It was Valentine's Day, but the worst of it was already over—or so Fred thought.
Spencer's W.W.N. broadcast had attracted rather more attention than Fred thought it deserved, as well as spawned several rumors among his fellow fifth years. Twice during their usual Monday classes, classmates approached Fred and George to ask about Rook, or, to some, "the girl Stefan's dating."
"We really don't know that much about it," George explained to two eager-looking Hufflepuff girls in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
"But you're her friends," the bolder one wheedled. "We just wanted to know if it's serious. Ethel's had a crush on Stefan since first year."
"Heidi!" Ethel protested in embarrassment.
"I'm sure it's nothing," Fred spoke sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Me, I hardly get through a day without dedicating a love song to some girl. Now, do you mind letting me focus on this Ducklifors jinx?"
"Sorry," George interjected apologetically as Heidi scowled at them. "He's been suffering from a devastating duck deficiency, and he's eager to correct that. You understand."
George steered Fred away from the Hufflepuffs, causing Fred to trip over an excitable mallard in the process.
Quidditch practice managed to lift Fred's spirits. The Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match would take place on Saturday, and he was determined to vent his frustration on Spencer's house team. George seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and they played with such ferocity that even Wood had to tell them to take it down a notch after George almost unseated Katie with a particularly forceful swing.
"It's good that you're, er, taking this seriously," said Wood, "but save the, er, enthusiasm for the match against Ravenclaw, will you? It won't do us any good if you injure your own teammates."
"Right. Sorry. Got carried away…"
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Rook was bent over a piece of parchment, intently writing out a lengthy Herbology essay.
"You still haven't finished your Screechsnap essay?" Fred asked, sinking onto the sofa beside her.
"Even we've finished ours," said George, also sitting. "By the way, did you know that they screech?"
Rook did not look up, but a small smile curled her lips. "Super helpful, as usual," she said, scratching out her last sentence impatiently.
"Is there any particular reason you didn't finish it during your session?" Fred asked.
Rook set down her quill and sighed. "I went, but we didn't get very much work done."
There was a short, awkward silence and jealousy wrung Fred's insides as he remembered it was still Valentine's Day. He glanced over at George, who seemed to be struggling to keep his face impassive as he said, "Oh. So you two were… preoccupied?"
To Fred's surprise, there was a bitter edge to Rook's voice as she replied, "You could say that…"
"What happened?" Fred asked quickly, trying not to sound too eager.
Rook shook her head. "It's... it's between me and him. Besides, I should focus on finishing this. It's due tomorrow."
"We'll help," said George.
"That's right," said Fred. "Now, this is a little know fact, but the Screechsnap don't just screech; they also snap."
"You don't say?"
"No, don't write that down—I'm actually not sure if that's even true."
Wednesday was largely uneventful, save for the fact that Rook and Spencer did not sit together during Potions. Instead, Spencer sat with his usual gang of Ravenclaws at the front of the classroom and spent the class very conspicuously flirting with one of his fawning housemates. Rook was concentrating so hard on her Invigoration Draught, Fred honestly could not tell if she was purposefully ignoring Spencer or if she had genuinely not noticed his behavior. George certainly noticed, however, and it was enough to affect his concentration.
"George, you're adding too much powdered griffin claw," Fred pointed out as his brother glared at Spencer from across the room.
The Ravenclaw girl, Atarah, let out a particularly jarring giggle that at last managed to break Rook's focus. Rook looked up from her cauldron distractedly, and then, for the briefest moment, she looked so crestfallen at the sight of Spencer and Atarah that Fred was worried she might start crying. In a commendable attempt at regaining her composure, she returned to her potion only to knock over a large amount of goat blood in her haste to continue. She rushed to clean it up, then looked fearfully over at Snape, who had risen from the chair behind his desk with that aura of quiet displeasure that always preempted the Potions professor's formidable wrath.
But, to Fred's surprise, he did not approach their table to tell Rook off for her clumsiness. Instead, he glided over to the table Spencer shared with Atarah and two other Ravenclaws and stopped before Spencer's cauldron, staring down his hooked nose at its contents. Spencer eyed Snape apprehensively. Fred knew that the prefect was not accustomed to being the target of Snape's ire, though he'd had plenty of opportunity to witness it over the past four and a half years.
