August 20th, 1894 — Curios Apothecary, Knockturn Alley

Being in this part of London was always strange to Basil. No matter how many times he navigated Diagon Alley the chaos of it was always so stark in contrast to the eeriness of Knockturn. Here even shadows seemed to crawl in the brazen light of day but nothing, not even the unsettling hoot of something that was decidedly not an owl could deter him. No, Basil Foxwood was on a mission today. A mission to smoke out the one man he hadn’t seen in quite some time and who, for all intents and purposes, could serve as the best distraction to all the ongoings in his own life that Basil wanted to step away from, just for an afternoon.

Agrimony Macnair, for all his peculiarities, had a way of setting Basil’s mind to straights when the Ravenclaw most needed it. And these days, Basil needed it. Macnair’s perspective, his view of the world, was curious enough that it could turn even his most academic moment on its side, forcing Basil to see the world through another lens and - more often than not - come out of their exchanges with greater clarity. He needed a dose of such reality the longer this summer wore on, even if there were (mostly) positive things coming from his days as late.

Basil rounded a bend that he was almost certain would lead him to Curios Apothecary, but it did not. Skittish now as something slithered by his feet, the Ravenclaw huffed indignantly to himself. This was ridiculous. He ought to have just invited Agrimony for tea but instead, his impatience about this whole novel business had led Basil here: to some bizarre back corner of London in which he was wholly unfamiliar. Deciding a cigarette might settle his nerves, Basil pulled one from his waistcoat and gave it a light. One, two, three puffs and he felt his mind settle a bit. (It had been some time since he’d smoked; Mama had thought to finally have her way, but alas!) He carried on around another bend.

There. Finally. With a sense of some slight relief, Basil marched up to the front of Macnair’s shop and gave his cigarette another few puffs. He was loathe to leave it behind now, having just settled in, but it would be rude to impose. So, stomping it out, brushing himself off, and giving his waistcoat a small tug to tidy his appearance, Basil made to enter the shop. Overhead a small bell tinkled. “Macnair?”

The shop was empty inside and Basil looked about for Macnair with some curiosity as grey hues caught on every number of imaginable invention. The Slytherin had really made something for himself here, Basil couldn’t deny it. If only he held shop in a more savory location, then the Ravenclaw might venture forth all the more. (But maybe that was the point.) Deciding it didn’t matter as he caught his reflection in a bit of silver, Basil focused instead on brushing his bangs to the side. He looked a right mess! A few more brushes and nothing happened to improve his appearance so Basil sighed. Well, at least he was charmingly academic. (Or so he hoped.)

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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This fucking profession was going to be the death of him. A load of cargo having been dropped off last night, Agrimony had stayed up all night disassembling muggle weapons, the air thick with soot and Merlin only knew what kinds of particulates. A simple wave of his wand had cleared the air enough, but his hands were still thoroughly black with dust as he deposited the load of casings in one corner while he went to the cauldron to see how the concoction was coming along. Before he could reach the table, he was overcome with a fit of coughs and nearly doubled over as he caught his breath. Sweat dripped from his brow, and Agrimony reached into his pocket to dab at his already dirty skin before he tucked the kerchief back into its slot.

The air was hot, and he barely remembered the last time he’d eaten. He was only about to go close up shop when he heard the bell ring. Fucking hell. Who the hell could that have been? He slipped out, in absolutely no mood to be cordial or hospitable. “We’re closed.” He announced bluntly, glaring at the person’s back as he leaned against the cupboard. But then he saw who it was. He only softened his glare a little. “What are you doing here, Foxwood?”

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   Basil Foxwood

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Basil couldn’t help but jump as Macnair’s voice barked at him that the shop was closed. He hadn’t realized as much, else he wouldn’t have barged in so brazenly. Clearing his throat a little and turning with a rueful look that clearly indicated he’d been caught preening, the brunette raised his chin. “Nothing much, just attempting to sniff you out of this hole that seems to have swallowed you up.” He offered Macnair a lopsided little grin and let grey irises dance over the blonde’s form.

He was filthy, covered in soot, and looking a little sleep deprived if the look on his face was any indication. Basil’s urge to nurture caused him to frown upon realization and he resisted the urge to take a step closer to wipe Macnair’s face himself. “What happened to you?” He asked, bluntly. “You look as if you’ve been blown out the back of a misbehaving Floo.”

