"Rosemary, you seem a bit distracted."

"What?" Rook spoke blankly. She and Stefan had been in the library for the last forty-five minutes, and she had been gradually losing focus throughout the session.

"We were working on Cross-Species Switches," Stefan hinted helpfully. "Though I wouldn't mind a change of subject, if you think you'd find it easier to focus on…" he leaned in closer to Rook and his voice dropped to whisper, "…other things…" He gently brushed his fingers along her jawline as he kissed her softly. Rook closed her eyes and her heart started to race. It felt nice, but her fears and anxieties began to permeate her thoughts once more, bringing her back down to Earth.

It was no use. She pulled away. "I'm sorry…" she muttered. "I feel kind of… off."

Stefan sighed heavily. "Right," he said shortly. "'Off'."

Rook felt anxious. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I just… I didn't get much sleep last night, and Fred and George are fighting, and there's—"

Stefan scoffed slightly, but said nothing.

"What?" Rook asked.

"Nothing, it's just," Stefan said irritably, "somehow I knew this was about the Weasleys without you telling me."

"What do you mean?"

Stefan seemed to scrutinize her before answering, "Nothing. Forget it."

"If you have a problem with my friends, I think you should tell me," Rook pressed, somewhat vexed by Stefan's evasiveness.

Stefan scoffed again, crossing his arms. "Well," he said, "everything seemed to be going great between us over the break, but as soon as they get back you start avoiding me, and now you feel 'off' when we are together."

"I'm not avoiding you, I just—"

"Was there really an Exploding Snap tournament, then?"

Rook stopped short. "No, there wasn't…" she admitted guiltily. "George just wanted—"

"Oh, you don't need to tell me what he wanted," Stefan cut her off coldly. "Just tell me this; do you fancy one of them?"

Rook didn't answer immediately. Stefan made it sound as though she had cheated on him. George had told her he was jealous of Stefan, but he had only said that it was because he had hoped to see her more often, and Rook doubted he meant anything more by it. Still, Rook figured she ought to own up to her feelings. "Yes," she said finally, not meeting Stefan's eyes. "George."

Stefan seemed to go rigid. "I see…"

Rook felt horribly guilty. Should she have told Stefan about her feelings for George on Christmas, when he first kissed her? Or should she have told him before, when he asked if she wanted to date Fred or George? It wasn't as though she didn't have feelings for Stefan. "Do you…" she said quietly when Stefan had been silent several moments. "Do you want to break up with me?"

"What, so you can start dating him?" Stefan snapped. "I guess you're that eager to call it off, are you?"

Rook recoiled at his harsh words. "N-No, I… I like you, Stefan, I really do…"

Stefan sighed again, but this time some of the tension in his body seemed to dissipate. "I don't want to break up with you." He turned toward her again, looking into her eyes. "I don't think I've ever been this mad about anyone, and I guess I feel quite protective of you…" He brushed her hair back from her face, his expression gentle. "I hate the thought of sharing you."

Rook's heart skipped a beat. He still wanted her, even after all this…? He had been so angry a moment ago, but Rook supposed that it was because he really cared about her. Wasn't it unfair of her to harbor fondness for George when Stefan's feelings for her were so strong? "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," she said.

"It's all right," he said softly. "I'll make you forget about him, if I have to." He leaned in again, kissing her deeply. Rook kissed him back, allowing herself to think of nothing but Stefan's lips against hers.

Rook made her way back to the common room right before curfew, as did Fred and George, who seemed to be returning from Quidditch practice along with the rest of the team.

"Excellent timing," said George, running ahead to catch up with Rook on the fifth floor. "It seems as though Fred's not letting up. So, how about it? Do you want to help me this time?"

Rook looked sideways at George, feeling conflicted. She had just parted ways with Stefan, and she thought about all that he'd said. She needed to abandon her feelings for George. Could she do that while conspiring with him against Fred? Could she do it at all?

But… he was still one of her best friends at Hogwarts, and she was still peeved at Fred for not accepting her olive branch. "Yeah," she decided. "Yeah, I'll help. I actually thought of a good one…"

"Tell me about it later," George whispered, casting a wary glance back at the others.

"How was practice, by the way?"

"Harry's on a Shooting Star—oh, that's a type of broom, one of the school ones," George sighed. "It's old and very slow. He really is a Hell of a flier, though, being able to catch the snitch even on that ancient thing. Other than that, it went as well as ever. We're easily the best team in the school, we've just had bad luck the last few years… Mumblecrust," George gave Sir Cadogan the password before the pugnacious knight had a chance to speak, and he and Rook climbed through the portrait hole.

"Last year must have been difficult," Rook commented, remembering what Fred had mentioned about it.

"Fred told you about that?" said George, leaning his broom against the arm of a squashy sofa before sitting.

Rook nodded and sat next to George. "He said Ginny was possessed by You-Know-Who, and that she… she almost died."

"Not just her… A lot of students were attacked, including Hermione, and Harry almost died saving Ginny. If he hadn't…" George trailed off darkly. "Harry and Hermione have both done so much for us… They're family."

Rook smiled at George fondly. "It's a good family to be a part of, the Weasleys."

"I think so, too," George agreed. "Now… let's think of ways to prank my brother into oblivion."

Rook slept restlessly again that night, and again she awoke well before her housemates, reeling from yet another nightmare. She tried in vain to fall asleep again and finally got dressed, made her way downstairs and climbed out the portrait hole. She took the shortest route she knew of to the dungeons, stealthily sneaking past Peeves who was busy writing dirty words in textbooks in the fourth floor study area.

