September, 1879 - Valenduris House, London (the day before leaving for fall term, Sixth Year)

In his hazy mind, Cassian remembered a few things, but had forgotten much more.

He remembers waking up from knocking at the door some hours later. By then the rain had cleared, and the room felt cold. A polite servant who hadn’t seen Cass in a few hours called through the door to ask if he’d join the family for dinner or receive it upstairs. The blonde’s limbs felt too heavy and warm to move from their embrace, so he groggily asked for it to be left outside his door. In the general pandemonium that filled the Valenduris household from a half-dozen children and numerous guests, most assumed that Master’s guest Mister Iago left to visit a relative for dinner. Awhile later, the young men shared Cassian’s plate together in bed, though he didn’t have much of an appetite. He asked Vince, a few times, if he needed… anything. If more happened then, the details escaped him for the time being (or, more accurately, he shut that out from memory).

He remembers the next morning. Waking naturally before dawn, before the sounds of the housekeeps picked up. He got dressed, gently shaking the other awake to give him his clothes. Expression inscrutable, because at this time, Cass still felt numb. He walked Vincent to his room like a gentleman, and they took leave of each other.

Cassian did not come down to breakfast some hours later, a fact he chose to not inform Vince of. This move left the young Slytherin at his mother’s disposal, he knew. But the truth was, this “brave Gryffindor” could not tolerate looking in her face - or anyone’s, really - after everything that happened. She loved Vincent anyway, and would speak animatedly throughout their meal as she’d taken a fondness to the boy over the years. She so appreciated how he was with Cass throughout his father’s funeral, after all, which surely helped her son recover from the loss so quickly. She’d praise him for being such a steadfast friend and studious, positive influence over her son’s career at Hogwarts. Her words, while they meant well, took no notice of phrasing that insinuated Vince amounted to little more than a model servant. It was unfortunate Cassian wasn’t there, as he would have strongly objected. Before, anyway.

They did not go to the Quidditch match. Cassian remembers that.

The boys were caught out in the rain yesterday, the servants came to understand, as neither of them wished to leave their rooms, out in the cold for too long, the change in temperature so stark from yesterday’s heat and today’s chill. Now they’ve come down sick just before school. Cassian wasn’t the manipulative or dishonest type, but then, he didn’t have to be. It was impossibly easy to hide behind the trappings of upperclass society to postpone his own sense of responsibility. The young man employed these devices like a national sport. Their “illness” was a convenient way to ensure they could well and truly not see each other at all, which is how Cass preferred it. If he knew anything about his friend, he knew the other would want to seek him out. Want to understand what existed between them.

He remembers noticing Vincent’s cravat, forgotten on the ground between his bed and night table. Watching, but unfeeling, as a house-elf picked it up and arranged it carefully among the rest of Cass’s things.

Servants unwittingly helped build a wall between them, as they swarmed and doted on the heir, made sure he had enough warm soup and pillows. He asked innocuously if someone might check on Vincent for him. Please make sure he had what he needed. That would occupy the other for enough time as well - enough time to think, Cassian hoped (though his wish was futile, really, because there would never be enough time to think through all this).

Before long, it was nighttime again. The blonde found that he could not suffer the way his chest ached whenever he would roll over on the bed and gaze out the window, exactly the same way he did before. A servant dozing outside his door, should the master need anything, startled awake to hear his bedroom door open. Cass dressed in a simple overshirt and slacks, and hadn’t expected to see the servant. He didn’t remember the way he slept for most of the day, a cause for concern to the household.

Though in that instant he really felt like throttling the servant rather than endure the company of anyone else, he swallowed his impulse, and allowed himself to be led to his requested reprieve - the study. They arranged the fireplace for him, a medicinal tea and brandy, and finally, finally, left him alone to his devices.

Cassian didn’t know why he was here. He didn’t know what he planned to accomplish, as he certainly didn’t anticipate reading (at the moment rather put off by sonnets or anything of the like). Blue eyes gazing into the fire crackling in front of him, the reason started to build up in his mind’s eye, though he couldn’t say he was pleased with the understanding he came to. He knew… he simply had to stay still. That it would not take long, not ever, for Vincent to find him again.

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Vincent Iago
this moment's song

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Guilty feet have got no rhythm…

Vincent couldn’t stop replying those five little words over and over in his mind. I want all of you.  It was all he could hear, echoing like thunder in his head, ever since the moment Cass shut the door in his face and he felt his heart jump into his mouth. Well, that had quickly and pointedly answered that outstanding question.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since that moment; he wasn’t sure what he’d really even done. At some point Vince thought he’d spent an afternoon with Cass’ siblings, or eaten breakfast with them? He distinctly remembered Mrs. Valenduris reminding him of his place in society despite her well-meaning sentiments, but even that hadn’t been enough to rouse him. He was in a daze, locked in his own mind. Eventually Vincent had feigned sick, (or actually come down with something, he wasn’t exactly sure but he did feel like he was going to wretch. Again.) and locked himself away in the guest room.

The bedsheets were cold from across the room. Vince stared at them in the dark, the sun having long set since he sat his butt in the armchair across from the bed. He wasn’t… he couldn’t… it felt strange, to think of laying there alone. He knew it wasn’t the same bed, or even remotely the same look and feel, but… Vince tucked his arms around his legs drawing his face to his knees. He should have known it was a bad idea to act. He should have known Cass wouldn’t react well. What had he even expected?

Now, alone, all the overwhelming sentiments of disgust, embarrassment, and distrust stirred in the Slytherin’s gut. Was he really destined to be so different that nothing about him could satisfy a norm? He felt numb to the pain of it, only shock resonated in the empty hull of his ribcage. He’d destroyed the one good thing he had in life and for what?

Vincent knew at some point he’d have to move, to act. Cass wasn’t going to and… well, even if it ached he knew he had to be the one to do it. Besides, if he was destined to be on his own from now on, Vince might as well get it over with. He couldn’t stand staying in Cass’ house if this was it; he’d sooner grab his things and sleep on a bench somewhere than tolerate that. Not yet ready to face the inevitable though, Vince decided he’d make his way to the library. That was the last place he could imagine Cass hanging out right now and, frankly, the bed was starting to make him flighty.

