WITH TEARS STILL FRESH ON HER CHEEKS AND A STUMBLE TO HER STEP, Jo barges back into the Gryffindor common room. Eyes narrowed and slouched to one side, Jo eyes the room, the people laughing and dancing to whatever shit disco song they've got playing and she sees nearly empty bottles of Firewhiskey and Jo feels the cut of rejection tense in her muscles, build into aggression. She's looking for a fight. She is looking for someone unsuspecting and someone annoying, someone she can justify cursing or punching or screaming at. Someone she wouldn't mind getting detention over.

What she sees instead is Ewan Moss.

He's tall, pushed into the far corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest, slouched, and Jo can still spot him over the crowd. Ciaran O'Larcan stands neck to him, bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand as he rambles, running his mouth so rapidly Jo can almost hear it from her spot across the room. And Ewan Moss just stands there, and Jo's not sure if she's just too drunk to think straight, but she has a brilliant idea: that if Regulus doesn't want her, Ewan Moss certainly does. And, really, what does Regulus have that Moss doesn't? Dark hair, light eyes, a sharp jaw. Jo tells herself that she's drunk enough for it not to matter.

Jo crosses the common room, bumping shoulders with people she doesn't bother to identify, making a beeline for Ewan and his spot in the corner and she tells herself that it's a good idea. It's a good idea and snogging Moss will soothe the pain that crushes and cuts through her chest and the knots in her gut and if she can find herself in someone else's arms she'll forget about his.

O'Larcan is rambling as Jo reaches them, "And I told that fecking arsehole that he could just piss off- " as Moss catches the sight of Jo, and his eyes brighten, a toothy smile is quick to worm onto his face and Jo almost feels guilty for the indifference she feels towards him.

"Jo!" he greets, sounding brighter than he did earlier in the night, a bit drunker.

With a scowl etched onto her face, Jo reaches towards O'Larcan, her youngest on the team, and snatches the Firewhiskey out of his hand. "Oi, O'Larcan," she barks, and takes a swig of the Firewhiskey, though she knows it's the last thing she needs, "back to your dorm now, yeah?"

The third year Seeker looks up at Jo with big, defiant eyes and a pout. "Prewett said I could stay," he protests, throwing his hands up in the air and if he wasn't almost a whole head taller than Jo, she would think he was even younger.

"Prewett can't kick you off the team, can he?" Jo snaps back at him, earning silence. She jerks her head towards the boys' dormitories. "Sod off."

With a scoff and roll of his eyes, O'Larcan pushes off the wall and reluctantly trudges towards the dorms, and Jo looks back up at Ewan. He smiles down at her, and Jo thinks he might be trying to make his shoulders look broader. "Told him you wouldn't like him down here," he says, and Jo stares up at him with a blank expression and when Ewan's expression shifts into concern, Jo realizes that the tears on her face have not dried. "Are you alright?" he questions, taking a step towards her.

Jo empties the rest of the bottle down her throat before she discards it on the ground and turns her gaze back up to Ewan. "Care for a snog?" she questions, easy, simple, like it's nothing. Like she doesn't care about the answer. She's not sure if she does. But there is still a heavy thud of pain in her that she is desperate to escape and whether that be with Moss or someone else or anything else, she will get rid of it. Jo will get over it.

Red flushes over Ewan's face at once. He is bright red and eyes as wide as the moon. "Wh-I, what?" he stumbles, mouth hanging open like he's forgotten how to close it.

"Would you like to kiss me?" Jo repeats, slower this time.

His mouth opens and closes, stammering over his words. "Erm, I th-I don't know, I, I, yes, I would. Very much so, I think I would-"

Jo rolls her eyes. "Go on and do it then."

Ewan is slow to move. He blinks down at Jo, like he's trying to decipher some hidden meaning, but Jo has laid her cards out bare and, after a second, he seems to realize this. Because he leans down towards Jo and reaches for her cheek, and he kisses her.

His skin is hot against her. His breath, his hands, his mouth on Jo all make her sweat. It's a warmth she's not used to and as her vision fades all she can focus on is the heat that encompasses her. His hands on her waist, firm and steady, his chest pressed against hers and the bit of his spit that gets on Jo's bottom lip keep her grounded.

