July 10, 1894 — Flint Institute of Advanced Magic, Wellingtonshire

After a rather lovely reconnection with one of his former students last week, Basil had not been able to shake the (very theoretical) concept of publishing his own book. Despite the fact that his publicist has been nagging at him for the very same these past two years, it wasn’t until Ms. Bonaccord - with her gentle, admiring compliments - suggested as much that Basil had really begun to give it any real amount of consideration. He supposed if his writing was influential to those around him like Ms. Bonaccord, and Ms. Chang, and others in the academic community, then it might be worth an investigation. Up until now, he’d never really seen the larger impact. There were peer reviews of course, and the occasional pat on the back from other academic, publishing types-- but he’d never seen an impact like this. An impact that showed how his thoughts and conceptualization might better inform the work of other young, aspiring academics. (The fact that Ms. Bonaccord was a well-bred, aspirational female with more on her mind that society certainly didn’t hurt either.)

Basil had always been keen on the idea of giving his female students a gentle nudge in the academic direction to see if they might do more. It was such a shame that so many of his brightest bulbs decided to set aside their interests for favor of bonnets and balls. Just this year he’d already been disappointed in Ms. Parkinson, and in the coming one he could see Ms. Mulciber trending towards the same. And while Basil himself had no way to affect the careers and trajectories of those ladies contrary to that which he was sure their mama’s wanted, and he wouldn’t dream of it if he could, it was nice to know there were some causes out there left to fight for.

It was with this altruism in mind, and the vague notion that he just wanted to check in on Ms. Bonaccord, that Basil found himself in the library outside her summer study class right around luncheon. He refused to admit even to himself that he was here not because he wanted her companionship per say (even though he did rather enjoy her as a person), but because he was doing a duty. A duty to assist her in excellence aspired. And, maybe, he also liked the idea of having someone interesting to converse with that didn’t have such narrow-minded views, but that was another matter for another day. He gave a small knock on the doorframe to catch her attention. “Ms. Bonaccord?”

Grey hues swept over the room until they settled on her and a small, sheepish smile turned up one corner of his mouth. “Er— apologies for the intrusion. I just wondered, if you are not otherwise engaged, if you’d like to join me for luncheon again today? I’ve been mulling over something you said last week and just thought, well, it might be nice to reconnect.”

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Hermia Bonaccord & muse song

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The summers in England were nothing to celebrate, but Hermia's mood had been sunny all week. She couldn't stop smiling, enough so that even her oblivious brothers were commenting. Or, in father's words, "Sunshine hadn't been this bright in years." Hermia could only agree. She hadn't felt this amount of possibility in years. For a brief afternoon, her world had blinked into focus, and she wasn't willing to relinquish the feeling.

Since her chance encounter with Professor Foxwood, an encounter that became luncheon, which made both of them chuckle about the time, only for Hermia to actually forget the time and arrive five minutes late to her own afternoon lessons. It had been difficult to apologize for those five minutes when they had brought her such joy. Finally, someone was listening to her. It felt silly and juvenile to care, but she did. With all her heart, Hermia cared. Her parents had allowed her to continue her education at Flint, true, but they did so under no illusion. Hermia could study to her heart's content, but the scholar's life was not hers to choose. In a year's time, she would leave Flint and be back where she stood the night of the Coming Out Ball: a witch with an enviable dowery and bloodline. Polite Society cared nothing for her studies. Professor Foxwood seemed to care.
She needed to thank him properly. Naturally, she owled him her appreciation following their encounter, but Hermia could think of a different form of thanks. She had the tidy packet of parchment prepared to show him, when next she had a break between lessons.

She was finishing her notes from her midmorning study hall, noting with some optimism that her more motivated pupils seemed to be making sense of the material. She grinned at the polite knock on the door, half expecting someone to have forgotten their textbooks. This was a far more pleasant surprise. Quickly to her feet, she curtsied with a smile, "No intrustion, I assure you." The glow in her chest expanded, if such a silly thing was possible. Is this how he felt all the time? This feeling of being valued for his thoughts and opinions? What would that be like, to be recognized for her mind and contributions first? "Oui, Professor. It would be my pleasure." She bit her lip, considering a moment before taking the leap. "Ah, I have been thinking about your advice. If you think the abstract I've prepared acceptable, I would like to submit my work for review." And all she could do was hope.

