JAMES ABRUPTLY FORGETS AND ABANDONS HIS CONCERNS about Jo and her recently discovered friendships and instead chooses to focus on something so much more near and dear to him: himself.

Jo watches her brother, boisterous and proud, sway from side to side, Lily tucked under his right arm, his left hand holding a bottle of Firewhiskey by the neck, as the entire common room swells in singing him happy birthday.

The entire common room except, of course, Jo and Remus.

Jo lounges on the couch with her legs on Remus's lap, resembling her older brother in the way she holds a bottle of Firewhiskey, loose and wild, in the way her eyes droop a bit more with each sip. Jo watches him spill his drink and place wet kisses along Lily's cheek and neck and grows nauseous at the sight of it. She diverts her attention to Remus, who is glowering at the way Sirius claps his hand on James's shoulder, his other arm tight around Emmeline's waist.

A heavy sight falls from Jo before she brings the bottle to her lips, the buzz it's giving her feeling pleasant and warm. She's been having some complicated feelings towards Sirius lately, a headache-inducing combination of resentment and guilt, anger, and pity. She wants to throttle him for the way he's using Emmeline, dragging Remus around but can't bring herself to do so with the sick twist of knots that exists inside her gut every time she's near him. She can hardly look at him without seeing Regulus anymore.

"In case you were wondering," Remus drawls from his spot underneath her legs, and Jo lops her head in his direction, "you don't look jealous or bitter at all."

The sarcasm in his voice makes her snicker, resting her chin on the top of her bottle. "I've been told that I am so many times, I'm just starting to lean into it," she tells him. "I don't think I'd be down here if he wasn't my brother. Even then I still barely came."

Remus slips his eyes away from her, back onto Sirius. Jo watches the way they change, pupils dilating for a moment before his attention is on Jo once more. "I'm hoping this one will be better than your birthday."

Jo remembers her birthday as Regulus; the mood ring on her finger, walking so close to him their arms would brush together, laughing and completely oblivious to whatever was going on in the Gryffindor common room. It takes her a moment to recall what he's referring to: their fight over Emmeline. Jo hums. "Are you and Sirius speaking yet?"

"We've been speaking," Remus replies, curt and tense and Jo tips more of the Firewhiskey down her throat.

Jo hiccups. "In what context?"

Remus narrows his eyes at her. "What do you mean 'in what context'?"

"I mean," Jo answers, shifting, pulling her legs off of Remus's lap and holding them tight against her chest, "are you speaking to him as a friend, or are you speaking to him as something else?" she asks, words rushed and slurring together. Her head feels lighter.

"He's still going out with Vance," Remus answers, not answering her question.

"They'll break up soon enough," Jo shrugs. "I don't think he really cares about her."

"Are you a fucking expert now?" he spits out abruptly, aggressive and short and, at once, Remus is irritated and glaring at Jo as if she is the source of all of it.

And in response to Remus's irritation, Jo laughs. Head tilted back, neck exposed, and she shoots back up to push lightly at Remus's shoulder. "Don't get pissy with me," she chides, tipsy and ambivalent to his sour mood, "just asking you a question."

"Would you like me to ask you a question about Regulus Black?" Remus retorts.

Jo thinks that if she was a bit more sober or a bit more aware, her reaction to this would have been a bit more severe. But she shrugs, smile making her cheeks feel pleasantly sore. "Go on, then, ask away," she says. "You can ask me about Regulus Black all you'd like. Why would I care?"

Remus stares at her, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, before he shakes his head and lets his gaze drop. "You're so dense, Jo, honestly."

"So how are you speaking with him?" she insists, leaning in closer to him.

"I don't know, Jo," he sighs, defeat clear in his tone. "As friends? We're not talking as much."

"Hmm," she muses, and leans back, legs snapping back out to lay across Remus's lap once more. "Would you like to know what I think?"

"No," he is quick to reply.

But she continues on anyway. "I think you should try to seduce him."

"Are you already drunk?" he questions in response.

Jo gives him a wide grin. "Pleasantly so."

"Give me that bottle before it becomes unpleasant, then," Remus instructs, and before Jo has a chance to resist, he is snatching the Firewhiskey out of her hands and taking a swig of his own. And when he comes back up for air, he looks back over to where James and Lily and Sirius and Emmeline and everyone that either one of them would really rather not deal with. "Suppose I should go join them," Remus mumbles, dread thick.

