October 25, 1879 - Hogwarts Grounds (Fall term, Sixth Year)

Vincent was angry. He was… so sick and tired of being pushed around. He hated everything about his house and the blasted Slytherins he dormed with. It wasn’t enough that they barely spoke to him and stole his things, but now they’d gone and framed him for killing a baby mandrake and strung the thing up in the greenhouses! He knew it was them too, he’d found the murder weapon under bloody Alair’s bed. That pureblood piece of rat dung had been laying into him more and more as of late and Vincent was at his wits end. He’d started sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Lissington in the mornings simply to avoid even passing the other. The Hufflepuffs weren’t pleased with his presence, per say, but they at least tolerated him for the most part. Perhaps that was why Lissington fit in so well there, he was an absolute ray of sunshine and his lack of bigotry was one of the most attractive things about him. He made Vince feel safe, and safe in a way that he wasn’t used to from anyone except Cass. Not that… that relationship was particularly smooth at the moment.

The past couple of months had been interesting at best. Vince could still feel the chemical charge between them, the tension palpable, on certain days when they strayed just a touch too close to the line. He could still remember the feeling of Cass touching him, over him, under him and everywhere in between. When their hands brushed, when he accidentally dropped his head into the other’s lap like before, Vince could feel the shivers rolling up and down his spine. He knew Cass could feel it too. He was too stoic, too buttoned up to relax and every time it happened Vince wanted to kick himself over again for ruining what easy camaraderie they’d once had.

Today, as the Slytherin stormed out over the grounds, book tucked under his arm, he wasn’t particularly looking for anything or anyone. He just needed to get the hell out of there before he set Alair on fire and let him burn to death. It was coincidence then that he came across none other than Mr. Lissington, curled under a big oak on the far side of the grounds. It was a secluded little place, away from prying eyes which was why Vince liked it so much. He was surprised to find that the other even knew of it.

“Oh, hi,” the Slytherin intoned awkwardly. He scratched the back of his head and tucked the book in his hands behind his back, just out of sight. He didn’t often share with others his love of the muggle authors he adored. For obvious reasons. (This tomb in particular was enchanted to look like an herbology text, but Vincent couldn’t help feel self-conscious anyway.) Eying Lissington, he scuffed a foot into the dirt. “Do you er— mind if I join you?” He asked.

The awkwardness of knowing someone, of having shared intimacies with them but not really being… well, friends, was a strange thing to navigate. Vince liked to think he and Lissington were trending towards friendship though? He had found himself spending more time with the Hufflepuff beyond just their rendezvous as of late, confiding in him even. Most importantly though, the other seemed to… genuinely like him? Vince wasn’t used to the feeling and so it put him on alert. Still, it was nice to have someone to sit with at breakfast. Green eyes appraised the redhead. Vince hoped he didn’t feel stifled, even as a small voice in the back of his own head screamed that he was being greedy.

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Gus Lissington /  Cassian Valenduris & muse song

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

For it being mid-October, the weather was uncannily warm outside. On days like this, when the sun was poking through the clouds and streaming through the broad windows, the outdoors called to him; he’d spend every second of his life outside with his hands tucked underneath his head and the warmth kissing his cheeks if he was able to, but the colder months often trapped Gus inside. He’d spotted the sunshine just after lunch and it had called to him, so he’d gathered a yellow and grey striped blanket Fig had gotten him his first year (AFL stitched into one of the corners in black, although the letter ‘A’ had been haphazardly attempted to be changed to a ‘G’ with orange thread), the edges frayed from use, and made his way outside.

One of his favorite spots on the ground was under a large oak tree just far enough away that people didn’t often stray there. It was here he liked to lay down and feel the sunshine radiating through his bones. People glowed on sunnier days, as if their aura couldn’t contain the happiness the sun provided. Gus leaned back against the blanket, his scarf bundled beneath his head as a makeshift pillow as he soaked in the rays of happiness that would get him through another brutal Hogwarts winter. He hated the cold more than almost anything - it nipped at his nose, made his ears hurt and reddened his entire face until the color of his skin nearly matched his hair.

Humming quietly, the redhead closed his eyes and drifted into an easy bliss of nothing weighing on his mind. Today, this week, this year was edging on perfection and he wasn’t sure if next year would be able to top it. A tiny smile twitched onto his lips. A few moments later a voice broke through his silence, and Gus propped himself up on his elbows as he appraised Iago.

Gus knew he was gay. After his one time with Winnie last year - an experience he never wanted to have again, nothing to do with her, he’d come to the realization pretty quickly. Vincent Iago was just helping him fine tune what he wanted to know about himself, while not making him feel dirty. While their initial relationship had been purely physical, he felt that their relationship was beginning to titter toward friendship.

He liked hanging out with Iago; sure he had friends who he adored with his whole being, but Iago was allowing him to find himself in ways that his friends weren’t able to. He was more than just a release or an experiment to the other. (Or at least Gus hoped so.) He was funny and he had opinions on topics the redhead had never heard about, and sometimes he liked to roll over and rest his head against his chin and listen to him passionately talk; he was smart and he was kind, even if the others around him hadn’t quite picked up on that. The young Slytherin was his friend.

Turning his eyes toward him, Gus couldn’t help but offer him an easy smile as he scooted over on the blanket and patted the spot next to him. “You’re always welcome to join me. I don’t mind.” He laughed quietly and shifted to sit on his knees. He raised his eyes to meet Iago’s before his smile softened, taking note of the dejected look that was clearly etched across his face. Reaching out without thinking about it to take his hand, he blinked up at him when he found his hands tucked behind his back “What’s wrong?” Gus asked, his hands falling back to his side.

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Vincent Iago / Cassian Valenduris

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Vincent wasn’t sure about Lissington’s friendly manner enough to feel perfectly comfortable flopping down beside him and bemoaning his own circumstances. They were surely not close enough for that, all else aside. (Sure, he could expose his deepest dirtiest fantasies to the redhead and moan his name into the next century, but share anything personal? Never.) The strawberry blonde shuffled awkwardly. He wanted to be friends though, and this was the way one did that wasn’t it? Finding commonalities and sharing? Vince sucked in a breath. It wasn’t until the redhead’s own face contorted however that the Slytherin finally felt his resolve break.