She keeps her eyes closed and tries not to think about the fact that he is not Regulus but as his hand reaches up the back of her neck and tangles in the roots of her hair, tugging at it, it is all she can think about. Jo thinks about Regulus and how much she wishes it was him pressed against her instead that she almost forgets Ewan's name. She lets it fall from her lips, almost like she's trying to remind herself of what it is, and he holds onto her tighter.

And really, she doesn't know how long it goes on for. It's a blur of movement and spit and heavy breaths. Jo doesn't know how much time they spend in the common room, Jo nibbling at his bottom lip, or how much time they spend stumbling up the stairs towards Jo's dorm, still attached at the mouth. And really, Jo doesn't really know what it is she's doing until her back is flat against her mattress and Ewan hovers above her, hands on either side of her head.

Her eyes shoot open. She's lost a layer of her clothing and now lies in a thin camisole and a chill runs up her arms. "Stop," she instructs suddenly, hands on his shoulders and she pushes him away from her.

Ewan leans back, sitting on the foot of Jo's bed and he looks at her with a slack jaw and it takes a moment for Jo to realize that at some point, he's lost his shirt as well and she feels sick at the direction she was headed. "Are you alright?" he asks.

"I'm gonna fucking," Jo starts, shaking her head as she pulls her knees up to her chest and she feels like she's trying to hide herself. "I don't want to do this."

Ewan is nodding. He inches towards her and tries to reach for her hands. Jo thinks it's meant to be comforting but she is fighting off the onslaught of feelings she's desperate to avoid and she thinks any sort of contact might release a flood of them. She swats it away. He takes the hint and places his hands back in his own lap. "Okay, that's alright. We don't have to do this."

Jo nods, trying to pull her legs closer to her chest and she doesn't want to be there. And she wishes she could go back and stop herself from saying what she said, and she thinks about Regulus's expression and the feeling of his hands on her skin and how, however he makes her feel, it's the opposite of this.

But he doesn't want her. And remembering that is enough to reduce Jo to sobs again, right then and there.

Ewan stares at her, gobsmacked, hands halfway extended towards Jo as she cries into her arms and cries to cover herself up.

That is what Dorcas walks in on.

"And what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she snaps, and Jo looks up to see her standing in the middle of their dorms, arms crossed firmly across her chest as she glares down at Ewan and even though she is clearly raging, her voice is like honey to Jo. It soothes her, causes her sobs to slow.

Ewan shoots up off of Jo's bed at once. "Oh, Dorcas, hi!" he exclaims, frantically searching for his shirt and pulling it over his shoulders. "Erm, I was just, Jo was, I was-" Ewan stumbles.

Dorcas has a rage in her eyes that feels so unfamiliar to her, so rare and so foreign. "Yeah, I can fucking see what you were doing," she practically snarls, and points a sharp finger at the door. "Get out!" Dorcas instructs.

"Meadowes, he's fine. He's just-" Jo hiccups, limbs falling loosely over the edge of the bed. She tries to lift her head but suddenly the alcohol is making it a lot heavier than it was before. "He's my, erm, he's here to, y'know. He's fine."

Her eyes are fluttering shut against her will so she can't see Ewan when he says, "She's lost the plot."

"You don't fucking say," Dorcas retorts, venomous and sharp. "I'll take care of her, you get out."

Jo lets herself flop against the bed. "Right," Ewan says, sounding further away now. The bed shifts and Dorcas's familiar hands are working their way through Jo's knotted hair. She hums at the sensation. There is a creak from the floorboards. "I'll, erm, I'll talk to you tomorrow then, Jo."

"See yourself out, Moss," Dorcas says, and Jo hears his footsteps, hears the door close behind him as Dorcas continues to run her fingers through her hair, as she brushes away droplets of sweat and tears with the pad of her thumb. "Oh, Jo," she coos once they are alone, sweeter, and gentler, hushed now that it's just them.

"I fucked up," Jo whimpers through the tightness in her throat and the nausea that rocks her. She doesn't open her eyes for fear of the brightness that would greet her; Jo squeezes them tighter and wills dark unconsciousness to wash over.

She feels Dorcas adjust in her bed, lying beside her and taking hold of her hand. "We don't have to worry about that until morning. Let's just get some sleep for now, yeah?"

Jo nods. "Yeah," she mumbles, feeling like she is sinking deeper and deeper into herself. "Yeah, sleep."

Dorcas places a kiss on her temple. "You'll feel better in the morning," Dorcas assures her, squeezing tightly against her fingers.

Morning comes, and Jo does not feel better.

