20 July 1889 — Hogsmeade Memorial Ballroom

The crowd at this party was a little out of his league, if he was being honest with himself, but he'd been invited all the same. Being a representative for one of the better brands of booze opened some doors that had previously been closed to him — and he could be charming enough, when he wanted to be, that no one seemed to mind his presence when he was there — as long as he wasn't flirting with their daughters. Of course, flirting with rich girls was Ben's primary hobby, but he tried to pace himself so as not to wear out his welcome (at least, not until everyone was well and truly drunk).

He'd spent the first twenty minutes of the party in one of the small rooms on the second floor playing cards with several of his mates from Excalibur, many of whom he'd taken a fair bit of money off of when he'd been in the midst of his stint as a bookie. Once a gambler, always a gambler. He was good at cards, and manged to come away from the table a few galleons richer than when he entered it. None of the losers were much put out; none of them would notice a few coins' difference here or there.

On leaving the room he made his way downstairs, intending to refresh his drink and then go find a stranger to introduce himself to — but the woman he came face to face with at the bottom of the stairs was anything but a stranger.

"Oh," Ben said in surprise. How long had it been since he'd seen her? Longer than it should have been, given their proximity in society. Someone had certainly been avoiding the interactions, though now Ben wasn't sure which of them it had been. Maybe both. And now they were unavoidably close, unexpectedly, and he had no idea what to say.

"Hi," was what he eventually settled on. It wasn't great, but there were probably worse things he could have started with.

  

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Melody had known upon leaving her house that something was going to go terribly wrong tonight. Call it superstition, or just a bad feeling, but she couldn't shake the thought. Whether it be a chandelier falling on some random passerby or some poor fellow collasping mid-dance, she knew it wouldn't be pleasant. Still, Melody could scarcely hide in her bedroom for the evening, especially not with her mother knowing full well about her plans for the evening. Terrible thing aside, she had to attend.

The first twenty minutes of the party went rather seamlessly. She partnered with some random acquaintance of hers for the opening number before excusing herself to find something to drink. These parties were always so stiflingly hot. One would think any number of the magical folk attending would be capable of casting a cooling charm, but alas, none did.

It shouldn't have shocked her as much as it did when she nearly collided with Ben of all people. She had presumed the terrible thing would happen to someone else and she'd just be there to witness it, not that her past - one she'd been taking such care lately to avoid - would be the culprit. Melody should've known.

If she were smart, she would've ignored his greeting and kept moving. Ben hadn't deemed any of her letters worth returning. Then, he had suddenly reappeared in Housemade without so much as a heads up. Melody shouldn't even want to give him the time of day with the heartache he had caused her. She shouldn't even still be standing before him entertaining his surprised greeting.

Melody was anything but smart when it came to Reuben Crouch. That was why she'd been so willing to throw caution to the wind with him, wasn't it? Already, Melody could see the disastrous road her equally surprised "hi" was going to bring them down. The train was barreling towards her with no way to stop it. "Home from Canada, then?" She asked coolly, because really, without the scandal splashed across Witch Weekly a year ago she wouldn't have even known he was back.

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Home from Canada, then? Reuben frowned. And what was that supposed to mean? She knew that he had been home from Canada for quite a while. There was no possible way that she couldn't know that; their social circles weren't so estranged that she wouldn't have heard about his return, unless she'd been living in under a rock (read: in some country house her parents owned, guarded by relatives who were sworn never to speak his name in any context). Even if that was the case — which, knowing her parents, it could have been, honestly — he'd been plastered all over Witch Weekly and had even made a few appearances in the pages of the Daily Prophet over the course of his time back in England, so she had to know.

She was being snitty, then. Ben felt his mindset shift from surprised to defensive involuntarily. What was she so upset about? It was her family that had flown off the hinges, not his. It was her parents who had forced him away to Canada in the first place.

"Only just," he said sarcastically. "I had to trade three frostbitten toes for a ticket back home, so, you know. It took a while."

  

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Melody was keenly aware that there was little point in staying and engaging with him. Nothing positive could come from a situation in which they were both defensive and disappointed. Despite knowing this as clearly as she knew her wand work, she couldn't take the step to abandon the conversation. She couldn't disregard him as he had done so easily nearly two years ago. Merlin knew, she couldn't even bring herself to want to.

"I'm sure your family was happy for your return." She stated simply. Her family certainly wasn't, but that would also involve bringing up the incident and discussing it. The instant Ben left the continent it was as though he had no longer existed. The only remnant of their brief flirtation to be seen was the tighter reign her chaperone had on her. Melody glanced down to smooth an invisible wrinkle on her gown, an anxious habit her mother could never break her out of. She had to walk away, one of them had to be smart enough to put a final end to this. "If that's all?" Desperately - secretly - she hoped he'd give her a reason to stay.

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Ben was not at all sure that his family was happy about his return. Much as he might deny it, Ben would always be suspicious that Aldous had been looking for a reason to get him out of the way during Roman's Ministerial campaign, and that the whole ordeal with Melody Finch had just been the most convenient excuse. Either way, though, he didn't feel much like talking about his family to her — but he felt even less like letting her leave. Strange, wasn't it? He didn't know that he really had anything to say, but he didn't want to dismiss her so soon.

"All?" he asked incredulously. Nothing good was going to come of this line of questioning, he could tell already, but it was what had come to his lips and it was the only thing he could think to say at the moment. "Home from Canada and that's all? It's been two years — or maybe you've been too busy enjoying yourself in the season and hadn't noticed, with the time just flying by?"