What’s wrong? he asked.

He noticed.

All at once, everything in Vince swept forward like a waterfall and he felt himself frown at the other. Everything, he wanted to wail. Everything and nothing, a storm in a teacup! Except it wasn’t nothing. It was much more than nothing, experiences that would shape him into the man he’d one day become even if right now it felt like all would pass. Vincent sighed and decided to sit. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just some nasty Slytherins.”

Vince wasn’t sure if he wanted to elaborate more than that. He’d never actually confessed to anyone, even Cass, how much he hated his own house and the other students in it. It felt almost like he was betraying a part of himself through such exposure, a part that blasted little sorting hat had seen in him. Sometimes during the yearly sorting Vince wished it would catch on fire on some poor first year’s head. A Slytherin, preferably. Shooing the rather morbid thought aside, Vince considered Lissington.

In his sitting he’d ignored the others' reach to take his hand, too wrapped up in his own selfishness to notice, but now… now Vince transferred his book to his lap and sat cross legged. He leaned into the redhead’s shoulder and resisted the urge to lay his head upon it. Lissington was a tactile being, something that was entirely new to Vincent but that the Slytherin was slowly learning to embrace. He couldn’t neglect his little Hufflepuff and starve him of touch; especially when there was no reason for it, or desire. There was nobody about anyway. Sucking in a quick breath, Vince leaned over and pressed a chaste little kiss on the redhead’s cheek.

He didn’t know what had possessed him to do that except… that he was perfectly able to. Invited even. It was a warming feeling that made his bitterness abate a touch. Lissington wanted Vincent, in every way that others simply didn’t. Even Cass.

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Gus Lissington /  Cassian Valenduris & muse song

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

As Gus stared at Iago, he wasn’t entirely sure if the Slytherin was going to sit next to him or turn tail and run. He patted the spot next to him once more and softened his grin in hopes of enticing him, although whether or not it was that or his own resolve, Iago finally plopped down next to him. Immediately he had the redhead’s full attention, his legs crossed with his lips pursed together as the man finally spoke.

Some nasty Slytherins? That sounded terrible, and while he wanted him to elaborate so he could try to soothe over everything he didn’t. Were they mean to him? Mean to someone else he cared for? The redhead had so many questions that filled his mouth enough that he had to swallow them. Last year Gus had a few run-ins with Slytherins he’d rather forget, but none of them seemed to be as harrowing as whatever Iago had experienced. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m also glad that it spurred you outside. I like spending time with you.” He murmured quietly as the other settled against his shoulder; Iago was getting better at that, touching and being touched. 

He seemed to have been shocked the first time Gus had reached out to take his hand and idly let it swing between them  just because he wanted to. Or the first time he’d nuzzled his head into the crook of his neck after they’d had sex. Or well… really, any time he initiated any kind of touch. But it was how the Lissingtons were - his parents held hands whenever they could, touched fingers when one passed the other, and they had both been affectionate with him and Fig. In turn, he was affectionate with his friends, whether it was just something budding or someone he’d been friends with for years. Touching was just as natural to him as breathing. Iago wasn’t an exception even if Gus did feel a tiny bit guilty when he looked uncomfortable.

He hadn’t expected Iago to press a kiss against his cheek, but Gus turned to him with a grin, his cheeks tinting slightly pink. The Hufflepuff wished he could keep the man like this - happy and free in the sense that he wasn’t afraid to show the world who he could actually be. Iago had Slytherin qualities for sure, the Sorting Hat wouldn’t have placed him in the house if he didn’t, but he wasn’t just a Slytherin, through and through. He was also caring, and sweet, and if there was a single person at Hogwarts he’d trust with his life, Iago would be it.

Grinning at his friend, Gus reached behind him to grapple for the scarf still bundled up, his fingers touching the fabric before he tugged it forward into his own lap. After nearly six years of use it was frayed and well-loved, the colors faded but still a definite representation of his house. Then he flicked his eyes back toward Iago and without a word leaned forward to unwind the Slytherin scarf from his neck, his fingers pausing only for a second in case the boy wanted him to stop. He didn’t, not immediately at least, and Gus draped the scarf around his own neck to prevent it from getting dirt and grass on it, the sides of it pooling onto the blanket, before he reached for his Hufflepuff scarf.

With gentle fingers he worked to tie the scarf snuggly around Iago’s neck - the bright yellow was a stark contrast in comparison to the deep green he always wore but it didn’t look terrible. Gus bopped the other on his nose then before he laughed, his hands clapping once at his handiwork. “You can be an honorary ‘Puff.” His fingers reached to lace through the other’s and hummed quietly, his head resting against his shoulder. “I think you’re part Hufflepuff. You’re a hard worker and I trust you more than almost anyone else here. Plus I think you’re pretty sweet, when you want to be.”

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Vincent Iago / Cassian Valenduris

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Vincent was not used to being accepted, and frankly, it tainted his whatever-they-had with Lissington on occasion. He was ever grateful to the Hufflepuff however for seeing past it, for forgiving him when he was a little bit nasty. Vincent knew he had a propensity to be sharp sometimes, ever molded by the stressful atmosphere he was not exactly thriving in. But when he was with Lissington, everything was… easier? Softer? More like home? It helped that the red-head was so openly happy all the blasted time. Vince couldn’t help but grin a little to himself at the thought.

As the other made to remove his scarf, Vince watched with rapt green eyes. He knew better than to think Lissington was about to strip him here of all places, surely, but then what was he doing? Oh.

Oh.

A swell of warmth bubbled up like a gaseous potion in Vincent’s stomach and the Slytherin felt his face morph into something unfamiliar. He partially wanted to scream and partially wanted to hide from the embarrassment of it all, but for the first time since his mother had bid him goodbye at the station his first year, Vince felt… hopeful. Wanted. Excited. Their fingers laced together then and he couldn’t help but tip forward, dislodging Lissington from his shoulder, and burying his face in the other’s chest. He wrapped two wiggly arms around the increasingly familiar form and inhaled Lissington’s sweet scent. He always seemed to smell like pastry or chocolate.

