Jan 3. 1892 - Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle (midday)

The Great Hall was startlingly crowded, though Basil shouldn’t have expected much for the first day of the spring term. 1892. A fresh new year, with a fresh new start. Students milled about all catching up with one another about their holiday and swapping gifts or stories they hadn’t managed to share quite yet. Basil for his own right was chaperoning/keeping an eye out until the opening term feast began. He meandered about, assisting students where they needed with luggage and the like. It was days like this Basil wished he could step in as the Ravenclaw Head of House. He had such an affinity for his house and his students, though he wasn’t particularly biased against any house. He just would have liked to help set-up the common room and assist his house with their needs. He knew better than most what it was to be a Ravenclaw returning for the start of a new term.

His own return had been rocky, at best. Basil had come up a day early, making the train ride yesterday evening instead. It had given him some time to settle in and organize not only his office and sleeping quarters, but also update the classroom a little bit. He’d needed the break to escape Atticus and the stifling nature of their relationship. It was starting to become painful being home; Atticus was more adamant than ever to see him socially acceptable and - potentially - married off; Eldritch was obviously living his own life in London with new friends and acquaintances; even his mother had her own friends and life to attend to. It left Basil feeling a little worse for wear and self-pitying. He knew he ought’nt though. He had plenty in his life to be grateful for and if he was alone, it was of his own doing.

A first year carrying a much too large owl cage toddled by him and Basil watched, half a smile on his face, as the sprightly little Hufflepuff made his way out into the hall. Yes, he had plenty to be grateful for here. He had an illustrious career, wonderful students, and he did have friends even if they were superficial or sparse. Basil laced his fingers behind his back and continued to meander around, offering assistance or simply nodding to those who greeted him. Yes, he was happy the way he was. There was no doubt about it.

---

Gus Lissington & cue mood music

---

  

The act of coming back to Hogwarts had been surprisingly harder than Gus had expected. The few days prior to break ending had turned his entire world upside down; whereas he’d spent the majority of the past few years without the concept of time, traveling to and from tombs and magical sites as the ministry saw fit, Hogwarts offered a rigid schedule. He was taking it one day at a time, trying to make heads or tails of what it meant to be a professor here, rather than a student. Gus had always been the adventurous type (something that no one who knew him was shocked about, seeing as he’d become a Curse Breaker at the age of eighteen to run off to see the world). But now, back in the halls, he wasn’t adventurous enough to step out of his comfort zone.

Shutting the door to his room, his luggage still neatly packed sitting atop his desk, Gus muttered a locking spell and stepped into the halls officially as Professor Lissington. There, he followed the crowds toward the Great Hall, flashing a smile at curious students who watched him. It wasn’t every day a professor started midyear. His return to London had been hasty, even for him. Returning to Hogwarts following holiday breaks had always been one of Gus’ favorite, especially his last year, when he could finally return to the same location as Foxwood –

As if his thoughts summoned him, Gus stopped at the entrance of the Great Hall, muttering an apology to the young Hufflepuff who had nearly run into him, to gawk at Basil Foxwood. He was smiling, a feature that still, ten years later, made his face light up in a way Gus couldn’t put into words. He looked nearly the same, handsome as always. He sucked in a deep breath, willed himself some courage and forced his feet across the gap between them. They hadn’t spoken, not since Gus had asked Foxwood to travel with him to Egypt to be together without prying eyes. He had broken the Hufflepuff’s heart.

That thought made him come to a halt almost immediately; a terrible idea in retrospect, as the young Ravenclaw behind him had expected him to keep moving, and the poor owl’s cage nearly clattered to the ground before Gus made a move to grab it. It hooted angrily at him. The trunk wasn’t as lucky and clunked against the floor, some of the contents spilling out across the floor. The kid looked as mortified as Gus felt.

Every spell to help dissipated from his thoughts.

****
Basil Foxwood

---

The following 1 user Likes Gus Lissington's post:1 user Likes Gus Lissington's post
   Basil Foxwood

A sudden crash from just behind made Basil jump slightly in alarm. Immediately the professor had his hand in his coat pocket reaching for his wand when he turned only to see an overturned trunk and a disgruntled owl. He recognized the student scrambling to collect their things but not the man that, it appeared, they had collided with? Basil made his way over and with a quick wave of his wand, all the student’s things floated back into their rightful places. Even the owl ruffled its feathers as if re-settling when its cage landed in its owner's arms.

