Rook sat up in bed. She and Patricia were the only ones in their dormitory, but Patricia seemed entirely focused on writing in her diary. Once Rook had drawn the curtains on her four poster, Rook's anger ebbed away, feelings of hurt and confusion taking its place. It wasn't news that Fred and George were not Stefan Spencer's biggest fans, and she had fully expected them to tease her about this, but she had not expected Fred to be such a jerk about it! What was his problem? Did he really hate Stefan that much? What had Stefan ever done to him?

Fred's blatant hostility aside, there was a larger question weighing on Rook's mind: What did George think of all this? She knew she had no right to wonder. She made her choice. She needed to get over her infatuation with George and focus on her feelings for Stefan.

Her feelings for Stefan… She wasn't sure when it happened, but her feelings had certainly grown. When they first kissed, Rook wasn't thinking about George or her birth mom or the man called Ryley Casta… She was caught up in the moment with Stefan. She never thought that something like that would even be possible. She always had so many thoughts and emotions swirling around inside her, but just then it was all still and quiet.

Then he spoke, and the spell was broken. She had been so confused and overwhelmed by it. He waited for her to respond, but she could hardly grasp what he had proposed.

"…please be mine…"

She had panicked. What had she done? And how could she? If she rejected Stefan before because she wasn't ready, she knew she was nowhere closer to being ready now. When she finally found her voice, she told him this.

"I think you're scared," he'd said. "I think you're scared because you've been hurt before. I would never hurt you."

"I'm scared of hurting you! What if I can't give you what you want? I don't even know what I want—"

"All I want is a chance, Rosemary," he had whispered, leaning in to kiss her again.

And just like that, she had crumbled. She didn't know how to argue with him, and there was a part of her that didn't even want to.

Since then, Stefan was eager to spend as much time with her as possible. Rook was taken aback by how giddy he was to be going out with her, as he seemed completely at odds with her first impression of him. He had sat with her at the Gryffindor table during meals while most of the school was gone, he helped her with her homework, even though he wasn't paid to tutor her over the break, and he was always ready with suggestions for things they could do together. It didn't bother Rook. On the contrary, she found it endearing and quite flattering. She had never felt so wanted, and to be wanted by someone as attractive and intelligent as Stefan was honestly more than Rook had ever hoped for.

Rook sighed heavily. She didn't have time or effort to spend on worrying about all this. She refocused her attention on her Arithmancy homework, and, oddly enough, it soothed her. Instead of falling asleep worrying about Stefan and Fred, Rook fell asleep thinking about numbers and formulas.

She was far less tranquil upon awakening. She felt like she had been trying to scream, but nothing would come out. She was hyperventilating and looking around frantically.

She had dreamed of him: the golden-haired man who had attacked her birth mom. It wasn't the first or even second time she had. Over the last several nights, memories of that Christmas Eve seemed to play on loop in her dreams. It didn't seem to matter what happened to her during the day; that man's face always came back to her as she slept, as well as the desperately sad face of her birth mother as she said her last goodbye.

Trembling, Rook sat up and reached for the glass of water she had set beside her bed before falling asleep. She drank and tried to calm her nerves.

You're at Hogwarts, she told herself. You're in your dormitory. Everything's fine.

In spite of these reassurances, she began to cry. She reached for a pillow and buried her face in it as her shoulders shook. She felt cold, frightened and completely alone. She wondered if that's how her mother felt when she died…

Rook spent a while like that. It was a long time before she was able to calm herself down enough to get dressed. It was still dark, and the dormitory was still. Rook moved as quickly and silently as she could, desperately hoping she had not disturbed her roommates.

She crept downstairs and sat by the fire, skimming one of the Potions books she still had checked out from the school library. As soon as she was allowed, she left for the Great Hall, ate breakfast quickly and rushed off again, wandering the corridors in an attempt to avoid talking to anyone.

She struggled through double third year Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Eloise was thrilled to have Rook sit with her and her friends, but Rook found her enthusiasm over-stimulating, and could not focus properly on her spells. After being gently admonished by a disappointed McGonagall, Rook felt a surge of self-loathing. She kept messing everything up. Her birth mother had gone to such great lengths to protect her, but Rook felt defective, broken…

She skipped lunch and hid in an empty classroom. She practiced her Transfiguration, desperate to prove that she could do something right, that she wasn't completely worthless, but it was no use. Every attempt she made proved lackluster and unavailing, and she showed no signs of improvement.

Feeling worse than ever, Rook showed up early for double Potions in the afternoon. Perhaps proximity to the greatest, sexiest Potions Master the world (wizarding or otherwise) has ever known would enliven her spirit, among other things…

Snape eyed her as she entered and found a seat in a back corner of the dungeon classroom. She had not spoken to him since he left her outside Gryffindor Tower on Christmas Eve, and he looked as though he was deliberating over whether to say something when another student entered the classroom. Rook busied herself with preparing her equipment and avoided looking at the new arrival.

"Rook…"

Rook looked up, startled. It was George. Only George... She looked around for Fred.

"He's not here," George answered before she could ask. "We're sort of… Well, I'm not very happy with him. Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Rook shook her head and said, "Of course not… But… you're not fighting because-because of last—"

"This is a Potions classroom, not a forum for gossip, Miss Rook," Snape spoke pointedly from the other side of the reverberant dungeon.

"S-Sorry, Professor," Rook apologized, embarrassed at being singled out.