Shoe-less and in only a white shirt rolled up to his elbows (no waistcoat or cravat, since he couldn’t seem to find it) Vince peeked out into the hall. It was quiet at this time of night; empty. He figured most of the household must be asleep already and he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to risk running into anyone and having to explain himself… or his attire. (Vincent knew better than to run about, half-clothed, through someone’s home. Despite their meager income compared to what mama was used to, he’d been raised like a proper gentleman. She would be appalled at him, in so many ways.)

Slinking along, the Slytherin managed to nearly make it when he heard footsteps down the hall. Heart beating too quickly to prove innocence, Vince grabbed the nearest door and ducked into the room beyond. He shut the door with a click, and pressed his ear against the wood. He heard a servant pass by and let out a sigh of relief. Not Cass, thank goodness. Vince turned to see what he’d accidentally intruded upon and then jumped like a cat, nearly twelve feet high, out of his skin. There was Cass, sitting behind a desk that looked too big even for him. Vincent could have kicked himself.

For a good half a second he debated walking right back out. Instead, he let the silence linger, torturing them both.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to say, or even what he wanted to say. In fact, just the sight of Cass sitting there so peacefully made something angry bubble up inside of Vince. Setting his jaw to keep from starting something he was unwilling to follow through on, the Slytherin adopted a frosty, blasé tone. “So this is where you ran off to tonight,” he hummed. “Cozy.”

Though it's easy to pretend…

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Cassian Valenduris

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

The sudden sound of the door opening to his study made the young man flinch out of his deep reverie, head rounding towards the entrance as soon as he heard the door snap closed. An angry bark to leave me the hell alone was on the tip of his tongue for the anticipated overzealous servant, though he swallowed it just in time.

Acting as though he was fleeing from something, Cassian watched impassively while Vincent pressed his ear to the door and waited. For a moment he thought Vince simply slithered his way along the shadows to follow him here until he found an effective opening, in the cunning way he knew him capable of. Though it was obvious once he turned that he found Cass's presence here jarring. The Gryffindor felt a spasm in his stomach to see the look of shock, then inner debate swirl across his friend’s expression for a moment. It dispelled as quickly as he caught a glimpse of it, however, and an icy mask descended over the other’s visage.

It was lucky that Cassian schooled himself long ago, since childhood really, to render his face inscrutable. It was not proper for the man of the house to be swayed so easily by something as silly as emotion, so even as Vincent spat out his words like venom, the blonde remained unmovable. That isn’t to say his friend’s words didn’t pierce him all the same.

“I didn’t run anywhere,” he responded, broad shoulders hiking in a small shrug. It was hard to ignore the way Vince looked - as though he hadn’t slept a wink, his shirt badly wrinkled. Had the other turned on his heel and walked right out, Cassian wouldn’t have been surprised, though he didn’t, and… that didn’t altogether surprise him either. “You know where I’ve been.”

His hands itched for something to grab hold of to occupy his attention. So the blonde turned absently to one of the drawers at his desk, rifling through its contents a moment to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. It afforded him the mental space he needed right now, to look at the situation before them a bit more… objectively. Lighting one for himself, he tossed the pack on the desk so it slid down towards Vincent’s general direction. Though he would have preferred having this conversation another time (or more accurately, never), they were here now. The room felt… tense.

“You can sit.” If you want to, the tiniest stitch between his eyebrows suggested. But Cassian’s voice came out much more cold and distant than planned, in fact it sounded like it came from a different body altogether. As though to make up for it, he gestured towards the leather wingback armchair across from him. 

Time can never mend the careless whisper of a good friend…

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   Vincent Iago

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Vincent didn’t like the look on Cass’ face anymore than he liked feeling like he was about to crawl out of his own skin. He felt out of place in this house all of a sudden; like nothing here was meant for him, or wanted him. Especially Cass. Frowning a touch at the other’s tone and obvious formality, the little Slytherin couldn’t help but raise his chin defiantly. “Do I?” He responded lightly, noncommittally.

He didn’t, and they both knew it. Vince hadn’t run after Cass for a reason. Despite his lack of restraint, the Slytherin had some dignity and he wasn’t about to squander it by arguing trivialities with someone who clearly wanted to impress upon him they had the upper hand. It was the story of Vince’s life, really; the fact that it was Cass this time shouldn’t have surprised him. He knew this day would come eventually, even if the other had promised to always stay on equal footing.

If there was one thing that Vincent resented more than anything in this life it was his traditional upper-class upbringing despite sitting firmly, fiscally, in the middle class. He’d been born into the upper class, raised with all the right governesses and nannies, and then somewhere around his first year at Hogwarts something had changed. Mama had moved out of the estate house in the country where grand-mama lived; she’d settled into a flat here in London and decided it was better to live meagerly and alone than surrounded by the opulence of her family when she, truly, had little. Vincent knew she had ambitions to remarry, to step back up, but he had a sneaking suspicion she hesitated on his behalf. Because of what he was to her. The same way the others scoffed at him for what he was to her. It was a catch twenty-two the halfblood simply could not win. Turning a sharp green eye to Cassian, Vincent crossed his arms over his chest and stood, refusing a seat. “Thank you,” he replied in that same blasé, devil-may-care tone. “I’ll stand.”

Vincent found himself at a loss for further words. He knew he had to be the one to prompt this conversation, or lack thereof, because Cass certainly wasn’t going to and yet… he shifted. “Well, I’ll be off in the morning,” he decided. There was no use talking about this; he’d already played out every possible outcome in his head. If there was any hope at not finding himself pinned uncomfortably against the wall, tongue in cheek, then it was better to just… let it go. Vince knew better than anyone how Cass’ temper worked, and he didn’t trust himself to keep from igniting it more and more until he got what he wanted. (Which at this point, was neither here nor there.)

“I suppose we ought to tidy this up like gentlemen.” He sighed a touch. “If you’ve anything to say, speak now. Else we shall forget any of this ever happened and part ways.” Forever. If his tone was commanding, Vincent didn’t mean it.

