13 April, 1888, 7PM — Boar's Head Inn, Greyabbey, Ireland

This is our decision to live fast and die young.
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun.
If Miss Scrimgeour's response to his letter had arrived at any other point, he might have simply laughed off her accepting his offer of a drink. He'd mostly been joking when he made the offer, anyway (at least in the letter; there was no telling how serious he'd been when he'd originally extended the invitations, but as he'd been drunk he wasn't sure it counted for much, anyway). He had a habit of writing to girls after he'd damaged their reputations, which unfortunately happened often enough that he had a habitual response, and he hadn't even known whether she would reply at all.

Her first letter, however, had come right after Ellory had started accusing him of running about with Miss Scrimgeour, so of course he'd responded. It was at least partly out of spite, but he did also think she was good company. He just wasn't really sure, in the heat of his exchange with Ellory, which one of those factors was playing a bigger role in him pushing to make this meeting a reality. Whatever the case, he didn't have any regrets as he flooed over to Ireland, then apparated to an alley near the Boar's Head. If anything, he almost regretted that'd he'd chosen a spot so secluded, so unlikely to lead to a continuation of the rumors they'd started last month. Of course, subtlety would be necessary for her, and not a bad idea for him either, but Ben was feeling spiteful enough that he almost wished there was some chance Ellory would find out about this. He would have liked to have seen what sort of letters she sent him after that.

She arrived shortly after he did. It hadn't even occurred to him to worry that she wouldn't come; self-destruction had always been easy in the past and he was finding it no harder this go-round. "Miss!" he called with a wide smile, waving her over to the booth he'd claimed. He left it at just Miss; even though this was a Muggle pub, there was no sense in throwing around such traditional wizarding surnames like Scrimgeour. Might attract the wrong kind of attention. He should figure out what her first name was, he thought absently. He'd known at one point (probably several points) but had forgotten already. Maybe a nickname would be better. He was good at giving girls nicknames that stuck, and good at making it seem like he was flirting when he did it instead of just choosing not to remember their name.

(Was he flirting with Miss Scrimgeour? He hadn't decided yet. Their letters were certainly a bit more than cordial, but he'd meant what he'd written to Ellory about not being on the prowl for someone to replace her. Especially not someone with a similar background and a similarly crazy family and probably some similar hang-ups that would ultimately lead to a similar explosion at the end of the relationship. He knew that he oughtn't to be flirting with Miss Scrimgeour, but he also knew in a deeply cynical part of his heart that he wanted Ellory Pendergast to think that he was — it would serve her right, for having the temerity to call her a whore for the mere crime of having been present at the street fair when he'd been drinking).

Whilst he'd been considering this, Miss Scrimgeour had reached the table, and Ben abandoned his drink as he rose to greet her with a mockingly polite bow. "And here she is, in the flesh — and without a chaperone again. No wonder people talk," he teased. "Does your family let you go without, or do you have a habit of stuffing them into closets?"

  

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MJ made this <3

Bella's anxiety was a messy thing, mostly because she coped with it in ways that only managed to cause her more anxiety in the end. She hadn't been happy when rumors started circulating (that last thing she needed was her father showing up on Aunt Laverna's doorstep in a fiery rage), but her foggy memories had compelled her to figure out what the contents of their conversation at the fair had been and whether anything she'd said to him could be damaging. And besides, she'd never been to Ireland before! She just hadn't considered that doing so would feed into the very rumors that upset her in the first place: being alone, unchaperoned, and with Reuben Crouch where alcohol was involved.

She'd dressed far different from her every day apparel for the impromptu trip, forgoing her daily robes (and even her dresses that showcased her wealth) in favor of an outfit that a woman of the lower-middle class might find herself wearing. It gave her the fuzzy nostalgic feeling from her early childhood when she'd roam the village and do all the fun stuff she'd never gotten to do again after beginning Hogwarts.

There was still that sense of utter dread as she apparated out of her bedroom and across the British Isles. While usually a troublemaker, most of her trouble-making was done on accident, not in a purposeful attempt to break rules! Maybe she really was trouble like Witch Weekly had made her out to be. Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Sadly, Ireland didn't seem all that different from many English villages, at least from the outside of the pub. She'd entered the unfamiliar place, her cheeks flushing pink as she realized she was here for everyone to see. Was everyone staring at her? She could see eyes on her, but her mind assumed there had to be a reason. And then, well, there was him.

"Did you honestly think anyone would allow me to go to Ireland to meet Reuben Crouch?" she questioned, brows raised. "They always let me go to work without a chaperon, so I guess I'm used to wandering off without company." But not this far away, not that she'd be telling him that.

