JO CAN'T STAND TO BE IN HER DORMITORY. She can't stand to be there, in the common room, in the Great Hall, in any space she used to occupy with Dorcas, their shoulders pressed together and giggles echoing. Walking into any of those spots is like walking through wet concrete. Sleeping in her dormitory is like being suffocated. No one speaks, everyone keeps their eyes on the ground. Alice has declared herself neutral territory, subsequently deciding to ignore Jo and Dorcas until they came to some sort of conclusion. Jo's lonely where she used to feel loved, melancholy where she used to feel joy.

So now Jo seeks Regulus out while the sun is still up. In crooks and crannies, in shadows, hidden from the blind eye and they whisper, hushed conversations that slip into silence when a shadow is cast nearby. He makes her feel better, like there's a weight off her shoulders, like she can breathe again. Jo craves his company, eagerly awaits their slotted time in Potions together.

Still, Dorcas's words echo around her head and Jo can't let go of them and uses them to ascribe new words to herself: jealous, irrational, unsupportive, stupid, jealous. It was a concept she never considered before, one that stained her thoughts like a deep wine.

Jo twists her neck around, keeping her nose tilted down to her shoulder as she flashes her eyes to the back of the Potions classroom, where Dorcas sits next to a sneering Lucinda Talkalot, face flustered and lips downturned in a pout. Jo feels her stomach turn.

Regulus, who has taken the lead on their Wiggenweld Potion, looks at Jo with a purse of his mouth, eyebrows bunched. Jo doesn't notice, she only looks forward again at the sound of his voice, caught up too deeply in the thick feeling of dread. "You should just talk to her," Regulus says in a low and smooth voice, eyes trailing back to the berry he's juicing.

Jo sighs, eyes distant and twisting her mood ring on her finger. It sits at a deep, dark green. "Wouldn't know what to say," she mumbles.

Regulus pauses before he takes his long, red-stained fingers and places the tips of them over Jo's. The contact makes her stomach lurch, and Jo whips around to look at Regulus with wide, dark eyes. "Something is better than nothing," he tells her gently, and takes his hand back to continue his work. Jo lets his words sink into her.

It would be better to say something, because the nothing is killing her. She can't remember the last time she'd go on so long without a word to Dorcas since she met her. From the day they met, Jo and Dorcas had never fought, not once, not like this. It makes Jo feel sick, constantly nervous, and constantly unsure.

And there are many times she plans on saying something, anything. Regulus's words echo in her mind as she catches glimpses of Dorcas tossing and turning in her bed at night, sees her with her nose tucked in Divination books, watches as she stirs her porridge in the Great Hall, not once taking a bite. Jo opens her mouth, ready to say something, anything, but nothing comes out, and she leaves it at that.

Jo doesn't know whether or not she's in the wrong. And she's usually got a pretty clear grasp on those things but now she's feeling lost, disoriented. She figures she wouldn't have yelled, but Dorcas shouldn't have either. She figures Dorcas shouldn't have started it, but she shouldn't have provoked it. Jo thinks that maybe she should have just accepted Marlene's apology and hugged her and let her bitterness roll off her back but somehow that idea makes her feel even worse.

Jo asks every person she knows if they think she is a jealous person.

James laughs, strutting from his class to the Quidditch pitch, Jo taking long, quick strides to keep up with him. "Of course, you are. I'm your brother. Who wouldn't be jealous of me?"

Hestia frowns, eyes intense and grabs into Jo's hands hard as they sit in Herbology. "I would certainly hope not, because you have nothing to be jealous of. You're gorgeous and smart and cool-"

Remus doesn't even look up from his Defense essay as he says, "Everyone gets jealous sometimes. It'd be weird if you didn't."

Emmeline chews on her lunch and narrows her eyes at Jo. Ravenclaws stare down Jo and her unwelcome presence at their table. "Who said that? Cause I'll twist their knees inside out like you did Reed. Was it Reed?"

Alice sighs, exasperated, and gathers her books into her arms as she stands to leave the common room. "I'm not getting in between whatever's going on between you and Dorcas. Alright? I love you both and you're both my friends and you're both wrong."

Sirius slings his arm over her shoulder. "Everyone's jealous of everyone. Seems like a miserable cycle. Fortunately, I'm perfect, so I'm not too familiar with the feeling."

Regulus looks at Jo, unblinking as they sit across from each other in the Room of Requirement, The Clash's self-titled record playing softly from the record player. "I think if you're fixating on it so much, there must be at least a little bit of truth to it."

Jo tilts her head, eyes fixated on her two thumbs as they brush back and forth against each other, and she feels a wry smile grow on her face, despite herself. "That was unexpectedly wise," she mumbles.

"You think everything about me is unexpected," Regulus tells her with a dry chuckle.

She falls silent again, the jagged sounds of London's Burning discordant with her quiet melancholy. "Have you ever gotten into a fight like this with one of your friends?" she asks Regulus, still not looking to meet his eye.

"Hmm," he muses. "Not that I can remember. Kreacher is fairly agreeable."

She rolls her eyes. "I meant with friends that aren't the house elf obligated to obey your every command."

"No, no I haven't," Regulus answers. "I don't think I'm particularly close enough with anyone to have a falling out like that."

The track ends, the record player halts, and Jo thinks the air feels heavy.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jo has never known rage quite like this. It pumps through her veins like hot venom, leaving every part of her tense and jagged. Her teeth grind and her hands are balled so tightly into fists that her nails leave half-moon indents on the soft parts of her palm. She has to choke it back, bite and force down the sharpest anger she's ever felt.