"Let's talk Potions then, Rook," said George, smiling encouragingly. "Looks like we're working on the Calming Draught today. Maybe we can slip some in Fred's pumpkin juice later," he added in a low voice.

He was trying to make her feel better, and she was grateful, but she was sure she didn't deserve it.

Their classmates began to file into the dungeon now, and Stefan's tall frame was unmistakable as he walked through the door and looked around the room. He caught sight of George and Rook in the corner and made a beeline for their table.

"Rook, I've been looking everywhere for you!" he said worriedly. "I was afraid you were… er… sick again."

"I'm fine, Stefan," Rook spoke quietly as he sat on her other side. Just then, Rook caught sight of Fred's red hair as he passed through the doors at the last minute. He did not even spare a glance in their direction as he made to sit at a table next to Angelina, Alicia and Lee.

"Hello, George," Stefan greeted George genially. "It's odd sitting together, isn't—?"

"Stefan, what are you doing? Come over here!" a female voice called out and Rook looked around to see who it was. A slender, pretty Ravenclaw girl with wavy chestnut hair and a brilliant smile was motioning Stefan over to her table.

"Sorry, Atarah," he called back. "I'm sitting with Rosemary." The girl's smile faded quickly and her eyes found Rook. She shot Rook a fleeting look of haughty dislike before turning back toward the front of the room.

The door to the dungeon slammed shut. Snape had shut it magically and was looking around the room warningly, quelling the idle conversation throughout the classroom. As far as Rook could tell, he seemed to be in a particularly bad mood today.

Join the club, she thought as Snape stalked about the room, immediately launching into a lecture on the versatility of valerian as a potion ingredient. She took notes diligently, but she felt as though she was on autopilot. Soon enough, Snape had them begin their Calming Draughts. Rook wasn't doing her best work, and she knew it. Stefan happily offered her pointers. George, though he seemed completely unconcerned with the task at hand, seemed to carry it out effortlessly, with impeccable results. Rook was completely blown away by his aptitude. Even Stefan's brew did not look as perfect as George's concoction. George, however, seemed more invested in making Rook laugh than anything.

"Hey, Rook," he whispered mischievously, "two galleons says I can get this moonstone into Fred's cauldron from here."

"No way," Rook muttered back, assessing the conditions. "He's gotta be at least fifteen feet away, and the cauldron is tiny from here."

George winked at Rook before chucking the moonstone toward Fred's cauldron while Snape's back was turned. Sure enough, it landed in the cauldron with a satisfying ker-plunk, splashing Fred with a small amount of unfinished Calming Draught. Fred whipped around to glare at them, but they had resumed brewing their potions, stifling laughter as Rook handed George two galleons under their table.

"That's very childish," Stefan chided when he realized what was going on. "What if he gets a bad mark because of your joke?" Rook was shame-faced at this. It was certainly childish, but was it really that bad?

"If Fred is fussed about getting good marks, I don't think anything I do or don't do is going to help him at this point," George replied dismissively. "Besides, I'm sure he can correct it."

"He can?" Rook asked, looking at George worriedly.

"Yeah, he can," said George, smiling at her, then adding in a whisper, "All we need to be worried about is retaliation."

Though Rook still felt somewhat abashed by Stefan's disapproval of their antics, George was largely successful in getting Rook caught up in his mischief. Stefan seemed to grow increasingly annoyed at them as they talked and goofed around.

"So, Rosemary," Stefan said sharply as he untied his long hair following the lesson, "would you like to go to the Art Room today? If you'd rather go elsewhere, I have plenty of suggestions."

"Oh, uh…" Rook spoke uncertainly, securing her bag on her shoulder. She and Stefan had not made plans to be together between their last lesson and dinner, though she supposed it was natural for him to assume at this point.

"Actually," George interrupted before Rook could answer, "we sort of had plans for today. Plans we made before the break, you know?"

Rook looked over at George, confused. Had they made plans…? She couldn't remember. The three of them were moving now, Rook leading the way out of Snape's classroom toward the stairs.

"I see…" said Stefan in an aggravated sort of voice. "You two made plans?"

"Not just us two," George once again jumped in before Rook could respond. "It's us and a few other friends—we've had a bit of an Exploding Snap tournament going on in the Gryffindor common room, and today is the semifinals."

Rook strained her brain to try and remember such a thing as they reached the Entrance Hall. They had been playing a lot of Exploding Snap before the break, she recalled that much…

"I see," Stefan said again. The three had come to a halt in the Entrance Hall, and Stefan was now looking at Rook expectantly. Rook was unsure what he wanted her to say, so she said nothing. "You… have plans?" he asked Rook directly.

"Uh… yeah," she answered, even though she couldn't remember.

"All right, then," Stefan spoke with great reluctance. "I'll see you after, Rosemary." Before Rook could prepare herself in any way, Stefan was kissing her goodbye. When he came away, she felt as though her face must be as red as George's hair. George himself looked as though he felt a bit awkward, but he recovered quickly, leading the way up the Grand Staircase.

"To be honest, I don't exactly remember this tournament we were having," said Rook when they were out of earshot of Stefan, still quite embarrassed by their public display of affection.

"To be honest, there is no tournament," George replied. "And you can, of course, go back and hang out with Spencer if you want. I just sort of…" he trailed off, coming to a halt on one of the landings. He turned to face Rook as he went on, "Well, I missed you quite a lot over the break, is all. The truth is… I'm a bit jealous of Spencer."