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Cassian Valenduris

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

“Well, yes,” he cut in, hastily, unmovable face finally twitching into a scowl. He didn’t understand what Vince was on about, not knowing where he was. Wasn’t it obvious? “I’ve only been in my bedroom, and here in the study now. Where else would I be?” That wasn’t meant to come out with a scoff at the end, but there it was. Things were going as well as could be expected.

At the Slytherin’s caustic rejection of a seat, Cassian shoved the lit cigarette into his mouth and took a particularly deep huff. As if to say, well fine, have it your way. The action helped control the frown he felt deepening, and the billow of smoke produced a buffer beyond the desk to keep them apart. It wasn’t fear or trepidation that made the big blonde want to keep his distance. It was the look Vincent leveled at him now that made the situation feel volatile. If they came any closer, Cass wasn’t sure if he should expect a punch or a caress, and was inclined to avoid either.

The way the other chose to proceed warped his heart more than made him angry. This biting tone was typically reserved for idiots, for bigots, for bullies. Cassian realized at that moment that he’d never been on the receiving end of Vincent’s ire before. The thought drew his eyebrows together in consternation as if the other had spoken in a foreign tongue.

“Fine. I suppose we should,” he agreed with a hint of dismay, deciding to not read into his friend’s sigh. How the hell did he think they could tidy this shit up? Once he issued his command, as it sounded, his proposed solution finally began to register. What, like last words? “But unfortunately I did not come prepared with a damn eulogy.” Though he responded with coldness in kind, his curse word belied the undercurrent of sorrow building up in his chest. What the fuck was he saying to him?

“Don’t be absurd,” Cassian relented after a beat, tone harder than he meant. “Tomorrow is already Sunday and our train is the next morning. It would be a waste of everyone’s time.” If this was his way of trying to convince the other to stay, he was doing a shit job of it. And he knew as much. But by god, he could not muster a single thought or sentence that could help breach brain to heart. That connection was severed, if it ever even existed in Cassian at all. “You don’t need to inconvenience yourself over this. Just… move past it.” How one can be expected to move past, or even what ‘it’ meant, Cassian did not care to define. Perhaps his blue eyed gaze held a clue, which now leveled a look that tried to implore Vince.

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Vincent Iago

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Vincent’s eyes narrowed a touch at Cass’ retort as to where he’d been. The idea that the big blonde was getting defensive only made his gut roil more. Vince didn’t know where Cass had been because frankly, he’d been avoidant all day. There was no use denying it. Sure he might not have left the house, but he certainly hadn’t tried to make friendly either. Vince didn’t care if he’d been sitting about in his room, or in here, or even if he’d stayed in that soiled bed, sulking. He might as well have been halfway to the moon for all Vince felt, and even now he was at least an ocean away. Ignoring the comment, he only set his teeth a smidge tighter.

As the other answered him in kind, Vince felt something swelling in the pit of his stomach. It was painful and heavy, and he was sure it was full of poison that would kill him lest it rupture. He heard the slight twinge that little curse brought with it, but even so much emotion could not reassure Vince that Cass wasn’t just being… bullheaded. The other could be contrary for the sake of it when he liked, something they had in common, but Vince was sure as he went on it was all just social convention. The niceties that were obligatory should anyone inquire. It wasn’t until the blonde’s last statement dropped between them that Vincent finally felt that thing in his gut revolt.

“Move past it?” He hissed into the quiet room. “Enlighten me Cassian, what does ‘moving past it’ look like to you?” Vincent dropped his arms from their crossed position over his chest. “How do you imagine anything to be even remotely normal, much less comfortable, ever again when the very thought of what just transpired makes you want to vomit!” Vince shut his mouth with a snap. Well that certainly hadn’t needed to be said. He didn’t want Cass to think there was any shred of hope they could salvage this; he didn’t want to dare hope himself. He was the one who had vomited after all, from the anxiety. The feeling had been overwhelming and there was nothing Vince could have done to keep the bile from rising in his throat. It was only when he was bent over, long fingers gripping the cold porcelain toilet bowl, that he realized what a mistake he’d made. The Slytherin decided on impulse he might as well share the truth. What more could it hurt now?

“I could see the disgust and anguish all over you,” he continued, voice a gravelly rumble. “From the way you“ thrust my clothes into my arms and kicked me out “managed our situation only to then hide away from the vile reality. I’m not an imbecile,” his voice lowered into a hiss. “I know you better than you know yourself and there is no moving past this. Not for you.” Vince paused, sucking in a deep breath.

He didn’t want to back down, the anger finally flaring. He was pleased in the moment for a chance to speak his mind even if he knew the regret would sink in later. Plausible deniability was becoming less and less attainable with each passing sentence however, and Vincent felt the weight of the truth sitting on him, crushing him.

“I won’t sit around watching you grow to despise me for it even more.” he finally conceded, more quietly, averting green eyes away from Cass. It would hurt too much.

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Cassian Valenduris

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

Though utterly inarticulate, Cassian had a keen observational eye. Noticing, for example, how the muscle of Vincent’s jaw twitched, or the way he dug his nails into crossed arms. It seemed as though he’d braced himself for this conversation. Silent for long enough that it got Cass thinking that he was considering his ill-formed “proposal” to stay through his visit. For a second.

In this big blonde’s bullheaded ways, never once did he consider that perhaps this experience had also been difficult for Vince. But he should have seen it sooner: how the Slytherin didn’t budge from his place nearer to the door than the desk, demonstrating just how close to intolerable their encounter was. At what he said last, Cassian clocked an imperceptible shift in the current of their conversation, in the way those green eyes darkened at what he said.

Shit. What did he just say? Move past it, he realized, Vince echoing that exact sentiment aloud a moment later.

At the first round of verbal lashing, Cassian could hardly do more than sit in stunned blank silence. Though his mouth opened slightly, no words came, as every last poisonous word cut into him. What Vince said was true after all. What could he possibly say in response?

Yet as the other went savagely on, Cass felt a fury building inside him. Stop, he willed the other, get off these tracks. But what good was it to even say as much? He could hear, from the turbulence of Vincent’s hiss, that he was too far past the point of no return. Reflexively, he wanted to defend himself. Even as he knew that a parry like this was a losing fight.

