This was such a mess.

And of course it got worse.

Mr. Foxwood came striding in and Torie had never wanted to fall through the floor so much in her entire life. If something could just swallow her whole, she would be much obliged. He must hate her. Every time he seemed to come swooping in, she had done something inappropriate. Well, at least this time she hadn't, even if it looked like she had.

Anthony made excuses and the tone of his voice tore right through her, bringing her crashing back down to reality. Panic struck her.

Basil grabbed her hand and she looked helplessly at Mr. Alderton before turning back to Basil. Whatever it was that was wrong with him was about to ruin her chance at happiness and she was not going to let it go without a fight. "Basil, I said I wished to leave once already, I will not repeat myself again. I do not know what has gotten into you, but it is making me uncomfortable and I cannot stay." Her voice held a tone of finality that she hoped would do the job. Hopefully Mr. Foxwood could handle his brother. Hopefully he didn't think her a complete harlot.

Torie had bigger things to worry about, namely Anthony and his sprint away from them. Torie wretched her hand from Basil's grasp and she hurried from the room after Anthony.

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The following 2 users Like Victoire Malfoy's post:2 users Like Victoire Malfoy's post
   Atticus Foxwood, Basil Foxwood

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Red again! June 1894

Looking like a wounded puppy, Anthony stood without taking his hand before speaking directly to Miss Victorie and fleeing the room. That was something he’d deal with after whatever… this was. Atticus’ eyes narrowed as Basil grabbed ahold of the poor lady while confessing his feelings for her (which almost made him laugh because he knew his brother well, and even if he did love her, which god he hoped he actually did, his words would be more much articulate than this!) his gaze shifted toward her and she looked like she was about ready to burst into tears. Ah, he felt for her.

“Basil, you heard Miss Malfoy. She wishes to leave and any true gentleman listens to what a lady wants.” Atticus drifted closer to his brother as she tore her hand away and fled the room. He sighed and while he itched to rub the bridge of his nose he didn’t trust Basil not to sprint after her. Rather, his hand shot out to grab ahold of his arm to anchor him in place. “Feeling quite alright?” He hummed as he glanced at him. Physically he looked fine. But he wasn’t sure (not that he was ever sure) what was going on inside of his head.

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The following 2 users Like Atticus Foxwood's post:2 users Like Atticus Foxwood's post
   Basil Foxwood, Victoire Malfoy

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In the end, Basil wasn’t sure he would ever understand what had gone awry. He heard Ms. Victoire’s protest with an empty head and a heavy heart, releasing her as she wrenched away. He opened his mouth to protest, determined that there was something - anything - he could do to change her mind, but he could feel the sinking ache in his gut anyhow. Desperation turned to anguish as the lady fled the room and his brother, for all Atticus’s faults, interceded.

Grey hues turned somewhat wildly to hazel. His brother and Poppy had the same gaze, colored by different emotions and different life experiences. Where his baby cousin was lively and passionately determined, Atticus was dead and spelled doom. “I am not alright,” the youngest insisted. “Did you not just bare witness to my ultimate humiliation? Why doesn’t she love me Atticus. What could I have possibly done differently?” He tugged his arm away from his brother feebly, making no real effort to distance himself. It was more a show of pride than anything. “Maybe I can still convince her. Perhaps she just needs further proof!” He paused for a moment, rounding on the other.

“Tell me, what did you do to win over the ever lovely Ms. Mountbatten?!” If Atticus had done it, surely Basil could too! They were extraordinarily different people but he’d try anything at this stage.

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Atticus Foxwood & muse song

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The following 2 users Like Basil Foxwood's post:2 users Like Basil Foxwood's post
   Atticus Foxwood, Victoire Malfoy

For what it was worth, Atticus tried his best not to laugh. He knew Basil inside and out, once upon times they had been best friends until life got in the way, and whoever this version was, was one that shocked even him. Of course he should be thrilled with how he was acting toward Ms. Victoire - it was what Atticus wanted after all, but there was something in his expression that worried him. Something that, without a doubt, he knew wasn’t real. His brother wasn’t ever a desperate individual, for attention and most certainly not for love – it was clear he was the victim of something. Basil sounded dejected and as he tried to pull his arm away, all he could do was tighten his grip.

“Hey, it’ll be ok. Why don’t we go home and talk about this? Come up with a plan.” Atticus curled his lips into a subtle smile but didn’t give his brother much as a choice as he apparated them to their home in Wellingtonshire; it was quiet here, away from the hustle and bustle, and hopefully a place Anthony wouldn’t come looking anytime soon. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to find his way back to the young lady either. After making sure he was going to vomit or fall over, Atticus released him and took a step back toward the house bell, giving it a quick tug to summon a house elf. “Sit on the bed and let’s talk.” He quietly ordered.

