There was an ease between Cassie and Stan that hadnât been lost over all their years of friendship, it was comforting to know that almost nothing could faze them. Cassie had been a constant in Stanâs life for more than a decade now, they had a natural ease about them that felt homely. When they had met, Stan had been a boy with a quieter disposition, practically trained to stay quiet when adults were talking and being taught by the Goyles that children were meant to  be well-mannered and respectful of all adults. His mother always used to dismiss these claims with a warm laugh and flick of her eyes but it wasnât until moving to Ireland that Stan came out of his shell. It was after his mother became friends with the Macmillan that Stan first encountered the wildness of the Macmillan family, as an only child it was something he had never witnessed. For his entire life, he had been surrounded by adults unless he spent an evening with his cousins, who he had almost nothing in common with. But there he was, in the warm household filled with a family that seemed complete unlike his own. Stan remembered sitting on the edge of the sofa, tapping his thumb off the enamel of a mug of tea. He was quiet, not finding it easy to break into conversation with the four children who seemed to bounce between conversation and playing with the mere blink of an eye. Truthfully, Stan was in awe, he was polite and well-mannered and had a bubbly personality around his mother. But outside, he was quiet and reclusive, choosing to sit with a childrenâs book rather enjoying a wrestling match with his cousins. For those reasons, many believed Stan was soft, destined to become a loner but Cassie MacMillian seemed to see something in him that no one else did. That first morning in the MacMillian household, Stan noticed Cassieâs eyes fixed on him out of curiosity but with the slight hint of challenge.  Perhaps she recognised Stanâs sense of adventure and a fullness of life that had been bursting at the seams from every moment he had to stifle his personality to fit in. It may have took some coaxing but Cassie drew it out of him. And he couldnât have been more thankful.
It didnât take long before he was screaming at the top of his lungs playing pirates with Cassie and packing for picnics at the beach with all the Macmillan siblings. Instead of being cooped up in his empty household from dawn until dusk, Stan left his house at 9am with nothing more than the clothes on his back and returned almost twelve hours later mucked to high heavens with a mischievous glint in his eye. Only to repeat the next day without an ounce of tiredness. Cassie was his best friend, they had been there with each other through thick and thin. She had witnessed him falling from an oak tree after trying to win a conker collecting competition, which resulted in him breaking his arm in three places. Cassie had been there for his awkward growth spurt, when he went from 5 foot 4 to 6 foot 2 in the space of four months. He remembered queuing outside Freebird Records in Wicklow Town for two hours to buy her a record player for her, just for them to spend all night discussing records. Stan listened to her ramble about books and read sections of her favourite poetry by Sylvia Plath and Cassie put up with him trying to grow out his hair to look like Lyndsey Buckingham, only for his mum to force a bowl around his head and chop it all off on Christmas break.They had grown together rather than growing apart, their friendship was strong built on a foundation of adventure, love and trust. Stan Abbott couldnât ever picture not having Cassie recognise his every facial expression and he couldnât imagine not witnessing her fits of passion during intense debates. Over the years, he failed to determine if Ireland was his home or if it was Cassie MacMillian.
Taking a sip of his coffee, Stan refrained from a smile. âDid you learn no table etiquette growing up?â He raised an eyebrow, his teasing evident as he raised his pinky finger when he took another sip of his coffee. The plate of fry up sitting on his lap, Stan lifted it slightly to shift into a more comfortable position like Cassie. Resting it back on his lap, a deep chuckle came from his chest. âIâd like to fucking hope so, look at me? Bright eyed and bushy-tailed dressed in my finest attire.â A slight gesture to his outfit which currently was a pair of loose joggers and a shirt he had slung over his back to simply go down for breakfast. It was not a fashionable look but he was dressed for a greasy breakfast not a banquet dinner. âNot gonna lie, pretty disappointed that you didnât come down dressed as Bowie, you suited that hair do. Plus redhead? Matched your temper perfectly.â His mother always called him a wind-up merchant, but Cassie understood his mischievous side. She had been the main culprit of bringing it out of him. âWe coulda continued being John and Bowie, that woulda got a few looks from the prissy pricks at the Slytherin Table, it would have caused a riot.â
His knife and fork cutting into a piece of potato bread, a staple piece to a fry up that reminded him of Ireland. Stan was disappointed at how it seemed to go under the radar at Hogwarts, meaning that he practically begged the house elves to make it each morning he was feeling worse for wear. An amused smile as Cassie relayed what happened with the younger girl. Glancing around the common room to see if he could see any younger girl crying over being faced with Cassie in the mornings. âPoor girl thought at least she lives to see another day. Canât be so sure for the last poor sod.â Leaning forward at the mention of a pillow incident, âdo tell, I need to hear about you beating someone with a pillow.â
Giving in to Cassieâs demands about making a wish. He set his plate to the side one moment, moving closer to his best friend to make a wish on the Elton John piece of glitter. âElton Magic, I love that.â He expressed as he leaned forward and closed his eyes, barely able to make a straight face and he thought of a wish. âFeck-I uhmâŠ. I wish that youâd fully commit to the ziggy stardust hairstyle. You looked a belter with it. â Stan wished, trying his best to contain his laughter as he opened one eye to peak at Cassie. âMaybe even the makeup too? Iâd pay to see Slughorn if you walked in with a glittery lightning bolt across your face.â