“Thank you,” Vince managed to mumble from within Lissington’s robes. He didn’t know what else to add, so he said nothing, just buried his nose deeper like a child and screwed green eyes shut.

After a moment, Vince finally pulled away and - embarrassment heating his cheeks - he nuzzled instead into the crook of Lissington’s neck. It was remarkable how small and safe the stupid Hufflepuff made him feel. Was this what it was like to have someone love you? And love them back? Vincent sighed.

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Gus Lissington /  Cassian Valenduris & muse song

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

There was a swell of happiness that bubbled in his stomach as Iago’s arms wrapped around him, and Gus’ grin was wide and joyous because he’d been able to help ease some of the pain the Slytherin had been feeling. Sometimes he wished he could take it all away but he was well aware that he would crack and fold like a paper fan if he were to even try; it meant that these smaller moments meant a lot to him. Gus wrapped his arms tightly around Iago and rested his chin atop of his head as he enjoyed the moment. Having Iago in his arms felt right.

He liked Vincent Iago. A lot, actually. He was someone who would probably make it into his next letter to Sophia while he grappled with his feelings of whether or not he was a friend or something more. Winnie had been a friend, Sophia had been one too, but Gus hadn’t ever had feelings for a friend who was a boy before, at least to this magnitude. Not one he wanted to kiss and laugh with, in a single day. It helped too that they’d gotten the physical aspects out of the way first and now it was the emotional attachments that were beginning to get in the way as they flickered across his thoughts every so often. (Joke was on Gus because he’d learn soon enough that he fell in love much too easily with people, especially those he felt were accepting of him, and not just the parts that he was allowed to show without repercussions.)

He wanted to voice there were few things he wouldn’t do for him but the other boy was pulling back too quickly for Gus to articulate all the things he wanted to say. Instead he tugged him closer before dropping a chaste kiss to the top of his head.

“Hey Vince?” Gus cleared his throat a moment later as he slightly pulled back from the other, his fingers trailing up his hips to rest against the small of his back; the thought of if they’d remain friends after Hogwarts was heavy on his tongue, but it felt too juvenile to ask, so he drummed his fingers gingerly against his spine. “I’ve always got you, you know.” Gus settled on instead as he fingers stilled against his back. He pressed another kiss into the soft curls that tickled against the edges of his face while hoping that Iago wouldn’t let him go, either.

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Vincent Iago / Cassian Valenduris

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   Cassian Valenduris

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Lissington’s sweet little kiss on top of his head was such a simple thing… it really shouldn’t have made him feel as warm as it did. It was like he’d dribbled honey all along the top of the strawberry-blonde’s curls and gently, slowly, it spread in goosebumps all along his shoulders and lower back. Vincent only nuzzled further into the contact.

When they finally pulled apart, green eyes gazed absently into blue and for a moment Vincent felt the urge to act. He scrutinized the freckles and lines all along Lissington’s handsome face, memorizing each one. This moment, under this tree, on this terrible day, was one he wanted to imprint upon his mind until he died. Even if nothing came of it, even if one day Lissington too turned on him and saw Vincent for… perhaps, what he was beginning to feel he might actually be… then at least he would have this precious instance to hold onto. A vague impression of the very play he’d set out here to read crossed the Slytherin’s mind then and he offered his Hufflepuff a lopsided little grin.

“I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well,” Vince hummed, cheekily.

Midsommer’s Night Dream, act ii scene i. Where Lissington might be Demetrius one day, he’d happily take up the torch of Helena in this instance. It was a role he was familiar with, anyhow. Vincent wasn’t one to hide his growing affection, even if one day he too was spurned with insult and as such, the Slytherin hummed, cheekily.

He brushed a stray lock of red hair from the other’s face then and carefully tugged Lissington forward, cold fingers wrapped around the nape of the other’s neck. It was a cautious, sweet little kiss that he prompted, hoping he was well enough in the clear. It was still so foreign to Vince that he could simply… initiate things when he wanted to (granted in the security of complete privacy of course.) Sometimes he forgot this little detail however, and on days like today - carried away as he was by swelling feelings of actual warmth and sentiment - Vincent couldn’t be bothered to care. He pressed forward with a slight urgency that he didn’t feel the need to restrain. Lissington was one of the best things that had ever happened to him and for the first time, Vincent was ready to prove it to him openly. Audibly. Maybe even… verbally? He could admit it out loud, surely? In his own words?

Only time would tell.

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Gus Lissington /  Cassian Valenduris & muse song

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   Cassian Valenduris

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

The screams of three third-year girls told him first. A cut-up baby mandrake, strung up in a grisly way in the Herbology greenhouse, some kind of sick prank. Eventually he pulled it down and let the professor know, but not before getting unsettled by some of the whispers overheard about what happened. That sixth year Slytherin did it. The one who’s always alone.

Cassian rounded on the source of it, blue eyes taking an impassive scan of the boy who instigated the conversation with a younger group of students who arrived to see the fuss. Cass recognized this one – one of Vince’s dormmates, the one with a smug fuck-off kind of face. The group he was with dispersed after their exchange, undoubtedly taking the rumor with them. Cassian reminded himself, he shouldn’t let this kind of thing make his blood boil.

But he couldn’t help it.

“What was that you said?” he asked, approaching him casually enough. The Slytherin straightened up with an indignant sniff.

“Surprised your shadow isn’t here,” he drawled, then added with a shrug, “Probably hiding so he won’t get in trouble for–”

“That’s awfully convenient. That you saw him,” the blonde cut in. A low, impassive tone belied by the way he closed the distance between them in two steps, and he didn’t even need to square his shoulders to tower above the other’s head. “And that you didn’t say or do anything earlier. Didn’t even stop the third years from coming in to witness the gore. Almost like you didn’t mind, scaring them with what they saw. And you know,” Cass tilted his head in mock-pensive thought, taking great care to get into Alair’s face when he did. “NEWTs Herbology isn’t until tomorrow. I was just passing on my way to the quidditch pitch when I heard the screaming, but there is the question, isn’t it?” His fellow sixth year looked more uncomfortable by the second. “Why would you be hanging around here today? Seems  a little… off,” he rationalized, meeting the boy’s gaze with nothing but menace.