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   Basil Foxwood

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Lady is a genius

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At sight of Ms. Bonaccord, Basil felt something settle pleasantly in his chest. He really had enjoyed their conversation last week more than he’d realized. It was only now, faced with the prospect of it again, that he was willing to admit how much. Her easy greeting forced him to tip a bit at the waist and he grinned all the while. (Never had he deigned to care about polite society’s rules as much as he did now; was this what it was like to respect a woman enough to want to be so charitable?)

At mention of his own advice, Basil perked up even more. He was glad something he’d said resonated with her and was happy to review anything she liked, if it came down to it. “That’s wonderful news,” he responded. “I’m sure it will be more than acceptable. Perhaps we can discuss further over tea. I have been craving some of those sandwiches we had last week.” He grinned. For whatever reason the little tea shop they’d settled on had managed to find (or make, he supposed, since it was a tea shop) pumpkin pasties! At this unseasonable time of year! Basil would do anything for another pasty and he bounced on his heels a bit. “I’ll admit I have a weakness for pumpkin,” he chuckled. Then, lacing his fingers patiently, he waited for Ms. Bonaccord to gather her things.

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Hermia Bonaccord & muse song

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   Hermia Bonaccord

His smile mirrored hers, warming something unfamiliar in her chest, but Hermia paid it no mind other than to notice that curtseying for him felt like the mark of respect it was meant to. Hermia agreed and packed up her things in a few moments, her manuscript tucked away for his later inspection. Their luncheon had been a highlight of her week, a burst of confidence and joy that had fueled her mood since. Hermia's heart was lighter, and her studies had felt more fruitful since their meal. Of course, she would be happy to join him again.

"And the lavender and honey tea was delightful," Hermia enthused, somehow excited by tea and its accompaniments. "You are most resourceful." She grinned authentically, his pleasure contagious. "How did you find pumpkin in the height of summer? I admit, I share your fondness and always feel a bit silly when I crave it." Hermia was also in high spirits because of the date. While the end of July brought an uneasy anniversary for the family, Hermia loved this time: Bastille Day. It was a silly muggle holiday, but there was something about it that she adored, something about freedom that called to her. "I cannot stop rereading your notes you've let me borrow. Your observations on herbology are fascinating."

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   Basil Foxwood

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Lady is a genius

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Ms. Bonaccord was like a fresh wind, delightful as she was rare, with the genuine sense of contentment that she inspired in him. Basil beamed back at her as she collected her things and then made to lead them towards the door to the courtyard as he nodded at her assertion. “Yes, it did smell quite pleasant your tea! I’ve never much been one for floral tastes, that’s always been Poppy’s forte, but I must say I am nearly tempted to try it.” Nearly, if only because he’d had a terrible bought of stomach pain once and Mama had forced him to drink this horrendous lavender potion that Basil still couldn’t shake. Not even for Ms. Bonaccord.

He flushed a bit at the praise for finding pumpkin this time of year and ducked his head to open the door and let her pass through first. “I can’t take all the credit I’m afraid,” he admitted, keenly. “A former student recommended the place. He happened to know I have a weakness for pumpkin pasties and well, one thing led to another.” He shrugged, as if making light of the situation. In all truth, there was nothing to make light of when it came to Clive Grey, but Ms. Bonaccord certainly needn’t know that. Basil quickly breezed past it. “Rest assured, if you ever feel silly for craving it, you can find some small comfort in the garuntee that I am in a similar condition, if not worse, as I live in a perpetual state of pumpkin fiending.” Here he paused just long enough to toss Ms. Bonaccord an amused, if teasing, grin. Basil was surprised at how easy it was to converse with her on silly things like this too. Normally he was very careful to keep barriers in place and not share much about himself, or his family, with his students. He supposed it was different since Ms. Bonaccord was no longer his student but… it wasn’t that different. He would still insist she call him professor.

