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.
![[Image: vincesig.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/vincesig.gif)
i desire very little but the things i do consume me