If Basil felt a little bit guilty about peer pressuring Lissing into drinking alcohol, he tried not to show it. Surley the red-head would have denied him if he desperately hadn’t wanted to partake, wouldn’t he? Basil hated that he couldn’t be sure and he swallowed his reservations down with another large gulp of his own drink. Perhaps he could encourage Lissington to set it aside in a bit, once they settled. For his own part, Basil was buzzing along rather at a convenient height. He was dulled enough to not feel so hyper fixated on the anxieties that plagued his everyday, but he was not so drunk that he was a blubbering mess. There was a fine line between just enough and too much, with the consequences of the latter being quite devastating on the wrong evening. As Lissing responded about sleeping on the floor, Basil forced out a small laugh. He knew the other was being perfectly serious but he hoped if he feigned amusement that it would be dismissed as the joke it really ought to be. He watched then, with actual amusement filtering into his features, as the red-head bounced up and down a touch. He was so easy sometimes, so jovial, that Basil felt a tiny pang. When they settled at last, the contact between them sent another small jolt up Basil’s spine and the brunette didn’t dare move away.
Despite the fact that it had been… almost three weeks since the blowout that had caused him to avoid Atticus, Basil couldn’t help but still feel rankled. He was resentful of his brother, and everything they’d spat at one another that afternoon. Atticus didn’t know him, not really, not deep down (or maybe he did and it scared Basil too much to admit) but he couldn’t control the brunette all the way from London. Maybe it was the fire in his gut that caused Basil to be so brazen, or maybe it was just resistance against his brother’s idiotic assumptions, but either way he felt a need bubbling up. A need to touch Lissington - to hold him, pet him, snog him senseless. He tried to stifle the sensation even as he shifted closer to the other.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Atticus and mama have gone to London to host Poppy for her first season. They should be there for the better part of the summer and early autumn, at least until we head back for fall term.” Here he paused and a small smile came to light up Basil’s features. He was so very pleased to hear that Lissing was ready and eager to go back to Hogwarts! For a time he’d really wondered if the professor had doubted his abilities enough to consider abdicating the position. It would have been a real loss for the students had it come to that. Despite their history, there was nothing blinding Basil from the realization that Lissington was an excellent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” he conceded quietly. “You really are a splendid professor; Hogwarts is lucky to have you.” Pressing his shoulder gently against Lissington and nudging him, Basil offered a lopsided little grin. “I’m lucky to have you too, as a colleague.”
From this distance, in the flickering firelight, Basil could see Lissing’s face so clearly and so close that it tugged at something inside of him again. He didn’t know what it was, this sudden inane desire to cling to the red-head as if terrified he’d disappear. Basil tried to ignore it, but the sensation was somewhat overwhelming in this moment here and now with Lissing finally close at hand. The brunette reached out and tugged absently at his companion’s robes, twisting his finger idly in the dark material. It wasn’t the same as holding him but it was enough, for now. “I really am glad you stayed,” he echoed again, quietly. “I… I was worried, I guess, when you didn’t answer my letters.” Basil ducked a little out of embarrassment and hid his face in his glass behind another sip.