August 20th, 1894 — Curios Apothecary, Knockturn Alley

Being in this part of London was always strange to Basil. No matter how many times he navigated Diagon Alley the chaos of it was always so stark in contrast to the eeriness of Knockturn. Here even shadows seemed to crawl in the brazen light of day but nothing, not even the unsettling hoot of something that was decidedly not an owl could deter him. No, Basil Foxwood was on a mission today. A mission to smoke out the one man he hadn’t seen in quite some time and who, for all intents and purposes, could serve as the best distraction to all the ongoings in his own life that Basil wanted to step away from, just for an afternoon.

Agrimony Macnair, for all his peculiarities, had a way of setting Basil’s mind to straights when the Ravenclaw most needed it. And these days, Basil needed it. Macnair’s perspective, his view of the world, was curious enough that it could turn even his most academic moment on its side, forcing Basil to see the world through another lens and - more often than not - come out of their exchanges with greater clarity. He needed a dose of such reality the longer this summer wore on, even if there were (mostly) positive things coming from his days as late.

Basil rounded a bend that he was almost certain would lead him to Curios Apothecary, but it did not. Skittish now as something slithered by his feet, the Ravenclaw huffed indignantly to himself. This was ridiculous. He ought to have just invited Agrimony for tea but instead, his impatience about this whole novel business had led Basil here: to some bizarre back corner of London in which he was wholly unfamiliar. Deciding a cigarette might settle his nerves, Basil pulled one from his waistcoat and gave it a light. One, two, three puffs and he felt his mind settle a bit. (It had been some time since he’d smoked; Mama had thought to finally have her way, but alas!) He carried on around another bend.

There. Finally. With a sense of some slight relief, Basil marched up to the front of Macnair’s shop and gave his cigarette another few puffs. He was loathe to leave it behind now, having just settled in, but it would be rude to impose. So, stomping it out, brushing himself off, and giving his waistcoat a small tug to tidy his appearance, Basil made to enter the shop. Overhead a small bell tinkled. “Macnair?”

The shop was empty inside and Basil looked about for Macnair with some curiosity as grey hues caught on every number of imaginable invention. The Slytherin had really made something for himself here, Basil couldn’t deny it. If only he held shop in a more savory location, then the Ravenclaw might venture forth all the more. (But maybe that was the point.) Deciding it didn’t matter as he caught his reflection in a bit of silver, Basil focused instead on brushing his bangs to the side. He looked a right mess! A few more brushes and nothing happened to improve his appearance so Basil sighed. Well, at least he was charmingly academic. (Or so he hoped.)

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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This fucking profession was going to be the death of him. A load of cargo having been dropped off last night, Agrimony had stayed up all night disassembling muggle weapons, the air thick with soot and Merlin only knew what kinds of particulates. A simple wave of his wand had cleared the air enough, but his hands were still thoroughly black with dust as he deposited the load of casings in one corner while he went to the cauldron to see how the concoction was coming along. Before he could reach the table, he was overcome with a fit of coughs and nearly doubled over as he caught his breath. Sweat dripped from his brow, and Agrimony reached into his pocket to dab at his already dirty skin before he tucked the kerchief back into its slot.

The air was hot, and he barely remembered the last time he’d eaten. He was only about to go close up shop when he heard the bell ring. Fucking hell. Who the hell could that have been? He slipped out, in absolutely no mood to be cordial or hospitable. “We’re closed.” He announced bluntly, glaring at the person’s back as he leaned against the cupboard. But then he saw who it was. He only softened his glare a little. “What are you doing here, Foxwood?”

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   Basil Foxwood

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Basil couldn’t help but jump as Macnair’s voice barked at him that the shop was closed. He hadn’t realized as much, else he wouldn’t have barged in so brazenly. Clearing his throat a little and turning with a rueful look that clearly indicated he’d been caught preening, the brunette raised his chin. “Nothing much, just attempting to sniff you out of this hole that seems to have swallowed you up.” He offered Macnair a lopsided little grin and let grey irises dance over the blonde’s form.

He was filthy, covered in soot, and looking a little sleep deprived if the look on his face was any indication. Basil’s urge to nurture caused him to frown upon realization and he resisted the urge to take a step closer to wipe Macnair’s face himself. “What happened to you?” He asked, bluntly. “You look as if you’ve been blown out the back of a misbehaving Floo.”

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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Foxwood was way too cheerful for this time of day, whatever time it might be. His comments only earned him a scowl from Agrimony, and he raised his eyebrow. He coughed. “Been working,” he said, and if Foxwood had hoped for any more context than that, he was shit out of luck. “Not all of us can live in a pretty castle teaching the bright young minds of the generation.” He added as he went to the window and started to close the window shutters. He coughed again. It must be the excess dust he'd inhaled from the shipment.

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The look on Macnair’s face could have withered a squash and Basil felt himself grin back in response. Was he irritating? Possibly. Did he care? Not as much as he likely should have. Macnair needed a little push every now and again, to revisit the real world— and that said something, coming from Mr. Anti-society himself. Not that Basil was interested in dragging him to a ball, but for coffee? It had certainly crossed his mind.

The response was as blasé and un-informative as he’d expected, but such was the norm with Agrimony. Basil tossed the other another cheeky grin at his quip about living in the castle. “I’m sure the headmaster would have you, too, if you only asked.” He chuckled at the thought of Macnair teaching any subject and dealing with the aforementioned ‘bright young minds.’ He could certainly do it, Basil was absolutely confident, but would he want to? Not a chance in hell. Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, the brunette leaned against the nearest wall. “Or I could transfigure you into a toad and bring you back as my pet. Your choice.” He teased, eyes glinting.