A knock on the door caught his attention moments later. Hazel eyes flashed toward his brother before he moved to open the door. “A sleeping potion, hastily. And someone to keep watch. He’s quite unwell right now.” The words came out quietly to prevent his brother from protesting. Zippy nodded and apparated away. Atticus leaned against the doorframe, not sure what kind of white lie he could give that was believable. He decided to remain quiet until Zippy returned, offering him the potion he’d requested while telling him she would watch Basil tonight.

He moved across the room to hold it out for him. “Drink. You’ll feel better, I promise. More coherent to think of something to win her back, eh?” In reality, Atticus hoped his brother slept soundlessly.

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Basil could sense his brother’s amusement at once and he was not pleased in the slightest! He heard the words the other uttered, the empty reassurances, but he didn’t have much choice than to weather it as Atticus’ iron-clad grip retained a hold. Again and again Basil asked himself that same question: why didn’t she love him? What had he done wrong?

Before much more could be done by way of remedying the situation however, he felt the stomach churning twist of apparition and grey hues went nearly crosseyed. When they landed in Wellingtonshire, familiar surroundings did nothing to calm the usually level-headed youngest. He frowned as Atticus finally released him and rang for a house elf, but complied with his brother’s wishes for the first time in many years without protest.

Basil sank onto the edge of the bed. The world felt like it was spinning. He didn’t feel drunk, per say, but he didn’t feel quite himself either. Keyed up and slightly desperate, the brunette pressed a hand to his abdomen. “I-I don’t understand Atticus, I love her!” he frowned, staring hard at the carpet underfoot. “It’s so obvious now. Ms. Victoire is the only woman I could ever conceive of marrying. Surely that has to count for something.” As the house elf came and went, Basil tugged at his fringe impatiently (and oblivious to Atticus’ machinations.) “It’s different than anything I’ve ever felt,” he continued, brow creased in deep, hazy thought. “It’s like Lissington but… but stronger.” Rambling words tumbled out before he could catch them. Perhaps this was territory he ought not tread… Even in his hazy, confused state, there was some semblance of self-preservation causing Basil to hesitate. He plowed on in another direction instead.

“I finally understand how such a sentiment can consume one, I’m just surprised I never realized!” As his brother neared, Basil turned worried, grey hues onto that familiar face. He felt almost like he was seeing Atticus for the first time in… years. New creases marred his smooth features, a look of concern flickered behind his hazel hues. How long had it been since Basil had stopped and bothered to notice his brother in such a way? Since he’d stopped to care. “How is it possible, Atticus?” he whispered, still distracted and ignoring the thing that was being handing to him. “How can I feel this way now? After so many months…” So many months of confused pining and then finally a realization with Lissington... So many months at Victoire’s side never once having conceived such a sentiment… “How can it hurt this badly, when I’ve never even realized it in the first place?” he groaned and flopped back onto the bed pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes in irritation.

(Love was for shmucks. That much Basil decided wholeheartedly in his abstract moment of humiliation.)

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Atticus Foxwood & muse song

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It was as if an occult hand had reached down and scrambled Basil’s brain, given how dejected the man looked. At least he sat down on the bed without arguing, leaving Atticus to call a house elf to procure a sleeping potion without questions. Basil would feel better in the morning, that much he was sure of, as long as he took the sleeping potion and it didn’t plague him with nightmares of what could have been. (Maybe it might be? Miss Victoire would understand that he hadn’t been in his right mind but the feelings were… there? Were true?)

Grey eyes shifted toward the man as he kept speaking; pursed his lips together to keep from frowning. “I know. But, Basil, if you want to court her, you need to take it slow. Show her that you love her instead of erm… professing your love so boldly.” Whatever the hell that was. He sighed quietly as his brother kept on rambling. Freezing at the mention of bloody Lissington and the very mention of love, Atticus snapped his teeth before he sighed quietly and turned toward him; the grey eyes his brother looked at him were wild, a hair desperate for answers he couldn’t give. Atticus frowned at him as he stepped forward. He could lead him away from the daft redhead, make him break whatever was forming between them, especially if what he felt for the Malfoy girl was stronger. Real. “That’s become one was a farce and someone you trusted led you astray. But Miss Victoire you have a solid friendship with, hm?” Of course they did.

