JO LIKES TO GO TO THE TOWN SOMETIMES. She doesn't like to leave the house a lot. It's nerve wracking to think that anything could happen to Regulus while she's gone. Especially with the ever-present threat of a spy. Her trips are few and far between, considering. But every few weeks or so, she will put a scarf over her head and walk to the local village, despite the new and growing chill of autumn, and buy meats and pantry items and whatever she sees that reminds her of Regulus that day. Sometimes she buys little muggle toys for Harry, sometimes she'll get Lily some flowers, feeling bad that Lily doesn't have as much access to them as she used to.

She likes to linger among the muggles, watching them go about their daily business, so unaware of dangers that could creep into their village at any moment. It's nice to see people complain about the rising prices of produce and how busy they are with work. It's better than the constant news of death and destruction Jo's gotten used to.

Lingering in the aisle of the market, Jo examines a can of pineapples, squinting as she reads the label, wondering why muggles would ever chop up fruit just to put it in a can. Though, she has to admit, that if she couldn't chop up her fruit with just the wave of a wand, that maybe buying it prepared like that would be a bit of a treat. She tosses it in her cart.

Things have been alright, lately, Jo has to admit. Calm, at the very least. And maybe Jo has to admit that might have something to do with the little protective bubble that her and Regulus live under. It is nothing but the two of them, sometimes James and sometimes little Harry. But it's easy like that.

Bad news can still find them, of course. Sirius won't even speak Jo's name. Dorcas is still missing. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named still at large. Disappearances and deaths. But there's good news too. Dumbeldore's closer to destroying that ugly yellow locket that Regulus nearly died getting. Alice and Frank are in love with their newborn son Neville, whose photos are proudly displayed all over the Potter kitchen. Remus writes Jo almost daily, as does Hestia. Emmeline writes from France, not disclosing her missions but assuring Jo that things are not as bad as they seem, and are, in fact, getting better.

And Jo is almost starting to believe it. Regulus has a hand in that. It's hard to be pessimistic with him around. With her husband around.

James nearly lost it when Jo told him. She watched as his eyes nearly pop out of his head and echoed back to her, "Married?" Jo was bracing for some sort of chastising from her brother, but what she got instead was watery eyes and a tight hug that pinned her arms to her side. "Josie," he had practically cried, "I'm so happy for you!"

And if she was shocked, Regulus was absolutely aghast when James had turned and done the same to thing, embracing him like it's just something he had always done. Jo remembers how Regulus gave her a look of horror over her brother's shoulder. "And you! I can't believe you've made an honest man of my sister! We're brothers now!"

It was endearing, really. Jo smiles as she thinks of it now.

She wanders down the aisles, buying a few things she needs and several more that she doesn't. She nearly squeals as she finds a box of mac and cheese that looks like it's made with that magical muggle powder she's always wanted to try. Her cart is almost full as she wanders among bags of day-old bread.

"Jo?"

Immediately, the hairs on her neck go up. Before she turns around to see who called her name, her eyes find the muggles around her, hand going to wand in her pocket. But Jo instantly relaxes once she does turn, and sees that it's just Peter standing there, sticking out like a sore thumb in the muggle market in his traditional robes. She raises an eyebrow at him. "Pete? What are you doing here?"

Peter looks to his right and to his left, assessing the shop before he takes quick, hurried steps towards her. "Jo, I've been looking for you for ages. Where have you been?"

She swallows. "Sorry, Pete," Jo whispers, eying the people around her before lowering her voice, "Order business. Not at liberty to say."

"Order business?" he repeats back to her, not bothering to keep his voice as low. "I didn't hear about anything in any of the meetings."

Jo shrugs. "Well, you know, with everything going on," she trails off, and shakes her head. "Anyway, what were you looking for me for?"

Peter looks at Jo as if he is scandalized. "Jo, Sirius is going around telling everyone that you're the spy."

And all at once, in the middle of the market, Jo feels her heart tumble to her feet. "What?"

"He's up in arms about it, Jo," Peter warns. "Wouldn't go into any detail but he's out here trying to convince people that he knows for sure it's you, that you're the one feeding the Death Eaters information."

Her ears are hot. "Why, why would he," she stops again, shaking her head. Jo knows that he was fuming. She knows she had never seen him angrier but never, never, did Jo expect this from Sirius. She's known him for almost her whole life. Always thought of him as family. Her heartbeat echoes in her ears. Is that what war does to people?

