As soon as Cassian felt the punch connect, landing on a target he could have never once imagined, he knew it was wrong. His body revolted as though he’d struck himself. Shock already sent the blonde reeling back and pale as his hand dropped to his side. Adrenaline kept him tense, residual anger kept his blood on simmer. But the devastating explosion had relieved him from the worst of this rage, and that one moment left a world of new consequences in its wake.

If Vincent attempted to fight him back, it would have been much easier. Any blow to the face would, surely, have been much better, to justify the offensive he’d just taken. Of course, Vince smartly went on the defensive – and flung Cass back several yards into the air. The landing was only partially softened by the grass. His head slammed to the earth with a crack, and for a moment searing white obscured his vision.

When Cassian came to, it was to the sound of Gus saying words he could not quite piece together. Excruciating pain radiated from the back of his head, but it was nothing compared to how his insides felt. Like his heart had been ripped clean out, and he was bleeding out on the grass. Blurry vision eventually grew clear, and distantly he felt the back of his hand touch his head but it drew back no blood. This drained feeling, the one that felt like he was dying – that was only an idle hope he had. Dying felt much better an alternative to acknowledging the growing realization of what he’d just done. Everything about what Vince said felt monstrously unfair and tore at him. But it could never excuse how Cass responded. Who am I. Pummeled my best friend. Lashed at him like the enemy. Acted like a barbarian. No better than a bully. For what? Broke the nose of the only one I lo–

“Valenduris, Valenduris can you hear me?” he heard a sharp, familiar voice, and wearily pulled back the heels of his palms that he’d been digging into his eyes from the grief of it all. Professor Thompson slowly came into shape overhead. With some effort, Cass sat up. Jagged heart crushed to dust when he clocked, from over Thompson’s shoulder, that the other two hadn’t quite made it away. Gus and Vince stood side by side. Cassian silently assessed his (former?) best friend standing there covered in blood, their eyes meeting for just a fraction of a second.

Cassian’s eyes slid back towards Thompson then, who threatened them all with detention as he reached to inspect the Gryffindor’s pupils and check his head. Cass let him, though soon shrugged the professor off. “No, let me explain…” he started carefully. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, as his mouth felt bone dry. “I made a terrible mistake. Lissington told me… After I hit him… Iago had nothing to do with the mandrakes…”

If this attempt to cover for them and take blame would be the last thing he could ever do before they never spoke again, then so be it.

“I was fucking -- ah, sorry -- bloody angry, about how it scared the kids… I thought the same thing everyone else did… So when I saw him here I challenged him, but he refused to fight me… So I forced, and… Lissington just stopped me, saying… How wrong I was… I wasn’t thinking, you know? If he didn’t stop me I could have done even worse…”

That much, maybe, could ring true. The vigilante justice. At least when he was a bit younger, Cassian built up a reputation for getting into senseless fights.

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Vince could feel the distance between himself the situation growing with each step he beat in retreat. He was reeling from everything that had just happened and there wasn’t a place far enough away from Cassian in this entire castle that would give him the distance he needed. Vince couldn’t believe, even now, that Cass had actually lashed out at him. Everything they built, everything they’d shared, was officially behind them. He was no more special to the big blonde than anyone else these days and Vince had to find a way to accept that. To be alright with it, despite how much the very thought ripped a hole in his intestines.

Vince knew he was never going to be able to fully escape from the grasp Cass had on his heart. Not even if they actually managed to keep their distance. If they never spoke again, Vince would still find a way to agonize over Cassian’s attentions to others, jealous and petty and heartbroken all in one. The thought made him rage again, so much that Vince almost didn’t notice when Professor Thompson appeared before them. He looked almost as put out as Vince felt and immediately the Slytherin groaned. Great. Someone else who would think he’d killed the baby mandrakes!

Instead, Thompson fixed his nose with a quick hand and Vince flinched at the resounding crack that resulted. He felt an incredible warmth and then iciness creep into his sinuses from the repair and it made his eyes water miserably. Staying silent, Vince resisted the urge to rub his face as Thompson addressed them. What was the point in defending oneself when the inevitable was going to happen? It was only then, as Thomspon turned his attention to the other, that Vince finally noticed how hard his own spell must have hit Cassian.

A brief pang of guilt washed over him only to be replaced a moment later by the nasty thought that he hoped it had given Cass a concussion. At least that would be something to remember him by. Or not.

The Gryffindor’s falsified account about what had happened only just managed to clue Vince in to how Cass must be feeling. Behind his blind rage, Vince could see - maybe - that Cass already had regrets. Good! that acidic little voice in the back of his mind snapped again. He didn't know what that meant, if anything, but he was satisfied regardless.

Thompson, for his part, wasn’t buying it. The look on his face was skeptical at best and Vince crossed his own arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at Cass behind the professor’s back. “Detentions, the lot of you. Saturday evening.” The professor replied. “I don’t care who did or didn’t react to the mandrake news. You should all know better than to scuffle like barbarians.” He sniffed then. “As for you Mr. Iago,” Thompson added, rounding on Vince. “I’ll inform you that the faculty is launching a full investigation into this mandrake brutality business. If you are indeed responsible, corrective action will be taken.” Then, face softening marginally, Thompson seemed to sigh. “Off to class now. Lissington, don’t you owe me a transfiguration essay?”