No moving past this - not for you.

“You’re wrong,” he interrupted, because you have to be wrong. “If you know me so well,” he added with a vicious snarl he could not help, for the poison already started to seep in, “Then you should have known it would turn out this way. If you knew what this would do–” to us. “Then why? If you were so sure I couldn’t change… why did you?” Sentences were coming out less and less complete, though Cassian raised his voice with them anyway, because he too was desperate for answers. Blue eyes darkened, his body shaking with a sense of grief he hadn’t felt since his father’s death. It arrived with his understanding, however superficial, of how hurtful that must have felt for Vince. To feel cast aside. So the full truth was coming out. It felt like a sickeningly appropriate way for the damned to lament their loss of friendship.

“Nothing about what happened was normal. This mistake. It can never be taken back,” he veritably spat, pleased, at least, that Vincent stayed around long enough to see the extent to which his words could make someone else suffer. “And now everything has changed. So I’m sorry,” for everything– “That I needed time. That at first I couldn’t… handle… looking at you. At anyone. But I’m trying…” To survive this grief. To find a way out of this hell. “To find a way to live with this. To see if I can.” We can. Please. “What… What the hell else do you need me to say? Tell me, and I’ll say it,” At last, Cassian sprang up from his seat, the ball of fire in his chest expanding rapidly. Already it felt untenable, and he planted his hands firmly on the desk to suck in a deep breath. With every ounce of self control he still possessed, he willed a surge of rage back down his throat, though he did not succeed.

“Fuck!” the young man finally broke. Without warning he swiped the cup of tea from his desk and hurled it, still filled with liquid, to shatter to a million pieces against the wall. He could kill Vincent, he sensed in his bones that he really could. But touching the other one again… That’s where Cass firmly drew the line. It was both of them, after all, who were responsible. Where Vincent started it, Cassian ended it. When Vince kissed him, he pulled the other on top. When they rolled over, he was the one who kissed Vince first. Cass remembers he said.. Such careless things to him. Which led to them doing such an unimaginable, disgusting thing. It’s true that Vince may have been the one to guide them there, but oh, how Cassian followed. Unconditionally.

This resolution kept the Gryffindor behind the desk, though he’d started stalking back and forth behind it like a predator, pacing with furious energy, sucking down his cigarette like water. I won’t sit around watching you grow to despise me for it. “God damn it but I’m trying, Vince,” wanting to beg him, but so focused on trying to contain the way his body twitched. I couldn’t despise you even if I tried. If I despise you, I despise myself. “Trying to accept you for everything you are. You don’t get to decide whether or not I do.”

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Vincent Iago

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Vince could see the gears turning in the big blonde’s head. He could see the minute, telling changes in expression that someone who didn’t know Cass like he did might have missed. It didn’t make him feel any better; all he saw there was bubbling anger and disgust making him feel more seen, more bare, that he’d ever felt before (even yesterday afternoon.) The sight sent a wave of nausea rocking through the Slytherins’s system and Vincent gave Cass a harrowing look.

For a moment the other’s protest made his heart skip a beat. Was he wrong? Could Cass actually see a future that wasn’t as dangerous as Vince was imagining? His hope had barely managed to set sail before it was shipwrecked, heading to the bottom of the harbor faster than Davey Jones could command it. Change he said. As if what had happened was a catalyst that could have corrupted Cass from his straight and narrow path through life; as if it wasn’t something he innately felt deep, deep within. Vincent realized in that moment that even if Cass might never accept it, this all really had nothing to do with him. It wasn’t his own prowess that had made Cass react biologically, no matter how much Vincent might have liked to think so. It simply didn’t work that way. There was something innately within Cass that made all of what had happened possible, given how commandingly he’d managed with only the slightest bit of guidance. Maybe that was what made this reaction all the worse.

In truth, however, Vincent hadn’t known… He had no way of knowing, really, how Cass would react. He’d just read the signs and hoped for the best. At worst, Cass could have just sucker punched him and Vincent might have found a way to sweet talk his way out of a grave mistake. But instead, they were here because Cass had decidedly not punched him, or even shoved him off. He’d indulged Vince’s whims, and likely as many of his own that he’d never realized before.

“I couldn’t be sure,” Vince snapped icily. “But I’m not the one who—“ the Slytherin paused, abruptly, realizing what he’d been about to say. I’m not the one who stuffed their dick up another man’s ass. Vince bit his tongue, hard, to keep from spitting out the acidity he felt bubbling inside. He didn’t want to force Cass to confront this any more than he was barely struggling to now. (Why, the Slytherin didn’t know. Residual affection perhaps.) He tried again. “I couldn’t be sure until I tried, hoping desperately that my hunch was mistaken, but the retreat was impeccable!” he laughed derisively, a sound full of poison and pain. “I couldn’t have scripted it better myself.”

As the other went on to ruminate on the blasphemy that they’d enacted, Vince felt somewhat justified in what he’d almost said. Mistake. Taken back. Couldn’t look at you. Can’t live with it. Every new admission was another blade, ripping open his intestines and cutting at his entrails. Vincent’s green eyes darkened in a way they never had before; not when he was bullied, not when people blamed him for his fathers mistakes. This was a new kind of darkness, a seed of resent that had settled deep between his lungs. “You’ve said enough, actually,” the Slytherin replied, a multilayered acidity in his tone. Before he could say much else the other was on his feet slamming things and Vincent felt his heart speed up. He knew Cass was reaching a breaking point. He knew the ledge was close and that if he pushed the other over it he might not even make it to Hogwarts on Monday; not in one piece anyway. But the ire in Cass’ tone stroked at something inside of Vince that both appalled and terrified the Slytherin, even as he tried to choke it back down. At Cass’ broken sounding expletive, Vincent took a decided step backwards.

Fear was an abstract concept to him, not one that Vince had ever really associated to Cass. He knew what the big blonde was capable of, but he’d never imagined a situation where he would be stupid enough to turn Cass on himself. Evidently, there was one such and he did not feel inclined to back down, regardless. The fear raised little goosebumps on Vince’s skin even as an excited thrill hummed in his gut. What would Cass do if he went over there and grabbed him, unabashedly, by the balls.