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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Foxwood was way too cheerful for this time of day, whatever time it might be. His comments only earned him a scowl from Agrimony, and he raised his eyebrow. He coughed. “Been working,” he said, and if Foxwood had hoped for any more context than that, he was shit out of luck. “Not all of us can live in a pretty castle teaching the bright young minds of the generation.” He added as he went to the window and started to close the window shutters. He coughed again. It must be the excess dust he'd inhaled from the shipment.

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The look on Macnair’s face could have withered a squash and Basil felt himself grin back in response. Was he irritating? Possibly. Did he care? Not as much as he likely should have. Macnair needed a little push every now and again, to revisit the real world— and that said something, coming from Mr. Anti-society himself. Not that Basil was interested in dragging him to a ball, but for coffee? It had certainly crossed his mind.

The response was as blasé and un-informative as he’d expected, but such was the norm with Agrimony. Basil tossed the other another cheeky grin at his quip about living in the castle. “I’m sure the headmaster would have you, too, if you only asked.” He chuckled at the thought of Macnair teaching any subject and dealing with the aforementioned ‘bright young minds.’ He could certainly do it, Basil was absolutely confident, but would he want to? Not a chance in hell. Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, the brunette leaned against the nearest wall. “Or I could transfigure you into a toad and bring you back as my pet. Your choice.” He teased, eyes glinting.

There had been a time once when Basil had accused Macnair of being unlike a frog prince in disguise; a time that had been followed by a rather surprising kiss that he tried very hard not to dwell on now. Whether he was successful or not was his own business.

Before Basil could get awkward about it however, Macnair coughed and not for the first time in the past few minutes. A slight pinch of concern came to his brows and Basil straightened a bit. “That cough sounds rather settled,” he observed. “Have you been well?” Sleeping, at all? he wanted to add.

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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At the prospect of potentially teaching at Hogwarts, Agrimony scowled. Surrounded by dozens of small children who only knew how to complain? He’d rather drink dishwater. Or - apparently, be turned into a toad. But Agrimony made his distaste for both options quite clear as he began shutting down the entire shop, starting with shuttering the windows.

“What do you want, Foxwood?” Agrimony bit out as he walked around the store, tapping boxes or jars that needed to be refilled. Those selected floated to the counter where they would be replenished. “I’m busy and I need to fill a few orders for tonight.” He coughed out, completely bypassing Foxwood’s question, if only to get him moving more to the point of why he stopped in the shop.

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Macnair’s obvious lack of interest in both of Basil’s suggestions made the brunette snicker to himself. He was not so blind as to see the hint that was less than subtly being passed over him with the whole shuttering of windows and moving of jars, but it didn’t make him any more inclined to go, either. Ignoring Macnair’s question then the same way his had been ignored, Basil made to lean on the nearest shelf, making himself comfortable.

“Perhaps I can help,” he offered instead. “Fill orders and the like. I’ve always wondered what it is you actually do, anyway, and this seems like the perfect opportunity to find out.” Another cheeky grin stole its way across his face as Basil waited for Macnair to come up with a good reason why he couldn’t. He didn’t want to go but he also didn’t really have any particularly good reason for coming all the way down here in search of his old friend. Perhaps being needy and just… missing him was enough, but Basil would be damned if he admitted as much out loud.

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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He was about to respond to Foxwoood; air had whistled down his throat and instead of speaking, Agrimony doubled over, coughing violently. Tears stung his eyes as he recovered, wiping at his mouth. “Just go home, Foxwood.” Dear fuck, why wouldn’t this man just mind his own business? He glowered at the intruder, at his easy grin and wondering what in god’s name had gotten him in such a good mood. And why the hell he had chosen Agrimony to bestow his annoying, sunny disposition upon.

He opened his mouth once more, but then coughing overtook him again. His shoulders heaved, and he doubled over again, this time having to cough into a handkerchief. And this time when he pulled away, a flash of red caught his eye.

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Just go home. Those three little words shouldn’t have tugged at Basil’s frustration as much as they did standing there in the middle of (arguably) the last part of magical London he really wanted to be in. He’d made an effort to come see Macnair, for whatever bloody reason he couldn’t well articulate, and being told to all but shove off was not sitting well, even as Agrimony glared at him. Basil had half a mind to point it out and start something of an argument until a bout of coughing derailed his mood and caused, instead, a worried crease to pinch at the Ravenclaw’s brows.