“...Think whatever you want,” the boy snarled, though the pallor in his face relayed more bark than bite. Cassian relaxed, and straightened up with a twitch of a smirk.

“Oh. I will. Maybe watch where you step, Alair,” he responded in warning, in a voice for only the other to hear. Cassian plowed past him then, sending the Slytherin staggering with the force of his big shoulder. He didn’t look back to notice.

~

A few hours passed, enough for Cassian’s blood to go back to a steady simmer and for him to wonder if he did more harm than good with Alair. It’s not as though he had to live with him the way Vince did. So more than anything, he wanted to talk to Vince about what happened - what he heard, what he did. Check in on how he was. It’s been… a few months. Nonchalant conversations, idle remarks about classwork, prolonged stares when the other didn’t seem to be looking.

Distance… time and distance would help with all of this, Cassian decided. Except for when that distance meant he couldn’t be there to protect Vince, the way he wished he could have today.

A sick feeling that today things weren’t right only mounted as he missed Vince at lunch, at the library, and all his typical haunts. This really just left one last option, in Cassian’s mental list of all Vince’s favorite places. It was sunny enough to get away with an afternoon under the oak tree, even if a little chilly.

Determined to find him, Cassian made his familiar charter down the winding pathways of the school grounds and around the big hill. The tree was up top, which is what made it nice and remote. If Vince was up there he could probably hear him coming from a mile away, shoes crunching down on dry leaves and grass. Then they’d see each other.

Only this time, Cassian heard Vince before he saw him up there, seeming to not notice the sound of his footfall as he recited what sounded like Shakespeare. (The effect had Cassian’s hair on his arms standing on end, Shakespeare did that to him now, and he hadn’t heard or read any of that since Summer.) So Cass expected to see Vince, but he did not expect what he saw.

The sight of his (former?) best friend snogging one of their classmates. Not just any. Another man, both entwined in what could only be a lovers’ embrace. Out here – where anyone could see, the fucking fools that they were. The sight went like a ripsaw through him, it even made him stagger back. He did not even notice the sharp sigh of shock that escaped his lips, a sound that would surely give him away if he wasn’t found already.

“What the fuck,” seemed to be all Cassian could manage, and he rounded on the scene like a decent man might turn his back if he catches a lady in undress. But even as he scrunched his eyes closed and felt the world reel, the image of what he just saw burned into the back of his eyelids.

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Gus Lissington & Vincent Iago

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   Vincent Iago

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eyecandy by fox<3

Gus wasn’t sure why Iago was staring him at him like he was, his eyes flickering with something he couldn’t put his finger on but liked the look of, but his very gaze made a soft blush spread across his cheeks, the red dipping between his freckles until he felt they glowed like stars against his face. The desire to rub the blush away from his skin was there, but he didn’t want Iago to stop looking at him like he was… if only his tongue wasn’t in knots so he could ask the Slytherin what he was thinking at this moment. Those were words he'd probably dream of for the rest of his life. His own eyes softened though as his heart beat against his chest, and he had readily decided the world could come to a screeching halt here and now, and Gus would be okay with it.

Then Iago grinned at him and he felt his own lips curl into a smile although he didn't quite understand the words that came from his mouth, at least, not immediately. They sounded romantic (which Gus was a sucker for and he swooned inwardly that Vincent Iago had thought of those words, speaking them as if they belonged to him and him alone.)  Shakespeare he assumed, as the other boy had quoted it before a few times. His fingers reached out to graze against his cheek, his fingers warm against his face. Iago was a handsome man and there were times Gus imagined himself waking up next to him, or other times just sitting together on the couch with his fingers dragging through Iago's soft curls.  Gus imagined a future with him, curled against him until they were old and grey. He wanted the years nothing but happiness he dreamt of and it didn't scare him at all.

“I wouldn’t ever hurt you. Well, not on purpose.” He finally whispered back as he dropped his hands from Iago’s face, twisting them against the fabric of his robe’s sleeve; a ball of nerves twisted in his gut, although the pressure released into a swarm of butterflies. He leaned into his touch before he was stepping forward, humming with content as a soft pair of lips was against his own. He mapped out the way they felt against his lips, the softness of them and he hoped that this feeling was never ending; the butterflies in his stomach fluttered and Gus was bringing his arms up to settle them against Iago’s hips as he lost himself in him.

The thought of them being outside and in the open didn’t occur to Gus – that anyone could stumble upon something that most of the world viewed as sinful. As unnatural. But people like him deserved happiness too, didn’t they? He hadn’t woken up one morning and decided to be the way he was, although if he got to keep Vincent tucked away in every nook and cranny of his life, hold his hand when no one was looking and steal kisses like this that made him feel explicitly happy in a way he hadn’t felt before, why, he’d probably choose it again and again. His fingers tightened against his hips as he pulled him forward, his tongue gently prodding against his lips –

And immediately broke the kiss as the noise from the outside world came rushing back to him. They were in the open even if they were a bit further from the castle than most would venture. His face flushed from the sudden intruder and he released his arms from Iago’s waist as he took a tiny step back, tilting his head toward the intruder who seemed to be giving them… space? It wasn’t as if he could discern someone’s name from the back of their head, and he could only hope that they’d be hexed for kissing instead of having a professor told of them. Going to Azkaban really wasn’t on his to-do list in life, but it always seemed to be creeping its way to the top.

He reached out to grab the other boy’s hand to give it a squeeze. “It’s okay.” Gus whispered. “You can just tell him I hexed you or something if he tries anything.” Turning them, he reached out to straighten the scarf around Iago’s neck. “Don’t forget, you’re my sweet ‘Puff.”

