Vincent was glad that his lack of knowledge about Quidditch did not seem to throw Cass into a tailspin. In fact, as the other rumbled a laugh about it, he felt relieved. He wouldn’t have minded seeing a professional game, not really; it was one of those new, wizarding experiences he knew Cass was keen on sharing with him. As it was though, Vince only nodded solemnly as the true team was announced and he made a mental note to regurgitate it lest anyone ever ask him again. Chudley Canons. He could remember that. Refusing to say any more on the match for the time being however, and hoping he may have gotten away with his aversion to the topic overall, Vincent settled upon the sonnet. They could revisit going or not to the game in the morning; he would so hate for Cassian and his family to miss out on their tickets because of him.

“No,” he chuckled in response to the other’s guess. “Not Romeo and Juliet.” They’d read through that one recently, so he supposed it was natural. Vince quite liked the story that went along with the tragic couple though, finding himself perhaps most drawn to Benvolio. It was so powerful what havoc a misunderstanding could wreak under the right circumstances.

After his initial reading of the sonnet, and the silence that lingered between them, Vincent turned back to look up at the ceiling reciting a second reading from memory. His tone was low and slow, lingering on the important parts and then quiet and even, tasting the sweet resolution of the final two lines. He turned his head back towards the big blonde and waited.

He could see the gears turning in Cassian’s mind, the thoughtful look on his delicate features reflective of it. There might be some who thought the Gryffindor dull, or stupid, but Vincent knew better. He might be big and jocky, but Cass was clever and resourceful too. They were two halves to a whole: where Vincent was not always the most apt, Cass was always ready to guide them thusly. Breath still ghosting across the other’s neck and tomb laying flat in his lap, Vincent sighed contentedly. This was where he was happiest, always. As Cass spoke then, the little Slytherin watched his face move and considered the rather heavy question.

In a way, yes - he absolutely saw himself in the sonnet. He was very much in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, and he often wished he too could be  like… one more rich in hope, Featured like [Cass], like him with friends possessed. But on the other side of the coin, he was also alright with his lot in life, in as much as he dared to be complacent. Complacency was not in Vince’s baser nature, but he supposed if this reflection here - lying in this bed listening to the rain and chatting with Cass - was any indication as to his lot in life, he could be appeased. Haply [he could] think on thee, and then [his] state… /For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, “That then I scorn to change my state with kings.” Vincent mumbled aloud, completing his thought process. He grinned at the big blonde and wondered just how honest he dared to be.

“I do, in a way,” he sighed, gently, voice low. “But only in that I count myself lucky to have you in my life and… by having you, I find any inevitable offense more tolerable.” Vince offered Cass a small grin; they both knew what it had been like for him before they’d become friends. It was only natural that Vincent was grateful for Cass’ friendship, even if the other might not realize just how grateful and attached he was. “Don’t think too much about it?” He pleaded, teasingly. Vince knew Cass was about to get all wrapped up in pity for him and he didn’t want that. It wasn’t the point to the sonnet, even if he wasn’t sure he was ready for Cass to realize the actual point. “It’s just a silly, romantic sentiment. A compliment, really.”

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