This was the second time Macnair had doubled over like that. There was certainly something amiss here, even if the Slytherin was loathe to admit it.

“I won’t,” he responded, jutting out his chin forcibly and crossing the room to hover by Macnair’s side. His voice softened and one hand came to settle just gently on the blonde’s back as Agrimony continued to cough. It really sounded bad. Basil tugged his wand free and summoned a chair to force the other into. “There’s something going on with you, Macnair,” he murmured quietly. Perhaps it was nothing, but it could also very well be something. Basil was about to ask if he could give the former Slytherin a once over - wracking his brain for what minuscule healing magic he knew - when a bloody handkerchief pulled away from the blonde’s mouth and caught both their attentions.

There was a silent beat between them.

Grey hues flashed up worriedly towards blue and Basil sucked in a short breath, one hand coming to shove Macnair back into the seat by his shoulder in the same motion. He wasn’t going to bother asking. Before Basil could rationalize what he was doing, he’d pressed his free hand up under Agrimony’s fringe to check for a temperature. It was clammy. “When was the last time you’ve seen a healer?” He demanded to know, voice wavering between a soft hush and just plain rudeness. (Concern lingered somewhere between the lines there too, but that would get him nothing and so Basil kept the sentiment neatly tucked away until he could reflect upon it later.) “And before you tell me to shove off again, just know I won’t until we’ve resolved this.”

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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“There are plenty things going on with me, just close your eyes and pick one,” Agrimony coughed out. The taste of copper clung to his tongue, metallic and bitter. He was shoved into a chair, his throat seizing again. Doubling over, Agrimony gave into coughing until blood splattered across his shoes.

Well, fuck, maybe he did need help.

It was just as the thought crossed his mind that Foxwood’s hand pressed against his forehead. It was such a foreign gesture to him, Agrimony almost flinched away. Still, he scowled as it was solidified that help was here to stay and he wasn’t going anywhere either. “I don’t know, Foxwood — my last check up?” He rasped, the bite of sarcasm clinging to his tone like molasses. He hardly ever went to the healer unless it really was needed; which, he supposed, now was likely a time as any to get himself to a healer. Or get a healer to him.

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The concept that there could be any number of things under the sun going on with Agrimony made something in Basil’s chest flutter uncomfortably. How long had it been since he’d checked in? Should he have come sooner? What did he really know of the man he still considered his little Slytherin these days? Was he remiss in having neglected the acquaintance in pursuit of his own ambitions for too long? These questions and more swirled anxiously, never minding the fact that Macnair was, himself, a grown man. He was obviously no better than Basil in taking care of basic human function and that thought irritated the Ravenclaw. He didn’t know why, exactly, but it did.

Another cough from Macnair and Basil was forcibly pulled from his own thoughts as zealous concern scrawled itself more obviously across his face and he dropped to his knees before the other. Blood splattered like water across their shoes. Basil’s hand was cold against Macnair’s warm forehead and he rubbed a thumb idly against the skin there, sweat beading. He told himself it was a mere courtesy to wipe it away and the response that was barked did nothing to make Basil wish to retreat. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Agrimony Macnair, what in the world will I do with you,” he muttered crossly, more to himself than to the Slytherin whose face was paling at an alarming rate. Thinking quickly, Basil looked around the shop. There were so many useless items in here that served no purpose at all in his pursuit to aid their owner. Then, an owl all fluffed up and curled in the corner like a shadow, caught his attention. “You!”

Ripping himself away from Agrimony, Basil transfigured a shrunken skull into a quill, a bell into an ink pot, and materialized a small piece of parchment paper. He scribbled a note frantically across it and, after being bitten quite nastily in the hand, he managed to afix it to the owl and shoo it off. As it went, he prayed to every non-existent higher being he didn’t believe in that it would not meander and that Sybella would be at his disposal, quite immediately.

He returned then to his spluttering patient and dropped down again, this time his hand settling gently against the other’s knee. “Macnair, do you have any place to recline back there or away from this shop of yours?” He asked, quietly. If not, Basil was not beyond transfiguring a bed right here in the middle of everything until Sybella sent word in what to do or arrived herself. Though, he had his doubts his patient would be quite so willingly exposed.