The afternoon was balmy for London, overcast but not actively raining. The Flint Institute courtyard was bustling with students, teaching aids, guest lecturers and professors alike moving from one place to the next. It was an encouraging sight, one Basil was sure he would never tire of. Feet tracked in the direction of Hogsmeade and he smiled genially at Ms. Bonaccord’s comment about his herbology notes. “I’m pleased you’ve found them interesting,” he smiled. “Hopefully enlightening a bit too?” Basil wasn’t shy, per se, when it came to sharing academic observation but, well, herbology was hardly his topic of subject expertise. That was Mason’s realm, most definitely. “How is your work coming along? I presume Professor Skeeter has had a chance to review since our last discussion?"

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Hermia Bonaccord & muse song

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Hermia felt comfortable enough to make a slight face in his direction. "Nothing too floral, mind you. I want to enjoy the tea, not my grandmother's garden." Hermia enjoyed flowers and a stroll through any garden, but she didn't have the feminine affliction of losing her mind at the sight or smell of them. She was very grateful Professor Foxwood wasn't the sort to think conversations meant flowers, either. For some reason, there were flowers whenever she was called upon, and always something cliche. Honestly, if Hermia was close enough to a wizard for roses to be appropriate, he would know she preferred other flowers. How had her brain gotten to flowers again?

Hermia strode past him, amused that she could now list 'pumpkin cravings' in the facts she knew about her former professor. "I heard many wild theories on how to cheat on my NEWTs, but pumpkin pasties were never one of them." She chuckled; though she would have been the first to report any cheating she saw during exams, she was privy to plenty of wild theories students dreamed up to avoid studying. Why someone would want to shortcut learning was beyond her, but that was Hogwarts.

She soaked in the sun peeking through the clouds, dearly missing the desert sun every summer since childhood. The lack of rain still buoyed her mood. "Most enlightening. I've written to a contact of my father's back in Tunisia. He was a tutor of mine before Hogwarts, and I remember the garden he managed on our estate as being magnificent. I cannot wait to see what he says about my translations. Professor Skeeter has been most generous during this time. He didn't hold my class selection against me and was very kind. I am grateful he would look at my work; I fear his his discipline is often underestimated." With anyone else, she may bite her tongue, but Hermia trusted he would not find malice in her assessment.

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   Basil Foxwood

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Lady is a genius

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A soft chuckle escaped Basil at Ms. Bonaccord’s commentary about floral teas. Ah, so they were kindred spirits in that as well. “Quite right,” he agreed, easily. He liked that she was as practical as she was clever. The complete antithesis to his baby cousin, in so many ways. Perhaps he ought to consider introducing them— or, re-introducing them he supposed. Both Poppy and Ms. Bonaccord had attend Hogwarts and shared classes about the same time, he suspected. Perhaps she might be a good influence on his society-minded, butterfly of a would-be sister.

(Then again, with how pleased Mama was this season with Poppy’s prospects and her being the perfect distraction from his own impending marriage, he supposed he might leave well enough alone. Poppy had made her choice and though he didn’t agree with it, Basil supposed he could respect it. She still read quite a bit and did mind her transfiguration skills.)

At Ms. Bonaccord’s slight tease about cheating, Basil couldn’t help the affronted look that scrawled itself across his features. Now here was a statement he’d never have imagined her capable of, teasing or otherwise. He scoffed playfully. “And I should like to keep it that way,” he impressed. The fewer students who knew of his tastes the better. Basil didn’t want, or need, any more doe-eyed seventh years stopping by and certainly not with pumpkin pasties. He wasn’t a complete dolt. He knew what those expressions meant. (Sometimes.)

They moved onto more academic topics quickly then and he settled in, nodding along at Ms. Bonaccord’s explanation. At mention of Mason’s discipline, Basil couldn’t help but laugh. He supposed more than anyone Ms. Bonaccord would know; she had been in Skeeter’s house after all. He wondered idly then what his Ravenclaw’s said of him. Was he considered a decent disciplinarian or rather a brute? Basil supposed it didn’t matter. He held his Ravenclaws to the highest standard in the school. They ought to know that and act like it.

