Since the realisation that early morning, Jo had more trouble trying to sleep. She tossed and turned, already tired and feeling weak, until she was hot and sweaty on top of the hollow sensation in her stomach too. She'd even waken Kolya, however brief it was, and Jo felt like she was going to burst into tears any moment.
Her morning didn't get any better.
She got to the Great Hall slightly later than usual. It was still early, but there were more students around than she was used to.
Everything seemed so loud and the stares— God, she suddenly hated the stares.
Jo didn't understand why they stared. Jo didn't understand why they stared at her like she was some exotic animal just because she was the only first year who was there.
She sat in her usual seat and tried to eat her porridge like she usually did.
But she couldn't.
And it was... so annoying.
Rationally, Jo knew she needed to eat. She was tired, grumpy, inside an emotional mess and doing her damned best to keep her magic from spilling past her skin. She needed the energy.
And yet— and yet she didn't feel like eating. The porridge felt sloppy in her mouth. Too sweet too.
So, Jo left, striding out the Great Hall and down the corridors somewhere she had never been before.
Or had.
She couldn't remember.
In the back of her mind, she knew this may have been because she was bottling everything up. Perhaps most of it. Usually her father would be the one to notice first and he would help her through them before she could even think about bottling them up.
Jo's heart clenched as she stood somewhere in the corner. Whatever magic in the air wasn't helping her right now. Because after Rhys and her grandparents died, Jo and Elen had to help each other.
But Elen wasn't here right now. Jo had to cope somehow. Cope alone.
She should've known when she start cracking morbid jokes since Wednesday.
The brunette tried inhaling slowly, focusing on how it filled her lungs. She almost choked when she exhaled and tried again.
It didn't work. She was doing something wrong. She knew she was doing something wrong and that she was spiralling.
Jo was almost at breaking point and the verge of hyperventilating when she finally recognised where she was. She didn't care why her feet led her outside Professor McGonagall's office. What she did care about at the moment was that the witch was two-time war veteran.
So she should know.
She should know some advice how to deal with grief.
And she said she could come her to anytime, couldn't she? For anything?