April 29th, 1892

My Darling Basil,

I cannot tell if I am wishing my days in this... purgatory away or if I should wish to stay here forever. The season cannot possibly be any better than this. All this finishing has prepared me for absolutely nothing. I hide away in the library with my books, avoiding needlework and tea etiquette, as if I haven't been taught that my entire life. At least I am a model student when it comes to keeping up with my correspondence. Between you, Poppy and my few Hogwarts friends, at least I can make it look like I am good at something.

Please tell me you can break me out for a day sometime soon? I need to be anywhere but here for just a couple hours. Pretty please?

Yours,
Tillie

Basil Foxwood

  

April, 29. 1892

Basil couldn't help but smile at the latest correspondence from his cousin Mathilda as her anxious scrawl fluttered across his desk. He missed her, and he felt for her considerably more this upcoming season than those past for it was her debut. Basil himself was not one for society on the whole, but even he knew the significance of a debutante's first season. While he hadn't agreed with his aunt and uncle's choice to pull Mathilda from Hogwarts and send her to finishing school to rot her brain it hadn't been his place to opine, especially as he couldn't quite be free of bias. He knew this upcoming season he would be at her beck and call though, in an effort to make up for his lack of assistance to her in that regard and to ensure she had as painless a first season as he could manage. (Even if it did incur the wrath of those meddling adults or tiresome gentleman from whom he'd have to shield her.) Finding a fresh parchment to reply, Basil scribbled his response.

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Darling debutante,

Or should I address you - "my esteemed, nearly-finished, Pendergast Rose"?

I cannot say I envy your position, dearest coz. It sounds a dreadful place, one from which you are very much in need of rescuing. I suppose there could be time in my harried schedule for you. Shall I write your torturess guardian and ask for your release this upcoming week end? I too find myself in need of a respite and am happy to share the last of my free weekends escorting you about.

It has been some time since I frequented London. I hear a new book-store has just opened near Diagon Alley. Would you care to investigate it with me? Hogsmeade has worn me down as late and a change of scenery might do us both good.

your favorite,
Basil

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Mathilda Alderton

  

May 1st, 1892

My Darling Basil,

If you should like to keep your tongue in your head, you will do no such thing. Mama is all in a tizzy over this and the fittings have begun. Fabrics and flowers and all the fluff I could certainly live without. Poppy is looking forward to hers and I do hate to cast a shadow over her excitement. I cannot possibly muster the strength to even begin to comprehend enjoying this archaic torture. I do not wish to be paraded around like some prize horse set up for sale. It's awful.

I do hope you succeed in springing me from prison, a new bookstore in London sounds like a pristine way to spend an afternoon away from this hell-hole. Please, save me!

Yours,
Tillie

Basil Foxwood

  

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May, 3. 1892

Tillie,

Fabrics and flowers and fluff, oh my!

Do not worry dearest Tille, you - like so many before - will survive the notorious debut ball tradition. It is what comes AFTER that I fear will tax your patience most of all. Frivolous gentleman all competing to impress you, stuffy ballrooms filled to bursting with every manner of uncomfortable social convention, too many faces and names and ranks to count...

But have no fear, with me by your side you shan't have to endure it alone. I shall take up the mantle of gallant knight; with a book as my shield and pen as my sword, together we will combat the asphyxiating austerity of the Victorian season.

Only 5 more days until freedom, for the both of us.

your favorite,
Basil

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Mathilda Alderton