Jo looks back over at them as well; the lot of them look like embodiments of sunshine, glowing and radiant. She looks back over at Remus, stormy and gray and rumbling. "Or," she starts, wiggling her eyebrows at Remus, "we could go down to the kitchens and get some treacle tart."

For a moment, Remus says nothing, eyes flickering back and forth between her and his mates before he relents. "Alright, but only because I know you'll be an absolute menace until you get your treacle tart."

Jo grins. "Brilliant."

She is bouncy. Skipping down the hall with a giggle in her throat and a slice of treacle tart in each one of her hands as Remus trails behind her, dragging his feet and rolling his eyes at her. And Jo doesn't know why she feels this way, why the alcohol is hitting her this way. But she's found the perfect balance, leaving her feeling completely weightless as she leads Remus around the castle, each step feeling all too familiar, though she's not paying attention to where she's going.

And even when she trips over her own feet, falling flat on her arse, her giggles don't stop, and she doesn't feel embarrassed when Remus groans, grabbing her by her elbow and yanking her to her feet. Once standing, Jo, with her mouth full of the tart, leans up on her toes and places a kiss on Remus's cheek. "Thank you," she forces out in a muffled voice.

Remus grimaces, wiping his cheek down. "You're disgusting."

She swallows. "I just really like treacle tart," Jo insists, smiling broadly.

"It is all over your face," he comments, reaching down to wipe it off of the corners of her mouth.

She laughs as his thumbs drags across the skin on her face, brushing away sticky crumbs. "Saving it for later."

"You're drunker than I anticipated," he complains, only serving to make Jo laugh more.

"Josephine?"

Jo whips her head around, smiling so big it hurts her now, to see Regulus standing a little ways down the corridor. And all of a sudden Jo knows why her walk felt familiar. She was going to the Greenhouse, to him, where she thought he would be. And the sight of him makes Jo realize exactly how much she wanted to see him.

"Regulus!" she exclaims, Remus's presence instantly forgotten, and she rushes towards him, hair flying wildly behind her as she leaps into his arms, hanging from his neck and kicking her feet off of the ground, treacle tart still gingerly held between her fingers. A single hand reaches for her lower back as he steps back, steadying himself, but other than that, he stays still against her.

Laughing still, Jo lets herself drop to the ground once more, looking up at Regulus with wide eyes and taking in the sight of him, face straight and hard. "I thought you'd be at your brother's party," he says, voice tight.

Jo pretends not to notice the way he clenches his jaw. "And you were just walking around here hoping to run into me anyways?" she teases, poking his arm.

Regulus casts his eyes behind her. "I always go for walks at night."

"Sure," she says, and holds up a hand towards him. "Treacle tart?"

He frowns. "No thank you."

"Jo?"

She whirls around at the sound of Remus's voice to see him standing right where she left him, hands clenched into fists by his side. Jo looks back at Regulus, back at Remus again, and does that a few more times before she realizes that they're glaring at each other. "Oh, erm," Jo stumbles, and turns to give Regulus a smile. "One second."

Immediately, she runs back towards Remus, not slowing down as she approaches him, causing Remus to catch her by the arm and steady her. Jo looks up at him with wild and wide eyes. "I'm going to ask two things of you," she dictates. "The first being that you never repeat what you just saw to anyone."

He rolls his eyes. "Naturally."

"And the second is that you go back to the common room," Jo finishes, eyes wide and unblinking.

Remus looks back over at Regulus. "You know what you're doing?"

Jo flinches. "What does that mean?"

"You'll be safe?" he rephrases, and it causes Jo to let out a long groan.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" she questions. "Yes, of course I'll be safe, you twat."

"Fine," Remus relents. "But give me the rest of your treacle tart."

Jo smiles. "You want it?"

"No, I'm going to toss it. You're a mess."

She rolls her eyes. "Love you, Rem."

Remus leans down and places a kiss on the top of Jo's forehead as he releases her forearms. "Get back before the party's over or I'm telling your brother," he threatens, and with that, he turns on his heel and heads back towards the common room and Jo cannot, for the life of her, explain the sudden buzz of nerves that rush over her.

