Vincent couldn’t help it as his nose wrinkled, listening to Cass talk about this place. He had a rather pessimistic view of the outcome; a responsible one, the Slytherin supposed, but hopeless nonetheless. Vince was sad for him and couldn’t help but echo the sentiment as it applied to them. Time could only change everything about them, for better or worse. There was no way to turn back and un-resolve whatever had been released from their opening of Pandora’s box. Every matter of deadly, mortal sin that had been unleashed by their actions was now free, never to be retrapped and forgotten. Vince stayed quiet and turned over the rock in his palm, in his pocket.

The silence that passed over them then was interrupted only by a soft wind that tossed Vince’s fringe into his eyes. The Slytherin blew cherry curls out of his face with a soft puff of breath. He was due for a haircut. Mama wouldn’t like this. Tugging his hand from his pocket to brush the unruly mess back, he was utterly and completely surprised as Cassian spoke again.

Not just about you, the big blonde said. Green eyes blinked slowly.

As words turned to whispers, Vince felt every hair on his skin rise and goosebumps tickled all the way down his spine. No idea how you did it. …how you endured a single moment feeling the way you did… Cass couldn’t mean—

A sharp intake of breath then surprised Vince and he realized it was his own.

Cass did mean.

Vince let the silence hang between them like a living thing, uncoiling itself dangerously. He turned over those few words in his mind trying desperately to make sense of them. Cass wanted to kiss him. Kiss him, again. He felt the same rising, anxious desire from before sweep from head to toe and Vincent swallowed a small gulp of air.

“You can,” he dared to whisper nervously. Taking a small step closer towards where Cass stood, facing away from him, Vincent hesitated. “You don’t have to fight it?” He suggested, even more quietly. It was a dangerous line to toe, but… Vince could only dare to hope that Cass was feeling the same way he felt. It was, after all, what the blonde was implying? Cold, wet fingers ghosted just barely along the side of Cass’ bicep as Vincent debated tapping him. A droplet of water gave him away as it fell and soaked into the Gryffindor’s sleeve. Revealed, Vince pulled away quickly. He laced his fingers together and wrung them, hoping Cass hadn’t noticed. He wished desperately that the other would turn around but he couldn’t bring himself to ask as much.

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