𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨-𝙧.𝙖.𝙗

𝟯𝟬-𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵

"YOU KNOW, WE USED TO BE FRIENDS," REGULUS ADMITS TO JO, lowly and sounding somewhat ashamed, one afternoon in the library. Jo stops her scribbling and looks up at Regulus with a raised eyebrow. "Crouch and I, when we were younger."

Jo lets out a scoff and gives a brief shake of her head before she returns to her essay. "Did he get worse over time?" she questions, hand moving quickly against the parchment. "Or did you just lose your tolerance for him?"

Regulus lets out a dry, bitter chuckle. "Suppose a bit of both."

She's seen less of him, Crouch. It's been scattered appearances: glimpses in the Great Hall, slight passings in the corridors, dodged eye contact in Defense. He hadn't bothered to fix the crook in his nose, and it now sits just a bit to the right, stuck in the position Regulus smacked it into. Jo spent a lot of time trying to figure out who's ego was bruised more, hers or Crouch's, and hasn't been able to come up with an answer, not for sure.

He seems to have, at least temporarily, given up his plot to terrorize Jo. Or at least, he doesn't bother trying whenever Regulus is around. And now, Regulus is always around. Jo thinks there must be some part of him that blames himself for what Crouch did to her, at least that's the feeling she gets when he walks with her to each of her classes, to her practices, to her dorm. Regulus doesn't say a lot to her in the daylight as he accompanies her, just glares at anyone who stares for too long, and makes sure that his hand doesn't brush against Jo's.

The whole thing has left Jo with this sort of fragmented self-image, like the foundations of her identity were cracked, severely and irreparably. Jo has always seen herself as something fearsome, ferocious, and fearless. And perhaps seventeen years of ego-stroking have led Jo to believe that she was somewhat indestructible, definitely not someone who would be reduced to tears at the hands of a boy, not someone who would admit fear in between hiccupping sobs.

Her excited utterance to Regulus feels like a betrayal of her true self, or, at the very least, the self that she had spent all of her years curating and perfecting. The mirror is shattered now, and Jo has unstable footing.

She keeps going back to that moment, Crouch's fingers around her wrist, spit dripping from the slope of his nose, the blood seeping from the back of her head. Jo repeats it back to herself over and over, chastising herself for not saying the right thing, for not fighting back harder, for being predictable. Jo does this all night, lying wide-eyed in bed until suddenly, she is back to the sea and the waves and cave, and she is awake again.

Once again, Barty Crouch Jr., has made Jo feel weak. Like a fundamentally weak and pathetic person who cannot protect themselves. Ultimately, she comes to realize, it's her with the irreparably bruised ego.

A part of her resents Regulus, for stepping in, for protecting her. Jo knows this is unfair. She knows it, but she still can't help but feel it. She doesn't let herself indulge in that feeling, for the most part, in that budding annoyance and anger and irritation. But every so often, when Regulus is walking her from class to class, protective glare warding off sneers from slick green robes, she lets herself savor it. Allows bitter thoughts about how chauvinistic it is for him to treat her as this delicate thing that needs protecting and guarding.

But, Jo has to let those thoughts go almost as quickly as they come. Because there hasn't been a single word spoken against her since. Because it's actually working, and he is actually keeping her safe, like he promised he would. And because, even though a part of her can't stand the protective way he glowers over her, another part of her really, really likes it.

Regulus hasn't really been the same since. He dots on Jo. He always had, but now it's different. Now he traces his fingers along the back of her neck and looks at her with these soft wide eyes and he holds her hand tighter as they walk, like he's afraid of her getting away from him. He tells her how important she is to him, over and over like it's some sort of prayer and he kisses her forehead and he'll ask her if anyone's tried to hurt her again. It is as sweet as it is unnerving. Jo doesn't know what to do with it.