Sickness works its way up Jo's throat and Dorcas holds her hair behind her neck as she coughs it out, spitting it into the open toilet bowl. Jo is gagging and choking and falling limp against the toilet and she does not care about hygiene or the dribble of spit that has fallen against her chin. All she can think of is the dry heaves that rack her body and the insurmountable feeling of dread that has settled in her core and the uncontrollable spinning of her head. Jo thinks her body is punishing her for her actions, torturing her for her betrayal of it.

She can still feel the ghost of hands on her body. Ewan's. Regulus's. Crouch's. She can feel every touch that has ever grazed her skin, gripped at it, clung to it. Her skin burns and crawls and blackness creeps in the corner of her eyes. There, on the ground, Jo comes to terms with all of it. Processes it, prepares for the consequences. She recalls the look of coldness from Regulus and the way he stepped away from her and Jo can already see him pull away from her. Drifting away from her warmth and into the coldness of his family, fearful of what she said and fearful she might say it again. She can see him start to avoid her and she can see the way she has irreversibly shifted whatever it was that they shared. Jo coughs, spits, slumps. "I fucked up," she says to Dorcas, voice hoarse and cracking.

"So you've said," Dorcas replies, hands still tight around the thick of Jo's hair. "Do you need me to put a curse on Moss that he'll never forget?"

Like her body is full of lead, Jo pushes herself away from the toilet and she collapses onto the cool tile floor of the bathroom. The chill from it provides an instant relief, and Jo sighs. "He didn't do anything wrong," she mumbles, cheek pressed up against the ground. "I think I used him."

Jo's eyes are closed again. Even the dull bathroom light is too blinding for her. She can't see Dorcas, can't see her reach for tissues, doesn't realize she has them until she is wiping the drool from her face. "What happened last night?" she presses gently.

A groan falls from Jo again. Regulus's face flashes in her mind again, and the coldness from him washes over her all over again. She shudders. "I told Regulus I wanted to kiss him last night."

The gasp that falls from Dorcas makes Jo flinch, the noise is loud and sharp in her ears. "What did he say?" Dorcas demands, scandalized, temporarily dropping all softness.

"What do you think happened?" Jo replies, draping a hand over her face to block out the stubborn light that shines behind her eyelids. "He said no so I pulled Moss."

"Oh, Merlin, Jo," Dorcas whispers, and Jo can hear it in her voice, the sympathy and the judgement and she knows it's fair but still, she can't stand to hear it.

"I was pissed," Jo reminds her, as if she could've forgotten. "And gutted. Still am, to be fair," she mumbles, and then pauses. Tears burn in the corner of her eyes, and she squeezes them tighter, trying to prevent the inevitable but still, it comes, and fat, hot tears roll down her face, roll down her neck and towards her chest. They stain her shirt and spill onto the floor. "He didn't even believe me at first. Thought it was a joke. Like the idea of kissing me's laughable."

The words make Jo feel sicker as they come out through muffled sobs, and she feels so stupid. She didn't even think and with a few words she ruined everything. And as she cries there on the floor, curling into herself, Dorcas says, "You should really talk to him, Jo. Give him a chance to explain."

Jo hiccups, breath catching a few times before she's able to respond. "Don't think I'll ever be able to face him again," she says, voice higher, words strained.

Gentle fingers ghost along the skin on Jo's neck. "Maybe not until this thing on your neck fades," Dorcas mumbles.

At this, Jo shoots up off the floor. The brightness, the rush of blood, it floods her vision, blurs it. And as she stands in front of the mirror, she has to blink a few times before she can see the dark purple bruise that blossoms at the base of her neck, "Ah, fucking hell," she grumbles, poking at it and flinching when she finds that it is sore and tender. She groans again, ignoring the dizziness. "What am I meant to do about Moss?" she questions, tears gone from her voice once Moss becomes the topic of conversation.

"Just be honest," Dorcas instructs, pushing off the ground to stand across from her. "Tell him you were drunk, and it was a mistake."

"That'll be grand," Jo snarks, voice still thick, "'Oi, Moss. I know you've fancied me for a while now and I did ask you to snog me but that was a mistake, and I actually don't really care about you that much.'"

Dorcas grimaces. "Aye, maybe sugarcoat it a bit."

"I can't believe he rejected me," Jo huffs. "I can't believe I said that."

