June 21st - Hogsmeade Post (Basil's birthday, noon)

Basil was ready for an escape. Sitting in this house, surrounded by his ever loving mother and… Atticus, both of them preparing things for his birthday and asking him questions, checking in on him, driving him sodding nuts! - it was just too much. Between the two of them, his family had concocted some harebrained scheme to sell him to the highest bidder later that evening in the form of a hen party (really, a garden party and a dinner.) He didn’t know half of the young ladies invited but Basil did know they were all unattached, of marrying age, and suitably reviewed by both his mother and elder brother. He could become betrothed just by breathing on one of them tonight and frankly, it was alarming!

Because of this ridiculousness however, Basil found himself sneaking out the back door around lunch time. He was off to visit Eldritch - unannounced - and beg his friend to come be a buffer at that evening’s auction. It was his party after all! He could invite who he liked! (For the briefest of moments, Basil almost considered reaching out to Lissington but immediately shut the door on that extravagance. Even if they were on somewhat, awkwardly, friendly terms and even if they hadn’t had all that difficult shared history… he just couldn’t stomach the idea of subjecting Lissing to this madness. It was too embarrassing in so many ways.)

In this agitated, ungentlemanly manner, he crept through the back garden and made his way towards the front gate. In three more steps he’d make it and… … … freedom! Basil shut the gate quietly and stood next to the towering hedge to let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It was downright horrid that he had to sneak about his own house in this way! Still, the man straightened his waistcoat and settled his tophat before beginning his jaunt down the street.

London was luckily far enough away that Atticus would - hopefully - not spot him, lest his brother come looking. Pleased with this plan, Basil made his way onto Hogsmeade Highstreet. He had to be quick about making his way there, else his window of opportunity before he was missed would vanish. That said, Basil wanted to at least owl Nee to warn him he was coming, and potentially track him down if he was out, so thus he made his way to the post. (Merlin had been out of the question. Too close to the lion’s den.)

A little bell jingled overhead as Basil entered the dark establishment. He didn’t often frequent the post as he normally used a school owl or stole Merlin from Atticus and he looked around curiously. Low and behold, the one person he was not expecting to see now that term had ended however, stood right there like an apparition. “Lissington?” Basil asked, coming up beside the unmistakable red-head. “Fancy seeing you here.”

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Gus Lissington

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His first birthday home in ten years had been…odd. Having just moved in with Astorwood, Gus forewent even telling him - he barely knew him, and he’d count spending most of the day at the Irvingly Spring Celebration a couple days prior as a quality birthday celebration. Between the disastrous hunt for a box with Endymion the day before his actual birthday at his parents house and Fig and her husband (who Gus was very anxious to meet) too sick to come to his birthday dinner (a mild case of dragon pox she assured them), he was almost relieved when the day finally came and went. It wasn’t the worst birthday he’d ever had, and he hadn’t expected much else as everyone transitioned from him being gone to suddenly back in their lives.

The best part of his birthday celebration had actually occurred the day after, as he’d spent most of the morning apparating, flooing and using some well placed portkeys to visit some old friends who, on top of giving him his requested items, showered him with enough chocolate items he was doubtful he’d have to visit Mr. Honeyduke the entire summer to restock. After he promised to return this summer to spend some actual quality time with his friends, Gus returned with goods in hand and carefully arranged them into a box, just large enough to fit into both of his palms. He wasn’t sure how Foxwood was going to feel about receiving a gift, which was why in the letter he’d penned, he’d added that his feelings wouldn’t be hurt if the entire box went into the trash.

Gus didn’t have his own owl, and he felt odd asking Astorwood if he had one he could use; he wanted to be a flatmate that wasn’t needy, and found being scarce was the easiest way to accomplish that. He dragged himself down to Hogsmeade, stopping for a chocolate dipped croissant before he made his way to the post office. With the box nestled beside him, the letter tucked into the twine, Gus frowned at the overwhelming amount of owls there were to choose from. It didn’t matter really, and just as he reached to pick up the box to hand to one, the ball above the door dinged and a voice called out to him.

A very familiar voice.

Jumping at Foxwood suddenly being next to him, Gus couldn’t help but plaster a smile on his face. “Hi. Good morning. I, well, I don’t have my own owl. I had a niffler, but she was terrible at delivering things.” The words came out rushed. It felt odd then, not knowing how the other would react to a birthday gift. They hadn’t celebrated a birthday together and it wasn’t as if they were best friends - they’d just started to reconcile whatever relationship was salvageable. He knew in his gut that Foxwood would be confused, appalled even, at being given something.