Atticus moved to sit on the edge of the bed, handing him the drink that Basil didn’t even seem to notice. He sighed and balanced it on his leg. “Maybe you drank something, or ate something to amplify those feelings, but they wouldn’t have just surfaced out of nowhere. They were buried.” Buried under the false feelings that he might have for Lissington. Burn them, lose them, Atticus didn’t care what happened. “But it feels good, doesn’t it? To be in love with someone? We can come up with a plan tomorrow when you’re feeling better on how to approach her.” It was complicated with Anthony… but if this was real then he wanted to push Basil toward it before he went back into his shell. He moved to hand him the potion again.

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Basil heard all that Atticus was saying, could feel his brother trying to give good advice, to comfort him even. It was bizarre and unfamiliar, but in the midst of his clouded confusion, he found himself reaching for his brother in the dark. Years of angst and turmoil and misunderstanding could certainly jade him but in the end, Basil liked to think they’d always have one another’s best interests at heart, right? When it really mattered?

Atticus’ words filtered into his brain, logical but uncomfortable. Something… something about them twisted in his gut and just didn’t make sense. What he’d had with Gus was not a farce. It was… confusing, but it was real too. Wasn’t it? He felt a swelling pain in his abdomen at the thought of the pretty redhead, one that was eased at once as Atticus mentioned Victoire. Yes. Yes, they did have a solid foundation! A solid friendship! Basil sat up abruptly.

“No, nothing about this feels good!“ he proclaimed. “It… it feels weird, Atticus.” He stood, gently pushing aside the glass of green goo the other tried to hand him. “I’ve never felt this before, this desperate need to verbalize and hold and touch— it isn’t right!“ Pacing across the room now, Basil tugged at his fringe again as if that action alone could wash him free of the urge to touch Ms. Victoire. (If he wasn’t careful he was going to pull the hair out there.) He felt itchy and warm, uncomfortable in his own skin. “It feels empty, even though I can’t imagine my life without her. Maybe if I just explain to Victoire again, maybe we can make sense of it, together!” But deep down, Basil knew there was no making sense of it. It all felt forced, like some hand was pressing against his will, bending it and trying to convince him this was what he wanted. With some distance now between them, not obligated to see the lady’s pretty face five centimeters from his own, he could start to rationalize some of the fog.

He paused suddenly in the middle of the room as a strange thought occurred to him. “You know,” he mumbled without thinking. “It was nothing like kissing Lissington. I felt… an urge, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t as distinctly overwhelming.”

There was a pause in which Basil considered.

Then, face blooming red as he finally realized what he was saying, the brunette instantly clammed up. Merlin’s beard there was something wrong with him! He could absolutely not talk to his brother about his… urges: male, female, or otherwise! Hands came up to press deep into his eye sockets again, frantically, and he turned his back on Atticus. “Maybe you’re right,” he deflected, hoping agreement would distract them both from whatever had just happened. “Maybe tomorrow will bring more clarity.”

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Atticus Foxwood

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A frown pressed against his lips as he watched his brother’s outburst before he stepped forward to sit on the edge of the bed. The potion was cold as it settled against his pant leg, probably hastily thrown together by the house elves with ingredients locked away in the kitchen for emergencies like that. Basil was pacing the room before he could push him back down on the bed, causing Atticus to just frown at him. “Basil, I know it’s weird, whatever you’re feeling. Love can be a powerful thing.” Although he wasn’t quite sure what his brother was saying. Was he in love with Miss Victoire or was he simply overwhelmed with feelings? He hoped it was the former as it would make things a lot simpler, especially as he mentioned that blasted Lissington.

Atticus snapped his teeth together. “There’s a difference between infatuation like you had with…” He couldn’t even bring himself to spit out his name, although his eyes did narrow and fingers gripped the bottle tighter until his knuckles blanched. What a disgusting little bastard, taking advantage of Basil like that. “You have a curious mind, Basil and probably wanted to do it for the sake of learning. And now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, look at what you have in front of you. A beautiful young lady with impeccable social standing.” A Malfoy would make a great addition to the Foxwood clan, plus he quite liked her.

Standing then, he stepped toward the younger male, hand reaching out to gently grasp his upper arm. He pulled him toward the bed. “It will. Tomorrow you’ll have a fresh mind which will bring better ideas. Right now though, I think it’s time for you to get some rest.”

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Basil knew, inherently, that he wasn’t likely to escape that remarkable little confession that still felt heavy and peppery against his tongue. He wanted to claw it back, rake his fingers across his mouth and force himself to swallow it up. Atticus’ snap only made him wince like he’d been slapped across the face. Infatuation. Was that all it had been? Could he ever really, truly get Gus Lissington out of his system? (If history had proven anything, the answer was glaringly obvious…)

He felt that lovesick queasiness overtake again, the overwhelmingly conscious thought of Victoire and how Atticus was right. He did have something marvelous in front of him. They just had to strategize about how best to get it. To hell with Lissington, Basil had bigger problems now. Like Anthony and trying to convince the girl he adored that he was worth a second of her time, much less that she ought to marry him!