Then Gus was stepping forward toward the intruder, his hands tremulously rubbing against the ends of the Slytherin scarf still draped around his own neck. “Hi." He cleared his throat, unsure of what he should even say. "Would you like to sit with us?” He tried to smile. Maybe if he ignored what he just saw, he could explain away what he’d say; or maybe it just wouldn’t come up at all. Doubtful, but Gus was always a hopeful person.

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Vincent Iago / Cassian Valenduris

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   Vincent Iago

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Vincent was completely and entirely comfortable as he felt Gus Lissington melt into him. The red-head’s words were still rattling around in his head, sweet and soothing and promising even as he leaned into the kiss. I wouldn’t ever hurt you he said, and perhaps he really meant it. Vince could see Lissington meaning it in every action the pretty red-head had ever shown him, from every manner in which the ‘Puff had treated him since they’d met. Vince trusted Lissington in a way he honestly never thought he’d trust anyone again - not after the blowout with Cass this summer and all the aftermath - but it was so incredibly terrifying.

It had been difficult for Vincent to learn to share this part of himself. Over the past few weeks, after he and Lissington had struck up whatever it was they’d started, it had been purely physical. Distant, even. They were friendly, but not friends. They were physical, but not close. Slowly, somewhere along the line, that had started to change, with their sitting together platonically on occasion and chatting about trivial things every so often. And then… today… here and now, Vincent was finally coming to realize… they were more than just that anymore. For the first time since he’d opened up to Cass, Vincent felt seen for who and what he was— for what he wanted. For the first time, ever, someone actually wanted him back too.

As he slowly pressed closer, need and greed and every other form of sentimental desire raging through the Slytherin’s system, Vincent became distantly aware of a sound. A sound that was out of place but not alarming enough to force him back into a reality he didn’t want to face. Here, in Lissington’s arms he was sheltered, protected, safe. It wasn’t until a familiar voice shattered the peace that Vincent finally retreated from his heavenly moment to recoil so violently, he slammed his head into the tree trunk. Searing pain rocked the back of his skull, shooting any sense of calm from the Slytherin’s visage as his delicate nose scrunched and Vince raised a hand to the back of his skull.

Scrambling to his feet then and leveling Cassian Valenduris with a withering, angry look, Vincent felt everything inside of himself tense. (Of all the bloody students to find them—) Beside him, Lissington seemed to scramble madly as well and Vince didn’t move, or turn to look at the red-head even as Lissington whispered something urgently and stepped forward to invite Cass into their moment. Suddenly, Vince balked. Wait, no! He turned an affronted look onto the other and opened his mouth to protest.This was their moment. Nobody had a right to intrude, not even Cass! Especially not with his judgement and negativity. Not now. Not after so much had happened.

Vince had seen the expression from this summer so markedly familiar on the big blonde’s features again, a look that still haunted his dreams on occasion. It was disgust and bitterness and hatred all wrapped up in the pretense of distinction. Cassian Valenduris was not in a position himself to forsake anyone and, as Vincent tried to shove the thought of Cass’ own sentiments from his mind, he held out an arm in front of the red-head to stop him in his tracks. Vince knew then that Cass was about to throw an utter fit and so, stepping forward, he intoned a sharp little “No.”

Green eyes narrowed at the back of the blonde’s head, fury that the other couldn’t even stand to look at them fueling the fight that had been simmering in his gut all day. “He can’t sit with us actually.” If Cassian was going to be a prick then Vincent was going to give him something to be a prick about. “What do you want, Cass?” He asked, pointedly. “I don’t have anything for you about the weather or even our classes. So what is it you could possibly have come up here for?” If his voice was sharp and painfully laden with emotion, then Vince did nothing to hide it. He was not in the mood for Cassian’s lectures at the moment. Or the stabbing pain that was bound to come from whatever the big, moronic blonde had to say next.

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Gus Lissington /  Cassian Valenduris & muse song

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   Gus Lissington

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

cw. homophobia & sexuality denial

‘ I do suffer love indeed…’

It wounded Cassian to even consider what he just saw. Let alone acknowledge the screaming in the back of his mind, the crushed feeling, the breathless feeling, the understanding that maybe there was nothing so special about who he was or what they’d done. This stupid, illogical attachment he reserved for nothing and no one but Vince, no less needy than a child with his security blanket. (Those thoughts felt dangerous. If the scene sent a ripsaw through his gut, teasing out how much this hurt just dragged each jagged ridge to tear open a bigger wound. He’d bleed out and die here, if he did that.)

For a second he even considered walking away from this all, pretend this never happened. It would be a better alternative to turning around, and confronting what would then cement itself as far too real. Though as his eyes opened and he forced a steadying breath, a voice that called out to him seemed to make the decision for him.

Cassian half-turned his body towards its source, fixing the redhead with a bewildered look that darkened as his eyes settled on the green-and-silver scarf swung over his neck. “Do you think this is funny,” his response was low, quiet, and deceptively cool for the anger bubbling up from within. That was his first thought. His second thought was a flicker of recognition as he clocked the redhead as Gus Lissington, the Hufflepuff in their year who they often paired off with as the top students in DADA. The proximity of who he was stung more than it should have - made his mind map back to every past interaction, the times he’d left them to their study session because he couldn’t be in a room for too long with Vince.

Vince’s voice cut in to throw him off his thoughts, with words that landed like acid, angrier than he expected. Hindsight reminded him that this was likely justified, at least a little. The way they left things in muddy waters, never quite finding resolution around if they were friends or if Cassian could ever accept all that came with who Vince was. Though this level of self-awareness never surfaced to change his ability to react, not at this moment. A wounded look registered across his face, mouth opened in brief and silent shock. Shock thinly veiled by resentment, as he turned to address the pair fully.

“I came to find you and warn you about the rumors, that you mutilated a baby mandrake and strung it up for the kids to see,” he retorted callously. Cold blue eyes scanned them like they were a pair of rattlesnakes reared up.  “I came to say how I tried to defend you. Though I see now, I shouldn’t have bothered. Looks as though you’re content to ruin your reputation all on your fucking own.” His gaze lingered on the yellow scarf that looked foreign around Vince’s neck, a sight that hollowed out his lungs.