“Professor Skeeter is an excellent academician,” Basil replied. “I’m not surprised in the least to hear of his willingness to provide commentary.” As for that bit about discipline, “I am not surprised to hear of his skills as a Head of House either,” Basil chuckled. “I suppose even the ever docile Hufflepuff House needs a strong hand occasionally.” He looked at her, shooting a teasing look that far outweighed any they’d shared as of yet and resisted the urge to give Ms. Bonaccord a playful nudge. “Now my Ravenclaws, never!” He shook his head, all airs and pretense. This past year had been a particularly difficult one, not that she would know that per se, but they’d survived. With a firm talking to!

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Hermia Bonaccord & muse song

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Hermia chuckled at his reaction to her little barb on cheating. She could never take such a thing lightly, but as someone who would have broken into hives, at best, at the mere thought of academic dishonesty, it seemed safe to tease him. "Your secret is safe with me, Sir, I promise." She imagined dealing with students and their schemes took a different measure of fortitude. Hermia was entirely certain she would take her students' slights personally. It had hurt her enough when one of her summer charges whined about the amount of reading she had assigned him to review. She pretended, in the bubble of her advanced classes, where no one's place was guaranteed, that such laziness didn't exist. She chose to ignore the occasions she noticed in her classes because they came from spoiled boys, half of whom were at Flint, to delay responsibilities. She blocked them out because she had to do so for her sanity. When her application to serve as a teaching assistant was denied because of her sex, she experienced an unfamiliar rush of jealousy watching boys she outscored as a matter of habit take the titles. When her counter-proposal to teach during the summer holidays was approved, she did not accept it with the caveat she deserved less respect than her male peers. She wondered if Professor Foxwood could empathize, being relatively young. He was also, in Hermia's opinion, one of the kindest-hearted. The Hufflepuff in her hoped he had some way of coping with academic disappointments she just hadn't learned yet.

"Non, c’est absurde!" She found herself performing her role but unable to keep from grinning. "Never have I feared the complete dissolving of a person quite like I did when I saw Ravenclaw robes near exams. We 'ever docile' Hufflepuffs are far better at handling a crisis. And reserving our exam panic for private places in the castle." Hermia could attest to a few cathartic sobs in the Prefects' bath in her last two years, but she would prefer never to share that experience. At least, with the biggest exams of her life out of the way, Hermia could find some humor in it.

Turning her attention to his Ravenclaws, it warmed her heart that he spoke of his students like that; taking them to heart and making them something special. "If I may, what is it you most look forward to about a new year? I think I most loved the possibilities, all the magic I could absorb."

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   Basil Foxwood

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Lady is a genius

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Basil was still surprised at how naturally teasing and joking with Ms. Bonaccord came to him. There was a camaraderie to their funny little acquaintance that he felt comfortable with, in such a way he was usually not so— especially with women. Grinning at her and pulling a small face to dismiss the topic of shared secrets, he settled in to playful jabs about their differing houses.

(What was truly absurde was this all, and how he managed not to notice where his feet were taking him or how quickly as they bantered back and forth.)

Swallowing back a small scoff of amused disbelief, Basil shook his head. “I beg your pardon!” He parried back, equally as invested. “Crisis management is hardly in the Hufflepuff guidebook either. You, Ms. Bonaccord, might be the exception— but I have seen my fair share of Puffs waffle over who might walk through a door first and escalate the event to an actual crisis.” True story, in fact. Rolling his eyes jovially at her though and remembering himself as a professor and not some competitive teenager, Basil allowed himself to pause there for favor of digression.

He’d always been too competitive when it came to Ravenclaw being the best Hogwarts house, worse even when he was made its Head. He’d never been nasty about it or anything like that, but when push came to shove, he’d had his moments as a student that he would rather not recall. As an adult the same tendencies lingered, but he’d matured enough to respect that all houses had merit and no one was truly ‘better’ than the other. He loved all his students equally, even if he did have a soft spot for his Ravenclaws. (And held them to a near impossible standard as a result.) The path they were following narrowed briefly and Basil gestured for Ms. Bonaccord to pass him so that he might play the gentleman and switch to her exterior side closest to the main road. On instinct he was half following her wherever she led like a golden retriever puppy, while also trying to be chivalrous about it.