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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It was an unrealistic dream of his to think that Foxwood’s sudden absence at his side meant that the annoying, nosy man had actually decided to listen to him and bugger off. He’d just heaved a (rather mucous-y) sigh of relief and dissolved into coughs again when he heard a commotion in the corner of the workshop along with Foxwood’s explanation. The world was starting to fucking spin. Great. Was this how he died? Without knowing what the fuck he’d done to make himself so sick?

A squawk of protest had him looking up to see what the fuck was happening, only to be met with the sight of his Great Grey Owl, Titus being wrestled with. Grey feathers flew everywhere as Titus flapped furiously, his yellow eyes glaring holes into Foxwood’s skull.

“Foxwood!” Agrimony tried to bark out through a cough. “Stop hassling my fucking bird, you wanker.”

Of course, the warning was ignored and he could only watch as Foxwood scribbled out a note onto a piece of parchment and damn near hurled Titus out the window. Agrimony, at this point, had very little energy to do anything but glare at the man in protest. He twitched away from Foxwood’s touch on his knee, directing his gaze petulantly over his shoulder. Of course he had a place to recline, especially given that he’d spent quite a few nights in this workshop needing to look after his experiments to make sure they didn’t level the entire block.

But of course, he could only raise his hand through coughs and point at a shadowy corner of the room. “There’s a trigger in the wall, it’ll lead to my quarters.” He rasped, pushing up from the table to stagger over to the corner.

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   Basil Foxwood

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Hand smarting from where that blasted bird had damn near taken his finger off, Basil grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the bleeding sore before ignoring it altogether in favor of hovering like a mother hen over his patient. He hadn’t imagined Macnair would waste energy reprimanding him but he ought to have known better. If he hadn’t been so annoyed at the blatant disregard for self-care, he’d have otherwise grinned in defiance. He’d won after all, tossing the bloody bird out on its tail feathers.

Macnair answered his question then and Basil shifted out of the way, though not straying far, as they made their way towards the wall and eventually towards the back rooms. He didn’t even bother to glance around and take in the space before spotting the object of his desire and shepherding Macnair towards it. The more blood soaked through Agrimony’s handkerchief the more Basil wished to yank it away and fetch a new one but he didn’t, hoping instead that it might help serve as an indicator to the help he was adamant to entreat here. And if he had to send the bloody thing away for analysis, he damn well would.

Eventually Macnair settled into a recline and Basil, supporting him as much as possible, took another fleeting glance around the room. He spotted a basin and some water and decided it might be best to wipe the accumulating sweat from Macnair’s brow in a hope that it might bring the rising temperature of his forehead down. He made ready and then settled into a seat by the other’s head before gently wiping those pale features down.

Basil felt his stomach clench at the look on Macnair’s face, and it had nothing to do with whatever scowl was scrawled there indefinitely. He really didn’t look well, and that was saying something compared to what the Ravenclaw was used to from him. Handsome features were dulled against a sallow complexion and Basil couldn’t help but think of the last time they were this close to one another. The last time he’d actually looked Agrimony in the face from any such distance.

But this was different. This was wholly and entirely more dire, even if his heart was beating as anxiously as it had back then. Basil frowned and a crease formed between his brows. “You’re an idiot,” he berated, less than kindly given the circumstances. How could you have let this happen? How could you force /me/ to be the one to care for you? Basil’s heart skipped a nasty beat and he frowned deeper. “I shall never let you forget this debt,” he grumped. “For I will be the one to right this mess and then what will you do?” Will you promise to maintain it? Will you find it within your scope of priority to care for yourself so I don’t have to lose sleep over it?

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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   Agrimony Macnair

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Agrimony had half expected Foxwood to throw caution to the wind, pick him up and carry him bridal style to the door with all the fussing he’d been doing. But no, he let Agrimony make his own, slow way to the door, which really only served to make Agrimony nauseous. How much fucking blood had he lost already? A great deal, judging by how damp the handkerchief in his hand had become. He could only taste copper in his mouth, sliding down his throat, and unless Foxwood had suddenly learned how to clone himself thrice, Agrimony’s vision was making him see not double, but triple.

It didn’t help too much when he was laid down, but the cool compress on his forehead did much to at least reduce his vision to double. No, it was back to triple. But the cloth on his head still felt good. Not that he would tell Basil that.