“If you’re going to be perverts together, you could at least find a private room and spare others the offense,” he spat, knowing as the words left that this was as necessary as punching air. But it felt good to say, to return fire even if it was a final act of desperation.

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   Vincent Iago

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eyecandy by fox<3

Abruptly stopping as Iago’s arm stopped him in his tracks, Gus turned to look at him with a frown. He wasn’t trying to make the situation worse by any means but maybe if they could all just sit down and talk about what he’d seen things would go smoother than tempers blowing up. Although, as Iago called out to Valenduris, Gus could have slapped his hand across his face because this was exactly what he was trying to avoid. The words were harsher than he expected them to be and he found himself shuffling his feet closer to Iago; the urge to reach for his hand was there - Vincent Iago was safe, but as his fingers reached to entwine with his, Gus found them halting at the coolness of his words. Instead he trepidly rubbed the scarf between his fingers once more.

Blue eyes widened slightly at the recognition, finally, and his frown deepened. He had always known the Cassian Valdenuris to be level headed although it wasn’t as if Gus went out of his way to spend much time with him, preferring spending time with Vincent; there was something special about Iago that Valenduris didn’t have. He wouldn't really call Iago a friend, at least not until very recently when he realized he quite enjoyed being pulled into his orbit and giving him his undivided attention. Maybe it was his smile or maybe it was the way Gus felt as if they could take on the world together, everyone else be damned. Even if the world around them was in flames, the ashes burying them alive, he would be content with it as long as he had his fingers threaded through Iago’s.

The butterflies in his stomach burnt to death as nerves tumbled around and built up into his throat. His throat bobbed when he swallowed. He squared his feet and narrowed his eyes at the intruding blonde, unable to peg the look of emotions flickering across his face. They weren’t positive, that much Gus could tell, but it didn’t stop him from running his fingers through his hair before he shrugged. His mouth opened and then closed as he took another glance at Iago before he turned his attention back toward Valdenduris. “Not really.” The quiet admission slipped from his lips as he glanced down at the ground as the words he wanted to retort with dried up in his throat.

Gus breathed out a slight gasp of surprise at the details, his eyes softening as he all but turned his back to Valdenduris to saddle up close to the strawberry blonde, although careful to keep his distance enough not to touch him; the desire to was there though, to run his fingers through his hair, although instead the red-head grit his teeth and turned toward the Gryffindor with fury in his steps. “Hey! That was really rude, you know. It’s not as if you’re so bloody perfect yourself.” He growled. Vincent probably didn’t want him defending him, but he wasn’t going to sit here and watch his friend be torn down by someone he had once considered himself close to. Or still did. Someone who didn't care wouldn't have come to find someone to warn them about the rumors and check on them.

The wind from his sails deflated as the next words stabbed through his heart until he feared it might stop beating. Gus rested his hands against his chest just to ensure it was still beating, sighing a silent breath when he felt it against his own hands. He took another glance at Iago from the corner of his eye before Gus blew a hot breath of air out from his lips. The stabbing pain masked the umbrage thrumming under his skin. He hadn’t woken up one morning and decided to be like this nor was he ever going to be ashamed about being with Vincent the way he was. People like him, who tried their hardest to fit in deserved happiness too; the idea of being damned to a life of desolation seemed cruel, as he'd die from a broken heart simply because people thought he was offensive for loving someone in a way society didn't seem fit. Society could screw itself. “When it starts hurting you, then you can have your asshole opinion.” He snapped at the daft man, his hand dropping back to his side. (He surprised himself with the outburst, but at least managed to furrow his eyebrows together.)

Part of Gus knew this wasn’t his fight, though – he didn’t have the history Valenduris and Iago did, and whatever the underlying words meant were more likely to tear down Vincent than himself. But he was not a pervert and wouldn’t let anyone try to call him such.

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Vincent Iago / Cassian Valenduris

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   Vincent Iago

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Cassian’s first cracks, a fissure under the yet dormant volcano, were beginning to show. Vincent could sense it with every fibre of his being, every cell and molecule screaming at him to run before this could get ugly. The too cool way the other turned however, the look he affixed upon Lissington, rooted Vincent to his spot and a deeper scowl stretched across already sharp features. He wanted to snap something then, to cut Lissington off again with a ‘don’t drag him into this’ aimed at the big brute of a blonde but the wounded look that flickered over Cass’ features momentarily disarmed Vince. He hated being the cause of that look behind perfect blue eyes, the very gaze he’d been yearning after for weeks. It was hard enough that Cassian avoided him like he was a leaper, much like everyone else these days, but that look only made it feel like he - Vince - too was causing pain. 

As quickly as the sentimentality flared up however, the flame was doused by venom. The words that shot at them like daggers as Cassian straightened only made everything inside of Vincent feel sick. Sick and hollow. If he’d had any appetite to eat after the mandrake incident this morning, all of it would have come back up right here right now. Acidity leaked into the Slytherin’s mind, reeling as it was, and the sheer fury that Vincent felt at Cass’ gall made him snort a derisive, slightly mad, laugh. It was sharp, cutting through the fragility of the moment around them.

The words he had ready to slap back in the other’s face died before Vincent could articulate them, Lissington jumping in with his own defense. Vince wanted to tell the other to stay out of this because, really, how much of Cass’ reaction was really to do with them and not more him, but he refrained. Instead, Vincent waited until the other finished and with a nasty, malicious sneer he tacked on: “Right. It’s not as if you thought it was so perverted yourself a few weeks ago.”

The silence that followed that statement could have swallowed all of England.

Vincent hoped it hurt. Vincent hoped it ripped a nice fat hole over Cassian’s most sensitive spot because he knew he shouldn’t be bringing that up. Not like this, so brazenly, and not here and now. But every underlying resentment that had been festering over the past few weeks had finally come to a peak and hearing Cassian speak this way again was enough to make Vincent want to hurt him back. He had a right to know how it felt, too.

“I already know about the rumors,” the Slytherin finally spoke again, voice quiet like a hiss in the grass. “Did you really think, after everything this bloody year, I wouldn’t be acutely aware of my surroundings Cassian? Everyone and their governess can see how the ‘golden Valenduris’ grew tired of his pet and the target on my back has been worse than ever. But I don’t need you to defend me,” Green eyes flashed dangerously. “That’s what nobody seems to bloody understand!”