In all truth, when it came to Ms. Bonaccord’s question about things he looked forward to, Basil did agree with her. There was something to the possibilities of a new year that attracted him but also, “I have to say the routine of it, too, is one of the things I most look forward to.” If he was being honest, it was why he’d originally taken on his role as a professor in the first place so many years ago now. The safety and security that Hogwarts offered from… well, society and his family, had far outweighed the discomfort of teaching little miscreants he couldn’t have cared all that much for. Things had since, evidently, changed quite a lot since then but, deciding it might be a bit much to go that into depth with his answer, Basil ducked his head a bit and blushed.

“There was a time once when Hogwarts had been an escape to me, from society and all its frivolities. And while that’s still somewhat true, I’ve always been a man of predictability and routine, save for in my research where volatility and discovery is encouraged.” He offered her a small, embarrassed smile, hoping the slight joke would lighten the mood he’d suddenly dragged down. “Hogwarts has always been home to me in a way no other place has managed and so… perhaps it is the welcome arms of a close friend that I look forward to most at the beginning of each new year.”

He was quiet a moment, considering. When the truth of his statement dawned, Basil felt his cheeks heat again.

“Ah, sorry…” he spluttered then, one hand coming up to the rub absently at the back of his head. “That was ridiculously unpoetic of me, wasn’t it?”

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Hermia Bonaccord & muse song

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   Hermia Bonaccord

Hermia covered her mouth to stifle a snort at his reaction. If anyone stopped them now and demanded their location, Hermia would be confused to find herself so far from their starting point. She’d lost track of everything except the delightful play of emotion across Prof. Foxwood’s face. Her careful examination took notice of how much of his expression was in minute changes to his eyes and the twitch of his lips. When he smiled, the grey in his eyes nearly glowed. She considered herself fortunate to witness it.

She gave him her best pout at his evaluation of her fellow Hufflepuffs. “We badgers are polite people!” She whined in mock offense. “Politeness is a matter of great importance to us.” She didn’t manage to finish her sentence before she was fighting a smile. “You will at least agree with me that the Slytherins will find a way to exploit the crisis, and a Gryffindor caused the issue to begin with.” She would never admit defeat when it came to defending her house, but she wasn’t about to leave the two most exhausting houses out of the joke.

Her laughter faded when his tone changed. Her own response seeming too simple now. Of course, education mattered but there were stronger forces at play in their lives. She tried to forget those forces, the trappings of society, but it was always there, no longer hiding in the shadows for her. Hogwarts had been her escape, and now there was nowhere to hide. She understood his feelings of home better than she wished. “I think it was a lovely sentiment, honest and well said.” And she meant it. “It would be a shame to take Hogwarts for granted. I miss it dearly.” She confided.

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   Basil Foxwood

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Lady is a genius

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Basil laughed outright at his companion’s little whine. He hadn’t expected that of her but was endeared nonetheless. “Polite may be an understatement,” he managed, but at least she was right when it came to the other houses. Grinning jovially in a shared camaraderie now between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, he gave a little nod. “Officially, as a professor, I harbor no opinion but the best of any of the Hogwarts houses,” he teased loftily. Then, leaning a bit closer, he lowered his voice. “But between the two of us, you may be right. If forced, I should much rather be a Hufflepuff than a Slytherin or a Gryffindor.” His eye twinkled playfully at the admission.

(Basil had never once imagined himself in any house other than the mighty Ravenclaw, but he supposed— if he did deign to think about it, he really would prefer the badgers to any other. He certainly had a track record for gravitating towards them at least.)

The tone of their conversation took a slight turn then, as did their feet, and the brunette felt his cheeks heat as he admitted more about himself than he’d intended. It was reassuring to hear a similar sentiment from Ms. Bonaccord however, and he relaxed what muscles had tightened in his spine at the slip. He could sense in some small way that she too might be a kindred spirit in that, and he almost wished he could give her some solace in going back there.

“I can owl you something from the feast?” He offered, teasing gently. There was nothing else he could very well do. “Do you have a favorite snack the house elves prepared?” It seemed only fair he know hers since she knew his, now. And, as far as food went, they’d reached the busier part of London so Basil finally paused to look around.

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Hermia Bonaccord & muse song

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   Hermia Bonaccord