Swinging back on the pendulum, Basil was startled as Atticus took him by the arm. He didn’t protest. He was getting seasick from this back and forth, this pressure he felt on his nerves for both Victoire and Lissington. Perhaps sleep was the best alternative. Settling on the edge of the bed again, Basil finally accepted the green goo. It was probably a sleeping draught. He took a sip, letting it warm him from the inside out. Chamomile and honeysuckle, sunshine and red hair.

“Atticus,” he finally said breaking the silence after a long pause. His voice was quiet and he turned to lean gently on his brother’s person much as he had when they were younger, tucking his face away from the eldest even as his head came to rest on the shoulder there. The question on the tip of his tongue felt heavy. He wanted to dispose of it, to chuck it into the air and see where it would land. At his brother’s resounding hum, Basil swallowed a thick lump in the back of his throat. “Would you still care for me if… if it wasn’t just an infatuation?” His voice quieted even more, if that was possible. “Will you hate me, terribly, if I prove a disappointment?”

Will you hate me if I wake up tomorrow and don’t want to marry Victoire?

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Atticus Foxwood

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Finally Basil seemed to settle and took the sleeping draught from him. Atticus sighed quietly as he sank down next to him, content now that his brother had taken it, although he could only hope it worked quickly. The last thing Basil needed was for these types of thoughts to consume him all night and into the morning — it was a new year and he wanted him to start it off right rather than fretting over whatever this was. Atticus needed to talk to Miss Victoire for her side of the story, although he wasn’t going to wedge himself in the middle considering that Anthony had also been there.

His name pulled himself from his thoughts, grey hues flickering over to Basil as he leaned against him. It was comforting even for him, but then again it had been a long time since either of them had sought comfort from the other. Atticus missed his brother but they both had to grow up sometimes. He hummed quietly at the question, waiting for him to continue on with whatever he had to say, although his entire body stilled. Would he hate him if he felt something for Lissington? It wasn’t humanly possible for that to happen and he knew his brother was smarter than that; he’d make the right decision to love someone he was supposed to. Everyone had a choice in who they loved and Basil would pick Lissington over his dead body. “I couldn’t hate you. But you can pick anyone in the world to love Basil, so don’t make it him. That is what will be disappointing. Depriving yourself of a family and children is something you’ll regret.”

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The following 1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post:1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post
   Basil Foxwood

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Basil felt a sleepiness overtaking his senses as his question lingered in the oblivion between them. He turned his face to nuzzle into his brother’s person, wrapping an arm uncharacteristically tight around him as if scared to let go. He wasn’t conscious enough to feel real concern over Atticus’ response the way he should have, but he felt the endless silence stretch. When the words finally came, something in his heart pinched terribly.

Responses tripped over themselves in his mind, tongue too heavy to vocalize them. What if I don’t want that life? What if I don’t have that choice? …What if it’s already too late? He sighed instead, feeling a sickening turn in his stomach. He tightened his grip around his older brother’s waist. “Stay with me?” He prompted instead, changing the subject. It wouldn’t be long now until Basil lost all will to remain awake anyhow. He felt it was important to hold into this moment, this softness, that he missed so much.

“I miss you, Atticus,” he mumbled sleepily. A yawn escaped and he was barely able to raise his hand to contain it. Maybe, if he was good, then Atticus would stay and run his fingers through Basil’s hair, like when they were children. He sighed against the thought, grey eyes flickering closed.

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Atticus Foxwood

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Basil was always his weakness. Probably always would be too, and he stared down at his little brother with grey hues, watching the confusion and anguish flicker across his face, like a storm waiting to ruin him. Maybe in the morning he’d feel bad, but right he couldn’t – didn’t. Atticus reached forward to brush his brother’s bangs from his face as he nodded, not caring to drag them back into a fight neither of them had the energy for right now. This wasn’t how he wanted to ring in the new year, angry and bitter with one of the few people he adored more than anything.

Atticus tugged the covers over his brother like he’d done a million times before he laid atop them, bringing his hands up to stroke Basil’s hair like he had when they were children. “I miss you too.” He murmured softly. It was true, although it’d take a lot more than a single night to fix what was broken between them. Suki was waiting for him though, so once Atticus knew Basil was truly asleep, he slipped out of bed to go back to the party, although not before he pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. They were still broken, but at least they weren’t shattered beyond repair.

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The following 1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post:1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post
   Basil Foxwood

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