chapter eight
The apologies flood in after that, and Jo's not feeling particularly receptive towards any of them.
The first one comes from Marlene, after a long, late afternoon practice when the sun has long since set. The grass is wet under Jo's feet as she makes the trek back to the castle, watching her feet, a shiver down her spine and she doesn't even notice the way Marlene comes up from behind, rushing as she moves to step in front of her.
Jo looks up, watching as Marlene bounces on her feet, walking backwards. There's always so much energy and expression in everything Marlene does; moving too much, talking too fast. It exhausts Jo as she moves with a drag in her step, expression heavy while Marlene gives her a sheepish smile. "Hey, Jo," Marlene says gently, and Jo gives her a subtle nod in response. She's not in the mood for whatever she's about to say. Not after the way Marlene spat venom at her for a week.
Marlene continues on when she realizes that Jo's not going to say anything. "I just wanted to say," Marlene starts, still maintaining a skip in her step, "I'm really sorry for having it out for you like that. It's just, y'know, Lily's my best friend and well, I get a bit overprotective. I reckon you've got your own thing going on and I guess that's why you snapped at Lils and I suppose me bagging on you likely didn't help."
Jo shrugs. "It's alright."
A grin breaks out on Marlene's face, wide and bright. "So we're alright?"
"Yeah, course," she replies, giving her a wry smile. "Not like we were particularly close in the first place, right?" Jo shoves her hands in her pockets, and pushes past Marlene, leaving the blond girl to stand there, speechless.
Jo's a little more direct with Remus.
He approaches her in the library, where she's studying alone, first year students at a table nearby. They watch with rapt attention as Remus approaches her, delicately, hands resting against the back of an empty chair. Jo doesn't look up at him, she doesn't have to, to know he's there or what for. She just continues scribbling down notes on complex healing charms, hoping that ignoring him will just make him go away.
It doesn't, though; either he doesn't get the hint or he doesn't care. Remus taps his fingers against the solid wood of the chair. "Jo, can I talk to you for a moment?" he asks, voice hardly above a whisper.
"No," she answers, quickly and simply, not looking up but her fingers going tight around her quil.
"Don't be like that, Jo, c'mon."
"No. Piss off."
But Remus continues, pulling the chair out from under the table and taking a seat. His long limbs fit awkwardly in the small space, his knees nearly touch hers and he lays his arms across the table, forcing himself into her line of vision, craning his head down closer to her. "Me and Lily are really close," he explains, the pleading tone in his voice making Jo bite down on her tongue. "You know that. And when I heard that she was crying over something you said I just assumed that-"
"That everything was my fault?" she cuts him off with the sharp words and a sharper glare. She thinks of her scowl as he flinches, swallowing thickly and shifting up upright in his chair. "That I attacked her for no reason? That's lovely, Remus. You know I thought we were close too?"
"We are close, Jo," Remus insists, "and I'm sorry but you know you can be a bit, well, abrasive."
Jo snorts. "This apology is going really well. Would you care to point out any more of my character flaws?"
Remus pulls on the sleeves of his robes. They're never long enough for him; he's always tugging and adjusting and it was something Jo used to find sort of cute but when he does it now Jo finds herself irritated at the sheepishness of it. "Jo, I'm really sorry for ignoring you. I am."
Something in Jo churns and she thinks that he can't be so dense to think that him ignoring her is all she's mad at. "Do you know how it feels to have about half your friends pick someone that you really don't like over you?" she spits out over a tightening throat and prickly eyes.
Her words make Remus melt, sinking into his chair. "It's not that we were picking her over you, really. I just thought," he insists, and then stumbles, tripping over his words, struggling sounds coming out instead of words. He looks at her with his big stupid eyes that Jo always loved and says, "I just thought, it just seemed like-"
"I know what it seemed like to you," she sneers, "And I'm really glad to know that's how you think of me."
"C'mon, Jo, please. I'm your friend. Just hear me out."
Jo returns her gaze to her book, eyes on the text but not reading one word. "I told you to piss off."
She hears as Remus stands and hovers for a moment. "I guess I'll just try to talk to you later, then."
Jo doesn't look up as he walks away, but the whispers of the first years discussing and digesting what they just saw make Jo chew down on the inside of her cheek.
