Basil had debated for days if he should send the letter and gifts he'd put together for Lissington. It had been over a decade since he'd even considered such a thing, and never once in their shared history had the pair actually celebrated one another despite their birthday's being only a day apart. They'd never had the chance. It felt a duty almost to do so this year, with things half on the mend. (Or at least as awkwardly 'on the mend' as they were...) Basil sighed as he looked over the items and the awkwardly cheerful letter he'd penned three and four times, always unsatisfied with the result. There was a book on transfiguration hieroglyphs, a bag of sweets from Honeydukes, both things he figured Lissing would enjoy. Next to these, held in a delicate wooden box with a red velvet lining was a pocket-watch. It was old now, and likely out of style. Why Basil had held onto it ever since purchase, over ten years ago, he wasn't exactly sure. It had been Lissington's original, 18th birthday gift, and as such, had a subtle inscription on the inside. "B.F.A.L.10.19"

Their initials, and a date. The exact date they'd first met. Basil stared at the engraving solemnly, knowing it was foolish to include this as part of the gift. He didn't want to give Lissington the wrong impression, especially after the craziness of the past couple of months. But he was also tired of carrying the thing around in his heart and storing it in his desk. (He'd brought it back with him to Hogwarts after that weekend home with Atticus' purple hair.) And maybe... a small part of Basil deep, deep, deep down that he tried to ignore, wanted to finally give it to Lissington. It had always been meant as a gift to memorialize their closeness, their friendship. What was the worst that could happen, really? He picked up the watch and slid his finger over the inscription. Just for safety sake, he considered casting a disillusionment spell to hide it (since he couldn't erase the thing entirely without destroying the ancient watch face.) In a split second decision, he opted not to. It was a part of their shared history, like it or not, and Basil quickly wrapped the gifts in brown parchment, tying them with a string, so he couldn't change his mind. Then, running a hand through his hair and mussing it, he made his way through Foxwood House to Atticus' room in search of Merlin. Hopefully the fat little lug could carry a parcel this hefty. 

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Happy Birthday ol' chum.

Don't make a thing of it, but I've included a few trinkets to celebrate your entrance to spinsterhood old age.

Hope you're keen on them.

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