Basil was... reeling. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage classes tomorrow with everything tonight finally coming to a head. He was... utterly wrecked after that conversation with Lissington. It was more than he was willing to face, especially as he tried to process the news from Atticus that had been waiting on his desk upon return to the castle. It was... a lot. Enough that the usually somber, responsible professor had cracked into his reserve of firewhiskey. (He was going to look and feel a veritable mess in the morning.)

As he leaned against the large window and looked out over darkened grounds, Basil Foxwood sucked in a deep breath. He didn't know what his life was coming to. A year ago everything had been so much easier, simpler. He lifted the glass to his lips and emptied it in one successive gulp. It burnt, and he relished in the pain as drawn, red eyes turned towards his desk. There was only one person, one solution, he could see to right the last thing that had yet to derail. (The thing he'd fought so valiantly to protect.)

Maybe it was the cigarette and the whiskey that made him think as much, or maybe he just knew deep down that she would understand.

Basil crossed the small space with intentional strides and pulled a piece of fresh parchment. (The fancy kind with his monogram on it that Mama had always told him to use for correspondence with ladies.) If he was going to do this, he might as well do it right. Plopping himself in the seat, Basil poured out another glass of whiskey and tried to focus all his thoughts on one Ms. Victoire Malfoy.

---

I apologize for the abrupt communication.

If you do not have other engagements at present, I should like to extend an invitation to see you this week end. Saturday, preferably.

I am not... well informed of the Foxwood event schedule, as I'm sure you can imagine. I simply wish to speak with you.

Might I invite you to tea in town? Or I can come to London?

---

Basil scratched out a few phrases thinking they sounded silly. All in all, he was dissatisfied with the letter, realizing he sounded as desperate as he felt. Still, he knew on some level Ms. Victoire might understand? Or at least, if she didn't, he certainly wouldn't be leading her astray. Argh, that was no way to address a lady though. He had to be gallant, even in his misery. Growling, Basil crumpled the thing and pulled out another to try again.

---

I apologize for the abrupt communication.

If you do not have other engagements at present, I should like to extend an invitation to see you this week end.

Are you free for a promenade in Padmore Park this Saturday?

---

There. At least this one was more... succinct than the prior. Standing and taking down his second firewhiskey in another large gulp, Basil Foxwood placed the glass on his wooden desk with a sharp rap. He was off to the owlery. Blast the unusual hour! She'd see it in the morning, and this way he'd have no excuse to back out himself.

---

September 30th, 1892

---

RE: a life raft in the ocean of the dark;; - Basil Foxwood - October 19, 2022

---

RE: a life raft in the ocean of the dark;; - Victoire Malfoy - October 19, 2022