SHE HAS THIS RINGING IN HER EARS, AND THEN HER EYES OPEN.

It only takes a moment and a few excessive blinks for the tear-stained face of Dorcas to come into detail. She's draped over Jo's body, mouth moving frantically. Jo hears nothing but the ringing.

In the first few seconds of her consciousness, she is numb. And then it settles in. Intense and sharp pain in her back, in her legs. The icy ground chills her but hot and damp blood drips from her ears, seeps from her back. Nausea rolls over her. The pain in her head is so severe Jo sees black spots.

Dorcas is still speaking over her and Jo is still deaf to it. She realizes then where she is, lying on the ground in front of The Three Broomsticks. Her eyes drift up to see that it was The Three Broomsticks, and it is now a pile of rubble and debris. Panic settles in then.

Whatever pain she felt before intensifies when Jo tries to stand, and she cannot help the hiss that escapes her. She is sure Dorcas is still speaking as arms reach around Jo, tugging and pulling and doing everything but using her wand to get Jo up on her feet. Nonetheless, she lands on them with great difficulty. With unstable footing, Jo clings onto Dorcas with an iron grip, and she surveys the area. Her heart plummets out of her chest.

Any building that is not burning has collapsed. The white blanket of snow that covered the village is now muddled with ash and dirt. There's no one else around. At least, no one standing.

It is then Jo recalls Ivan. standing before her just moments before her vision went black. Her eyes drift to Dorcas, wide with horror, and then to the spot where Ivan stood.

Blood stains the snow under him as he lies, limp on the ground. Jo nearly vomits at the realization that it is seeping, bright blood inching and creeping over what remains of the untouched snow. Without thinking, she drops to her knees at once, fishing frantically for her wand, grasping and clawing at her pockets until she has it in her grip.

Her hands work to find the injury, ripping away at the fabric that conceals his skin. As soon as her hands are on him, the palms are a violent shade of red. The pain and the ringing and the presence of Dorcas over her shoulder are all forgotten as Jo rips away his robes and uncovers the source of it-a deep, deep slice that starts at the center of his chest and wraps around the side of his ribs.

Jo moves mechanically to heal him, jaw locked, and lips pursed together in concentration. Dorcas grabs at her arm. It is a forceful hold but Jo jerks away from it without much consideration, focus unbroken. Her wand hovers over his chest and her lips move, mumbling out a spell she's done countless times on her brother, unable to hear the words that tumble out of her, but she feels them within her. She's focused on damage control-he's lost so much blood already he will need more than her spells can give him. Jo needs potions.

She drops her wand to her side and waits for the wounds to heal. She's seen it so many times-skin growing and stretching to close over open wounds. She knows what to do next. Jo knows how to heal him. But still, the wounds sit open, bleeding freely, disobedient, and defiant. Her mouth hangs agape.

Dorcas tugs at her once more. Jo's more aggressive with her resistance now. She repeats it all over again, wand now shaking in her hand, ringing in her ears intensified. It comes out of her quicker now, rushed and Jo thinks she might be shouting it, but she can't hear it either way.

Again, Jo finishes the spell, and again, his chest remains cut open.

Her head is shaking now. She feels Dorcas's arms slink over her once more but Jo is still now. She kneels by Ivan Reed, his blood soaking into the denim of her jeans, mystified. It should've healed him, but it did not. The bleeding should've stopped, but it did not. Jo can't make sense of it. She did the spell right; she knows she did.

She leans forward towards him once more and, trembling, cups his cheek with the palm of her hand. Jo's never felt anything so cold. Ivan Reed, who once burned as bright as the sun, is now ice in her hand.

Jo turns her head to Dorcas. Tears roll down her cheeks, but her lips are tightened together now. She shakes her head.

"I'd never seen anything like it," Dorcas tells her, hours later now, still sitting at Jo's side. Her voice is hoarse, quiet, but it carries strongly over the thick silence that has settled over the Hospital Wing. Dorcas's eyes are cast towards the ground, like they have been since they stepped foot back in the castle. "It was one after the other. It was instantaneous."

Jo can hear better now, but she wishes she could not. She longs for the ringing so she could block out Dorcas's lamenting. Jo's not really quite sure she ever wants to hear anything again. But the idea of speaking is worse, so she sits silently in her hospital bed, draped in bandages, and listens.

