September, 29. 1892 - late evening, HOH Room Ravenclaw Tower

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.

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Dear Ms. 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.

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Dear Ms. 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.

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

respectfully,
Basil Foxwood

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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.

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Victoire Malfoy

  

September 30th, 1892

Professor Foxwood,

No apologies necessary, I assure you. I would very much like to promenade this weekend. London or Hogsmeade? I fear it may be a bit chilly, but we shall endure. Is everything alright? It feels like ages since I've seen you and it has only been a month since the start of term!

Sending my warmest regards.

Most Sincerely,
V. Malfoy

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   Basil Foxwood

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Red again! June 1894

September, 30. 1892

In the light of a new day, with more of his wits than he'd had the evening prior, Basil read the concern in Ms. Victoire's letter and he felt embarrassed. It had been rather spur of the moment, his whim. Still, he was pleased to be able to talk to her Saturday. There was simply something about Ms. Malfoy that managed to settle Basil's nerves. She was charming and sweet and best of all, expecting nothing of him. He could almost be himself with her, at least insomuch as he could shelter his sails behind her when he needed to and be met with understanding. It was unusual for him to find such solace in an upperclass peer, female too, but welcome nonetheless.

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Dear Ms. Malfoy,

How about London? I can come to you. I'll even bring a firelight and some pumpkin pasties for your sacrifice.

It has felt like a rather extended absence, hasn't it? I'm doing about as well as could be expected. A lot of new responsibility, but I've mostly managed.

I am excited to see you, Saturday. There's been a lot weighing on my mind and frankly, seeing you is all that has kept me afloat.

respectfully,
Basil Foxwood

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Victoire Malfoy

  

September 30th, 1892

Professor Foxwood,

Well, just sweeten the pot why don't you? Coming to me and with presents? My mother will have something to say about that! Of which I will spend the next week giving her vaguely frustrating answers, enough to keep her guessing and interested at the very least. It is quite an amusing game to play.

I'm glad to hear the return to school has gone as expected. It must get easier every year, no? Like I've told you, I cannot imagine teaching. What work that must be!

I look forward to seeing you as well, I am intrigued to hear what it is you have to share, my darling friend. See you Saturday.

Most Sincerely,
V. Malfoy

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   Basil Foxwood

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Red again! June 1894