Basil held his breath as the endlessly perfect woman before him searched his face for something he couldn’t imagine. What was it that she could possibly want from him? There wasn’t anything in this moment he wouldn’t give her… was that not clear? He loved her, a realization that rocked the Ravenclaw to his bones and settled uncomfortably in his stomach. (Was this, really, what love felt like? Was this desperation to hold her, see her smile, make her happy and never let go… really it?) Somehow, Basil couldn’t be absolutely sure.A small hand came up to settle on his arm and with it brought a surge of hope he hadn’t realized he needed to keep breathing. She believed him! Did that mean she felt it too? Was this his chance?! Basil felt a warmth touch his cheeks and he smiled softly, almost shy. There were so many things he wanted, needed, to clarify but— he let his hand rest this time on the lady’s cheek properly. It was still a featherlight touch, his fingers cold against her warm, smooth skin.
Can I kiss you? lingered on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to, so badly, but an overwhelming sense of guilt at the thought of his cousin made Basil hesitate. He couldn’t be concerned with what a single other person in the whole world felt about this moment, about his wanting Victoire all to himself, except… Anthony. But his cousin was charming! Successful. An eligible bachelor anyone would be happy to entertain. It didn’t have to be the one person in all of Britain that Basil himself could see a life with, right? It would all work out. They’d both see, in time. Victoire was not cruel enough to put him off without at the very least letting him make his case and Anthony… well. He’d survive.
“If I didn’t think it would terrify you, I’d get down on one knee right here and ask you to marry me,” Basil said in one last attempt to convey his earnestness to the pretty redhead. “I want to, Victoire. You’re the only woman that makes sense. The only woman I can and will ever love.” He brushed his thumb gently across her cheek and lowered his voice to a whisper. “So, slap me if you like, but at least let me prove to you what we could be, if you let us.” And with that, Basil tipped forward and kissed her.
It was a strange feeling at first, one that set his mind reeling. Despite grey eyes flickering closed and his free hand pressing against the bindings of books behind Victoire, it felt off balance. Basil had never… actually kissed a woman before. She was soft, and warm, and so fragile around the edges he was almost worried about hurting her. There was none of the same drive that pulled him forward when he’d kissed Lissington, or even Macnair once upon a time but— there was still that twisting in his gut. A feeling that was familiar as it warmed him from the core.