“Alright there, Mr. Darby?” he asked. The student, this time a second year Ravenclaw, nodded at him with huge eyes and said nothing. Darby was shy, that much Basil remembered from class. He gave the boy an encouraging smile and with that, the little second year scuttled off quickly. Basil chuckled, watching him go. Then, turning back to address the gentleman who had his back turned, Basil wondered idly if it was a lost parent. Sometimes the parents or chaperones made their way up to the castle trying to assist their student and ended up wandering around in confusion. As the man turned to face him however, all color drained from Basil’s face. 

How long had it been since he’d seen that visage: so familiar, so charming, so… close. It was one that, frankly, Basil never thought he’d be forced to confront again. Not after everything that had transpired between them in the past. And yet, standing there in all his glory was Augustus Lissington.

Shock reverberated through Basil’s bones, all the way down to his toes. It was a sensation he was sure he hadn’t felt since at least his seventh year. How fitting it was to feel again here, of all places, between these castle walls. But why? What on Earth was Lissing doing at Hogwarts of all places. Basil’s heart suddenly sank. Unless he was one of the lost parents, dropping off their student a nasty little voice chirped in his ear.

“Lissington!” he burst out. (Basil alarmed even himself at his own sudden volume.) “My good chap, how are you?” Extending a hand in his old friend’s direction, a fake smile plastered itself to Basil’s face and his eyes grew rather wider than perhaps was necessary. Everything about his tone and joviality was forced, but Basil pressed on. “When did you get back to London? I thought you were still traveling abroad.”

---

Gus Lissington & cue mood music

---

  

Gus watched with an elevated interest as Foxwood interacted with a student - undoubtedly, one he’d spent the past few months getting to know. He was going to have to step up his game and learn about his own students quickly if he expected to help them in the same manner Foxwood did. (He’d be lying if he said his eyes weren’t drawn to his hands as he drew his wand, a breath of.. relief, guilt, hope escaping him as he saw it was still ringless.)

The owl floated from his grasp and Gus allowed it, turning his full attention to Foxwood. A flicker of emotions crossed his face, some he didn’t, couldn’t recognize any longer. He seemed to settle on one, and the burst of noise made Gus take a minuscule step back. His eyes were wide, wired with something Gus didn’t like, and the smile he forced would be etched into tales meant to scare children. It didn’t suit him. Then a hand was being offered to him, a good mannered question tossed in his direction. If Gus could crumble it up and toss it back at his face and scoff, he would.

Instead he rooted his feet to the ground and took his hand, forcing his smile onto his lips; they were just as soft as he remembered, and he quickly dropped his hand, aware of how calloused his own had become. They twisted together behind his back as he huffed a laugh, and then settled against his hips. “I suppose I’m excited to be back. I haven’t walked these halls in a decade. Glad to see they haven’t changed much.”

Gus chuckled awkwardly as he took a moment to gaze around; his time at Hogwarts had been some of the best years of his life, despite the ending to it all. Could he hold it against Foxwood for not wanting to follow him on a whim at eighteen? (The obvious answer was yes, although Gus refused to travel down that path again. They weren’t, couldn’t be, ever again.)

Instead he threw him a lopsided grin. “I had enough of the curse breaking business for now, and Headmaster Black is permitting me to start mid year.” It would be a change for sure, but Gus was always up for a challenge. Watching young students learn and master spells, perhaps he should have done this years ago. He had little desire to divulge him with details - Gus hadn’t returned a single letter, for good reason. Foxwood was never interested in the details. ”And how have you been, Foxwood? It’s been quite a while.”

****
Basil Foxwood

---

  

As he stood there, wires fried and unsure of exactly how to act - how to feel - Basil hoped desperately his old friend would not dredge up the past. What was done was buried and the sooner they could get this unfortunate little reunion over with, the sooner they could both be on their way, paths unlikely to cross much again. Only then, when he was safely alone, could Basil sit and processes how he felt about it all this.

It was odd, he had to admit, seeing Lissing here again. After their last parting, sad as it had been, Basil hadn’t ever thought he’d find happiness again. He’d chosen then his studies, research, career over… friendship, happiness and travel. But everyone recovered from heartbreak, no matter how trivial or dramatic, and he ought to have known one day he’d face this daemon again. This ghost from the past come back to haunt him.

Shaking his friend’s hand with too much gumption, Basil felt his nerves light on fire. He had always been a person who relied on touch to communicate affection, understanding, camaraderie. So why then did shaking Lissing’s hand suddenly feel so dramatically alarming? It was like doxys were running rampant through his stomach cavity. Basil nodded at the typical comment he got from most parents who’d attended Hogwarts: “hasn’t changed much.” No sir, and/or madam, it did not tend to change much. That lopsided smile he was thrown however, that rooted Basil in place before he could respond.