Cass began to pace and Vince sucked in a deep breath. He listened as the inarticulate hatred seeped through Cass’ words and Vince couldn’t help but flinch. Finally, his own voice seemed to reawaken and the Slytherin gave in to his worst impulses.

“I don’t need you to accept me Cassian, we already know the whole world is incapable of that. I do need you to listen, and listen well.” His voice lowered in pitch, dangerously. “I am not a thing to be pitied, or tolerated, a broken toy you can put on a shelf because you’ve kept it for too long and the sentimental value keeps you from discarding of it. Your disgust and hatred will not change anything about this situation, and you’ve made it abundantly clear that you cannot live with our mistake. I will not be the one to force your hand, force you to look at me and feel as sick as I do in this very moment.” He hesitated again and then raised his chin defiantly. A decision had been made. Perhaps he’d made it all along, before ever walking in here. “You ought to take a good look in the mirror tomorrow however, because in my leaving you behind the reality of your reactions does not change. You were the one who finished our rendezvous, and quite spectacularly if I might add. If you can find it within yourself to despise me so much for simply bringing it out, then that’s your cross to bear.”

And with that, Vincent turned on his heel and yanked open the door to the study with much aplomb. He stormed out into the hallway, slamming the door with such a force he was sure the entire house would awaken, but the ringing in his ears was deafening. Red hot fury blinded the Slytherin as he made a beeline for the foyer of the Valenduris house, blatantly brushing past a startled maid who had appeared at the sound. With one impulsive yank on the front door, Vincent grabbed his shoes and stormed out into the cold London street furious at himself for what he’d just done.

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Cassian Valenduris

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   Cassian Valenduris

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

Cassian paced in an increasingly desperate bid to spin this white hot rage shaking him to the core off into the world around him. It’s why his ire turned to the teacup, or the vicious stab of his cigarette into the ashtray. Anyone, and anything around him. Though Cass didn’t know what would become of them, or how far down into hell they’d go, he knew only this: he could not hurt Vincent. Not any more than he already has. No matter what else happened.

I’m not the one who… Comprehension landed on Cass like a gut-punch, it’s not as though he needed to spell out his meaning. Stomach roiling at the reminder, the blonde finally stilled with his hands whiteknuckled on the desk.  Vince’s disparaging words drew out a sneer, because he recognized this move well. The way the Slytherin would, when backed into a corner, hiss his warning before striking on the most vulnerable pulse points.  This was a dangerous game, when he knew Cass’ weak spots so intimately.

You’re not listening to what I’m saying, he simmered, feeling the weight of how Vincent characterized their relationship like an anchor around his neck. Is it that you can’t hear me? Or is it that you refuse to? Cassian thought he had made himself clear. That he would bloody fucking try to mend them, to accept Vince, to see him - all of him - for who he truly was. Yet with every passing second in their exchange of barbed words, Vince dispelled another thin layer of Cass’ ignorance of the extent of the suffering he’d dealt. It reminded him, with an acute pain in his chest like a dagger, of the way he pushed and probed and pressed on Vince to reveal himself. And with a twist of the hilt buried in his heart, the cowardice Cass exhibited when he rejected this revelation outright. How utterly naive he was, to not see that Vince hid for a reason.

There’s no comfort in the truth, pain is all you’ll find.

Devastation put a fracture on Cassian’s hard expression, breaking his mouth open with a short, shaking laugh. There was no mirth in his tone, just disbelief. “I wish I could pity you,” he growled, pushed so far to his physical and emotional brink that he could no longer tolerate this verbal beating. “It would make this much easier. I would’ve left you in a charity bin ages ago. Is that why you rather paint yourself the victim? Does it feel easier to be disposed of?” Cassian didn’t know when he’d gone around the desk to take a step closer, but he had.

“Don’t–”Don’t do this. Don’t push me away. “Don’t twist my words. What the rest of the world thinks has nothing to do with this,” with us. “I said I will always listen to you, will always see you–” he grimaced, still haunted by these words he uttered yesterday, and the many that followed. But it is all still true. “And I told you that I will accept it. I will try to— for you,” his voice cracked at the last. “What the hell more can I give, than that?”

And still Vincent’s ire came over him like acid, causing the young man to stagger back at the intimation. A fresh wash of shame stunned him, deadening his sharp blue gaze that bore into Vince. The truth  - it jarred him like a thousand rifle shots to the gut. The thing that Vincent brought out in him. A complete monster. The hot flush of embarrassment as he remembered the way they curled into each other, and what he’d asked Vince.

Aren’t you ashamed?
I don’t know, he said.

Cassian made no effort to stop him as he withdrew from the study, residual shock rooting him to that same place as he felt, rather than heard, the doors slam. A part of him knew, of course, that maybe it was better this way. They could only hurt each other with the things they wanted to say.

And still another part of him shattered, threatening to pull him into a deadly tailspin. He could not leave it at this. He would not. It was an eerie and deterministic fate that bound them together across lifetimes, he sensed. Something so deep in his bones that his body might disintegrate if he revolted. Even as the verge of a blackout flitted at his periphery, Cass darted out behind the Slytherin. A maid kneeled in the foyer, picking up the pieces of something that had fallen, wordlessly confirmed where Vince had gone.

Out on the streets, it was a cool late summer night, but his body felt feverish. Cassian’s feet picked up with the race of his heartbeat, ending - finally, only – when the person he sought stood within reach. Afraid to touch him, but afraid of what would happen if he didn’t, Cass gripped just one shoulder to stop him.

“Please, Vince…” he gasped, in a foreign guttural sound. He didn’t know what he was doing here. It’s not as though he’d followed after him with any type of plan. He only knew one thing: he did not want this. As though the poison Vince doled out finally seized him, Cass relinquished his grip to falter and drop down to his knees, hands crumpling in front of him. If his expression contorted in anguish now, he tried to hide it, dropping his head to shield behind blonde hair. Just a hair above a whisper, Cassian finally confessed what brought him here. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave like this.”