"I thought you were dead," Dorcas says, voice cracking now. This seems to be the most difficult thought for her to grapple with; she has repeated it to Jo now several times. "You got hit with that curse and then you just collapsed."

Her cheeks burn at the idea of it. She feels a strong mixture of guilt and shame. You just collapsed. She couldn't protect her friends. She couldn't protect Ivan.

It's been explained to her many times now. Death Eaters attacked Hogsmeade. They burned down the shops and homes. Many were injured. She was one of them. One person died. That was Ivan.

First, it was Jo that was hit. Just one spell. The same one that ripped open Ivan's chest tore up her back, sliced down her leg. She was knocked out not from the spell, but from the collapsing building above her that knocked Jo to the ground and buried her. It was then that Ivan, with a bleeding chest, leapt to help her. He was killed with a violent flash of green.

Alice and Emmeline and Hestia went off to help the younger students back to the castle. Dorcas stayed and saw it all.

Jo does not feel like she is sitting in a cot. She feels like she is kneeled down in the ice, hovering over a lifeless and unhealable Ivan. She can feel the snow melting into the fabric of her jeans, can feel his blood as it stains her palms, as it drips down her arm and under her sleeve. Her stare is dead, eyes empty and unblinking. Jo locks her jaw, clenches her teeth together. She tightens her fists around the thin blanket that covers her and feels her knuckles strain against the grip.

"I can't believe he's dead," Dorcas cries out suddenly, saying the word as if it were ripped from her. Jo remains unmoving.

She does not believe that Ivan Reed is dead. He can't be. He is too young and too charming and yeah, of course he's a bit of a twat but everyone is, at least some of the time. And he apologized. He tried to help Jo. He can't be dead. It doesn't make sense. And Jo believes that if she sits there long enough, silent and like stone, it won't be.

Footsteps echo rapidly and suddenly, harsh and quick steps against the stone floor, and the sound of each of them hits Jo's head like a rock. Her knuckles turn white as she twists her grip. The footsteps slow, and then stop.

"Is she alright?"

Dorcas sniffles. "She hasn't said anything. She hasn't even moved."

The bed beside Jo dips. Large and cold hands wrap softly around her neck, thumbs brushing against the edge of her jaw. "Josephine, love." Regulus's voice is soft and sweet. Jo can hear the strain in it though and recognizes it at once as him fighting for control. "Please look at me."

Jo can't look at Regulus. If she looks at him, her control will break, she will cry, and that will mean Ivan Reed is really dead. She stares ahead, still and unflinching.

But Regulus has always been so horribly gifted in chipping away at her facades and she finds it impossible to deny him anything. His thumb grazes the skin on her cheek, and he says again, "Look at me please, Josephine."

And she does.

Her eyes flicker to his to find that they are rimmed red, bloodshot, and wet. An impossibly large lump grows in her throat, and it's not long before tears blur her vision. The first one falls, and that is it. Jo submits.

At once, Jo's head drops, leaning into Regulus's chest as his arms instinctually go around her shoulders. Jo presses into him as the first sob rips through her, and from there, she is unable to stop. She weeps. Regulus rests his chin atop her, occasionally placing gentle, comforting kisses on the back of her head, and he does not let go.

She cries into Regulus, and he says nothing. And that's it. Ivan Reed is dead.

Classes are cancelled for a while. The castle is on lockdown. No one in and no one out and it's never been so quiet. Even the portraits sit still, eyes silently watching sullen groups of students travel in packs, too afraid to travel alone. It's just completely stagnant.

As is Jo.

For hours on end, she sits on the floor of the Room of Requirement, listening to that ridiculous Kate Bush album that Regulus is so infatuated with. She holds onto the back of her thighs, legs tucked into her chest and chin resting atop her knees as she watches the record spin. She tries to commit the image of it in her mind. The needle wavering and wiggling with the groves, back and forth, methodically and rhythmically. She stares, unblinking until her eyes go dry, gnawing on her chapped lip. Jo figures if she burns that same, static image in her head she can stop seeing Ivan lying dead in front of her.