Jo turns, trying to convince herself that she feels steadier than she actually is, and approaches Regulus once more, walking this time. He meets her halfway, taking slow and careful steps.

"Hi," she says once she reaches him, staring up towards him with a shy smile that she can't make sense of.

Regulus doesn't smile back down at her like he normally does. He doesn't look like he normally does, and he doesn't sound like he normally does when he lets out a curt, "Hello." Jo thinks that he sounds like the Regulus Black that everyone else hears.

She tilts her head, frowning. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Regulus nods.

All of the sudden, Jo is embarrassed. They're just standing there, she notes, not walking like they do. Just standing still. "If you say so," she says as she lets her eyes drop to the ground.

Regulus looks over her shoulder where Remus was just standing. "You and Lupin going for a walk?"

"Party's boring," Jo shrugs. "Just wanted some treacle tart."

"Hmm."

Jo looks up at Regulus, suddenly feeling like she's about to cry. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Of course," he replies.

"You don't seem alright," Jo counters. "You actually seem a bit annoyed with me."

At once, he softens, eyes warm on her and his icy composure melts. "I'm sorry. I'm not."

She nods. "Okay."

Regulus shifts his weight around, hands knotted together. "I didn't realize you and Lupin were so...close," he says, eyes suddenly on his feet once more.

Jo shrugs. "We've always been close."

"Like with Sirius?" Regulus questions, almost rapidly.

The question makes Jo furrow her brow. "I dunno," she contemplates, "I think I always thought of Sirius as my brother. I've never thought of Remus that way."

Regulus bristles, and asks, "Do you think of me that way?" And at once, his face flushes red. "Like a brother, I mean. Since you think of my brother as a brother," he rushes to explain, almost stumbling over his words.

Jo flushes. "No," she says with a bit of a chuckle in her voice. "It's weird to even think about."

Regulus looks back up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Why?"

"I dunno," Jo giggles, embarrassed and flustered and unable to let herself indulge in his line of thinking without squirming or sinking into herself. "It's just weird."

"Why is it weird?" Regulus insists, stepping closer to her, now smiling at the way she blushes.

Jo blows out a line of air. "Why do you want to know so badly?" she questions.

Regulus shrugs. "I just want to know how you think of me."

"I think of you as one of my friends," Jo answers, and looks up at him again. "How do you think of me?"

"The same," Regulus says in a tight voice, lips pursed into a thin line and nods. Jo raises an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"You're acting weird," she comments.

"I'm not."

She laughs. "You definitely are."

Regulus tilts his head and narrows his eyes down at her and suddenly, Jo realizes that she has been inching closer to him. She stands a mere foot away from him now as he stares down at her. "I think that you're just drunk," he counters in a low voice.

"That may be," Jo agrees, "but I'm still the same old unusually perceptive Jo." She halts, suddenly, and comes to a realization. "Why don't you ever call me Jo, by the way?" she asks. "Everyone else calls me Jo. But you call me by my full name."

"I don't want to call you what everyone else calls you," Regulus explains. "Josephine's a pretty name."

Jo feels heat in her cheeks and a fluttering in her gut. "Can I call you Reggie?"

He snorts. "No."

"What about Reg?" she asks again.

Regulus pauses and lets this one process for a moment. "That's fine," he answers after a moment, "if you'd like."

"Can I tell you something?"

He smiles down at her, eyes not leaving her face, expression warm. "Go on."

Jo bits back a smile. "I like you."

This makes Regulus falter. "You do?"

"Yeah," she assures him. "I'm really glad we're friends."

"Friends," Regulus repeats back to her, and scoffs, shaking his head. "Me too. I'm glad we're friends too."

Jo doesn't know what to do with herself. She wants to do something, feels like she has to, but she can't figure out what it is. "Will you walk me back to the tower?" she asks. "I honestly think I might get lost on my own."

She's not that drunk. She thinks that Regulus knows that as well, but he nods with a soft smile and says, "Of course," offering his arm to her. Jo loops her hand around his elbow, and he leads her back to the Gryffindor common room, where a party is underway, and she is no doubt going to be greeted with a barrage of questions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Honestly, Jo, how did you get a D on your Defense essay?" Dorcas questions, books tucked into her chest as they walk down the hallway, first years behind them as they always are, growing in number as the Death Eaters in training grow more and more bold. "Half the school is scared to come within three feet of you."