"Well, there's no going back now. Tell him how you feel, really, and see what he says," Dorcas says with a sigh. "I've seen how he looks at you Jo. It's like, a blind man seeing the moon for the first time. The way he cares about you, it's just written all over his face. Give him a chance to explain himself."

"I don't wanna think about it anymore," Jo mumbles, eyes on the ground before she lops her head around to look at Dorcas. "Can we just go for breakfast?"

Dorcas chuckles. "Lunch, now."

"Is it?" Jo grumbles. "Fucking hell."

With an inhale, Dorcas frowns and says, "Maybe shower first, too."

Jo showers. She takes a long, hot shower and lets the hot water relax her muscles. She uses as much soap as she can. She shampoos her hair three times and brushes her teeth twice as much. She scrubs her skin until it is red and raw, and every trace of the night before has been washed down the drain and Jo steps out of that shower feeling like a new person.

Her hair is still dripping wet as she dresses, less so as she slowly works her way down the stairs. She dodges eye contact with Ewan as she descends into the common room, and he desperately tries to make it. She holds onto Dorcas's hand as she drags her feet out of the common room and through the entryway and Regulus is there.

Jo freezes. He is leaning against the railing of a staircase, dark circles under his eyes almost overtaking his face and Jo stares, openly, heart hammering in her throat as she clings onto Dorcas's hand. At the sight of her, Regulus pushes off the railing, he takes a step forward, eyes firmly fixed on her, and Jo can see that he did not sleep a second. He's still wearing his old sweater and wrinkled trousers from earlier and suddenly Jo feels like she is right where she was the night before.

His stare burns through her. She feels transfixed and each second that passes is like an eternity. Dorcas's presence would've been immediately forgotten if she was not clinging so desperately to her. And Jo feels very, very desperate as Regulus steps in front of her and says, with an intensity that makes her sweat, "I really need to talk to you."

"Right now?" she squeaks out, sinking into her shoulders, trying to make herself disappear.

Briefly, Regulus lets his gaze flash towards Dorcas. "If you can," he says with a nod.

Jo lets out a stream of air. "Alright, erm," she starts, trying to ignore the dread and anxiety that threatens to overtake her. Jo looks to her right. "Dorcas?"

Dorcas gives Jo a soft smile and one more squeeze before she lets go over her hand. "I'll just see you later, Jo," she says, and turns on her heel, disappearing down a set of stairs.

"Right," Jo says, and swallows thickly. Her eyes dance along the floor. "So, what did you want to talk about?" she asks, almost reluctantly.

Regulus exhales before he speaks, and Jo is already blushing, already blinking back tears of embarrassment, and doing everything she can to preserve her last, lingering dignities. "About last night, I just don't, I don't want you to think that-"

He stops. Silence grows between them, and, after a moment, Jo looks up to see Regulus studying her. Brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, a slight twitch of his lips and Jo doesn't know if she should say something or not but before she can figure it out, Regulus reaches towards her. Jo holds her breath as his fingers reach for the tips of her still damp hair and brushes it away from her collarbone, placing it behind her shoulders. His stare is fixed on her neck and Jo didn't know it was possible, but her face grows hotter, redder. Regulus is staring at the dark, blooming bruise on her neck, left from someone else's lips.

And then-

"Oi, Jo, is he bothering you?"

Fuck, fuck fuck. Jo bites down on the inside of her cheek and her eyes find the floor again. She can't tolerate the weight of Regulus's stare and she has to swallow back the words she would like to be using. Ewan stands at the entrance of the common room, hanging out halfway, but Jo doesn't spare him a glance. "No, Moss, he's not," she says, voice coated in something sour.

He hesitates. "You sure?"

"Yes," Jo says, tone clipped, and jaw locked. "We're good here, thanks."

"Alright," he concedes, and from her peripherals, Jo watches him take a step back. "I'll be waiting for you in the common room."

Jo curls her hands into fists. "Fuck," she spits out.

She inhales and holds her breath as she looks up at Regulus and the expression on his face is almost enough to send her over the edge. The rims of his eyes are red, his jaw trembles and he has this look, shattered like glass and splintering. "Are you joking?" he rasps in a wavering voice, and Jo wishes the ground would swallow her whole.

"Regulus-" she says on her exhale, but he does not hear her out. Regulus turns sharply, and rushes away from Jo. She is quick to follow, jogging to keep up with his long strides and she begs of him, "No, Reg, wait,