𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨-𝙧.𝙖.𝙗

𝟮𝟳-𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝘀

WITH TEARS STILL FRESH ON HER CHEEKS AND A STUMBLE TO HER STEP, Jo barges back into the Gryffindor common room. Eyes narrowed and slouched to one side, Jo eyes the room, the people laughing and dancing to whatever shit disco song they've got playing and she sees nearly empty bottles of Firewhiskey and Jo feels the cut of rejection tense in her muscles, build into aggression. She's looking for a fight. She is looking for someone unsuspecting and someone annoying, someone she can justify cursing or punching or screaming at. Someone she wouldn't mind getting detention over.

What she sees instead is Ewan Moss.

He's tall, pushed into the far corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest, slouched, and Jo can still spot him over the crowd. Ciaran O'Larcan stands neck to him, bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand as he rambles, running his mouth so rapidly Jo can almost hear it from her spot across the room. And Ewan Moss just stands there, and Jo's not sure if she's just too drunk to think straight, but she has a brilliant idea: that if Regulus doesn't want her, Ewan Moss certainly does. And, really, what does Regulus have that Moss doesn't? Dark hair, light eyes, a sharp jaw. Jo tells herself that she's drunk enough for it not to matter.

Jo crosses the common room, bumping shoulders with people she doesn't bother to identify, making a beeline for Ewan and his spot in the corner and she tells herself that it's a good idea. It's a good idea and snogging Moss will soothe the pain that crushes and cuts through her chest and the knots in her gut and if she can find herself in someone else's arms she'll forget about his.

O'Larcan is rambling as Jo reaches them, "And I told that fecking arsehole that he could just piss off- " as Moss catches the sight of Jo, and his eyes brighten, a toothy smile is quick to worm onto his face and Jo almost feels guilty for the indifference she feels towards him.

"Jo!" he greets, sounding brighter than he did earlier in the night, a bit drunker.

With a scowl etched onto her face, Jo reaches towards O'Larcan, her youngest on the team, and snatches the Firewhiskey out of his hand. "Oi, O'Larcan," she barks, and takes a swig of the Firewhiskey, though she knows it's the last thing she needs, "back to your dorm now, yeah?"

The third year Seeker looks up at Jo with big, defiant eyes and a pout. "Prewett said I could stay," he protests, throwing his hands up in the air and if he wasn't almost a whole head taller than Jo, she would think he was even younger.

"Prewett can't kick you off the team, can he?" Jo snaps back at him, earning silence. She jerks her head towards the boys' dormitories. "Sod off."

With a scoff and roll of his eyes, O'Larcan pushes off the wall and reluctantly trudges towards the dorms, and Jo looks back up at Ewan. He smiles down at her, and Jo thinks he might be trying to make his shoulders look broader. "Told him you wouldn't like him down here," he says, and Jo stares up at him with a blank expression and when Ewan's expression shifts into concern, Jo realizes that the tears on her face have not dried. "Are you alright?" he questions, taking a step towards her.

Jo empties the rest of the bottle down her throat before she discards it on the ground and turns her gaze back up to Ewan. "Care for a snog?" she questions, easy, simple, like it's nothing. Like she doesn't care about the answer. She's not sure if she does. But there is still a heavy thud of pain in her that she is desperate to escape and whether that be with Moss or someone else or anything else, she will get rid of it. Jo will get over it.

Red flushes over Ewan's face at once. He is bright red and eyes as wide as the moon. "Wh-I, what?" he stumbles, mouth hanging open like he's forgotten how to close it.

"Would you like to kiss me?" Jo repeats, slower this time.

His mouth opens and closes, stammering over his words. "Erm, I th-I don't know, I, I, yes, I would. Very much so, I think I would-"