𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨-𝙧.𝙖.𝙗

𝟑𝟏-𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬

THEY HAVE THEIR FIRST ARGUMENT.

December comes reluctantly. There is no snow, just ice-cold rain that comes down in buckets, sloshing against the grounds and echoing against the walls of the castle. Jo can't stand it. She is shivering, wrapped up in a thick sweater and a green scarf that used to belong to Regulus, but it is essentially just Jo's now. Regulus laughs at the sight of it, and pulls her back up against his chest, arms tight around her. "It's not that bad you know," he tells her, lips ghosting along the skin of her neck.

Jo gets goosebumps and tries to disguise it with a violent shiver and a shake of her head. "You're absolutely mad," she replies through chattering teeth. She notes, then, his light sweater and completely unaffected manner. "How are you not frozen right now?" Jo demands of him.

He is dragging his fingers along the length of her forearm, chin resting on her shoulder. "It's always cold, at home," Regulus says, quieter now. "Even in the summer. Suppose I just got used to it."

It shifts at once. For a moment, Jo is silent. He doesn't tell her a lot about his home, about his family. She takes this morsel of information and tosses it around in her head, mixing it in what she already knows about the Noble House of Black and whatever secrets take place behind closed doors there. Cold, violent, cruel. Jo imagines Regulus there, younger, and smaller and alone, stuck in the cold with healing wounds while she filled her belly with Christmas pudding and opened presents and felt the warm embrace of her mother. The thought of it alone was enough to almost reduce Jo to tears, right then and there. And she just can't stomach the idea of him spending another holiday there, returning with fresh scars for her to heal.

Playing with her fingers and eyes cast downward, Jo says to him, "I'd like you to come back to mine, for Christmas."

He stops, fingers frozen against the fabric of Jo's sweater. For a second there, Jo's convinced almost swears that he stopped breathing. Regulus is completely and utterly still, and then he says to her, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?" Jo questions at once, pushing off of his chest and swiveling around to face him. She's not surprised to see that he is stone cold in his expression once more. Her eyes are squinted, and her nose is scrunched up. "Why should you have to go back there and suffer when you have a better option?"

Regulus takes his time responding. He stares down at his hands, resting in his lap, tips of his fingers brushing against each other. Jo watches his head churn. "It's complicated," he replies, not looking back up at her.

Jo doesn't let her expression falter at the tone of his voice. She stares him down, unwavering. "Then explain it to me, Regulus."

"Josephine-" he sighs, letting his shoulders slump.

"Do you think I'm not smart enough to understand?" she demands. And Jo thinks that perhaps she is being a bit unfair and, even worse, unsympathetic. But Jo has let her harbored resentments linger for just a bit too long, and with the breaking of the dam comes the flood of Jo's frustrations.

"No," he is quick to counter, "of course not."

"Then why won't you tell me?" she presses.

Regulus finally looks up at her, expression exasperated, like he is tired of having to explain this to her. "It's not safe."

She blinks and feels a certain rush of indignance. Jo's not sure if she's being dumb or if he's being difficult and she feels a certain irritation creeping up her throat, leaving a sour taste on her tongue. "If it's not safe for me, then it's not safe for you" Jo asserts, head tilted to the side. "Why should you put yourself in danger?"