"I didn't believe him for a second," he rushes out. "You hardly come to meetings anymore, you know? Besides everything else it's just, it's not possible. But I dunno, Jo, ever since he said that to me I was just thinking," Peter pauses, and takes a deep breath, "what if it's him? What if that's the reason he's pushing so hard to convince everyone it's you? It's the only thing that makes sense, Jo. And James is trusting him?"

Jo blinks. Peter is leaning in closer and closer, eyes frantic. It is all suddenly too much. "I have to go," she states blankly, and ignores Peter calling her name out again as she rushes out of the market, leaving behind her pineapples and powdered cheese.

That night, long after the sun has set, Jo lies in bed, facing Regulus and tangling her fingers in his. "It doesn't make any sense," she whispers to him. "I don't care how angry Sirius is with me or you or James or anyone. It just doesn't make sense."

Regulus watches her carefully, examining the twitch of her eye, the way she clenches her jaw. "Do you trust Pettigrew?" he asks.

Jo shakes her head at once. "I don't trust him, but I don't know how much I trust Sirius, at this point. I don't think I trust anyone but you and my brother." She blinks. "Do you?"

"No," Regulus answers swiftly. "No, I don't trust him, and I don't like that he's following you into a muggle village to put ideas in your head. And I don't think Sirius is the spy, either. I can't imagine him going through what he went through just to change his mind." Regulus pauses. "No one could side with the people who hurt them the way they hurt Sirius."

A cold sweat runs down Jo's neck. "Would you stake your life on it?" she questions softly.

"I'd stake your life on it," he asserts, so assuredly Jo doesn't for a second doubt him. "I know my brother. Despite everything, I know him, and I know that the last thing he is, is a traitor."

Her dreams come back to her again as she sleeps. They're one's she's had before. Peter, older and unknown, sinking his rat teeth into her neck. It's the same thing, over and over. She watches the young boy she once knew grow and morph into a monster, choking and killing her. It repeats, over and over again until Jo wakes up with a start. Her head fills like it has sand in it. She realizes then, that it's not subtle.

And before the sun rises again, as Regulus still sleeps beside her, Jo crawls out of bed. Her mind is still half-asleep, still watch as Peter's rat teeth snap around her neck and break it in half. But her body is drifting down the hall, feet carrying her to an empty room that sits at the end of the hall, opposite of her parents'. The one Sirius stayed in, while he lived here. The one Dorcas stayed in, before she disappeared.

Gently, Jo pushes the door open, and her heart tugs at when she sees that Dorcas's things are still there, littered about among Sirius's abandoned belongings. A leather-bound journal, a half-knitted sweater, dusty records, unopened letters. Jo creeps in further.

Jo gravitates first to the half-empty bottle of perfume, gingerly holding it in her hand and smelling bergamot and amber. And in an instant, Jo is back with Dorcas, holding her hand as they skipped down corridors and they're arguing over something that doesn't even matter and Dorcas is holding onto Jo as she sobs and they're together. Together as friends, together as girls. She puts the perfume down.

Her fingers find the spine of the journal and sees clearly that it's Dorcas's as she flips through the pages. The handwriting is big and round. Dorcas always had a heavy hand, there are stark imprints on each page from the frantic scribbling. It's always been a bit messy for Jo, big and messy. She squints as she tries to read through its pages.

Friday. Nine-thirty in the evening. Radolphus Lestrange showed up at his doorstep forty-minutes ago and there's been no movement inside. Lestrange had a package with him.

Friday. Eleven in the evening. Pettigrew and Lestrange left in a hurry.

Saturday. Midnight. Pettigrew is back. Lestrange nowhere to be seen.

Concrete fills her gut. Her head spins. Tears swell in her eyes. Jo skips forward a few pages.

Tuesday. Noon. Pettigrew showed up at today's meeting. Asked him privately where he was when Marls was killed. Had no alibi. He was sweating. Couldn't look me in the eye. I know he did it. I know he killed her.

Wednesday. Seven fifteen in the evening. Pettigrew meets with Crouch, Lestrange, and Greyback in London.

Thursday. Eight in the morning. Muggle family of five found dead in their London home.

