𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨-𝙧.𝙖.𝙗

𝟮𝟵-𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿

JO HAS STRANGE DREAMS. THE SEA-SICK GREEN OF THE OCEAN, waves crashing against sharp cliffs. Salt seeping into her skin. Flashes of a sickly yellow. Her teeth cut and cracked on jagged jewels. The taste of Regulus on her tongue, minty and fresh and clean, overpowered by thick and metallic blood. Crows that circle her. Pale hands. Coughing and choking and spitting. Rocks that leave imprints on the skin of her palms. Dark caves. Regulus with his eyes closed and lips pale. Screams that she can't hear but ones she can feel. Jo wakes up gasping for air, and then forgets about them.

In the mornings, she writes down flashes she can remember. After a week she has a crushed-up bit of parchment on the bottom of her bag that reads: Rocks. Ocean. Blood. Regulus. She bites down on her lip and chews on the inside of her cheek and picks at the skin around her nails like peeling back the layers of herself will reveal some profound meaning.

And though the details are lost on her, there's one thing that lingers, and that is the unwavering and persistent feeling that there is something deeply, deeply wrong. Or that there's about to be. Jo has herself completely and utterly convinced that these feeling dreams and their subsequent anxieties are an omen. Dorcas consults her Divination books, and tells Jo, "Looks like dreams of the ocean can be indicative that you're concerned about the unknown," and Jo wants to slam her forehead into the wall.

Jo doesn't tell Regulus.

As a matter of fact, Jo realizes there's a lot she doesn't tell Regulus. She doesn't tell him about Sirius. She doesn't tell him about the falling optimism in the Order. She doesn't tell him about the P she receives on a Charms assignment. She doesn't tell Regulus about one of the Prewett twins almost maiming her at one of their practices and she doesn't tell him about the spat that happened between two of Jo's groupies.

She would've told him before. She would've told him about every thought that ran through her head, and she wouldn't have thought twice about doing it. But Regulus kisses her now and he holds her hand and smiles all the time and Jo is in constant fear of popping that bubble. So instead, she tells him about her O in Transfiguration and how she's been spending more time with Hestia and Emmeline and how happy he makes her and he squeezes her against his chest and presses sweet, gentle kisses to her forehead.

Regulus is perfect. And Jo doesn't care about any sentimentality about the word, she knows that he is, to her. He takes up all the space she has, and Jo is eager to let him. They hold hands on their nightly walks and Regulus starts telling Jo which records she's played him make him think the most of her and Jo tells herself that she has never seen him this happy.

And Jo thinks that it's her job to keep it that way. So she keeps her supposed omens to herself.

Regulus chops up aloe, thin slices, one at a time as Jo watches, and thinks about it. She's leaned up against the table, a bubbling potion in front of Regulus, thinking of how she can keep her simmering anxieties and premonitions and fears away from him. He stops, knife still in his hand as he casts a look over at her. "What are you thinking about?" he asks her.

Jo blinks rapidly a few times, pushing the images of gems and waves and rocks out of her mind. "Hmm?"

"You know I can always tell when you have something on your mind," Regulus tells her, eyes returning to the cutting board in front of him, finishing off the rest of the aloe leaf before he scoops them up and deposits them into their potion. "You go a bit cross-eyed. It's actually sort of adorable."

"Quidditch," Jo lies, and is almost ashamed at how quickly it comes to her. She rests her chin on her hand and taps her fingers against her cheek. "Are you prepared to take on Hufflepuff?"

A dry laugh rumbles through his chest. "I've been dreaming of making Ivan Reed cry for about a year now," he mumbles. "Yes, I would say I'm prepared."

Jo scoffs. She had almost forgotten about golden and shiny and lying Ivan Reed. She shakes her head. "If he so much as aims a Bludger at you, I'll be coming back for blood," she snarks, and tilts her head up at Regulus to see that he has quirked an eyebrow up at her. "What?" she questions. "I've broken his ribs before, I'll do it again."