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   Vincent Iago

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eyecandy by fox<3

Vince could still hear ringing in his eardrums as he trotted down the few front steps of the Valenduris house out into a London street. His feet were like lead, the pounding of his heart deafening. He didn’t have anywhere to go, anything to do, and he certainly couldn’t make it back to Hogwarts without his things and yet… the idea of going back in there made him want to keel over and vomit.

The tone, the words, the very expression Cass had exhibited cut at the deepest, most painful parts of Vince the Slytherin had locked away a long time ago. He’d never let anyone in like that, not really. It was always too much of a risk in case they too cast him aside, but with Cass he’d felt safe. He’d let himself be vulnerable in a way that had exposed his most sensitive nerve. There was no path forward for them from here. Cass had made that much very clear, and the thought made Vince dizzy. He didn’t know what his life looked like without the big blonde; he couldn’t imagine a version or a lifetime in which they weren’t in some way connected. In every reality, in every universe where there was Vincent, there was Cassian. Edmund and Edgar, Hades and Zeus, Loki and Thor. What was Vince without him? Nothing, a small dark voice whispered in the back of his mind.

As the dampness of the humid air around him settled into Vince’s clothes, he felt suddenly asphyxiated. It was like a claw was growing tight and wrapping itself around his throat. Vince felt panic grow alongside the odd sensation and it wasn’t until a hand grasped onto his shoulder that the Slytherin came back to reality. He startled so violently he almost leapt out of his skin, rounding on the imposing figure like his very life relied upon escape. Surprise, then, settled upon Vincent like a blanket of snow, accumulating as the seconds trickled by.

Cass?

As the other spoke, Vince neither heard nor saw him really, so overwhelmed by his own thoughts as he was. Cass had come after him. Cass was here, he’d reacted. A few little words finally filtered into the Slytherin’s conscience, more jarred by Cassian’s collapse and sentiment than actual verbiage. Vincent looked down upon him, wordlessly.

It was quite a sight to see Cass, all big, blonde and beautiful, on his knees in such a pitiful state. Something old and vindictive inside of Vince rolled its shoulders back at the sight, stretching, and the Slytherin frowned at the sensation pointedly. He did not revel in this; he couldn’t in the same way Cass simply couldn’t let things go as they had been. The both of them were tied tightly together by the red string of fate, for better or worse. There was no one without the second, no sun without the moon.

Vince dropped beside the other, burying his face in Cass’ shoulder rules be damned. He breathed in the sweaty, smokey, anxious scent that was Cassian Valenduris at this moment and realized… he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave the other behind, no matter how much he might need to for the better of them both. He could not now, nor could he ever, even if he wanted to. Cass was as much a part of him as his left pupil. He could not cut the other out anymore than he could gouge out an eye and be left whole.

“I can’t,” he whispered honestly. Even if I wanted to.

Vince crouched there for a moment, knowing that eventually this moment too would break and that his confession might only complicate things further. But Cass had a right to know. He had a right to try and understand the beginnings of Vincent’s undying devotion. Eventually however, the smaller one tugged away and stood. They had much still to say as this mess was far from resolved. Vince cleared his throat searching for something to bridge the gap.

“I don’t regret what happened,” he finally settled upon, perhaps less helpfully than intended. “And I resent the implication of being less than because of my…” adoration of you “lot in life. But you need to decide Cassian if this all is something you can stomach.” Vince’s tone softened. “I will always be yours,” even if you can’t be mine.

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Cassian Valenduris

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   Cassian Valenduris

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

Though he couldn’t place what it was that brought him here. Though he couldn’t confess to a single plan on what he wanted to say or do, now that he was here. This moment, prising Vincent to stay, felt like the best and only choice he could make. He wasn’t sure what to expect, whether it was a punch or shove or another verbal assault. But none of it mattered, as long as his best friend, his companion in life, knew how he felt.

The blonde stiffened slightly as he felt Vince drop before him then, tense as he felt the other pitch forward against his shoulder. But only for a second, for the feel of his warmth and his breath against his bare neck soon melted Cass like ice to water. Unthinkingly, his arms wrapped around Vincent’s middle as though he wished to steady a piece of precarious glass. Rules be damned. Appearances be damned. To hell with better judgment. He needed reassurance, more than anything. That what Vincent was saying was true. That he can’t ever leave.

Cassian wasn’t sure if they lingered here for a minute or an hour; either one would have felt like not enough. His arms fell to the side as Vince stirred and stood up, this time his blue gaze seeking out green ones. This brush with near catastrophe reminded him of how precious their time was, how little of it existed in a lifetime. He wanted to talk to him, now. Properly.

“I’ll stomach it,” he responded hastily. He did not want to think about it. He didn’t think he had to. For what other choice did he have? Giving the impression that he still held on to any doubt would only serve to further sting an open wound. Cass refused to do that again.

Slowly, he stood to meet Vincent’s eye, trying to interpret that impenetrable expression and tone. It was… obvious that there was so much left there, unsaid. But perhaps after lingering here together on the verge of a precipice for these agonizing twenty-odd hours, they’d managed to pull each other back to safety. Both stood apart in heavy silence for a beat. I will always be yours. He didn’t know what to make of that statement, that bounced around his head an infinite number of ways and tipped his lips into the smallest frown. It swelled him with… a strange sense of possessiveness. One that reassured him, in its strange way, as much as it frightened him. What does this mean, about how I feel for you?

The sound of a horse carriage getting drawn down the street finally jolted him out of thought. The blonde turned to look back at it, before flicking his gaze back to Vince. “Follow me,” he muttered, tilting his head towards the general direction of his home, while he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “I have somewhere to show you.”

Their destination was one that Cassian planned for them to visit today, if everything hadn’t gone to hell the evening before. Tucked away where few would think to go, a rolling hill bank behind a row of homes had tall grasses that sloped gently towards the River Thames. This area was not yet as developed as some of those river ports closer to London center, and was more-or-less the same as when Cassian’s father would take him here on his sailboat. The Gryffindor brought them out right up to the edge, where they could see, smell, and hear the rush of the river beyond them.

“I’ve wanted to take you here for some time,” he finally ventured quietly. Hands needing to stay busy, he fussed with the edge of his thumbnail. “One of my favorite parts of London.”