Remus doesn't try to apologize again, not for a while. Jo will catch sight of him, sometimes with his head tilted down towards Marlene, the two of them whispering rapidly in the common room or walking back from the pitch. Sometimes he'll look at her with his big brown eyes and sometimes he'll be staring at his feet but he doesn't say anything to her.
And neither does James.
He hasn't said a word to her since she turned her back on him in the Great Hall, leaving him dumbfounded. Jo hasn't really seen much of him, and she thinks, with a bit of twist in her gut, that he's avoiding her. He hardly pays her any attention at practices and he avoids her gaze during dinners and he runs up to his dorm whenever she's in the common room and Jo thinks that if he'd rather ignore her then apologize than fine, that would be fine. Jo could be stubborn, too.
Jo doesn't let it bother her, either. She finds that Sirius and Peter are plenty annoying for her, and that she doesn't really need her older brother to bother her when she has those two. And she has her friends, her closest friends that would've never turn on her and she's fine.
And when November's full moon passes without a Patronus waking her, Jo lies in her bed and tells herself she's fine, that they're fine.
Jo spends most of her time sort of drifting from one thing to another, the time in between classes, before curfew, when she can lounge about with Hestia and Emmeline and Dorcas and Alice and giggle about things that don't matter, whispering about Frank Longbottom and Fabian Prewett and how the hell Jones can tell the difference between him and his brother. Jo doesn't talk about Ivan all that much. She finds that she doesn't have much to say.
Ivan's gotten much more confident about kissing her. He does it all the time now, catching her by the waist in the corridors and boldly kissing her in front of anyone and everyone, pulling her into broom cupboards for slow, lingering kisses, his hands tight around her hips. It always ends with her pulling away, some cheeky response from him and Jo wonders if there's ever going to be more to going out with him than snogging.
Emmeline tells her it's normal, that boys don't really have the brains for anything other than snogging and Dorcas scrunches her nose at the idea of it.
It's an unusually warm day for November. Jo's abandoned the outer layer of her robes to soak in as much sunlight as she can, head titled back, neck exposed to the light. Alice is resting her head on Jo's lap, lying down on the grass of the courtyard while she reads something or another about Herbology. Somewhere nearby, Dorcas is braiding Emmeline's hair, the two of them compulsively gossiping, and the sound of their voices bickering over whether or not Professor Babbling transfigures her nose makes Jo smile. She feels warm in the sun.
Regulus Black's voice comes as a shock to her.
"Potter," he calls in that cool, even voice of his and Jo jumps, eyes shooting open to black spots and dizziness. She blinks a few times, getting her vision back to see that Regulus is standing on the edge of the grass, looking down at her with his mouth twisted in a corner. Alice looks up from her book to stare at Jo, Dorcas and Emmeline stop their gossiping to do the same. "I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment?"
"Erm," Jo starts, looking back around at her friends who give her nothing but mixed looks of horror and confusion. She turns back to him. "Alright then," she says, but makes no move to stand.
Regulus stares expectantly, and shifts his weight around on his feet. "Privately."
She stands, reluctantly, Alice sitting up to let her leave. She brushes off her corduroys and moves to follow him, walking towards a stone archway, tucked away from the sun.
Jo is used to Regulus in the dank, musty dungeons or the dusty, dark corridors in the early hours of the morning, lit by shadows and weak, artificial light, lit by the moon. As he stands in front of her now, shadows cast from the archway and the brightness of the sun splitting on his features, Jo can see him properly. She can see that his eyes aren't a storm gray, as she thought, but that they're a cold sort of green. She can see darkness under his eyes, the scattered freckles, the sharpness of his jaw. Jo can see so much of him.
She swallows. "Yes?"
Regulus looks like he's having a difficult time, jaw moving as his teeth grind together and there's a tinge of pink growing in his cheeks. "I don't presume to know anything about what you do," he starts off, voice hard and eyes trained on the ground below him, "or who you do it with, but you don't seem to be the type of person who would be happy with others talking about your activities."
Jo blinks, arms crossed over her chest. "I'm going to need you to make some clarifications."
"Reed has been boasting to people it seems," Regulus drawls, like the words are being forced out him.
"Boasting about what?"
"Your activities together-"
"Just spit it out, yeah?" Jo cuts him off.