Quickly, Jo flips to the last page, seeing where Dorcas's rushed and messy handwriting stops abruptly.

Monday. Pettigrew knows I know.

"Josephine?" comes the voice of Regulus from the doorway. Jo jumps at the sight of it and wipes away tears she didn't realize were falling. "What's going on?"

She holds up Dorcas's journal, shoving it towards him. Apprehensively, Regulus takes a step forward and takes it from Jo's hands, eyes picking up where hers had left off. "Dorcas figured it out ages ago. She was following him. It's Peter. He's the spy. He's the rat."

Regulus turns the pages a bit more rushed now, eyes quickly scanning over each word. "This goes back months. Josephine," he says, tone suddenly urgent. "You need to tell your brother, now. Send him a Patronus, I'll write to Dumbledore," he instructs, already getting ready to turn and do so.

But there is something monstrous brewing inside of Jo. She shakes her head. "No," she clips.

Regulus freezes and raises an eyebrow at her. "No?"

Without another word, Jo pushes past him, and heads back to her bedroom where she left her wand. Regulus rushes after her. "Josephine, no. Absolutely not."

But Jo is back in her room, kicking off her pajama pants and pulling on the first pair of jeans she can get her hands on. "Regulus, I'm sorry, but you're not stopping me," she says sternly, fastening the button over her waist. "You're staying here. You send a Patronus to my brother and one to Dumbledore and wait for me to get back. Do not leave."

"You're not going there alone," he argues back. "Don't be stupid. Please, Josephine, please. Just wait, alright? Can you please just wait?" Regulus pleads with her, as she does her best to ignore him, tying her hair back and trying to find a matching pair of shoes. The desperation in his voice starts to grow. "You don't know what you're going to walk into. You, you can't just walk into a Death Eater's house like this."

But that just serves to reignite her anger further. The idea of that mark on the arm of Peter Pettigrew, her childhood friend, her family, taken willingly and enthusiastically, it makes her sick. She shakes her head. "I don't care."

Regulus reaches forward and grabs her by the wrist. "Take me with you, at least. Please, let me protect you," he begs of her, voice wavering. Jo cannot look up at him, cannot see the expression on his face. "Don't go in there alone, Josephine, please, please. I just got you back."

She smiles sadly and leans up to place a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry," she says softly, and in one fluid motion, she yanks her wrist out of his grip, and apparates out of there.

Jo cannot remember the last time she was at the Pettigrew home. It must've been when she was younger, sometime during a break from school when the extent of her social life was just following her brother around wherever he went. But now Jo stomps up to the front door like she's been here a thousand times, like she knows each step and exactly what they led to. And she doesn't care that it's just barely dusk, sun only beginning to rise. Jo knocks her fist into the front door, one, two, three times. It's loud and rude and intrusive noise and when one too many seconds pass without a response Jo slams the side of her fist into the two with as much force as she can muster. The door rattles, and then it opens.

On the other side, stands Peter. He is trembling all over, shaking like a leaf and eyes like the moon at the sight of Jo standing there in front of him. "Let me in," she demands of him before he can even get a word out.

Peter frantically looks behind him, and then back towards Jo once more. "Now's, erm, not's not really a good time, Jo. Maybe you can stop by later, and, and-"

With a roll of her eyes, Jo shoves her shoulder into the door, and it swings open. Peter steps back into his living room as Jo approaches him. Her eyes are narrowed, fixed harshly on Peter and with the wave of her wand she slams the door shut behind her. And it's then that Jo can't help but notice a blood-stained rag that Peter clutches to his hand. Blood saturates it, and drips onto the floor beneath him. Jo tilts her head. "What happened to your hand, Pete?" she questions, feigning concern. Jo takes a step towards him, and he steps back. "Did Sirius do that as well?"

"Y-yes, actually," Peter stammers, and Jo feels so much bigger than him, at that moment. She is an encroaching shadow that grows and darkens, and Peter is the same little squealing rat he has always been. "I-I went to confront him, tell him I knew everything, and he did this to me. He, he cut my finger right off, Jo. I swear it!"

Jo's not sure if he thinks she's stupid or what. She rushes him, lurching forward and Peter lets out a yelp. But Jo's not trying to hurt him. She reaches into his pocket, the one she's seen him keep his wand in all these years and yanks it right out. Peter cowers behind his own arm for a moment longer after Jo retreats, before he starts to lower it. He swallows when he sees Jo standing there, his wand in hand. "Wonder what the last spell on this bad boy would've been. Think we should take a look?"