There was always a kind of warmth that came with Stan Abbott. She felt it even now. It resonated in Cassieâs chest and filled her up with so much light she always wondered whether it was just the affect the boy had around people. Making them feel welcome. Warm. Safe. With his sweet disposition, wide eyes gaze, his cheeky humor that always had her laughing so much by the end of the day her stomach was swore. For a second no matter where they were whether it be home in Ireland or at Hogwarts; if she was with him it didnât matter. She felt like she belonged by his side some how.Â
Over the years, a slight teasing had ensued over their âparticularly closeâ friendship. Whether it was from strangers or friends, the comments had come. Of course then it always ended up with Cassie rolling her eyes. Thumping the teaser on the arm if she needed, as if that could some how diminish the rumors and make everything fall back into place. How it should be. How they had always worked. But after so long it hadnât stopped her from wondering. Of course sheâd thought about it once or twice before, though never dwelling on it. Putting it down to a simple moment rather than it lingering and developing into something that she simply couldnât let it be. Affection like that wasnât something Cassie held well in her chest. It made her feel unsteady and unsure, like everything around her would crumble and leave her floating in a abyss that she couldnât quite get out of. Giving someone else that amount of power over her heart wasnât something sheâd do willingly. But was it ever a choice when it came to matters of the heart? She knew that if the rumors ever turned true, that if it ever were to be Stan it wouldnât just be something simple. How could it? It would be earth shattering. Almost like an earth quake in her chest caving in her ribs and causing a shock way through her entire body. She shouldnât know that but of course she did. She shouldnât think on it, but from time to time she did. When they were under the stars sprawled across the field, whispering their secrets to each other and dreaming on stars, she did. Glancing over at his features illuminated by star light and for a second it would resonate in her chest. That warmth. The feeling she always held around him but for a moment it would grow deeper. And again, sheâd convince herself it was normal. It was just what best friends held for each other. But even her sister had noticed it once. Melina had said before that best friends donât look at each other like that. Like they did. Like the other was their whole world. As if nothing was ever really complete with out them. Cassie had brushed it off with a puff of her lips and a small shake of her head because she couldnât feel that kind of warmth. Sheâd lived in deniable that she couldnât.. It wasnât an option. It couldnât be. Not when sheâd spent so long trying to find her own voice, fighting for it, only to have it attached to someone elseâs? But it was. It had been for so long without her knowing it. Stan was the person she looked for in a room. When she heard something funny, he was the one she always wanted to tell. It was because they were friends. Itâs just what best friends did. Right? Even a tiny small piece of Cassie knew now that she didnât believe it.
âIâve got plenty of manners thank ye very much-â Cassie spoke in mock offense, a wide smirk pulling onto her features as she looked at him. Tilting her head back, Cassie sat crossed legged as she moved to balance a blueberry on top of her nose. Though it barely lasted a minute before her lack of hand eye coordination cause it to drop, leaving a quite âfeckâ falling of her lips as she begrudgingly moved to grab it from under the table. Of course, hitting her head on the underneath of said table with a loud âOw-.. shit on a brick-â as she moved to come back up. Grace, poise, elegant as ever; well done MacMillan. âBushy tailed.â The blonde repeated with a scoff and light laugh, as she rubbed her head with displeasure. However at the mention of her temper a small pout fell on her lips before she blew a puff of air from her cheeks, finally glancing back up at him from the floor. âHey. I donât have a temper, take it back Abbott or face the consequences.â Though as quickly as the threat came, a smile grew even wider across her features, though it always did with him. Flopping back onto the seat as she gathered her pancakes, gladly settling in to eat them. She felt almost ravenous and the growl from her stomach was proof enough of it. âPrissy pricks, ye got that right. Can ye even imagine the look on their faces if we sauntered on in like the gods of muggle music. Theyâd be outraged, weâd have a brawl before brunch. We might just have to try it. Atleast give us an excuse to give them a piece of mind.â Though really, when had Cassie ever needed an excuse to speak her mind? She did that freely daily, holding her tongue was never a talent that the witch possessed. Leaning forward just as he did so they could be face to face and eye to eye. Her blue eyes narrowed lightly at him as if in a challenged stare off, before blowing in his face lightly instead with a smirk, before sitting back in her seat. âIâll give ye a free demonstration later. Though donât remember if I hit her in the face or the arse-â Cassie cringed slightly, really she did feel bad about it. âIâll find her and apologize later for my sleepinâ goblin side.â Cutting up a piece of pancake, she swirled it in the honey on her plate before gladly putting it in her mouth with a hum of delight. âUrgh Stanley, ye glorious wizard ye. How did ye get the elves to make them blueberry? Yeâre a true marvel.â
âNot just Elton magic. Itâs Athelstan Elton Theodore Abbott John magic. Itâs even stronger stuff. And even more special.â And really she believed it. Even if they were legends last night, nothing would ever compare to them simply being who they were. There wasnât a better magic radiating from any one person than it did from her best friend. Sheâd believe that till the end of time. A wide grin pulling onto her features, even a sparkle in her eyes which always seemed to appear once in a while around him, she scoffed and leaned over to pick up her cinnamon black tea and take a spin. âIâll stick with it for a week if ye borrow some of Sybâs pink hair dye potion and join me. Imagine what the Slytherinâs would say then. We might just move up on the rank of mysterious misfit marvels. And please, it would probably give the poor fella such a fright heâd faint on the spot. Donât fancy a detention from shockinâ the livinâ day lights outta our professor, especially if it gives me less time to irritate ye.â @stanthemanabbottâ
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