When she reached her destination, it was five-thirty in the morning and she was hesitating outside the door of Snape's office. He was almost certainly not awake and in his office at this hour. If it so happened that he was, he would most likely penalize her for being out of bed. She turned back, thinking she might hide someplace until breakfast time, but she stopped. She didn't think she could endure another day not knowing. She faced the door again and knocked lightly, before she could lose her nerve.

She waited, listening for sounds of movement inside, but there were none. She was about to leave when the door creaked open.

And there he was, like a celestial glow cleansing the dank and desolate dungeons in the divine bounty of his brilliance. Not even their bleak surroundings could mute the resplendence of the pinnacle of perfection personified: The Potions Master.

"Professor, I…" she stopped, completely forgetting what she had planned on saying beneath his dour gaze.

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor," he spoke without a trace of surprise. "I would dock more to emphasize the foolishness of your actions, but if a murderer at large does not deter you from wandering the corridors, I do not know what penalty might encourage you to make better decisions."

He stood aside, and Rook realized he was inviting her into his office. She moved past him and took a seat in a chair facing Snape's desk. His robes rustled slightly as he shut the door behind her and sat across from her.

"I wanted to ask you," Rook said, her voice shaking slightly, "about… about the man you mentioned before."

"I expected you to ask," Snape said. "However, I never thought it would take over a week for you to ask."

Rook hung her head. "I'm afraid," she admitted quietly. She felt ashamed. Years ago she had stood by and done nothing while a strange man had attacked her mother. Several years later she was still doing nothing. Someone braver than she would probably seek retribution or justice. Rook wanted nothing more than to never see his face again. Unfortunately, her subconscious mind seemed unwilling to permit this.

"Fear is natural," said Snape. "It is wise to be afraid. It is unwise to allow that fear to dissuade you from learning more about that which you fear."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Snape eyed her a moment before opening a drawer to his right. From it he withdrew what looked like a few documents and a photograph. He slid the photograph across the desk toward Rook who picked it up with trembling hands. The boy in the photograph looked like he couldn't be more than a few years older than herself, and he had a friendly expression complete with smiling eyes, but he still terrified her as much as he did in her nightmares.

"Is it the same man from your memory?"

"It's him," Rook confirmed, pushing the photograph back toward Snape. "I'm sure of it."

"Then my suspicion was correct… This is Ryley Casta, a former Death Eater who went missing at the end of the Dark Lord's reign."

"You said before that he went here when you did."

"That's correct. When I was in my first year, he was a Slytherin prefect. I searched for any records pertaining to his time here."

Rook stared at the documents on Snape's desk. "You… You did that for me?"

"With Black on the loose, the last thing this school needs is to be the target of another dark wizard," Snape spoke brusquely. "You may skeptical, but I do my part to ensure the welfare of the students here."

"I'm not skeptical, I'm just… grateful."

There was an awkward silence in which Rook thought she must have unwittingly bothered him, as he looked agitatedly at the documents before him and did not speak again for several moments. "I have minimal personal knowledge of Casta," he continued. "Him being several years older, we were not exactly friends. I did vaguely recall a certain amount of upset in Slytherin house in my first year when Casta was denied the appointment of Head Boy due to a scandal."

"A scandal?"

Snape nodded slightly. "The details were murky and, quite frankly, uninteresting to me at the time, but I cannot help remembering the tension. My research into the matter revealed the involvement of two witches who had made… disturbing accusations against Casta."

"A-Accusations?"

Snape considered her carefully. "Perhaps we should revisit this."

"What?" Rook exclaimed. "Why?"

Snape did not answer.

"Professor, you said so yourself… I need to know more about him."

Snape's eyes seemed to search her face before he said, "Casta was accused of sexual assault and rape."

Rook was momentarily speechless. "He-He was—? And people were upset because he wasn't Head Boy? Why wasn't he expelled?"

"As I understand it, the witches did not come forward with these accusations until well after the alleged crimes took place. There was a lack of sufficient evidence to confirm or deny the accusations, and the only known methods of investigation were said to be either unreliable or morally questionable."

"How is that possible? There's magic here! There's no reason this stuff should be just as-as messed up here as it is with the muggles!"

"Miss Rook, lower your voice and sit down."

Rook hadn't even realized she had stood. She lowered herself back into her seat, breathing heavily. Once she had calmed down somewhat, she asked, "Who were the girls?"

Rook noticed Snape did not need to consult his documents before he answered, "Bellany Fakhri and Erimentha Eades, a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff, respectively. I was unable to locate photos of either witch."

She knew he had reached the same conclusion; one of those witches might be her birth mother. "Do you… remember either of them?"

"No," he answered succinctly. Rook was surprised by the intensity of her disappointment. "I've not given up my search," Snape assured her. "As for you… apply yourself to your studies. Based on your performance in my class yesterday, there is quite a bit of room for improvement."

He spoke with such finality, Rook understood she was being dismissed. She rose from her chair and walked over to the door.

"One moment," his voice halted her and she turned. "For breaking curfew, a detention is in order. I expect to see you back here at six o'clock, Friday evening."

"But Professor—!"

"Black is as dangerous a man as Casta," Snape spoke, his eyes narrowing slightly. "If I catch you breaking curfew again, you can be sure I will not be so lenient. My office. Friday."