What did she look like? What was her name?"

Rook took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. She described her mother to Snape as best as she could, from her golden locks to her nose, which looked a lot like Rook's own nose. She went on to describe the scene she had witnessed, and Snape listened intently.

"…and she was a witch," she said incredulously. "I had no idea. I had never seen her use magic."

"Curtailing her use of magic likely allowed her remain untraced, at least for a period of time."

"But he still found her. That's why she left me…" Rook wiped her face with the handkerchief. "Professor… Do you know who she is? Did she go to school here?"

"I thought I might, but I don't recall the woman you're describing. If I knew her, she must have altered her appearance and changed her name, for obvious reasons."

"Why did you do this?" Rook asked. "Why did you help me?"

Snape regarded her carefully before he said, "I'm not certain I did."

Rooks lip trembled. "She… She's dead, isn't she? The reason I wasn't on the list for Hogwarts, it's because she was hiding me. When I was finally accepted… it's because she died, isn't it?"

Snape said nothing, but Rook didn't need him to. She knew she was right. In one night, Rook remembered the love she once shared with her birth mother, and then she lost her all over again. She had been prepared to handle all the ways her birth parents might have abused or neglected her, but she had not prepared herself for this feeling of profound loss. It cut into her like a blade, hollowing her out until all she felt was hurt and hopelessness. She leaned over onto the table and cried into her arms.

After she had cried herself into a state of numbness, she at last looked up to find that Snape had cleared away the potions supplies and was pouring the cerulean contents of a potion bottle into the glass beside her.

"For you," he said. "A Calming Draught."

Rook pulled the glass toward her, but didn't drink right away. "I'm sorry, Professor," she spoke quietly. "I didn't mean to ruin your Christmas Eve."

"I've had worse Christmas Eves. I daresay you have as well."

Rook couldn't help smiling a little at this. She drank the Calming Draught and felt her insides unknot as the magic warmth of the brew passed through her.

"Though it is late," he spoke as she finished off the potion, "you may stay here as long as you wish. I shall escort you to Gryffindor Tower when you're ready."

Rook nodded and rest her head again. As cold and uncomfortable as the Potions dungeon was, Rook didn't want to leave just yet. Snape's presence was aloof but comforting, and she knew that when she left the dungeons, it would mean a return to her life. She wasn't ready to face that.

The next thing she knew, Rook was stirring from a fitful sleep. Being in a room without windows, Rook had no way of knowing what time it was. When she and Snape made their way to Gryffindor Tower, Rook saw that it must be very early morning, as the sky was barely lit by the rising sun.

"Thank you, Professor," Rook said as Snape turned to leave her in front of a sleeping Sir Cadogan. He nodded curtly and walked away. Rook roused Sir Cadogan and climbed through the portrait hole, feeling thoroughly spent.

Rook did not attend the Christmas feast that evening, as she was not feeling particularly festive. Instead, she wandered the corridors aimlessly, thinking about her mother and the man who had attacked her. Eventually she found herself in the Art classroom. She left the room dark, watching the snow fall beyond the wide window.

"You're here…"

Stefan had appeared in the doorway. Rook stared at his shadowy silhouette, confused. Was the feast already over?

"Stefan, what are you doing here?"

He walked over to where Rook stood by the window. "What are you doing here? You weren't at the feast, and I overheard Snape of all people telling McGonagall you were feeling ill."

"How did you know I'd be here?"

"I just sort of hoped you might be… Have you been crying? Tell me what's wrong, Rosemary…"

"It's not important," Rook assured him with a feeble fake smile. "I have to go." She made for the door. There was no use trying to explain what was happening, so she hoped to hide until she felt some semblance of placidity.

"Rosemary, wait!" Stefan called, catching her by the wrist to stop her. Rook froze, unable to stop more tears from welling up in her eyes as she remained turned away from him. "Please, Rosemary… You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but at least let me be here for you. I care about you too much to let you walk away like this."

Rook turned to face him and he pulled her close. She rested her head against his warm chest and his arms held her tightly. She felt comforted by the sound of his heart beat as he stroked her hair consolingly.

Stefan came away and looked into her eyes as he ran his thumb gently over her cheek, brushing away a lingering tear. Then, before Rook knew what was happening, he leaned in close, and his soft lips pressed against hers. As taken aback as she was by the kiss, Rook was more taken aback by the realization that she didn't want it to stop. She kissed him back, her lips parting as his hands held her close to him. He kissed her fervently, clearly emboldened by her reciprocity.

"Rosemary," he breathed once they stopped several moments later. "Rosemary, please be mine… Please…"