"Jo," Peter pleads, eyes wide. He tries to reach for it, but Jo points her own wand directly at him. Peter stops and takes two steps back. "Jo, please listen to me. Please. You have to understand, please."

"It was you," she snarls at him. "This whole time, it's been you."

He shakes his head frantically. "No, Jo. It's not like that. Just let me explain, alright?" he begs of her. "I didn't have a choice, you see? He would've killed me. He would've killed me in the worst possible way, you have no idea."

Jo has plenty of ideas. She has a lot of ideas, and they are all running through her head now and she is concerned with what exactly she could get away with. "So you sold your friends out to die? Frame it all on Sirius and you, what? You get to live the rest of your life as some pathetic little lap dog?"

There is a quick expression that flashes over Peter's face. Something harsher and darker than she's ever seen on him before. The glint of it remains in his eyes. "I'm not pathetic. I'm no lap dog. And I'm not just surviving, Jo, I'm living. I am living more than I ever was before. And The Dark Lord, he has a lot of power Jo, and if you could lower your wand, he can help you too. Whatever you want, he can get you."

"Do you think I'm fucking stupid?" she snarls at him. "Do you think I'm as spineless and pathetic as you that that would really work on me? Newsflash, dickhead, he is just going to use you until he has no use for you anymore, and then you will be tossed aside like garbage, and you'll be left with nothing because you're a fucking idiot that chose power over his friends!"

"I don't get out of this with nothing," he stresses to her, voice lower and more confident than before. "I get the last laugh this time, Jo. I'm not going to be the butt of the fucking joke anymore!" Peter erupts, red in the face. "You've never known what it's like, Jo. It's always been so easy for you! Rich parents, Quidditch captain, throngs of first years that followed you around and drank up your every word like you were some fucking savior! You have no idea what it's like to be nothing, to be a fucking joke!"

Jo seethes, breathing tightly and holding onto her wand so tightly her knuckles are turning white. "You weren't nothing." she spits at Peter. "You were our friend. You were our friend, and you betrayed us. Now you're not nothing, you're worse than nothing. You're not even a joke. You're powerless. You're pathetic." And with a sharp exhale, Jo brings Peter's wand down to her knee, and snaps it in half. She hears this weak little squeak that falls from him as his wand clatters to the ground in two, splintered pieces.

And Peter stands before her, powerless, injured and bleeding. No wand and no spine. Jo has nothing but contempt for him, this visceral hatred for him that she can taste. Jo looks at him, and thinks about killing him, for a moment. She thinks it might be the right thing to do, the safest option she has. And as Jo contemplates it, there's a creak. Her head shoots in the direction of it and her blood goes cold to see Barty Crouch, Jr. casually stroll into Peter's living room.

He brings that same arrogant aura that he's always had, and here it's more chilling now than it has been before. Jo looks at him, and then looks back at Peter. And for the first time, Peter actually looks somewhat ashamed. "Hello, Jo, nice to see you here," he greets, but it's not as sugary as it usually is. He has an edge to his voice, a clear annoyance. He gives Peter a sharp clap on the shoulder. "I tried to mind my business, Wormtail, I really did. But suffice to say, you could not handle this on your own."

It makes Jo's skin crawl to hear the nickname her brother adorned Peter with used by this slick git. She clenches her jaw and points her wand at him. "What are you doing here?" she seethes, spitting out words through her clenched teeth.

"Oh, Peter didn't tell you? We're very close," he jeers. "See as dumb as he is, he is quite useful, in certain aspects. Like, telling the Dark Lord exactly where he can find your brother, his mudblood whore, and that little half-blood brat you call a nephew." Crouch smiles and ruffles the top of Peter's hair. Peter just stands there and allows it, takes the patronizing and the insults and the belittling. "Go on, Pete. Tell your best friend Jo all about it."

Jo turns to look at Peter. She doesn't dare moving her wand away from Crouch. "Yeah, Pete, go on. Tell me."

Peter sighs. "I convinced Remus that Sirius was the spy. Remus convinced James and I guess after this big falling out he had with you it wasn't hard. I told Sirius that he was