THE MOOD RING ON JO'S FINGER STAYS A DUSTY PINK. Regulus places his hands around the back of Jo's neck, delicately, tips of his fingers sending goosebumps all over her skin. He presses his lips to the center of her forehead, then to her right cheek, and then to on her left. He kisses the tip of her chin, the point of her nose, grazes his lips against hers before pressing more firmly against them. He drags his thumb along the edge of her jaw. He intertwines his fingers with her with every step they take along the corridor. Jo rests her head on his lap as they longue about the Room of Requirement, some forgotten record playing.

Jo blinks up at him. Regulus stares down at her with a look of glossy admiration that she does not doubt mirrors her own. His fingers brush along the edge of her hairline, a soothing movement that would surely lull Jo to sleep if she was not so entranced by the way Regulus smiles down at her. Her heart flutters in her throat, blissful and tender. "Tell me something," she whispers in a thick voice.

His closed-lipped smile squints his eyes. Jo wants to kiss him again. She wants to kiss him all the time, now that she can. "What do you want to know?" he asks.

"I dunno. Tell me something about you."

Regulus snickers, fingers brushing through strands of her hair, starting at the root, stopping when the ends tangle up. "You know everything there is to know about me."

"Well, I hardly believe that," Jo counters, and means it. She thinks that she could spend every minute of the rest of her life with him and there would still be more to learn, more layers to peel back, secrets to unearth. And Jo wants to know it all.

A deep sigh falls from him, and he tilts his head to the side, hands never leaving her skin. For a moment, he ponders, and Jo wishes she could peer into his brain, see the thoughts as they rush through his head. He drops his head back towards her. "Did you know that I speak French?"

"Do you really?" Jo questions, eyes going wide. "Say something," she demands of him, biting down on her bottom lip.

From Regulus's lips falls an assortment of vowels, smooth and low, strung together eloquently. And Jo's never paid much mind to the French language, but as the words whoosh out from him, she finds herself falling in love with the euphony of it.

She swallows, amazed. "What does that mean?"

The way he looks down at her, it fries her nerves. She becomes liquid against him, melted, without a bone in her body. Regulus's eyes on her make her feel like she's never felt before, she is silky, soft to the touch. "'You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen," he mumbles, a slight flush to his cheeks and a rasp to his voice that makes Jo lift her head towards him, placing a quick gentle kiss on his lips. It is such a simple gesture, and it comes so naturally to her, and yet, it still ignites the same flame in her that their first kiss did. Jo wonders if she'll ever get used to it, get used to him, and almost hopes that she never does.

"Hmm. How flattering," she muses as she drops her head back down against his lap. "Though I suppose you could be calling me a detestable beast and I would never know the difference."

"As if I would ever," Regulus says with a roll of his eyes, and his thumb is quick to graze along her cheek. He's always doing that now, finding some way to touch her. Cupping her cheeks between his hands, holding onto her and pulling her close to him, absentmindedly twirling strands of her hair between his fingers, braiding them. He kisses her as often as he can, pulling her into shadows and stealing them when he thinks no one's looking, sweeping her up into his arms and planting dozens of kisses on her cheeks and forehead. It makes Jo giddy. "I've always thought you're beautiful."

Jo is unable to control the grin that spreads on her face. "Always?"

"Always," Regulus tells her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. It elicits a giggle out of her. "I'm absolutely thrilled that I get to say it out-loud now."

Heat spreads up her neck, to her cheeks. Whether or not Jo is beautiful is something that she's never paid much thought to, but when Regulus tells her that she is, she certainly feels it. "Yes, well," she sighs, "you're quite beautiful as well, you know."

Regulus raises an eyebrow at her. "Do you think so?"

She gives him a shrug. "I always have."

"Always?" he questions.

Jo feels bold and electric. "Always."

Things are like that with him now. They are warm and euphoric. It is easy and sweet and Jo sometimes feels as if she has become a completely different person. With Regulus, she was always different. Jo's also been softer with him, nicer, better. There is something about him that has eased her edges and soothed her nerves and before it was just being around him but now it is always. Jo smiles as she walks down the hall and waves to her classmates and professors and once again starts indulging her first (and second) years in their gossip and tells them about whatever seventh year drama she hears from Emmeline.

Jo does things that usually annoy her and finds that she's really not bothered by any of it. She leads her Quidditch practices with vigor. She studies with Alice and lets Dorcas read her tarot cards and listens to Hestia's ABBA's records with minimal complaints. And she does it all happily.

Regulus, she thinks, has some sort of otherworldly effect on her. Ever since he kissed her, Jo has felt like she's been floating instead of walking, like gravity does not apply to her.

There was never any discussion between them. It all just sort of fell into place. Jo thinks, her and Regulus, they've always understood each other. Jo feels like she's known Regulus her whole life, and from the way he looks at her, from the way he falls into step beside her, Jo knows he feels the same. She doesn't have to ask. Regulus doesn't have to tell her. They just know.

Every night, she runs into his arms. He sweeps her up off her feet. Jo kisses his cheeks. She does that a lot. She can't help herself. Regulus holds her hand under the table in Potions. His thumb draws circles on her knee as they review Defense in the library. It is dizzying. It is intoxicating.

