𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨-𝙧.𝙖.𝙗

𝟭𝟳-𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝗺𝗯

JO DOESN'T SAY ANYTHING. Dorcas doesn't say anything. They sit, eyes dancing across the room until they eventually meet, and that's it. Jo thinks that maybe Marlene did the talking for them, told Jo what Dorcas said, told Dorcas what Jo said, built a bridge that the two of them were too stubborn to start working on. Dorcas cries, Jo holds onto her hands, and it goes on like that for a while. Eventually, one of them says sorry. It comes out in hiccups, in rushed whispers. Over and over. I'm sorry. And that's. They don't talk about it again.

Dorcas fawns over Jo's healing knuckles. Together they laugh at the image of Severus Snape, proud and cruel, weak and defeated by Jo's feet. Dorcas tells her to watch out for him, for payback. Jo tells her she eagerly awaits it, anticipates it. She says nothing of her time on the ground, seeing nothing but blackness, wand wildly pointed at any noise she heard. She doesn't tell anyone.

With Dorcas back, things feel lighter, better than they did before. They link their arms together as they walk to class, they gossip and whisper and huddle closer together than anyone else and all of their friends roll their eyes and make jokes about how they never thought they would miss it. And it's strange. It's strange that Jo finds it strange to spend time with her best friend skipping down corridors and giggling over lunches instead of hiding in shadowy archways with Regulus.

And as Jo falls back into step with Dorcas, she falls back into step with Alice, with Emmeline, with Hestia. They crowd her, laugh with her, and skip down the hallways with her and she'll catch the sight of him sometimes. Tucked in the library, sitting stoic in the Great Hall, doing Prefect rounds. Jo will see him, and he will smile at her and she will think about it for the rest of the day. And even though her nights are still filled with him, she thinks only of the moon while the sun is on her skin. He saturates her thoughts.

She buzzes now, as she sneaks. Wand illuminated, footsteps careful. Moonlight pours through the windows and onto the floors and Jo tries not to rush herself, tries not to be too eager. She's already early, anyway.

Jo wasn't exactly sure when it happened. Perhaps it was the rift with Dorcas or the rift with James or the mood ring or maybe it was the first time she saw him cry but she has become consumed by this softness that lies within Regulus. The concern he's shown her. The gentleness he displays. The softness. It's something she'd never even see before. Jo's life is red, popping, explosive and grandiose. It is loud music that booms at victory parties and gulps of Firewhiskey. It is flushed cheeks and raw voices and scraped knees and laughter that leaves her ribs sore. And it is beautiful, but it is exhausting. With Regulus she can sit, soak in his soft chuckles and wry smirks and slick wit and she will have bags under her eyes but will feel more refreshed than she had before.

She stares down at her shoes as she walks, the lights from her wand washing them out. Jo feels a bit silly, in all honesty, slipping out of her pajamas into a pair of muggle jeans and a Talking Heads shirt, specifically chosen to impress Regulus (Talking Heads being the favorite of all of the records she'd shown him). Her steps, one after the other, almost rhythmic, keep her calm, level-headed. And she is so focused on her own footsteps that she almost doesn't notice the ones that stomp behind her.

It sounds like someone's tripping, stumbling over their own feet and catching themself. Jo whips around at once, wand raised and eyes wide and praying that whoever is there is not McGonagall-she doesn't think she'd live through another punishment from her. But as she strains her eyes against the darkness, she sees nothing but an empty corridor.

Jo narrows her eyes, nerves set ablaze as she slowly turns. For a moment, she stands still in the moonlight, twisting the mood ring on her finger and listening. She stands for a moment, for another, and then she sees it. Something small, furry, running along the way like it's trying to escape the light of her wand. Jo glares and turns around.