A biting tone accompanied Foxwood’s commentary, something that Agrimony felt he likely deserved but could only roll his eyes. Given that his eyes were closed, there was little satisfaction to be gleaned from witnessing Foxwood’s reaction to his reaction. He wanted to clap his hands over his eyes to rub them. Foxwood’s tone was not helping the growing headache. “Foxwood, could you please save the lecture until I’m at least coherent enough to listen to you?” He snapped, feeling a wave of nausea overcome him. “Charge me interest if you must, it’s not like I’m short on the cash.”

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It was just a stroke of luck that saw Sybella near Diagon Alley during the day, and an even bigger stroke of luck that she’d kept her healer’s kit on her from seeing a client earlier that morning. The frazzled, disheveled and rather terrifying grey owl had found her while she was on her way to The Ivy Leaf to get a pastry when she was stopped just outside of the storefront by the massive animal. Blinking in confusion, Sybella recognized the hasty scrawl on the piece of parchment tied to the owl’s leg and went to snatch the letter from him.

Of course it wasn’t as easy as that. The owl clicked his beak ferociously, dealing the healer with a frustrating paradox of needing the letter, but not being able to fetch the letter from the animal who wanted her to take the letter, but not go near him. Sybella was not against using magic against animals if need be, but it seemed a bit of an overreaction to actually stun the poor thing when it looked like it had just been tackled and thrown out the window.

She had no choice but to sit herself on the narrow window sill of the shop and speak to the owl in low soothing tones. Eventually the owl seemed to let his guard down enough to inch towards her outstretched hand — and peck at it. Sybella drew back with a hiss before fishing in her purse to see if she had any treats. The third stroke of luck came when she realized she actually had something suitable, way at the bottom and leftover from God only knew what. Sybella didn’t have time to question. She just threw the scrap of dried meat to the animal and dove for its leg, managing to wrench it away before the beast had time to swallow.

“Basil,” She murmured under her breath before crumpling the parchment to stuff it in her pocket and hurry away, the pastry shop all but forgotten.

Knockturn Alley was mercifully not far, and when she reached the doorstep, she knocked loudly and rapidly. The letter didn’t describe much, just that her friend needed help and that she was to make haste. Her heart pounded in her chest as she kept knocking.

  

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Sybella speaks with a slight Italian accent.
Her family is well known throughout the Sicilian Mafia; if your character is attuned within those circles, they might know who she is.

Irritation deepened Basil’s frown at the response he received to the point where he was sure he would remain permanently wrinkled, though it wasn’t like he hadn’t known better. The little bit of shame that Macnair’s words inspired (because he was right, it was a bit brutish to berate an invalid) was quickly overrun with Basil’s own lack of ability to express his concern in any way that constituted veracity. He was quite concerned, thank you, over Macnair’s present position but to show as much would give him away and so Basil settled on sulking in silence. He would give Macnair an earful, sure as the night was long, once he was recovered. And perhaps make an effort to check in more frequently, unwanted or not.

After a short pause of lapsed silence, Basil continuing to press the damp cloth against Macnair’s brow and resisting the urge to shake him silly, the Ravenclaw sighed. His anger was fading and grey hues studied the pallid visage that faced up at him. Settling the wet cloth back in the bowl, he brushed Macnair’s fringe away from his brow. It was at that moment that a frantic knocking on the shop door made him jump. Skin prickling, Basil turned towards the opening in the room immediately and called to their visitor, before he stood to quickly let her in.

Sybella Capobianco was the most welcome sight of a woman he could honestly admit to in many long years. She was made ever the more beautiful by her ability to rescue them both, but Basil hardly noticed. He was too fixated on Macnair’s prospects as he let out a sigh of relief and tripped over himself trying to explain the situation. (In fact, it was a bit of an embarrassment how flustered he became given how cool and collected he normally remained in dangerous situations.)

Practically dragging her back to Agrimony’s side, he pried the blood soaked cloth from the other’s fingers and held it out to her with his own injured hand. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” the Ravenclaw finally said, ceasing his prattling. “Can you help him, Sybella? I’m sure it must be something to do with one of these wretched experiments,” Basil gestured vaguely about and then turned to her, imploring. He knew she would do her best, it was her calling as a healer after all. But he couldn’t help the sinking feeling of dread looming over them all. He’d feel quite a bit better once she proclaimed him likely to survive.

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Agrimony Macnair & muse song >w> <3

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