He tried not to frown as he turned his attention back toward the box still on the counter. “I’m more surprised you’re here. Merlin giving you attitude?” Gus questioned as he rolled the twine between his fingers.

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Basil Foxwood

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Basil was surprised, perhaps, that he’d managed to startle the red-head and a soft grin stretched across his face. He hadn’t meant to, but it was endearing nonetheless. Bringing a hand up to run through his hair and muss it, Basil gave the other an awkward little grimace. “Yes… er - about that. I’ve escaped the house without my mother or brother’s notice. Using Merlin for this was, ah, out of the question.” He admitted, sheepishly.

And it was true. Finding a way to borrow Merlin without the little drama queen making a scene would have been difficult and Basil had only had one opportunity to escape. He couldn’t risk squandering it over Merlin’s penchant for dramatics. Besides, the stroll had done him some good in organizing his thoughts. Dropping his gaze to the package Lissington had been fiddling with, Basil couldn’t help but be curious. He wasn’t sure if he had any right to really ask about it. Their friendship was tumultuous at best, but he didn’t want an awkwardly long silence to stretch either. He debated momentarily putting off his letter to Nee and asking Lissing to lunch, all danger of being spotted momentarily forgotten. It would be nice… anyway, to spend part of his birthday with the other. He doubted Lissing even knew what day it was, so that was all the better. Suddenly, Basil felt his palms grow clammy.

“Do you, er, have a lot to do this afternoon?” he asked, awkwardly. Basil glanced to the side and looked at a particularly rotund looking owl that reminded him of a giant Merlin. He focused in on its beady little eyes instead of Lissington’s own, perfect blue ones. “I have some time and I was just… heading to London for a bite, if you’d care to join?” It sounded so ridiculous now that he’d said it aloud. He was going to ask Lissington to trek all the way to London with him just for a bite? That seemed greatly inconvenient. Sticking to his guns however, Basil forced himself to refocus on the beautiful face in front of him (and not think about specifically, anything else.) Luckily fate seemed to intervene then and the woman behind the counter cleared her throat.

“Oh, erm, it looks like you’re next,” he offered, gesturing vaguely.

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Gus Lissington

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Gus laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck. If anyone understood dodging family members for no apparent reason other than he didn’t want to immediately face them, it was him. He’d spent far too many months making up excuses to not visit Fig, and it only been a few weeks ago that he’d visited his parents for the first time since Christmas - that had been an awkward encounter altogether. At least Fig had extended an invitation for him to meet her husband sometime in July, when they were back from their vacation.New York, she'd explained, and Gus just laughed because it was one of the few places he hadn't been yet. He dropped his hand back to his side. “Well, I’m glad I got to run into you.” Gus stated, as if it was a normal occurrence to continuously see Foxwood.

He eyed the package on the counter next to him, although the next set of words made his eyes snap to Basil’s face. They widened, and he fiddled nervously with the edge of his sleeve, having forewent any sort of gentleman clothing for robes. It was the summer and the only time he planned on wearing the stuffy clothing was when he absolutely had to; Gus still had to actually fill his closet with things that were deemed acceptable, but that meant he had to drag himself shopping. And that was at the very bottom of his to-do list. He certainly couldn't do it alone (Gus swore he was colorblind because he couldn't match anything to save his life, and when Fig said it was blue, he saw black.)

He shook his head. “I… well,” Gus cleared his throat. “Well, I’m actually going to play tennis with a couple of people I met in Irvingly for a late birthday thing. I’m living there for the summer while I figure out something more permanent.” If I even want to stick around forever or go back to curse breaking. Gus licked his lips, not sure why he felt the need to explain himself to Basil, but he did. Normally he’d jump at the chance to hang out with him, especially because it wasn’t often that Basil was the one to initiate. He felt his body release some tension as the other finally seemed to look at him. A grin spread across his features, and then a lightbulb finally seemed to go off his head.

But then the woman cleared her throat and Gus turned around with a smile on his face. “I’m sorry. You can help someone else. I'll only be a moment.” He shuffled off to the side before he turned his attention back toward the man. “The gift, Basil, you didn't have to, but thank you. I appreciate it.” It had been a surprise to find a package with his name on it from Basil Foxwood. The sweets had been tucked away because he wasn't ready to share them with Algernon yet, and the book he'd leafed through. But it had been the pocket watch he'd been most surprised to find nestled inside the package. He had barely noticed the inscription - he would have had it not been ingrained in his brain for a decade to look for miniscule details when it came to objects, as missing anything could have dire consequences. Gus had rubbed his fingers across the initials and the date; it hadn’t been the first time he’d laid eyes on Basil, they had shared classes over the years but never ran in the same circles, but rather the first date he’d talked to him, begging for help before he failed Transfiguration. The date had changed his life.

