As immature as it was, Basil stuck his tongue out he was bossed in to staying put. In anyone should be giving orders 'round the Ministry, it was him. When Rose reappeared, his stomach sank. A simple owl would have saved him a lot of trouble. He even had Ransom sitting back at the loft pecking away at the lone cereal box he'd left out.
But, there were benefits to his foray, like an expectant Rose Weasley prodding for his attention. All she had to do was ask, or demand as was often the case, but that wasn't how they operated. "I'm not destitute," Basil glared slightly, finding it difficult to keep up when she moved closer. "You'd be surprised how many people forget to charge the Minister's son. Take the pub below my flat. Don't think I've ever tossed them a knut."
He wasn't going to let her get away. "Want to watch me use my clout? There's a free pint in it for you."
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