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.
“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.
![[Image: cBAJGlb.png]](https://i.imgur.com/cBAJGlb.png)