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   Vincent Iago

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eyecandy by fox<3

Vince felt he could have died when Cass’ arms came up to wrap around him. If he snuggled into the blonde’s neck, it was an unconscious action he didn’t dwell on. This feeling was everything in the world to him, any and everything he’d ever need to survive again. Vince knew Cass was the end-all-be-all in his life and it was absolutely wretched to realize how close he’d come to almost sacrificing… that. In this moment Vincent realized he’d never dare do it again. He wouldn’t risk losing Cass for good because next time, if they fractured once more, he couldn’t be sure Cass would hold onto him.

He’d rather lose his dignity than his oxygen.

I’m never gonna dance again… the way I dance with you.

As they both stood, Vince watched Cass with big green eyes, stark and vulnerable in a way that still made him unsure. He reached up a hand to scratch at his elbow and held it miserably. He could tell from Cass’ hasty reply that the other was simply agreeing to appease him; Vince couldn’t be sure he actually meant it, but Cass had never been a liar, so he let it go. Especially as the sounds of a carriage floated over the stale evening towards them, Vince knew better than to make a scene. They were lucky the street had been virtually abandoned a few moments prior and his face heated as he turned to follow Cass quickly.

Vince didn’t think much of the distraction as Cass led him around the house and towards a small river bank. They were both in need of some distance from the almost deadly, and he was glad Cass was ready to try and move past all of this. Still, Vince held his elbow awkwardly, unsure. They paused by the river bank then and Vince turned his expression over the river. “It’s beautiful,” he said softly. Add it was.

There were few parts of London that seemed safe, quiet or even natural. This location seemed to manage all three for Cass; Vince felt privileged, like he’d been let in on a secret. It didn’t make him feel entirely better, but he dropped his hand from his arm and reached out to tug Cass’ away from his picking. (He hated when the other fussed at himself.) If shivers ran up his arm and down his spine like flames, if his fingers lingered just a touch too long, Vincent tried not to notice as he pulled away. Another blush brushed against pale cheeks and the Slytherin felt conflicted. He was both angry at himself and embarrassed for feeling this way considering the disaster his initial impulses had ignited. Vince turned away and tried to hide his expression by gazing out over the far side of the bank. He hated feeling like he had to shutter a part of himself away from Cass but he supposed he ought to get used to it.

“It’s special isn’t it?” He asked, rather obviously. Of course it is, that annoying little voice drawled condescendingly in the back of Vince’s mind. He ignored it. “I… I’m glad you still feel like you can share it with me.” Vince kept his expression hidden as he ran a hand through curly strawberry locks and tugged at his hair a touch. He was frustrated with himself. “I… I’ll make sure it never happens again.” He finally whispered.

There was a finality to the word ‘never’ that felt like a slammed door in his face. It hurt, almost as if it hit him on the other side. Vincent set his teeth. He would sacrifice his own needs and desires if it meant he could keep Cass, forever.

Should have known better than to cheat a friend…
Waste this chance that I’ve been given.

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Cassian Valenduris

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   Cassian Valenduris

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

The air between them still felt charged with something, though it was decidedly different from earlier. Different from the tension in the room at his study. Less impenetrable fog, more… fire. Wrapping Cassian in heat that had nothing to do with the oppressive, still air of late summer.

He didn’t protest as he felt Vince’s hand tug at his fussing on his fingers. It was the same move he’s made a thousand times, usually with a sour expression about how much of a bad habit it was and that he’d make himself bleed. Blue eyes flicked briefly to look at Vince as he absently did it, watching the blush creep over his friend’s cheeks attentively. The Slytherin didn’t prolong the contact, though Cass may have. The contact came absently. Fingertips from the hand that got swatted away danced across Vincent’s pale knuckles, his thumb grazed the inside of his wrist brief as a gasp.

The young man dropped his hands by his sides then, fingers still twitching for something to do, but trying to not bother Vince with it again. “Yes. It’s special to me,” he agreed, not really bothered by anything like redundancy. It was true, this place was beautiful, and he was… oddly pleased to hear his friend’s praise over it. Like it was some validation that he wasn’t a fool for loving to spend his idle time here. “I’m… glad I could share it with you.” He clipped his sentence short before he added the word still. That I can still share this with you. It hadn’t fully escaped Cass, how close they’d come to never sharing an experience with each other again.

Though as Vincent went on, Cass felt a rock form in his throat.  He… didn’t know what to make of that statement. On one hand, a twinge of relief like a vice around his neck that just released. On the other hand, a stab in his stomach, like a dagger embedding itself there to its hilt. A voice, so small and fleeting in the back of his head that he almost missed it, that said but what if I want it to happen again?

“Okay,” he finally forced the word out, and it arrived in a low whisper. Their private promise. Vince wasn’t looking at him, and Cassian looked on at the river that ran before them.  “...Thank you,” he added, quieter still. The blonde’s expression was creased with worry. A bud of fear planted itself in Cass at that moment, a fear that would only grow over the years. A sense that what was good for him, was fundamentally opposite from what was good for Vince. Could that be possible?

“I don’t… want to belabor this,” he murmured, not elaborating on what ‘this’ meant. “But maybe… we should talk about how we should handle this schoolyear.” Talking was never anything Cass was good at, much less something he would volunteer to do. Though as they watched the water move past them, the blonde grit his teeth together with resolve that this would be essential for their survival. The times they’d fall asleep together in the grass with Vince reading poetry, the hours they spent together in the library. It would all… feel different now. People were used to seeing them as a pair already, going so far as to invite one with the expectation that they would bring the other. If they both wanted this to be… water under the bridge, so to speak, they should discuss their expectations.

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   Vincent Iago

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eyecandy by fox<3

Vince swore he was imagining the sensation of Cass’ fingertips against his wrist. It certainly wasn’t on purpose, if it was real, and yet the very sensation made him want to linger. It was a touch wholly reminiscent of last night, what with the gentle caresses they’d shared in the dark. Another shiver ran down his spine and Vince tucked his hand under his armpit, impatiently. It was already impossible to keep his promise!