Jo is just so unbelievably happy now that she can do anything.

Anything.

"Listen, Ewan," she says, knotting her hands together and struggling to maintain eye contact but maintaining it just the same, "I just really had to let you know-"

Ewan cuts her off, raising a hand and pursing his lips together. Jo is vaguely aware of the whispering group of third year Slytherins and her group of followers and Regulus, seated under a tree, nose deep in a book but eyes flashing over towards her every few seconds. She tries to focus in on Moss, wishing he didn't catch her in the courtyard, bright under the sun. "Jo, you don't have to say anything-"

She winces. Somehow, his understanding makes her feel worse. "I'm just really sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," he counters, and he's been so genuine and gentlemanly it's infuriating.

"I was very drunk and upset and I shouldn't have, y'know," Jo tries to explain, halting, turning words around in her mouth until she can find the least offensive ones, "tried anything with you."

Ewan is shaking his head, soft brown curls shaking with the movement. "It's okay, Jo, really," he insists, and there's no malice. "You don't have to explain yourself."

Jo lets out a sigh. "I just feel so horrible about it all."

"Don't. I'll be okay," he tells her, and then lets his shoulders slump. He dips his head down and says in a lower voice, "And I'm sorry if, you know, I made you uncomfortable or anything when we-"

"You didn't. You didn't do anything wrong," Jo insists, and gives him a forced smile. "I hope we can be friends, Ewan, really."

He gives her a grin so brightly it makes her flinch. "Of course, we can be friends, Jo. Of course."

"I'll see you 'round."

For a moment, Jo stands and watches Ewan Moss take a few steps back, give her a soft wave, and then turn on his heel. She stands and watches as he disappears back into the castle, and it feels too easy. Jo feels like she got off easy.

Regulus doesn't look up from his book as Jo takes a seat beside him, close but not close enough, under the shade of the large oak. "How'd it go?" he asks her.

Jo stretches her legs out, beyond the shade, enjoying the way the sunlight hits them. "Not bad. He was nice about it. Said we could be friends."

A scoff falls from him. Jo leans her head against the bark, lopping it to the side. She watches as Regulus looks up from his book, keeps eyes his fixed in front of him. "You know, I almost wish I had a reason to hate him as much as I do."

It's warm. Late October, days shorter and sun softer. Jo loves it, the way the sun feels, how gentle the night is. Jo places a hand on the ground and inches it closer to Regulus's. It almost makes her feel better about the embarrassment that creeps up her cheeks. "I'm still sorry, you know. For everything that happened."

Regulus turns his head to the left, and to the right, and then places his hand softly on top of hers. "It's okay, Josephine," he says so low she can hardly hear it. "I couldn't stay mad at you, anyways."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jo cannot place the emotion that washes over her when she sees Sirius Black smoking a cigarette, loitering outside of the Three Broomsticks. Black hair falls to his shoulders in waves, smoke floating from the tips of his fingers up towards the grey sky. Even with his back turned towards her, Jo can tell it's him. She can tell it from the platform heeled boots and the shearling-lined jacket and the dark bell-bottoms and that same beret she knows he stole from Marlene McKinnon.

Something thick tightens around her throat. Tears prick in her eyes, and she thinks that she missed him more than she would've liked to admit. "Sirius!" she calls over the crowd of students bustling about.

At once, Sirius whirls around, grin on his face and Jo feels struck at the sight of him. She's always known the resemblance Sirius has to his brother. But as she looks at him now, it's all she can see. The regal features, the sharp slope of his nose, the cutting edge of his jaw. Jo has to shake her head. At least she knows Regulus would never dress like that.

Sirius takes long strides towards Jo, grinning as he reaches for her, arms looping under hers and lifting her off the ground. Sirius spins, Jo's legs twirling behind her. "Aw, Josie!" he coos into her ear, and Jo can get the scent of vanilla and cigarettes and as she slumps against his hold. "I missed you!"

Jo chuckles as he places her back on her feet. She stumbles back, hands finding the depths of her pockets. She eyes Sirius. He looks glamorous standing there before her, standing out among the drag robes of older wizards and the unfashionable third years and as Jo looks at him and realizes there is something missing. "Where's Remus?" she asks.

Sirius's smile becomes bitter, and he tilts his head towards the Three Broomsticks. "Why don't we talk inside?"

Sirius downs a pint. It's almost impressive, the way he gulps it down like it is air before Jo can even take a sip of hers. She watches it bob down his throat, watches as he slams the empty glass down on the table and wipes down the corner of his lip. He sighs heavily. Sirius turns his head to the left, and then to the right, just like his brother does. "Don't freak out," he instructs in a whisper.

Jo nods. "I won't."

"Don't tell anyone," he adds on.

Another nod. "I won't."

Sirius narrows his eyes. He lifts a finger at Jo and leans in towards her from across the table. "Not a soul."

"I won't, Sirius," she insists, somewhat amazed and somewhat worried that Sirius Black is being so discreet. Loud-mouthed and bold Sirius Black, looking over his shoulder before he speaks. It's disconcerting, at best.