If sparks could have shot out of his ears in that moment they would have. Vincent wished the whole world would get on the same page and realize that he was more than capable of defending himself against whatever rubbish the likes of society decided to drag him into. He didn’t need Cass’ muscle, he didn’t need Lissington’s sentimentality! Vincent Iago was clever enough to evade scrapes and if it meant having to hole himself up and lock away whatever margin of emotion he did have the capacity for, then so be it. It’s what they bloody wanted anyway, wasn’t it?

“I’m not sorry that my entire existence offends you Valenduris,” he finally snarled again. “That’s your problem. My only regret is that you ever came into my life and made me feel any hope at all!” Tugging the Hufflepuff scarf from around his neck, mostly to keep from feeling like even more of an imposter than he already did, Vincent tossed it (gently) on the ground where he’d just been sitting. He didn’t dare look at Lissington, knowing that whatever collateral damage was being hurled in his direction would have to be dealt with at a later time. Right now, there was only rage and anger and disgust and guilt swirling around in the Slytherin’s mind - all of it aimed at Cassian Valenduris.

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Gus Lissington /  Cassian Valenduris & muse song

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

cw. homophobia, violence

Cassian didn’t try to contain his dismissiveness to what Gus had to say, the word rude bouncing off him like a rubber ball. It wasn’t like he made claims at being perfect, well aware of his numerous flaws. The most significant and lethal being the feelings he had for the person that now stood between them.

Hurt - the man scoffed as the remark dinged him. Gus earned Cassian’s hands furling and unfurling at his sides in silent agitation, but that’s where it ended. What the fuck do you know about hurt, he wanted to say, and he would have said, were he capable of looking anywhere else but at Vince. Simply put - Gus was not his target. The redhead didn’t have a figment of a clue about what he stepped into, moreover, the source of anger - and yes hurt - their togetherness caused. There was no rationalizing the cause of the pain, however. Not to himself, least of all out loud.

At least until Vince articulated it. When Vince’s words redefined the meaning of rage.

Malice in those green eyes showed Cass that he knew exactly what he did, even did it on purpose. Casually thrown out into the open air, something they swore to one another - as good as an unbreakable vow in his mind - to never, ever let anyone know. Blind-sided shock registered on Cassian’s face first, mixed in with something like resentment and anguish. Gus standing there to bear witness made things infinitely worse. Because this was never about the Hufflepuff, he realized then. This was everything about where he and his best friend left things off, and where things were quickly headed. A point of no return.

A distant part of his mind registered the new facts Vince gave him. That his selfish push for distance left the Slytherin like a sitting duck, receptive to all manners of retaliation. Another time, he’d feel awful for it. Another time, he might have just wept – if things were still and slow and silent enough for him to think this through.

But here, there was none of that. He could only see red and feel white-hot pain from a gaping, bleeding wound. To survive, his mind screamed for return fire. “And what the fuck did you hope for Vince? Is it my problem you want the impossible from me? Someone to entertain your delusional hopes,” he cut in with a special ire reserved only for Vince. Words were never his strong suit, and he didn’t consider much of what he said. Neither did he think about what would inevitably happen, as his feet rapidly closed the distance between them. “You do anything you fucking want, thinking you deserve none of the consequences – fuck you,” he puncutated the last with what could only be a full-strength punch aimed at Vince’s face. 

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   Vincent Iago

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eyecandy by fox<3

The shock that registered across Cass’ face was enough to make Vince second guess his own brutality. Maybe… he’d crossed a line there, outing their truth in front of Lissington like that. Maybe… that hadn’t exactly been his cleverest moment. (Even if Vince trusted Lissington with his life, it didn’t mean Cass would understand that, or even know. He’d all but thrown Cass like a piece of chum to the sharks in the blonde’s own twisted mind, even if any objective party could see how innocently nonchalant Gus would be, had to be, about all of this. He was the most sincere, innocent, trustworthy person on the face of the planet… but that didn’t mean squat to Cassian. The blonde didn’t know him like Vince did.) The pain that contorted his handsome features dug at Vince like a blade through the intestines, but he held his own and continued to snap at the Gryffindor’s ankles, still furious.

In retrospect, he should have seen it coming.

He didn’t. But he should have.

In theory, Vince ought to have known on some level that Cass would not let his blasé attitude go by, unchecked. He was the first and foremost closest person to the blonde, or at least had been until recently. Vince knew up close and personally what Cassian’s rage looked like, what damage the blaze could do when left to the open wind. There wasn’t anything in him that believed Cassian could, or would ever hurt him, and that was Vince’s sore miscalculation. It would seem, at the end of the day, he was no more important to Cass than anyone else.

Snorting at the other’s response, Vince wasn’t prepared for the advance that came so swiftly. He’d been focusing on a nasty retort, ready to slice back at the blonde that he didn’t want or need anything, that was the point! (However untrue.) He missed the exact moment Cass reared up and his arm coiled before it blasted Vince in the face so hard, the Slytherin literally didn’t know what hit him.

Vince landed on the ground with a major thud, his nose cracking against his skull. Mother-bloody-fucking Merlin cocks! Immediately he felt the warmth of blood spread all across his face as if a tap had been opened, and Vince brought up a hand almost as if to catch it. The pain hadn’t yet registered, shock still reverberating through his skeletal system. Somewhere in his tumble, the Slytherin had slammed his head back against the bloody tree too, and he propped himself up now on an elbow, other hand still pressed to his face. His eyes watered instantly, pain finally shooting all through his skull and down his back at the force of Cass’ hit. Green eyes, bloodshot and furious, gazed up at Cass through long lashes and the pain was palpable in his expression. Not physical, emotional.