Vincent scowled and stormed off.

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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

A sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding escaped from him as he watched Valenduris finally sit up, a little worse but at least not dead. Immediately his eyes scanned him for blood but there wasn’t any dripping down his face which meant Iago had only been accepting in defense rather than to maim him for the barbed words he’d thrown. He shuffled a bit closer to him, wanting to offer comfort in a way he knew the other didn’t want. But, he wasn’t alone in this even if Gus didn’t want anything to do with it. He just wanted to be there for his friend.

Surprise etched across his expression as the Gryffindor finally spoke, and he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t throwing them under the bus. Wouldn’t this be the perfect opportunity if he was going to do it; his stomach fluttered, an uneasiness swirling around in it and he fiddled with the edge of the scarves, rubbing the green and yellow together as he glanced down at the ground. There was still blood splattered from Iago's dripping nose, and his own wrinkled. That was gross. If Thompson had tossed a look at him to confirm, the guilt and unwillingness to make eye contact would ruin the story that Valenduris was fabricating.

He didn’t immediately pipe up to confirm the story either, but even if he had, Thompson had already made up his mind about giving them all detention for the misunderstanding. Gus did scoff at being called a barbarian, because he couldn’t ever recall getting a detention for fighting. (People did that for him whenever he needed it because he certainly wasn’t willing to raise his wand at someone who he felt didn’t deserve it, and even then, he hated it when people stuck up for him.) Violence wasn't the answer and it was why he excelled in spells that were more defensive in nature than offensive; even his wand had refused a time or two to cast anything offensive, and his first time in the infirmary so many years back had been it backfiring on him. He did manage to grimace and mutter yeah at the essay, only because it was late and Thompson had given him an extension to complete it. It was going to be late. Again.

The professor gave them all one last glance before he shook his head and walked back toward the castle, mumbling about having to come up with a punishment underneath his breath. 

Gus tossed a look over his shoulder to make sure the professor was enough way to not hear anything else before he stepped forward toward the Gryffindor, his feet pausing and rooting him to his spot as he appraised him. The anger that had possessed him was no longer clear across his face, but it still made Gus skeptical to approach him. It took another moment for him to shuffle forward toward him, his eyes appraising him as he waited for the other shoe to drop; what was the purpose of lying to the professor? He sucked in a sharp breath before he exhaled slowly as he tried to find the right words. “Valenduris. I’m glad you’re not er… dead. And thanks for not tattling. I well... I appreciate it.” Gus nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he dropped his gaze back toward the ground. The thought of offering his hand to help Valenduris stand flickered across his mind but he wasn’t sure if the blonde would pull him down or punch him for even offering, so he just ducked his head sheepishly against his scarf as he tottered backward toward Iago.

There, he placed his hand gingerly against his shoulder and offered him a gentle smile. “I’ll see you after class? If you want, that is. Don’t feel like you need to, but I'd like to see you” Just to make sure he was okay; Iago needed someone in his corner and he didn’t believe a word about the mandrake rumors he knew were going to be floating around. Iago would know where to find him, depending on the time. He dropped his hand back to his side and gave him a slight wave as he made his way back toward the castle – Winnie was going to be pissed at him if he was late for class again.

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Vincent Iago / Cassian Valenduris

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   Cassian Valenduris, Vincent Iago

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Are you student? Learn how to earn house points!

There was no real reason that Cassian did this. He didn’t want thanks from his peers (would rather go without ever being addressed). This wasn’t a show of acting the martyr. At the end of it all, this just felt like the right thing to do. The only choice he had, to do the right thing. He let his words to the professor run out organically, once his splitting headache returned full-force and he decided to let Thompson come to his own assessment.

Wasn’t entirely surprised, then, when Thompson didn’t really buy it. He wasn’t really the best with his words. Though – it seemed his actions spared any undue punishment for Vince or Lissington, at least, which served to absolve Cassian from a little bit of guilt. No house points docked either, saving them from the ire of their respective houses. Just detention. Fuck me. Was Thomspon delusional enough to think that all three of them together in detention would be a good idea, after their near-brawl?

Cass very nearly opened his mouth to retort this to Thompson, but a withering eyeroll from Vince made him clamp his mouth shut. That familiar flicker of anger bubbled up inside his stomach, and he decided that it was easier to keep his eyes on the ground then.

Maybe it was the residual concussion, that prevented Cassian from listening to whatever the hell else Thomspon said or even that he’d taken leave. The Gryffindor opted to stay sitting, though he pulled his knees up and rest his arms dejectedly on his legs. He might put his head on his arms and burrow there, for a minute.

Hearing his name cautiously called out drew Cassian away from idle thoughts about how much everything hurt. (Not from the throw - from what just transpired. From the way he heard rather than saw Vince drift off. They were obviously still very much in school together – but it felt final, that sight of his retreating back.) Slowly, Cassian’s bleary blue eyes slipped to the redhead who seemed to want to say… something.

“...” They just stared at each other for a minute, blinking. Finally Cass shook his head, dropping it down to his arms. The voice that came out was muffled. “...Fuck off, Lissington. I didn’t do it for you.”

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