Regulus sighs, and looks up at Jo with stony eyes and a furious, red blush across his cheeks. "Reed is going around telling everyone he shagged you in a broom closet."
And all at once, Jo sees red. Her hands clench into fists and she takes a step back from him. "Excuse me?"
"Several times," he continues, hands in his pockets and he once again cannot stand looking at her. And the more he talks the more Jo feels something boiling deep in her and she is so bloated with anger and disbelief all at once she doesn't even know what to do with her body. "There are, well, more details but I think I'll spare you."
"I'd rather you didn't," Jo grits out.
He shoots her a pained look, but continues on anyways. "He detailed how eager you were and certain names you liked to be called, and. lot of other stuff and it's not very flattering."
"And you heard him say this?"
"I heard it from Rosier, actually," Regulus answers. "He heard from Dolohov who heard it from Calcott in Divination."
Jo feels like ripping her hair out of her scalp. "Fucking Calcott," she grunts, and then looks wildly at Regulus. "None of its true, you know," Jo asserts.
Regulus puts his hand up. "Not my business either way."
Jo bits down on her bottom lip and bounces her leg but no matter her movements the rage is still building up in her limbs, stiff and hot. "Why are you telling me this?" she snaps at Regulus.
"It didn't seem like you knew, and I thought that you should."
She snorts. "How decent of you."
He is backing away now, slow, long steps as he repeats to her, "Just thought you should know."
Jo stands there for a moment, breathing heavy out of her nose and trying to dull her anger but she finds that it's not going away. She pushes away from the archway, storming back towards her friends.
"What was that all about?" Emmeline demands, eyebrows raised.
"I'll see you lot later," Jo spits out as a response, gathering up her bag from the ground and stomping away without so much as a glance over her shoulder.
Jo knows exactly where he'll be, seated in his usual spot, a small table that he normally corners her into. It seems that Calcott has taken her spot today though, as Jo notes the two heads of blonde hair and yellow robes doubled over with laughter. It's still bright out, sun leaking through the windows and it hits Reed just right but Jo will not be deterred by his looks and his charms and his words. No, Jo storms up to the small table and, without a word, swipes every book, piece of parchment, quil, and inkwell onto the floor.
She is aflame, standing with her arms tight by her side and glaring down Reed, who looks at her like a child about to be scolded. "That's mature, Jo," Christopher says icily, but Jo doesn't spare him so much as a glance.
Her venom is fixed squarely on Reed. He squirms under her gaze, fidgeting and blinking and licking his lips and sending frantic glances to Calcott. "I'm not really here for diplomacy, Calcott. I'm here to figure out why the fuck your mate over here is running his mouth about me."
There is a quake in Ivan's lip when Calcott says, "He just told a few of us about what you lot did together. Not his fault if other people hear and run with it," and Jo realizes that the stupid bastard actually believes it.
Jo furls her lip. "Problem with that being that we did nothing."
It's now Ivan who speaks, puffing out his chest and looking at Jo with a furrowed brow. "Are you calling me a liar?"
Jo lets out a rage-filled, indignant laugh. "I'm calling you a lot more than that."
Reed stands now, looking down at her. Perhaps he thought the way he towers over her would intimidate her, make her shiver up under the height of him. But she just reaches for her wand, curling her fingers around it and lifting it towards his throat when he takes a step towards her. "Jo, just because you're ashamed about what happened, doesn't mean it didn't happen."
And though his words are audacious, his tone wavers, and he can't look her in eye and Jo knows he wasn't expecting her to hear. She has vile thoughts about him, and as she stares up at him now, sun setting behind him and a cold sweat on his forehead, Jo feels sick that she kissed the same lips that lied about her.
She pushes her wand into the base of his throat and hears a gentle holy shit fall from Calcott's lips. "Tell them it was a lie," she demands, voice low and even and dangerous.
But Ivan stands his ground. "No, because it wasn't."
"Tell them."
The sharp voice of Madam Pince shouting, "What's going on back here?" has no affect on the way Jo holds her wand to Ivan, hand twisting and eyes narrowed.