Heavily, Sirius sighs, letting his shoulders rise and fall and he leans in as close to Jo as he can and whispers, "Moony's been out of the country recently."

Jo's eyes nearly bulge out of her head. "Out of the country?" she whispers back.

Sirius looks like he is struggling to hold a heavy weight, turning his tongue around in his mouth before he finds the right words. "He's trying to get more of," he pauses, pursing his lips tightly together, "his kind on our side."

She blinks at him, expression blank. Jo's tongue is dry and suddenly it feels like the walls of the Three Broomsticks are closing in on them. Envisioning Remus, wry and sharp, traipsing around Europe, recruiting the rapid followers of Fenrir Greyback is enough to knock the breath right out of Jo. "You're joking," she deadpans.

"It's important work he's doing for the Order, Josie. It's," Sirius starts, and then stops, and with each word Jo can hear how he loses confidence, and she watches as Sirius slumps, and blows out a puff of air. "You'll understand more when you join."

From the looks of it, Jo's not even sure that he understands. "Is he safe?" she questions and is met with a heavy exhaustion. She almost feels nauseous, her own pint in front of her completely untouched. "He went alone?"

"He's the only one who can," Sirius insists, and sighs once more. She bets he does a lot of that, these days. "Trust me, Josie, I don't like it any more than you do."

Jo leans back against her booth, blowing out a stream of air. "Well, that makes me sick to my fucking stomach," she tells him.

Sirius reaches across the table, grabbing Jo's glass and raising into the air. "Cheers to that," he quips, before taking a hefty gulp.

Jo gnaws on the inside of her cheek. "Are you all off doing reckless and dangerous things like that?" she asks, and tries to imagine it, just to torture herself. James consorting with giants. Sirius fending off swarths of Dementors. Peter cornered by Death Eaters, wands pointed at his neck.

"For the most part," Sirius answers with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just trying to get information, keep people safe."

"And?" she questions, raising an eyebrow. "How's that going for you all?"

Sirius gives her a sad smile. "It could be going better. I fear we are outnumbered."

Jo curls her toes and feels that familiar build of tension in her arms, in her shoulders. "Well, what's the Ministry doing about it?" she demands, like there is anything Sirius can do about it.

He just gives her a roll of his eyes. "Ministry's half Death Eaters, Josie. We should be grateful they're doing nothing."

"This is a cheerful visit," Jo comments, and then reaches across the table, snatching her pint back from Sirius and taking a good swig of her own.

"Sorry. Been grim out there," he says, and is silent for a moment. Jo watches him, studies the way he draws his eyebrows together and how he presses his lips together and thinks that it is extraordinary, how similar he is to his brother. Years apart and they still have the same mannerism, the same expressions. Jo wonders if that's what people see when they look at James and her, or if there is something uniquely familiar about the Black brothers. "Can I ask you something, Josie?" Sirius asks.

"Course," Jo tells him with a firm nod.

"Have you heard anything about my brother?"

The question catches her off guard, and so does the wide-eyed, hopeful expression he gives her. "Y-your brother?" she stammers, mouth suddenly dry.

Sirius shifts in his seat. "I mean, have you heard anyone talk about him recently?"

Jo swallows, and dodges eye contact. "Can't say I have."

"Will you tell me if you hear anything? I just-" Sirius stops, and Jo can see as he takes his hands off the table and pulls them to his lap. "Heard some rumors. Would like to know if they're true or not."

Her ears are hot and there is a god-awful buzzing in them. "You can always ask him, you know," she tells him, tone clipped, and she thinks that it's better he's paying all his attention to his hands and none to her. "Suppose he would know better than me."

"Don't think if he'd write back, if I wrote him," he mumbles.

"Why not?" Jo presses.

"He's not like James, Josie. Regulus is not," he pauses, and lifts his eyes to meet Jo's. "If you knew him, then you'd get it."

Jo feels like a bad person, then. She's never been more convinced of it, in that moment. As Sirius sits across from her, desperate for any information on his brother, and Jo tells him nothing. She keeps Regulus close to her chest, like he is hers to conceal. Jo knows everything and she gives him nothing. "Just don't see the harm in at least trying to write to him," Jo grumbles, like the sentence has been plucked from her reluctantly.

With a rueful little smile, Sirius says, "He wrote me once. Few years back, after I moved in with you."

"What'd he say?" Jo asks, leaning forward in her seat.

"Dunno," Sirius shrugs. "I ripped it up before I ever read it."

Jo flinches. "Well, that seems cruel."

Sirius yanks the pint back towards him. "Suppose it does."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jo realizes she didn't tell Regulus. She thinks about it, about telling him that she saw Sirius, telling him what he had said to her. About his letter.

But when Regulus sees Jo, he smiles. He smiles so brightly and so widely; Jo thinks she's never seen anything like it. He lifts Jo in the air, kisses her forehead and kisses on her cheeks. He's so happy.

And Jo smiles back and falls silent. She decides to let the two of them indulge in their own euphoria a bit longer.