"I wonder if your conversation is as invigorating as this potion is mundane," Snape spoke in a bored voice. "I doubt it, however, as I've rarely seen a more insipid Invigoration Draught."
Spencer was momentarily speechless. "Professor, I don't think that's fair," he said haughtily once he'd recovered. "My potion isn't even the worst in this classroom." He shot a pointed look at George, whose potion was now threatening to overflow with an odd, yellowish foam. Fred responded with a rude hand gesture while Snape's back was still turned and Rook was still focused on cleaning her area.
"I also wonder…" Snape pressed on, ignoring Spencer, "how it is that a student who has attended this school all of five months is able to brew an O.W.L. level potion more competently than a Ravenclaw prefect?"
He did not say Rook's name, nor did he look in her direction, but it was clear enough to whom he was referring. Fred looked over at Rook's meticulously-brewed Invigoration Draught, which was a shimmering orange, exactly as it was supposed to be. Looking around, Fred noticed half the class was now evaluating Rook's work as she stared determinedly into her cauldron with an anxious expression.
"I don't know, sir," Spencer spoke through gritted teeth, looking as though he wanted to say more but didn't dare.
"Five points from Ravenclaw, Spencer. And don't bother handing this in. I can tell you now that this merits no higher than a D."
"You can't do that! I've never gotten below an E!"
"I fail to see how your past performance negates my present authority," Snape countered coldly. "Another ten points from Ravenclaw. The rest of you, prepare your samples and bring them to me at my desk, then you may leave."
As the rest of the class moved to comply, Spencer angrily packed his things away before stomping out of the dungeon classroom. Atarah was the second out the door, having hurriedly turned in her potion so she could follow Spencer.
Fred and George tried to wait for Rook, but she insisted they go on without her, mentioning that she had to ask Snape something about the Potions O.W.L. and the terms of her possible advancement in his class.
"With work like hers, she stands a good chance of getting to N.E.W.T. level," George said as he and Fred walked up the dungeon staircase.
"Meaning two more years of Potions with that git," Fred spoke bitterly.
"Snape wasn't that bad today, though, was he?"
"I meant Spencer," said Fred darkly.
"That's assuming Spencer can stop chatting up Atarah long enough to pass his O.W.L.," said George. "You know, I never thought I'd live to see the day I'd side with Snape in an argument."
"Wouldn't it be nice if they both just finished each other off?"
George nodded distractedly, looking back down the dungeon corridor before they ascended the stairs to the Entrance Hall.
"You know, this might be a good time to, I dunno, tell her how you feel?" said Fred.
"She's still with Spencer. They're just rowing."
"So? Are you somehow honor-bound to respect the sanctity of a secondary school relationship?"
"It's not that…"
Fred opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. He was frustrated by his brother's hesitation, but Fred couldn't bring himself to continue urging him toward Rook.
The next evening, Harry showed up in the common room with a Firebolt, a top-class racing broom he had received for Christmas that had just been checked for spells and jinxes as a security measure. All of Gryffindor common room was in awe. Fred welcomed the distraction, having just learned that Rook and Spencer had made up, and were back to spending the entirety of their break time together. He and George joined their fellow Gryffindors in crowding around Harry, admiring the broom from every angle.
"Ravenclaw'll have no chance," Fred exclaimed gleefully. "They're all on Cleansweep Sevens!"
"You and I will still be on Cleansweep Fives," George pointed out.
"Yes, well, we're better flyers, aren't we?"
Once the commotion had died down and Ron was taking the Firebolt up to the third year boys' dormitory, Fred's melancholy had only just begun to set in again when Ron ran down the boys' staircase, holding a bloodstained sheet and screaming at Hermione about his rat, Scabbers, being eaten by her cat, Crookshanks.
"I TOLD YOU," he raged. "I TOLD YOU THAT CAT HAD IT IN FOR SCABBERS!"
"Ron, I—!"
"IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME AND KEPT TABS ON THAT STUPID THING, SCABBERS WOULD STILL BE HERE!"