Cass had… actually… hurt him? Never in a million years would Vincent have ever thought the blonde capable of such a thing. Not really. Not… like this. The pain of that realization, of their actually having shattered whatever it was they’d had before, finally sunk into Vince’s system. He’d denied it before. Surely whatever it was that had broken between them could be fixed? Now Vince was starting to realize, he wasn’t so sure that was true. Emotional anguish ripped through the Slytherin and Vincent felt his temper - and fear - flare in response. (He’d never been good at keeping pain locked inside, instead lashing out to dispel it and dealing with the repercussions later.) Reaching for his wand with his bloodied hand, Vincent shot a nasty quick spell in the blonde’s direction before Cass could advance on him again. “Impedimentia!”

As the spell hit its target, Vincent shuffled back and away from the blonde quickly. His heart was racing, adrenaline pounding so loud through his core that Vince wasn’t sure what was going on with his pain receptors anymore. He knew he had to go to the infirmary though, else this was going to keep bleeding and likely heal badly. He could feel himself wanting to tremble as fear too swelled, the shock that Cass had actually hit him still tumbling through the Slytherin’s mind. He stood and shot one last furious glare in the Gryffindor’s direction. “Stay the bloody hell away from me, Cassian, I mean it!" he snarled. “We’re finished.”

And with that Vincent left everything behind to make his way back towards the castle.

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Gus Lissington /  Cassian Valenduris & muse song
Re:jinx, he pushes Cass back away from him.

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

This was one of the times he wished he could apparate on Hogwarts ground because Gus was hearing things he knew he shouldn’t be. Instead of going in one ear and out the other they embedded themself into his brain like a virus and swarmed his thoughts; his eyes were blown wide from revelations but instead of looking at Valenduris for confirmation or disgust, the Hufflepuff lowered his gaze toward the blades of grass grazing his shoes – he wondered just how hard he’d have to stomp for the ground to swallow him whole. Whether or not they had done anything wasn’t his business although from the venom they were spitting it was clear to the redhead that something had transpired.

Gus swallowed the questions forming on his tongue – getting in the middle of that seemed like a daft idea. If Valenduris was willing to punch his friend (former friend?), he wasn’t willing to put himself in the crossfire to see what he’d do to him. Still, he most decidedly did not want to know all the secrets these two had, even though he’d already promised himself he’d take them to his grave.

It’s what any decent person would do, right?

The words flying between them, harsh and cruel, were meant to maim, and Gus took a slight step back toward the tree as he wanted nothing to do with it. (His day was much better when he was enjoying the sunshine on this strangely warm day and these two frost monsters were making it difficult to soak it up before winter wrapped him in cold and misery.) His eyes followed Iago as he unwrapped the scarf from his neck and Gus frowned at him as he watched the ball of fabric tossed to the ground as if it didn’t matter. A noise of discontent came from his throat, because he’d always think Iago was sweet (when he wanted to be at least, but the Slytherin had never shown him a side to say otherwise.)

The idea of Vince thinking he was anything else was heart shattering; he wasn’t a monster or a pet, or anything that deserved to be treated less than someone else. Gus wished that everyone else could see it, too. He was smart and hid the best jokes under a layer of snark that never failed to make him laugh. In fact if a genie granted Gus a single wish, he’d only need one: to force Vincent to stand in front of a mirror until he saw him the way the Hufflepuff did. Vincent Iago was nearly perfection wrapped in a person, and quite frankly there wasn’t a single thing he would change about him. (Minus the times where he had to leave, because Gus was a cuddler.) There wasn’t a moment he didn’t want to spend next to him and if Valenduris was daft enough to toss that away, well, he was a bigger asshole than Gus originally pegged him for.

He opened his mouth to say as such, only to watch as Valenduris surged forward and shattered Iago’s nose, worry etching across his face as the blood pooled from his nose and he knocked his head harshly against the tree. Gus turned toward the other kid then, not quite sure what he was going to say but Iago reacted faster than him to send the blonde tumbling away, flat on his back. He winced as his body collided with the ground with enough force that he was worried he’d cracked his head open. Still, Gus scurried forward to collect the scarf from the ground and wrapped it atop the Slytherin one he still wore.

Then he tossed a look over toward the Gryffindor. “Oh, Valenduris, I’m sorry. I’ll come back to make sure you’re not… dead? I promise.” But worry had poured into his chest and consumed him, leaving him with little else than wanting to make sure Iago was okay; the desire to wrap him up and shield him from the cruelty of the word was overwhelming, even if he knew Vince didn’t want it. He gave Valenduris a slight wave of goodbye even though he clearly didn’t see it and took off in a jog after the Slytherin.

Just to watch Professor Thompson come storming out of the castle toward Iago; he looked angry enough Gus swore that smoke was pooling from his ears. His lips were pressed together and he kept his eyes straight rather than point an accusatory stare at any of them, but all it took was a single look at the one with blood pooling from his face, the one that looked guilty, and the one on the ground further behind them to know the student who’d found him was correct that something was brewing outside. His feet paused on the ground as he appraised them before he huffed a sigh and pulled out of his wand.

“Your hands, Mr. Iago.” The professor stepped forward to cast episkey on his nose. Gus’ face twisted in sympathy as the bones in his nose mended – he hated it when the nurse used that spell on him. It always made his skin boiling hot then frigid, and well, he’d rather deal with a broken bone than feeling like he was going to freeze to death.

Professor Thompson cleared his throat.” Let me guess Mr. Lissington, wrong place, wrong time?” The Hufflepuff gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged because that had always been the case for him. “Mr. Iago, another fight?” It was posed as a question although it was meant more of a statement – the Slytherin always seemed to be getting into some kind of group. (Plus it was near impossible to not have heard the mandrake rumors floating around, and well, the herbology professor was looking to find reasons to give him more than just detention for the brutality of the crime.)

He shook his head as he motioned for the boys to follow him back to where Valenduris was. The professor stepped forward to evaluate him. “Unless someone wants to tell me what happened, detention for the three of you for the foreseeable future.” Of course they were all getting detention anyway, but the punishment had to fit the crime. Gus shot Iago a look with a frown; it wasn’t his story to tell and it wasn’t as if he wanted to start out by saying he was snogging him when everything went to thell.

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Vincent Iago / Cassian Valenduris

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   Vincent Iago

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