The pocket watch was heavy in his pocket, and he knew from the moment he opened it, it would be something he’d never be without again. In a split decision, Gus wrapped the box off the counter, not realizing he’d knocked the letter tucked into the twine free, leaving it on the counter behind him. “You’re here. So, happy birthday Basil.” Gus grinned at him and held the box out to him. He really did have to go, so he wouldn't be late. This would only take a second.

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Basil Foxwood

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Basil had to admit, though bit was still strange all these months later, it was… nice to hear Lissington say ‘it was nice to see you.’ Such a common, ordinary turn of phrase and yet it warmed something inside of him that the brunette had long thought frozen an tundra’d. He offered the red-head another quiet, lopsided little smile.

It would seem then that fate had other plans for them however and Basil could sense the awkwardness begin to stretch. Lissing had other plans. He had other plans, or he was making an excuse. Basil couldn’t even be sure anymore; not really. He wasn’t privy to these details as he once might have been. He also didn’t know exactly what… tennis was, but it sounded like a muggle past-time. (Was Lissington into muggle things? Since when was he spending time in Irvingly? Didn’t his family live in Hogsmeade?)

Embarrassment washed over Basil from head to toe and a nasty blush tore across his cheeks. Immediately the brunette dropped his gaze. “O-oh! Of course,” he replied quickly. The need to say anything more was overruled then by Lissing’s response to the woman behind the counter. Basil pondered quickly the fastest route to escape this horrible turn of events. Before he could however, Lissington was addressing him again and - by god - he was bringing up the birthday gift! The same gift Basil had been trying to avoid thinking about, tried to avoid waiting for an owl about, tried to avoid… altogether, forever. It had been stupid to send that pocket watch with the rest of the items. Too sentimental. Too… clingy. He’d regretted sending it almost the moment Merlin took off.

Basil’s whole face heated this time, to the tips of his ears, and the brunette felt himself nearly die on the spot. In fact, he was sure that some small part of him momentarily expired because one moment Lissing was thanking him and the next Basil found himself with his hands up, spluttering like an imbecile. “I-It was nothing! Just something dumb I’ve been holding onto for years.” He heard himself say. “I meant to remove the inscription since it was obviously from before and— er— …well I didn’t.” He ran a hand through his hair and forced a wretched laugh while staring at a hole in the floorboards. He was digging a grave. Why, and how to recover seemed to elude him. The woman behind the counter had definitely taken notice too and Basil felt himself melt into his embarrassment even more. What a perfectly horrid predicament.

Then, a box was being shoved in his direction and Basil grasped it without realizing what he was doing. He looked from the box to Lissington’s beaming face and everything inside of him ached. Ached hard.

It was like all the emotions from the past few months had decided to fall away and he was left standing there with only his eighteen year old, kicked-puppy heart and all the unresolved feelings he’d never managed to fully tuck away. It was his birthday again, just as it had been all those years ago, but this time instead of hiding in Atticus’ side under his brother’s sheets and refusing to talk or eat or come out, he was standing here, looking into the face that had made him feel so terribly small and lost. He didn’t blame Lissington anymore. They had mutually decided to set the blame aside. But - still - the pain was there: a ghost of what it had once been, jabbing him in the side.

Basil wrapped his fingers around the box without even looking at it. “Th-thank you,” he managed to stutter.

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Gus Lissington

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“Er…” He twisted his face in confusion; had Basil sent it because he had found it and wanted to be done with it? Gus wasn’t sure where they stood - sometimes the man was friendly while other times he felt like he was being pushed back to Egypt where neither of them had to deal with the other. He wanted to be friends with Foxwood, but he didn’t want to be the only one putting in effort. The man’s face was turning red and Gus felt the awkwardness spilling into the entire post office - he’d come here to avoid the entire situation, and his own cheeks flared red, matching his hair.

He’d unpack this entire situation later as he moved forward to shove the gift into Basil’s hands, watching him unsure of what to do with it. He grinned, widely. Gus was proud of this gift, even if the amount of effort that went into it was far more than he ever wanted to do early on a Sunday morning again. He nodded as the other thanked him before he cleared his throat. “Maybe sometime soon we can catch up? I’ll - I’ll owl you. If you don’t mind.” Gus stepped forward and clasped a hand against his shoulder before moving past him to the exit. “I’m so sorry to run out. Happy birthday, again.”

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Basil Foxwood

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   Basil Foxwood

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