  

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A viciously angry heat flared through her at his accusations. Melody had pined for him for the majority of his absence from her life. She wrote letters, all consisting of varying emotions but all carrying the same meaning. Upon hearing of his return last year, she eagerly awaited the chance run in where they rekindled whatever their relationship was. Between the two of them, she wasn't the one who forgot just how long it'd been since their last encounter. If anything, she was the only one who remembered.

"Did Miss Scrimgeour not satisfy your needs then?" She questioned harshly. Was it not enough that he had destroyed one family? He had to return to pick at old wounds and ruin her as well? Melody would've done anything a year ago to have him return to her. Even now, she desperately wished things to be what they were. Except, they weren't. Ben had an even less desirable reputation now than he had when they last met and their families would frown upon any union between the two. Her father would marry her off in an instant if he knew they were interacting just this minimally.

"It's been two years because you never thought to seek me out again." She continued before he could answer her illy thought out question. A deep frown settled upon her features. How was she supposed to walk away when for the past two years he'd been all she wanted? "You clearly showed your opinion on the matter, so why are we dragging this out?" She shouldn't have engaged at all. She should've just ignored his presence as he had hers and spared herself the heartache this conversation was going to spark all over again.

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Yep, nothing good was coming of this. Ben felt his face flush red at the mention of Annabelle Scrimgeour, not because he was particularly ashamed of his behavior as it related to her (he'd done things just as bad or worse with plenty of other women, after all, and he might have done the same sorts of things with the Princess here, if Canada hadn't interrupted them), but rather because he couldn't help but still feel a bit guilty for the way that things had ended up. It wasn't as though it was his fault that her father was an abusive lunatic, and that he'd reacted so disproportionately to a stupid rumor from Witch Weekly, but... well, her life had been more or less entirely derailed, and Ben couldn't entirely claim to be ignorant of the possibility of that happening. The Scrimgeours hadn't been the first family to react poorly to Ben cavorting around with their daughter, after all.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ben argued, both in response to her comment about Miss Scrimgeour and to her second statement. Both were true, to a certain extent. She likely only knew what she'd heard through the grapevine or read in Witch Weekly about him and Miss Scrimgeour, all of which was more scandalous than what had actually happened. And as for him not seeking her out — well, he hadn't, that was true enough, but it hadn't been through apathy. What did she really expect, though, when their first liaison had lead to him being fucking banished from the country? Who knew what sort of stunt her family would pull if they caught them a second time?

"Maybe you're right, though," he said gruffly. "Maybe I should get out of here before your family gets involved again."

  

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Melody quickly bit her tongue before she could lash out at him once more. It was obvious that the mention of her cousin had struck a rather sensitive nerve with him. However, she was rapidly realizing that standing beside a staircase at a rather crowded event wasn't the place to have this type of conversation. There was nothing the upper crust of society loved more than gossip, and Ben was rather prone to drawing mass amounts of attention.

Still, she couldn't force herself to leave him. All of her logic and sensibilities abandoned her when it came to Reuben Crouch; she was, after all, willing to throw her life aside to sneak off with him however temporarily. It sometimes felt as though he was a puppet master pulling at her strings. Perhaps, this was why she was too hung up on him to move past whatever their summer fling was.

A pause too long for comfort passed between them as she contemplated how to respond to his snide remark. There was so much hurt and tension between them that they were unable to resolve in this crowded ballroom. Melody's hands fisted the pale green fabric of her gown, undoubtedly causing wrinkles Mrs. Bradley would scold her for later when Melody forgot to smooth them. "Maybe you should." She said finally with a shrug. "This isn't really your crowd anyway."

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For a moment, Ben felt bad for his snide comment about her family. The way she’d paused for so long indicated that it had hit a little too close to home, and maybe it had been a little unfair of him to bring her family up like that. It wasn’t as though she’d asked them to have him exiled from English society for half a year.

Then she made the remark about his not belonging at this kind of party, and all of his sympathy for her evaporated. The truth was, Ben didn’t belong at this sort of party, and he knew it, but he’d worked hard in his own way to be invited here. Generations ago, the Crouch family had been considered the upper-crust of society, and although they might not have had the money to back that sort of position anymore, Ben still liked to mingle with those that might be considered ‘above him,’ depending on who you talked to. He mingled with those ‘below him,’ too, when he traveled, and he thought jibes about social class were some of the smallest-minded, crassest insults that anyone could pull out.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said bitterly. “I wouldn’t want to get the hem of your dress dirty. Goodbye, princess.”

  

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Melody regretted her words as soon as they passed her lips. While it was true that someone of his financial standing truly didn't belong to this crowd, it didn't mean she wanted him to vanish from it. Her world would be much dimmer if not for his intervention. She likely would've married some boring ministry man with a fortune of his own and probably would've had a child or two by now. Ben's presence in her life had saved her from that.

Before she could further push them apart, Melody turned on her heel and walked away from him. It had taken them nearly two years to speak to one another again, and perhaps that was for the best. Maybe all that was left for them was forlorn glances across the room, though she knew deep in her heart that would never be enough for her.

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It had felt good to say it, using her old nickname against her as an added barb, but when she turned to leave the feeling of superiority fled quickly. He was left feeling sort of... empty as she walked away. He'd been waiting over a year for a chance to talk to her again, and then what? They'd just had a stupid argument, about nothing in particular.

Maybe it was better this way. There was a reason he hadn't approached her before; their relationship, as much as he'd enjoyed it the first time around, hadn't really been good for either of them in the long run. It was probably best to just stay away from her, the way he had been doing so far. But knowing that it was for the best didn't make it hurt any less, watching her walk away.

  

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