Cass’ response, however, didn’t surprise him, but it sure as hell felt like a slap. Another one. Maybe successive slaps, after a good punch in the gut.

Vince knew Cass didn’t want this, want him. Their whole little flare up was proof only that the big blonde was trying to stomach him out of some twisted sense of duty, or whatever else Cass felt he owed the Slytherin, and Vince would let him because… well… he needed to. But in the end, the reality of the matter was still the same. Cass was disgusted with him, with what had happened and what they’d done, and he was lucky he was getting off this hook with a quick, easy hand rather than a deft one wrenching a hole in his cheek as it tried in vain to let go. Still, Vincent did feel rather like a fish as Cass skewered him in place. He swallowed a lump that had built in his throat, now dry.

Even worse was when the other continued on.

In a moment of complete and utter nausea, Vince felt his stomach turn over in an empty, terrifying belly flop, and he cringed visibly. The only thing keeping him from keeling over in that moment was his determination not to let Cass know how much he hated this. Cass felt like they needed ground-rules, like he didn’t trust the Slytherin to be able to keep his promise. Another knife to the gut, this time tearing at his intestines. Vincent turned away again, expression dark, and he resisted the urge to lash out defensively, mortified. Cass was never going to look at him the same again.

“Alright,” he replied instead, still refusing to look at Cass, in the tiniest voice he could manage. “I suppose… you’ll want to be sure I won’t” harass, jump, assault you, “touch you again, but I swear it on my life Cassian,” here Vince’s voice took on a desperate little edge even as he turned his back on the blonde and tugged at his strawberry locks again, “I won’t lay a finger on you in that way ever again. It was a wretched mistake and I really just don’t want to discuss it anymore. Please,” he begged, miserably. “Please don’t make me relive the reality that I sicken you so much you feel the need to formalize restrictions.” He turned that miserable expression on the other then abruptly, big green eyes pleading. “Please trust me,” he whispered. “I respect you enough not to think things can ever be the same.”

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Cassian Valenduris

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   Cassian Valenduris

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

It was a good thing Cassian wasn’t looking over at Vince. He didn’t need to see him, to feel the way his words probably landed, every last syllable clumsy and heavy coming out of his mouth. Even Cass still felt a twinge of humiliation, he couldn’t imagine what the other felt like. So the blonde kept his eyes resolutely on the river in front of them, because he couldn’t. He honestly couldn’t trust himself with what would happen if he looked. No, now was the time to firm up his resolve, not make things even worse.

Vincent’s first words seemed like he might have somehow, blessedly, managed to get his message through. But as often happened with his friend, the first meaning would soon twist and coil and churn away into a different meaning entirely. The young man swallowed thickly as Vince went on. As his words turned to pleading, imploring, still determined with something to prove. He furled and unfurled his fists a few times, really regretting not having cigarettes on his person.

“It’s not about formalizing restrictions,” he cut in using Vince’s own words, and though his voice was softer than it was angry, his expression was visibly perplexed. “This isn’t… a situation where conditions need to be met for just one of us, don’t twist things that way…” Finally he turned to look at his friend, blue eyes scanning the other with earnest apprehension. Beseeching.

“I just want to… protect what’s important to us,” he tried to clarify, eyes searching. Right? Maintaining an us in a way that makes sense? “I— yes, we probably shouldn’t… touch each other often,” he flailed, miserably embarrassed, though notably already progressed to noting that it came down to the both of them, really. They went into the deep end together.

“Though I want to see you most mealtimes. I… hope we can still study together, and go on Hogsmeade weekends,” he went on, feeling a bit reckless but Vince had to know. These little moments in life that couldn’t stop now, that would feel empty otherwise. “...Maybe we don’t share poetry anymore,” he added, voice so soft it felt distant. He wouldn’t insult the other by adding his last thought, nothing that might wind up with us falling asleep together.

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   Vincent Iago

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eyecandy by fox<3

Vince felt himself wince again even if Cass’ tone seemed more frustrated than angry, determined and not… disgusted. It didn’t matter; every new syllable only proved the Slytherin’s point. Cass didn’t trust him, what’s worse, he didn’t trust them as a unit. They were no longer the inseparable duo, Ying and Yang. Instead they were two halves of a fractured island, torn right down the middle, with only a rickety unstable bridge connecting one side to the other. That bridge could easily fall away, fall apart, with too much pressure from either side and the island could never be whole again.

Listening astutely and feeling his gut roil at Cass’ delineations, Vince stared back at him wide eyed and terrified. He felt like a fly pinned to a wall straining to be freed or killed. He didn’t want to go through this with the big blonde. He didn’t know if he could realistically even manage what the other was asking, either. What would life be like without… normal? Without the ease and familiarity that came with the comfort of knowing someone, trusting them, as he did Cass? Vince supposed he didn’t know but Cass had certainly lost his own faith, leading them to this path in the first place. They were virtually strangers now and Vince wasn’t sure he could handle that.

Nodding miserably, the Slytherin new he wouldn’t disagree with anything Cass asked of him in that moment. The Gryffindor could have asked for the moon and Vincent would spend the rest of his life trying to miniaturize it for him. He had neither the will nor grounds to disagree however. Vince knew that, but it still stung having to bite a silver tongue. After a long moment, he cast green eyes towards the ground again and spoke in a broken whisper.

“I don’t know if I know how to keep these promises,” Vince admitted. “It’s not… the poetry that led to this.” It was my taking a chance and floundering greedily for something I shouldn’t have. Something you did not deny.

Green eyes searched the bank underfoot for something, anything, to serve as distraction. When nothing occurred, Vince took in a shaky breath and lifted his gaze once more to Cass. “But whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He said, heart bleeding out into his sleeve. “Ask me to jump and I’ll fly, ask me to walk, and I’ll run! Just please, please can we set this aside? I promise Cassian, I’ll do anything you want.” Vince’s voice broke on the final statement and he hiccuped a small squeak, miserably trying to cover it up.

If this was what Cass wanted, Vince would figure it out. He didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t live without the other in some capacity, and he was good at making life concessions. He’d done it all his existence, what was one more?

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Cassian Valenduris

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   Cassian Valenduris

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me