The soothing lilt of Vincent’s voice wrapped around him like a warm blanket, striking enough that it tore Cass away from his mounting worry for a moment. A skilled orator already, Vince could easily become a major politician or magistrate one day. Recognizing this only served to remind the young Gryffindor that days like this were numbered. Whatever Vince said, once they graduated they would be off to their own endeavors. Visiting and meeting frequently as best friends should, of course. But with none of this idle time they had now, where they could read for hours, and the blonde could drift off into dreamless sleep to the soft notes of the other’s voice.
That’s why it felt so imperative, right this instant actually, to get a straight answer. He felt personally responsible for Vince in a way the other never really asked for, a small part of him realized that. But it was all for his sake. Cassian wanted nothing more than to make sure Vince could see everything, experience everything, have anything he could want… For these things to foment in the Slytherin’s mind into realization that the world is his for the taking, if he really wants it, and that he requires permission from nobody. Only then would Cass be satisfied that he’s finally proved how they have always been on the same footing.
This is partially why he didn’t buy into Vince’s self-reflection in the sonnet. Or rather, why he refused to.
“I’m glad you just see yourself as the lark,” he huffed at his friend’s mask, because again, again he sidestepped Cass’s challenge to speak plainly. “Because there isn’t a complacent bone in your body. You’re not poor in hope for what you can accomplish. You’re not mired in disgrace - whatever your family did has nothing to do with you,” the last came with a meaningful look from behind blonde locks that fell in his eyes again. They’d discussed this at length, and this was his regular reminder.
Perhaps these sonnets were the most tolerable form of vulnerability the other could muster, Cass realized. But he still felt a bit stung that he couldn’t break through, after all these years. Don’t think too much about it? Cassian scoffed at the thought, a look of consternation never once leaving his face. What the hell are you supposed to do with poems, then?
“I don’t think it’s very romantic,” he grumbled, clearly put out by his train of thought, and not really reading into any of the implications. The way he saw it, they were closer than brothers. “This Shakespeare has a twisted take on love. I understand the sentiment, yes, very flattering,” he waved away the thought, growing a bit more restless against Vince’s stillness beside him. “But a true love builds and grows. They seek to change his state alongside him, not at a safe distance. To fight the intolerable together, not tolerate it,” he added, borrowing from Vince’s sentiment. Cassian rolled over to his side now, craning his head on one hand to look down at the brunette’s inscrutable face. “Like the way I fight for you,” he finished gently, hoping the other was starting to understand his point. And how I will always, until you tell me not to.
That’s why it felt so imperative, right this instant actually, to get a straight answer. He felt personally responsible for Vince in a way the other never really asked for, a small part of him realized that. But it was all for his sake. Cassian wanted nothing more than to make sure Vince could see everything, experience everything, have anything he could want… For these things to foment in the Slytherin’s mind into realization that the world is his for the taking, if he really wants it, and that he requires permission from nobody. Only then would Cass be satisfied that he’s finally proved how they have always been on the same footing.
This is partially why he didn’t buy into Vince’s self-reflection in the sonnet. Or rather, why he refused to.
“I’m glad you just see yourself as the lark,” he huffed at his friend’s mask, because again, again he sidestepped Cass’s challenge to speak plainly. “Because there isn’t a complacent bone in your body. You’re not poor in hope for what you can accomplish. You’re not mired in disgrace - whatever your family did has nothing to do with you,” the last came with a meaningful look from behind blonde locks that fell in his eyes again. They’d discussed this at length, and this was his regular reminder.
Perhaps these sonnets were the most tolerable form of vulnerability the other could muster, Cass realized. But he still felt a bit stung that he couldn’t break through, after all these years. Don’t think too much about it? Cassian scoffed at the thought, a look of consternation never once leaving his face. What the hell are you supposed to do with poems, then?
“I don’t think it’s very romantic,” he grumbled, clearly put out by his train of thought, and not really reading into any of the implications. The way he saw it, they were closer than brothers. “This Shakespeare has a twisted take on love. I understand the sentiment, yes, very flattering,” he waved away the thought, growing a bit more restless against Vince’s stillness beside him. “But a true love builds and grows. They seek to change his state alongside him, not at a safe distance. To fight the intolerable together, not tolerate it,” he added, borrowing from Vince’s sentiment. Cassian rolled over to his side now, craning his head on one hand to look down at the brunette’s inscrutable face. “Like the way I fight for you,” he finished gently, hoping the other was starting to understand his point. And how I will always, until you tell me not to.
![[Image: BC4TW0z.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/BC4TW0z.jpeg)
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