There's a soft scoff from Ivan, and he puts his hands up defensively and says, "Honestly, Jo, even if I did go around and start telling people I made it up, which I didn't, no one would even believe me. Not when you're running around in your bloody muggle clothes dressed like, like," he stumbles, looking over to Calcott for some form of support, eyes flashing rapidly back and forth between the two of them
Jo presses into his throat harder. "Like a what, Reed?" she snarls.
"Like a slag."
Jo learns a very important lesson in nonverbal spells. It's not enough to have the intent, the intent has to be clear. Because Jo only meant to cast a simple jelly-legs jinx, just something quick to knock him to the ground, a simple bit of stumbling and a bit of humiliation in being shown up by her. But what Jo really casts is a knee-reversal hex, which makes the joints in his legs crack and snap and twist around. It would've been an awful sound, if Jo could hear it well enough over the sound of his screams. She doesn't let her surprise show in her face, just keeps her teeth gritted together as the library stares on in shock.
Gasps come from all around and Jo doesn't even realize that she has gathered an audience. Pince is shrieking, "Potter! That's two weeks detention. Someone get Mr. Reed down to the infirmary. That's one-hundred-and-fifty points from Gryffindor!"
Jo watches Reed struggle on the ground, and feels nothing. No one says anything as she wordlessly walks back to her common room.
Regulus is at the Greenhouse again, sitting with his back against the glass while he tosses pebbles at the sapling Tentaculas and watches them swat them away. Regulus, Jo notes, looks more at home under the moon, when everything's quiet and she can hear the hushed rasp of his voice. The night suits him much better.
He hears her approaching, turning at the sound of her footsteps and looking not at all surprised to see her there. He looks her up and down, examining the loose posture and relaxed jaw and gives her a small nod. The night's cooled down, and Jo's bundled up in a sweater and a warm hat and her Gryffindor scarf while Regulus is decked in his usual robes.
"Before you start telling me whatever it is you heard," Jo greets as she approaches him, crossing her legs to take a seat across from him, "I can confirm that yes, I did land Reed in the hospital wing, and no, I did not use an Unforgivable on him."
A smirk slips onto his lips, crooked and tepid, "Well that answers about half of my questions. At least tell me who the father of the child is."
Jo sighs. "I'm afraid we can't know for sure yet."
"Hmm. Well my money's on Herpo the Foul," he comments, and lifts his head to look her in the eye. "Did you get in a lot of trouble?"
"Just two weeks detention," Jo shrugs, thinking that any punishment she could've received would've been worth it. "On the bright side, the Gryffindor Quidditch trophies will look better than ever by the end of it."
"And Reed will be too humiliated to ever look at you again," Regulus remarks, letting his gaze fall off to the side again.
Jo nods, and drops her eyes down to her lap, where her hands are twisting together. She thinks she feels nervous and she finds it peculiar, the knots in her stomach. It feels a bit strange to seek Regulus Black out in the middle of the night, while everyone else is sleeping, to have a casual conversation. Though it's no stranger than him approaching her right in the middle of the day. At least under the moon, she feels like it's something she can keep secret. "Thanks for telling me, by the way," she says, picking away at the skin around her thumb. "Suppose I seemed a bit ungrateful at the time."
"You actually seemed like you were going to snap someone's neck," Regulus tells her, letting his shoulders sink and relax. "I'm just happy it wasn't mine."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't particularly happy to hear what he had to say about me," she mumbles, the remnants of rage bubbling in her throat again and she wonders when she'll stop being angry over it.
Regulus is quiet for a moment. She sees, from her spot on the ground across from him, how Regulus has his arms extended, elbows resting on his knees as his fingers fiddle. "I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you," he tells her in a low voice, "and I'm sorry it happened to you."
Jo shrugs. "It's not your fault."
"I'm still sorry."
Something twitches in her, and she looks up at Regulus and sees his soft smile and his sharp features and thinks that he is nothing like she thought he would be. "You've been kind to me this year," she tells him, feeling embarrassed as the words leave her mouth.
He chuckles. "Have I ever been anything else?"
"You've never spoken to me before," Jo reminds him.
"Suppose I never had a reason to," he answers easily.
"And you have a reason to now?" she presses.
Regulus takes a moment to examine her, and she feels transparent in front of him. "You were kind to me, first, when I needed it. I guess that's my reason. I won't forget that."
Jo feels her breath catch in her throat and she gives him a goofy, lopsided grin. "You're alright, Black."