"Ron, if you calm down and maybe look for Scabbers, you might—"
"YOU STILL DON'T BELIEVE ME, YOU PIG-HEADED—!"
"That's enough!" Percy interjected in a scandalized tone. "Ron, there are people trying to study here, and you're making a scene over a rat, for goodness sake!"
"How could you say that?!" Ron rounded on Percy. "He was your pet once, wasn't he?!"
As Percy and Ron continued to argue, Hermione, who seemed on the verge of tears, hurriedly gathered her things and fled to the girls' dormitory.
"Do you think we should intervene?"
Ginny had appeared beside the twins and was looking over at Percy and Ron with a worried expression as they continued to argue.
"If by 'intervene' you mean 'place bets,' then yeah; I'm all for it," said Fred.
"Five galleons says both of them have hot pink ears by the time they're finished," said George.
"Just what do you take me for?" asked Ginny. "I'm twelve, I'm not stupid."
"There go Ron's…" said Fred. "And it looks like… you should have taken that bet, Ginny, 'cause Ron's about to storm off, look…"
As if on cue, Ron shouted his last word at their elder brother, turned on his heel and vanished up the spiral staircase.
"That's that, then."
"By the way," said Ginny, "are you two ever going to study for your O.W.L.s?"
"Is that you or mum asking?" George replied shrewdly.
"Trust me, I'm not the only one who's been tasked with making sure you pass at least one of your exams."
"Really?" Fred asked. "You reckon mum'll be please if we have the one O.W.L. between the both of us?"
"Thanks, sis. Here we were aiming for three each—"
"—like a couple of idiots."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "'Like' a couple of idiots?" she asked insinuatingly. "Any idiot would know that poking a sleeping dragon would be less risky than going home to our mum with only one passing grade."
"All right, all right," Fred conceded.
"We'll study."
And, incredibly, they were doing just that when Rook returned to the common room that evening.
"I think I might have taken a wrong turn," Rook said in disbelief as she sat. "Did I walk into an alternate universe? Does Percy have a sense of humor here?"
"Let's find out," said George. "Oi, Perce!" he shouted across the common room. "How many tickles does it take to make the giant squid laugh?"
"I'm studying!" Percy shot back irritably.
"Then you should know, shouldn't you?" yelled Fred.
"If you don't stop shouting, I'm going to put you both in detention!"
"The correct answer was 'ten tickles,' by the way," George said, winking at Rook. "Remember that when you're taking your O.W.L.s."
Rook laughed, and even Fred smiled a little.
"I think we've studied enough, don't you?" said Fred, tossing his books and parchment haphazardly aside and stretching.
"Wish I could say the same," Rook spoke miserably, pulling out a large textbook and starting her Arithmancy homework.
"You've really been working hard lately," said George. "I think everyone was impressed with your Potions work yesterday."
"Just tell me you're not planning on doing any schoolwork this Saturday," said Fred.
"Why, is something happening this Saturday?" Rook teased.
"I know you're joking, but I'm not taking any chances," said George. "Quidditch: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. You'll be there, right?"
"Not only will I be there," she said, grinning, "I'll be impossible to miss."
On Saturday, Rook accompanied the twins and the rest of Gryffindor team to the Great Hall. If Fred had been unusually nervous before the match against Hufflepuff, it was nothing compared to the nerves he felt now. Not only would they be playing against Spencer's house team, but Fred was uncomfortably conscious of the fact that Rook had never seen them play before.
Once they were in the air, however, it was clear that their rigorous practice was paying off, and Fred's only concern was that Harry's new Firebolt might be stealing focus.
At one point early on in the match, as Fred intercepted a bludger near the stands, he was able to catch a glimpse of Rook in the stands, cheering him on alongside their fellow Gryffindors. Briefly, he saw that she had made them a banner depicting cartoon versions of him, George and the rest of the team zooming across the banner's canvas.He felt a jolt in his stomach that had nothing to do with the sharp dive he took in pursuit of the other bludger. Once he caught up with the flying black ball, he knocked it toward a Ravenclaw chaser, causing the latter to fumble the quaffle before he could make a shot.
They were going to win. Fred could feel it.