James is hot on her tail as she stomps down the corridor, wand in hand. "Slow down, Josie!" he calls to her periodically, but she doesn't hear; his words are static in her ears. Jo's got a bit of a one track mind as she storms down the corridors.

Severus Snape has never really given Jo much trouble. He hates her, of course, like he hates almost everyone, but that has always been more out of obligation than personal vendetta. He has other people he'd rather torment, enemies he prefers to fix his hatred on. Snape has always been too dedicated to loathing her brother to leave any of that resentment for Jo. He'll give her the occasional insult and be on his way, and it's always been only that. So she's never really paid him any mind.

But now, as she stomps and seethes, she is thinking of the worst things she can do to him, thinking of the harshest, cruelest things she can get away with. Now, as she thinks of Snape and his slimy hair and permanent sneer, she sees red. Bright, vibrant, violent red.

She was lodged up in her brother's dorm when she heard, hiding from everyone else and letting his endless rambling distract her. She'd been spending a lot of time up there, as of late (most of her sleep comes from long, light naps on Remus's bed whenever he's not around). James was in the middle of telling her about his five-year life plan and how he had only plotted three out of the five when Peter came stumbling in, out of breath and red in the face, to tell them what happened.

Snape cornered her, accosted her, sneered at her, talked down to her, let that word fall from his lips and into her ears. Cursed her once. Cursed her again. There was a lot of blood, Pete had told them.

Jo was almost so blind with rage she couldn't find his name on the map. Almost.

Because it doesn't matter that Dorcas hasn't spoken to her in nearly two weeks. It doesn't matter. She tells that to herself over and over as she rushes towards where she knows he is. It doesn't matter.

He's lounged out by the courtyard with his Death Eater friends, after a slap on the wrist punishment from the weak-spined Slughorn, probably laughing and bragging and feeling ever so smug and completely unaware that Jo is reigning in the urge to cast an Unforgivable, or worse, on him.

James is still chasing after her when she storms towards him, but Jo pays him no mind as Snape comes into her line of vision, closer and closer, his buddy McNair doubled over as their nasally laughter hits her ears like nails. She suppresses a shudder.

"Oi," she calls out to them as she steps in closer, her hands balled tightly into fists-she has no need for her wand this time, "Snivelly!"

The sight of her there, with James just a step behind her, makes the smug pride slip right off his face, and replaces it with a lowly sneer. He inhales sharply through his teeth at that name. "Don't you dare call me that, you fil-"

He doesn't finish, he doesn't get the chance to. Jo has flung her closed fists right into his nose, feeling the crunch of his bones and the bending of the cartilage under her fingers. James lets out an expletive behind her, loud and explosive and shocked and Snape crumbles instantly, collapsed on the ground by her feet and Jo feels no sympathy. "Get up!" she snaps down at him, voice bellowing and low. "Get up, Snivelly, since you're so tough. Go on then," she presses, staring down at this crumbled form and she breathes out heavy through her nose. "You're so pathetic," she spits at him. "So bloody pathetic."

James places a hand on her shoulder, tries to pull her back but she jerks forward, out of his grip and doesn't remove her glare. "Josie, c'mon, leave it," he pleads to her, and she's so swallowed up in her hatred she doesn't even notice his tone, and the desperation in it.

But Jo can't help herself. She jams a toe into Snape's ribs and hears him grunt. "If you haven't learned your lesson from my brother," she says, lower, more hushed now, "you're going to learn it from me: keep your slimy nose in your own business and piss off."

"I'm serious, Josie," James says, grabbing for her again. "Leave it."

His grip is firm on her bicep as he tries to tug her away but Jo leans down to where Snape is lying on the ground, curled into himself and completely still. "Nothing to say, Snivelly? None of that biting wit in store for me?"

She forgets about McNair until he says, still leaned up against the wall, relaxed and casual and grimy, "You and your mudblood friend will get what you deserve."

Jo snaps her head up at him and, in a second, her wand is out of her pocket and in her hand, pressed up against the curve of his throat. McNair smirks down at her, like he's daring her. "Call her that again," she snarls at her, and ignores the pleas of her brother behind her. "Use that word again, I'm begging you."

"Josephine."

This doesn't come from James. She doesn't move, wand digging into McNair's skin with Snape shaking at her feet, she's afraid of what will happen when she does. There is a stiff stillness in the air that makes her feel like she's suffocating, until there is a cold hand wrapping around her shoulder, pulling her back, gently and slowly. "Let's go, Josephine. You've done enough."

Regulus is leaning down, his lips at her ear and he speaks his words, low and careful. And Jo can feel the rage in her dissipate, all at once, slowly draining from her like a leak in a dam. She lets her shoulders slump, and she steps back, letting her wand slip back into her pocket.

When she looks up at Regulus, he gives her a nod, as if to tell her it's alright. "Why don't we go for a walk?" he asks.

Jo nods. Her mouth feels dry. "Alright."

Her head is nothing but noise, loud and buzzing. She casts her eyes downward, and takes a deep breath as McNair says, "What the fuck are you doing, Black?"

Jo doesn't notice until then that Regulus still has a firm hand on her shoulder. "Mind your business and get him out of here."

McNair does as he's told, scooping Snape off the ground and dragging him away towards the dungeons, but Jo doesn't notice, because she catches James's eye, and feels nauseous. It's a look that she'll remember for a while, wide-eyed confused, the way his mouth hangs agape. Everything about his expression is slacked, shocked, betrayed. Jo's gut rolls.

"Let's go," she says as she looks her brother in the eye. It's clear who she's speaking to, and Regulus follows when she turns on her heel.