Sometimes Dorcas shows up. She tries to get Jo to play different records or comb her hair. She brings her little snacks and harmless gossip that Jo is positive is several weeks old, since she can't imagine anyone would be talking about anything other than Ivan. Regulus comes as well, placing a swift kiss on her forehead, and then resigns to sit silently by her side, so she's not alone for too long. Juniper is almost always curled up beside her, purring loudly.

But still, she does nothing but sit.

Jo thinks for hours on end of all the ways it's her fault that Ivan is dead. That perhaps if she were more like her brother, like James, she would've been able to save him, somehow. James would always be able to do something like that. He'd never let anyone get hurt. He'd never let anyone die. Jo is almost positive that if it were him standing there, Ivan would be alive, breathing, and warm.

And Jo cannot stop imagining Ivan's mother, beautiful and blond and warm and glowing like him, picturing the way her features would twist and contort to the news. Did she wail, scream and curse and beg for her son back? Did she believe it when she heard? Did she fall to her knees, break out in hives? Is she sitting there quietly, unmoving, withering and crumbling, bones going soft and flesh rotted?

Almost endlessly, she remembers Ivan as she knew him. The first time she kissed him, the first time she kissed anyone, how he got her flowers, how easily he charmed her. Jo almost feels a bit guilty over it. She never thought so sweetly of him when he was alive. It's easier though. If she is going to torment herself with thoughts of him, it's better than thoughts of his blood staining her skin.

Her knees are tucked tightly under her chin as she sits there, running through these thoughts of Ivan and never blinking. And the records end.

Immediately, Jo flicks her wand towards it and tucks it back by her side in one fluid motion, and Lionheart restarts.

"If you play that album one more time, I don't think I'll ever be able to listen to it ever again."

Jo hadn't notice Regulus enter, but still, she has no reaction to the sound of his voice, no reaction as he sits by her side. Even Juniper lifts her little head to give Regulus a bored, acknowledging look before nestling it back against her paws, sleeping once more.

It's not that she doesn't want to speak with him. Jo would really like to. She'd really like to be held by him, comforted by him. She wants him to whisper in her ear and make her feel like she is safe and to make her feel like she did before this ever happened. But Jo sits stoic and still, unsure if she deserves it.

And Regulus has been so impossibly patient with her, as he always is, as he always has been. Regulus is always exactly what she needs. It makes her feel nauseous.

From the corner of her eye, Jo can see Regulus lean forward, and place something down in front of her. "Came for you today. Looks like it's from your brother. I didn't read it, but the handwriting is almost completely illegible, so I figure it's him."

She feels a prick in her eyes, and her throat constricts. Regulus says nothing more.

Music plays. Jo likes hearing the same songs over and over. She knows what to expect. She knows the moments she likes and the ones that she doesn't. The first hundred times she was half convinced it would change, spit something else at her. But it continues, the same as it always is.

Jo's not sure how many days it's been since Ivan died. She's not sure how long she was in the Hospital Wing after the fact. She doesn't know if classes had started back up again, and she's just been missing them. Jo feels like she doesn't know anything other than the fact that Ivan Reed is dead, and she's just sitting there.

"How do you do it, Reg?" Jo asks suddenly, voice cracking and dry. It almost hurts to speak.

He doesn't answer right away. It doesn't seem like he was expecting her to say anything yet. He turns towards her. "Do what?"

"Go on living, after you've seen something awful happen," Jo explains, voice now thick and wet. "How do you live after you've seen someone die?"

"I don't know," he tells her earnestly. "I suppose you just do it."

Jo leans back, stretching out her legs flat in front of her, arms now crossed in front of her chest. "I don't think I can," she confesses in a hoarse whisper.

Regulus inches closer to her. "I think you have to."

"I was unfair to you before," Jo says suddenly, "when I called you a coward. You're not a coward. I dunno," she starts, and then stops, inhaling sharply through her nose to slow the burn of her eyes, "I'm the coward. I'm the one who-" Jo stops herself again, and sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Josephine," Regulus starts, shifting against the ground so he's facing her. And his hands reach for hers, gently holding them in his own and Jo's heart beats faster. She had forgotten what that was like. "You're not a coward." His thumb drags along the skin on rest. Goosebumps spread. "Something really horrible happened. You saw something really horrible. And it doesn't matter how brave you are or how strong you are, it's not something you can just take in stride or walk away from."