Blinking, Basil was silent as the man’s words sunk in. Headmaster Black. Start mid year. He couldn’t mean… “N-no…” Basil stuttered, dumbstruck. “Y-you mean you’re here as staff?” Saying it aloud was even worse than he’d possibly imagined. It was like a cold bucket of water had been thrown over his head. Basil couldn’t help but snort a derisive laugh. How could Lissing have accepted a position at Hogwarts and not had the decency to even write him? The shock of that reality stung more than the man’s abrupt arrival, honestly.

Had he stopped to consider, really consider, Basil might have found even more alarm in the fact that his only solace was now being pulled out from under him. Yes, while it was a touch dramatic, it was true. Hogwarts had always been his only escape from the reality of... well, outside life. Here Basil was regarded highly; he was talented, he was appreciated for being the eccentric way he was. He didn't have to hide here or tip-toe around anyone with a tumultuous past. Now he would not be so free as that. Now he would feel a constant presence, always looking over his shoulder trying to avoid this red-head mess.

Reigning his rampant emotions in, Basil laced his fingers behind his back firmly out of sight. He tried to compose himself, forcing the shock and hurt from his face, and considered something - anything - he could say about how things were going. “Oh, very well,” he replied dismissively. “I’ve been published a few times” many times “for my efforts in transfigurative research, but the day to day is not much different than when you last saw me.” He shrugged a little. It was true; he still spent the majority of his time holed up in this castle, reading and writing and studying. I wasn't meant as a dig, but it came out that way. My, my, how things had not changed…

---

Gus Lissington & cue mood music

---

  

Foxwood snorted a laugh and Gus merely blinked owlishly at him, finding every word in his vocabulary a jumble of letters and noises. He opened his mouth but words did not come to him; sound did not happen. His eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion and unadulterated guilt pressing into the lines of his face. They’d only been speaking for a moment - how could he have offended him so quickly? He supposed that Hogwarts, in a sense, had become Foxwood’s world. A world he hadn’t been welcomed into in some years.

His fingers twisted against his hips almost painfully before he raised his head. Like it or not, they were about to share the same space again. He’d take the high road. A decade or so had passed since they’d seen each other face to face, and while still hurt, Gus had learned to live with the brokenness. (Time in fact, did not heal all wounds. It just buried them.) Ancient memories, concealed so deep Gus would have chalked them up to delusional daydreams had Foxwood not been in front of him dredging them up, would mock him at every turn. But he could deal with ghosts - that was something he most certainly hadn’t, and wouldn’t ever be frightened of.

“Yes sir. Newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.” He finally replied, giving a small nod. It had been a spur of the moment decision for him to accept the position upon the offer, and even he had stared at himself in the mirror for a long while. Surprise had been etched into his features, although he had quickly accepted that he was ready to move on from being a curse breaker. (There were four months of his life he couldn’t recount because he’d been trapped inside a genie bottle; there was something unsettling about losing so much time without a single memory to reach back and touch.)

Gus frowned then, at Foxwood’s next set of words. He’d always sold himself short, although he’d blame Atticus for that. He was never quite good enough for his brother. “Oh, yes!” He exclaimed, a small burst of laughing bubbling out of his throat. “Something about transfiguration and class, right? I remember reading it.” I’ve read everything you’ve published, even if I didn’t quite understand it. My coworkers mocked me for it, albeit lovingly, but I never stopped being proud of your accomplishments. Instead, he settled on, “You have always had a knack for writing. I suppose I’ll have to ask you to read over anything I write.”

Without thinking, Gus reached out to clap his hand against his shoulder; it lingered for a moment before he pulled back rather abruptly while mumbling a quick apology.

****
Basil Foxwood

---

  

Defense Against the Dark Arts. Well… Basil couldn’t say Lissing didn’t have the experience for it. After the… incident, or perhaps in lieu of it, the red-head had gone off to trot the globe breaking curses and exploring. He was a right Lewis and Clark impersonation, save that maybe Basil should have been the Clark to his Lewis. Shaking his head of those thoughts, Basil ran a hand through his hair. It was just too long to be comfortable, but not long enough yet that it was too entirely disheveled when he mussed it, only a touch. Thankfully.

He was surprised then, when Lissing pronounced he’d read Basil’s last publication. A small furrow tickled his brow despite the false smile still plastered across his face. “Y-yes, I suppose I have…” he replied.

It was so odd now, this idea of having to cohabitate. The whole of it hadn’t quite sunk in yet for Basil, but he knew once it did things would become frightfully awkward around here. He felt the need to sigh; this was just perfectly what he didn’t need. The one place that he’d been able to escape from, well reality, was about to become just as dully uncomfortable as the stifling ballrooms he so hated. Worse even; he had to face this ghost head-on and couldn’t skirt around it with vague pleasantries. Lissing knew him too well for that.

