𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨-𝙧.𝙖.𝙗

𝟭𝟱-𝘀𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆

JO CAN'T STAND TO BE IN HER DORMITORY. She can't stand to be there, in the common room, in the Great Hall, in any space she used to occupy with Dorcas, their shoulders pressed together and giggles echoing. Walking into any of those spots is like walking through wet concrete. Sleeping in her dormitory is like being suffocated. No one speaks, everyone keeps their eyes on the ground. Alice has declared herself neutral territory, subsequently deciding to ignore Jo and Dorcas until they came to some sort of conclusion. Jo's lonely where she used to feel loved, melancholy where she used to feel joy.

So now Jo seeks Regulus out while the sun is still up. In crooks and crannies, in shadows, hidden from the blind eye and they whisper, hushed conversations that slip into silence when a shadow is cast nearby. He makes her feel better, like there's a weight off her shoulders, like she can breathe again. Jo craves his company, eagerly awaits their slotted time in Potions together.

Still, Dorcas's words echo around her head and Jo can't let go of them and uses them to ascribe new words to herself: jealous, irrational, unsupportive, stupid, jealous. It was a concept she never considered before, one that stained her thoughts like a deep wine.

Jo twists her neck around, keeping her nose tilted down to her shoulder as she flashes her eyes to the back of the Potions classroom, where Dorcas sits next to a sneering Lucinda Talkalot, face flustered and lips downturned in a pout. Jo feels her stomach turn.

Regulus, who has taken the lead on their Wiggenweld Potion, looks at Jo with a purse of his mouth, eyebrows bunched. Jo doesn't notice, she only looks forward again at the sound of his voice, caught up too deeply in the thick feeling of dread. "You should just talk to her," Regulus says in a low and smooth voice, eyes trailing back to the berry he's juicing.

Jo sighs, eyes distant and twisting her mood ring on her finger. It sits at a deep, dark green. "Wouldn't know what to say," she mumbles.

Regulus pauses before he takes his long, red-stained fingers and places the tips of them over Jo's. The contact makes her stomach lurch, and Jo whips around to look at Regulus with wide, dark eyes. "Something is better than nothing," he tells her gently, and takes his hand back to continue his work. Jo lets his words sink into her.

It would be better to say something, because the nothing is killing her. She can't remember the last time she'd go on so long without a word to Dorcas since she met her. From the day they met, Jo and Dorcas had never fought, not once, not like this. It makes Jo feel sick, constantly nervous, and constantly unsure.

And there are many times she plans on saying something, anything. Regulus's words echo in her mind as she catches glimpses of Dorcas tossing and turning in her bed at night, sees her with her nose tucked in Divination books, watches as she stirs her porridge in the Great Hall, not once taking a bite. Jo opens her mouth, ready to say something, anything, but nothing comes out, and she leaves it at that.

Jo doesn't know whether or not she's in the wrong. And she's usually got a pretty clear grasp on those things but now she's feeling lost, disoriented. She figures she wouldn't have yelled, but Dorcas shouldn't have either. She figures Dorcas shouldn't have started it, but she shouldn't have provoked it. Jo thinks that maybe she should have just accepted Marlene's apology and hugged her and let her bitterness roll off her back but somehow that idea makes her feel even worse.

Jo asks every person she knows if they think she is a jealous person.

James laughs, strutting from his class to the Quidditch pitch, Jo taking long, quick strides to keep up with him. "Of course, you are. I'm your brother. Who wouldn't be jealous of me?"

Hestia frowns, eyes intense and grabs into Jo's hands hard as they sit in Herbology. "I would certainly hope not, because you have nothing to be jealous of. You're gorgeous and smart and cool-"