Her bottom lip is trembling now. Jo holds her breath in hopes that it will help her regain some sense of control but each second it gets harder and harder. She shakes her head. "It doesn't make any sense," Jo mumbles, getting choked up now, tears spilling over onto her cheeks. "He was so cold," she gasps out, "and there was so much blood. I was covered in it."

There is no going back from there. Jo has lost control, her chest feeling like it has been cracked open. Regulus takes hold of her at once, pulling her legs over his lap and resting her head against his chest. Her sobs don't slow as his palms pat down the back of her hair. "I know, love," he whispers. "I know."

It's the first time, it seems to Jo, that Regulus doesn't really know what to say. And that's fine because she's not even sure what she would want to hear. Jo grips onto the fabric of his shirt and tries to make herself as small as possible and lets herself indulge in the comfort of his embrace.

Things change. It's different than the last time something like this happened. It feels closer this time, more inescapable. Jo was naively hoping that when she finally emerged from her haven in the Room of Requirement, the castle would feel far removed from war. But it is now entrenched in it. War and death drip down the walls, creep along the floors, and suffocate anyone who wanders through the halls.

Jo started sleeping in her dorm again. Alice and Dorcas pushed their beds to either side of Jo's, they can't seem to sleep very well on their own anymore. Jo feels a bit selfish to realize that she's not the only one with nightmares.

Ivan is everywhere she goes. Yellow banners hang from the ceiling. Students wear buttons with his picture, smiling proudly in his Quidditch uniform. People are constantly crying on the corridor floors, sneaking out of classrooms in order to do so. And every reminder of Ivan is a reminder of his still body and spilled blood.

She hardly speaks anymore. Just stares and sulks and silently battles for control of her thoughts. But she can't stop thinking about death and its permanence, and Madam Pomfrey did what she could but Jo still can still feel the ache in her head and the slice in her skin. It is like she is constantly coated in the memory of that day. She lives in that day, unaware of the present. Jo has not felt like her feet have touched the ground since.

Jo walks down the corridors stoic and cold, bags heavy beneath her eyes and stare dead. Regulus walks her to class as he always does, and Jo holds onto his hand so tightly she fears she might pop off one of his fingers. He never complains.

She holds his hand now, somehow even tighter now, her fingers frozen and bloodless, as the two of them take small, uncertain steps down the The One-Eyed Witch Passage. "I still think this is a bad idea," Regulus tells her softly, offering up the most resistance she's had from him in weeks.

And it's not like Jo can disagree with him. The closer they get to Hogsmeade, the sicker she feels. Every step brings chills, nausea, dizziness. It is a bad idea, and Jo would love very much to turn around. But she remains steadfast, leaning in a little closer to Regulus. "I think it will make me feel better," she counters, and to that, Regulus offers no protest.

Jo looks up at him. It's been hard, she thinks, to appreciate him. His kindness, patience, his care. Ever since that day, it's the only real thing that can penetrate the numbness. And she feels it then, his affection for her, and it's the first time Jo can feel herself smile, just slightly. She stands on her toes and places a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she tells him before her momentary passing of joy is replaced by a heavy, grief-filled guilt.

Regulus smiles. He doesn't say anything, and she's glad. Jo doesn't feel like explaining herself. They continue to walk in silence.

When the reach the end of the tunnel, Jo has to count to three before she lets go of Regulus's hand. "You'll wait for me?" she asks, eyes hard on the ground.

Regulus drags her thumb along the side of her cheek. "Of course."

It's hard to walk away from him, to walk into the cold, icy night on her own. But she does.

Hogsmeade has never been this empty, not that Jo has ever seen. It looks nothing like it did before, collapsed and burning and ashy. It's as if nothing ever happened, as if no one ever died. Jo leaves footprints in the fresh snow and walks towards the Three Broomsticks.

As she reaches the doorway, she stops, eyes drifting to the spot where Ivan died. And it's not like she was expecting his body to still be there, but it's almost a shock to see nothing there but white, untouched snow. Almost involuntarily, Jo pictures herself there, crouching over Ivan with blood pouring out of her ears, Dorcas pulling at her