Jo has a splitting headache. One that is induced by her detestable obnoxious brother and her increasing lack of sleep, and now, her poor grades. Her worse than poor grades. Her dreadful grades. She'd never been the best in school, excelling in Potions and Herbology far more than she does in any other class, relying on Remus for the rest. But now it's worse, Defense slipping more than the rest of them. "It's a lot easier to perform defensive spells than it is to write six scrolls about them. I mean, how much is there to say about a Patronus anyways?"

Dorcas steps in unison with Jo as they head down towards the dungeon. It's been strange between them, uneasy yet natural at the same time. Like they will continue on as they always had and before they realize and remember, and it is tense once more. Jo tries to push on past it whenever she starts to feel it. "What are you going to do?" Dorcas asks as they veer into the Potions room.

They pause for a moment at the back of the classroom where Dorcas sits. Talkalot's spot is vacant, Jo is pleased to see. And she is even more pleased to see that Regulus is seated already, Jo's chair pulled out for her. "Grovel at Remus's feet and beg him to help me with Defense."

Dorcas frowns. "Wasn't he already helping you?"

Jo gives her a twisted smile. "Remus took a personal leave from tutoring to wallow in self-pity."

"Well, let me know if you need help," Dorcas offers, "I'm not as good at Defense as him, but I'm far more emotionally accessible."

"Thanks," Jo says, knowing that she will not accept as she peels away. "I'll let you know."

And as she approaches her own spot and drops her books next to Regulus, he greets her with. "You got a D on your Defense essay?"

She groans. "So you've heard?"

"I can help you," Regulus says almost immediately. And it makes sense. Jo thinks Regulus is somewhere near the top of the class, where she sits towards the middle. But something about the concept of sitting in the dark and dusty library with Regulus, pouring over meticulous details of her essays until the sun had set makes her feel strange.

"Remus helps me with Defense," is the only response she can get.

Regulus smirks. "Obviously he's doing very well. You're clearly learning a lot."

Jo doesn't have any response to that but a deflate of her shoulders and a grumbled, "Fine."

Smug, Regulus says, "I'll meet you at the library at seven."

He is not there at seven.

It is fifteen past when Jo starts to get annoyed, staring down at her half-written essay and her scribbled Defense notes. She keeps her forehead in her hands and time moves torturously slow, one minute feeling like an eternity. Jo is annoyed, properly, and thoroughly annoyed, and she thinks that she doesn't understand Regulus.

Sixteen past, and Jo suddenly shoves her books and parchment back into her bag, crumbling and wrinkling it and she doesn't particularly care. If it was Remus, she would've waited. If it was Dorcas, she would have waited. If it was anyone else, she would've waited. But it's Regulus, and there is something about him being sixteen minutes late that makes Jo grit her teeth and tighten her hands into fists.

The library is full, and friends gather and study and laugh as Jo storms out, her notes almost falling out of her bag. She tries to figure out what exactly it is that she's feeling, disappointment or hurt feel like an overreaction but her eyes are burning, and she wishes she was feeling anger like she's used to.

As she stomps out into the corridor, the footsteps are the loudest thing that she hears. She wonders if he forgot. She wonders what he could be doing instead of being with her. She thinks that she's going to get a full night's sleep tonight and she wonders how long she can stay mad at him and as she turns the corner, he is there.

Regulus is standing in the corridor, and he is not alone. His wand is drawn and aimed; his forearm is pressed into the throat of someone she cannot see. He doesn't notice her as she freezes, studying him and holding her breath.

This is a new Regulus. A new and unknown Regulus; his eyebrows are drawn together, eyes carefully narrowed, lip pulled back in a snare. Jo takes a careful step forward, noting the way his knuckles go white around his wand. His mouth moves, and Jo can hear quiet rumbles, the low, smooth voice that she has been accustomed to, filled with a venomous rage. She can't make out the words, can't see the face of who they're being spat at. Jo takes another step forward, and Regulus hears it.

It's normally Regulus who catches her off guard, drunk or crying or violent. And in the few times that Jo has stumbled upon him in a moment of vulnerability, it's been different; it's been hushed cries and fear in his eyes. Never this.

He whips