Basil watched with bated breath as Macnair drifted through the isles and found his book. As the boy tossed it over his shoulder and floated it in his direction, Basil’s eyes trained on the cover keenly. He was very excited at the prospect of curling up with this particular tomb tonight in the Ravenclaw common room. He’d cleared his schedule already, warning friends that he would be incommunicado for the rest of the evening. (What he’d have done if he hadn’t managed to acquire it hadn’t occurred to the boy until it was too late, but that was neither here nor there anymore.) As Macnair pulled another, rather forbidding looking book from the shelves, Basil furrowed his brows. He didn’t recognize anything about that particular text, or the next one that Macnair selected. Still, he was intrigued and grinned at the younger Slytherin appreciatively. “Thanks!” he chirped.
Just then, as Basil lifted the rope to accept the books and Macnair made his way back over, footsteps sounded nearby. Panic took over any rational cognitive function and Basil stood there, rooted to the spot unable to move. He just barely managed to wrap his arms around the texts as the footsteps drew closer. Stranger nearly upon them, it was all Basil could do to not drop the armful of restricted items and yank Macnair back out of there before he got caught. Basil would never forgive himself if this poor Slytherin took the brunt of his illicit whims!