As the other clapped a hand on his shoulder, Basil felt his skin crawl at the contact. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d imagined it might be and that alarmed him very much. Touch had always been a language of its own between them, once upon a time. Much as he and Nee had their own non-verbal communication through touch, so it had been with Augustus once. But now, after all this time, Basil had lost all sense of that language for being out of practice and he couldn’t be sure what any of it meant. Skirting out from under the gesture gently, he rubbed the back of his head.

“Are you staying in the castle or have you struck up a residence in Hogsmeade?” He asked, hoping it sounded casual. Perhaps, if Lissing wasn’t staying here, it wouldn’t be quite so bad. There would be some space between them, at the very least.

---

Gus Lissington & cue mood music

---

  

Foxwood ducked out from under his touch and Gus assumed he’d done it as a friendly gesture; the pair had
been quite… close during their final year at Hogwarts, and much of what the Hufflepuff could recall was always touching him in some aspect: pressing their shoulders together, fingers lingering against each other as they walked down the hallway, locking themselves in abandoned classrooms to do a lot more than that - while it hadn't ever gotten physical, he knew that they were a level beyond friendship. He had enjoyed that the most.

“Oh my goodness!” Gus abruptly pulled himself from any lingering thoughts as his cheeks flaming red. That was a decade ago! His gaze shot around the hall, as if he suddenly remembered just how packed it was. He was thankful no one was staring at him. Then he was huffing an awkward laugh at Foxwood, matching his gesture as he rubbed the back of his own head, finally realizing he had spoken. He hoped to fake the same enthusiasm his embarrassment had caused him. “I am so excited to be living in the castle again!”

Gus hadn’t ever minded making a fool of himself; most of the time he was able to laugh it off, although there had been times where he’d slunk away with his tail between his legs. He’d gotten better at that as he’d gotten older. He swallowed his pride and dropped his hand from his head, choosing to flash him a grin again. “ I am assuming you are living on the grounds as well?” Gus hummed.

It would be interesting to run into Foxwood at any turn, and while he thought the man before him would like to draw a line down the middle of the castle and demand Gus stay on his side, he certainly wasn’t going to do that. He had loved Hogwarts as much as anyone, and while it hadn’t changed much in a decade, he was sure it would look different, feel different even more so now that he was the professor side.

“Professor Foxwood,” It felt heavy on his tongue. Odd, like he wanted to scrape off the words, “After the students have settled, would you be inclined to help me find Classroom C3? It seems my memory is failing me, just a bit this afternoon.”

****
Basil Foxwood

---

  

At Lissing’s sudden enthusiasm, Basil’s eyes went a little wide and he eyed the other wearily. That didn’t bode well. He ought to have figured though, knowing how much the former Hufflepuff had loved the grounds, that of course he’d be living here. Its was also just easier as a professor to not have to trot back and forth, to and from Hogsmeade everyday. It wasn’t like they could easily apparate and be done with it. Nodding in response to the other’s question, he shuffled a little awkwardly.

Basil didn’t know what else to really do, or say, and his eyes raked unconsciously up and down the lithe form of his old yearmate. It was so familiar, and yet so… new that he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about, well, that. Lissing had matured, as they both had, and he’d grown into gangly limbs and freckles since Basil had last seem him. He wasn’t that same charming, sweet little seventh year that the youngest Foxwood remembered, and yet, so much of him screamed out that familiarity. Basil was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, except this time, he knew that this particular flame burned too hot for him to dare touch again.

Still, he looked good. Lissing had obviously been keeping active in his time abroad. He was broad shouldered, defined, and very agile looking. Basil supposed one needed to be all those things to effectively break curses around the globe, but he couldn’t help remembering their secret rendezvous. Scandalous by far, but mostly innocent between them, there had been a time once when those shoulders had been his. His to poke, and nudge, and lean against. His to hold tightly when the inevitable darkness crept up on him, and his to rely on through thick and thin, and even thinner. Nee was and always would be everything in Basil’s world from childhood to date; but, for one short year, Gus had been the solar system.

Blushing a little at his own thoughts, Basil set them aside. That had been a long time ago. “Of course,” he replied, curtly. “I’m sure it won’t take long for you to reacclimate.” He cleared his throat a little. “Now, if you’ll excuse me? I really should assist the students.” And with that, he turned tail and surrendered at last to his nerves. There was only so much one could take of this type of emotion all at once, after all!

---

Gus Lissington & cue mood music

---