There had been a time once when Basil had accused Macnair of being unlike a frog prince in disguise; a time that had been followed by a rather surprising kiss that he tried very hard not to dwell on now. Whether he was successful or not was his own business.

Before Basil could get awkward about it however, Macnair coughed and not for the first time in the past few minutes. A slight pinch of concern came to his brows and Basil straightened a bit. “That cough sounds rather settled,” he observed. “Have you been well?” Sleeping, at all? he wanted to add.

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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At the prospect of potentially teaching at Hogwarts, Agrimony scowled. Surrounded by dozens of small children who only knew how to complain? He’d rather drink dishwater. Or - apparently, be turned into a toad. But Agrimony made his distaste for both options quite clear as he began shutting down the entire shop, starting with shuttering the windows.

“What do you want, Foxwood?” Agrimony bit out as he walked around the store, tapping boxes or jars that needed to be refilled. Those selected floated to the counter where they would be replenished. “I’m busy and I need to fill a few orders for tonight.” He coughed out, completely bypassing Foxwood’s question, if only to get him moving more to the point of why he stopped in the shop.

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Macnair’s obvious lack of interest in both of Basil’s suggestions made the brunette snicker to himself. He was not so blind as to see the hint that was less than subtly being passed over him with the whole shuttering of windows and moving of jars, but it didn’t make him any more inclined to go, either. Ignoring Macnair’s question then the same way his had been ignored, Basil made to lean on the nearest shelf, making himself comfortable.

“Perhaps I can help,” he offered instead. “Fill orders and the like. I’ve always wondered what it is you actually do, anyway, and this seems like the perfect opportunity to find out.” Another cheeky grin stole its way across his face as Basil waited for Macnair to come up with a good reason why he couldn’t. He didn’t want to go but he also didn’t really have any particularly good reason for coming all the way down here in search of his old friend. Perhaps being needy and just… missing him was enough, but Basil would be damned if he admitted as much out loud.

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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He was about to respond to Foxwoood; air had whistled down his throat and instead of speaking, Agrimony doubled over, coughing violently. Tears stung his eyes as he recovered, wiping at his mouth. “Just go home, Foxwood.” Dear fuck, why wouldn’t this man just mind his own business? He glowered at the intruder, at his easy grin and wondering what in god’s name had gotten him in such a good mood. And why the hell he had chosen Agrimony to bestow his annoying, sunny disposition upon.

He opened his mouth once more, but then coughing overtook him again. His shoulders heaved, and he doubled over again, this time having to cough into a handkerchief. And this time when he pulled away, a flash of red caught his eye.

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Just go home. Those three little words shouldn’t have tugged at Basil’s frustration as much as they did standing there in the middle of (arguably) the last part of magical London he really wanted to be in. He’d made an effort to come see Macnair, for whatever bloody reason he couldn’t well articulate, and being told to all but shove off was not sitting well, even as Agrimony glared at him. Basil had half a mind to point it out and start something of an argument until a bout of coughing derailed his mood and caused, instead, a worried crease to pinch at the Ravenclaw’s brows.

This was the second time Macnair had doubled over like that. There was certainly something amiss here, even if the Slytherin was loathe to admit it.

“I won’t,” he responded, jutting out his chin forcibly and crossing the room to hover by Macnair’s side. His voice softened and one hand came to settle just gently on the blonde’s back as Agrimony continued to cough. It really sounded bad. Basil tugged his wand free and summoned a chair to force the other into. “There’s something going on with you, Macnair,” he murmured quietly. Perhaps it was nothing, but it could also very well be something. Basil was about to ask if he could give the former Slytherin a once over - wracking his brain for what minuscule healing magic he knew - when a bloody handkerchief pulled away from the blonde’s mouth and caught both their attentions.

There was a silent beat between them.

Grey hues flashed up worriedly towards blue and Basil sucked in a short breath, one hand coming to shove Macnair back into the seat by his shoulder in the same motion. He wasn’t going to bother asking. Before Basil could rationalize what he was doing, he’d pressed his free hand up under Agrimony’s fringe to check for a temperature. It was clammy. “When was the last time you’ve seen a healer?” He demanded to know, voice wavering between a soft hush and just plain rudeness. (Concern lingered somewhere between the lines there too, but that would get him nothing and so Basil kept the sentiment neatly tucked away until he could reflect upon it later.) “And before you tell me to shove off again, just know I won’t until we’ve resolved this.”

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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“There are plenty things going on with me, just close your eyes and pick one,” Agrimony coughed out. The taste of copper clung to his tongue, metallic and bitter. He was shoved into a chair, his throat seizing again. Doubling over, Agrimony gave into coughing until blood splattered across his shoes.

Well, fuck, maybe he did need help.

It was just as the thought crossed his mind that Foxwood’s hand pressed against his forehead. It was such a foreign gesture to him, Agrimony almost flinched away. Still, he scowled as it was solidified that help was here to stay and he wasn’t going anywhere either. “I don’t know, Foxwood — my last check up?” He rasped, the bite of sarcasm clinging to his tone like molasses. He hardly ever went to the healer unless it really was needed; which, he supposed, now was likely a time as any to get himself to a healer. Or get a healer to him.

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