  

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Ben shrugged off her response with an easy grin, although it did occur to him to wonder if he had really done much to merit the emphasis she placed on the name Reuben Crouch. He'd only been back in the country since December, and he'd been mostly keeping quiet since then. And had he really been so bad before? Ben had always considered himself reasonably circumspect in his dalliances, at least in Britain. Overseas, all bets were off, but here he was nothing but a harmless flirt. What had happened in the last twelve months that had ruined that for him?

Whatever. They weren't here to talk about his reputation as a womanizer. They weren't really here to talk about her lack of a chaperone, either. To be honest, it would have been offputting if she had showed up with someone else, given the lengths that they'd gone through to plan a meeting no prying eyes would be privy to.

"And do you often wander off to meet strange men in pubs?" he asked with a teasing eyebrow raise. "Ah, but I'm being rude — you don't have a drink yet. What would you like, milady?" he asked, making a gesture and attempting to catch the eye of the barkeeper.

  

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MJ made this <3

Bella could not stop her cheeks from turning pink, which perhaps was her fatal flaw when attempting to remain unaffected by teasing, flirting, or being targeted for any reason. It made her look like she was affected by his words in that way, when she was very much confident going into this meeting that she had no plans to fall victim to whatever men like Mr. Crouch did when they took young women to pubs far away from their homes.

She had a mission.

But then there was alcohol.

"I'll have whatever the Irish usually like to drink around here," she responded, her gaze wandering to the crowd of mostly men who sat around small tables and the bar. "Preferably nothing too strong."

But she was mistaken — every drink was a strong drink for her.

  

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

She clearly had very little experience with alcohol, which he supposed was to be expected. Ben made a gesture for her to sit and sauntered over to the bar to order her something, since the bartender hadn't glanced over at him when he'd wanted him to. He was reminded as he walked of the way Ellory Pendergast had kissed him — awkwardly, uncertainly. Rich girls were all talk when it came to anything fun. Miss Scrimgeour probably hadn't ever been properly kissed, he figured. He had almost certainly been Ellory's first real kiss, and depending on which prudish pureblood she ended up married to, he might be her last. He wondered whether she was even conscious enough of what kissing was supposed to be like to recognize the difference. It wasn't as though their very brief interlude behind the tents at the street fair had given her a wealth of experience to draw from for comparison.

The barkeep gave him a drink. He frowned at it for a moment before pushing his inner monologue to the back of his mind and heading back towards the table.

"One of 'whatever the Irish usually drink'," he said, placing it down on the table in front of her with a smirk before sliding back into the booth across from her where he'd left his own drink. He hadn't bothered to order her anything weak, because that would have required him to look like a wuss at the bar, and his pride wouldn't allow that, even in a Muggle pub where he was unlikely to see any one of these people again. "You know, I was a little surprised when I got your first letter. I thought the rumor would have scared you away. You must have been a Gryffindor," he joked with an affable smile.

  

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MJ made this <3

Bella was probably stupid for trusting Mr. Crouch to get her drink, but he hadn't yet given her any reason not to trust him (at least not directly). She sniffed her drink when it was put in front of her, her eyes snapping shut and her eyebrows involuntarily raising at the strength of the scent. Then, without another thought, she took a taste.

"A Gryffindor indeed," she admitted with a smug smile. "I guess I've learned that whether I behave or not, they're going to assume I'm up to something. I might as well meet new people, go new places..." Her eyes wandered around the pub, which seemed to be decorated with typical Irish memorabilia that was reminiscent of symbols she'd seen at the Celtic Fair. "... have new experiences — something girls like me don't typically get."

As she took another drink, she could feel the back of her throat burn just a little, followed by a fluttery feeling in her chest. But she was totally mentally sound, right? Her judgment wasn't lacking, at least no more than usual.

  

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

"Experiences," Ben repeated, with a slight raise of his eyebrow. He took a sip from his drink and tried to convince himself that the word didn't have the same sort of connotations when she said it that it would have had in another context. For all that she might have talked about being raised by poor Muggles, she was still a Rich Girl ™, and Rich Girls ™ did not make subtle innuendos and use leading phrases like having new experiences. As much as his reason might argue that, however, his gut feeling was that she meant it exactly the way he'd interpreted it. After all, she'd agreed to slip out of her house of her own accord, chaperone be damned, and meet him in another country, in a Muggle pub, for the explicitly stated purpose of getting drunk together. If she was willing to do all of that, was it really so much of a stretch to think she might have been flirting with him, too?

Ben swished the alcohol around his mouth and considered. He watched her take in the pub, eyes wide and curious. She had very clear, pretty eyes. They were probably her best feature. I could kiss her tonight, Ben thought as he swallowed. The groundwork was laid and the setting was right for it; he knew he could apply the right charm in the right places to make it happen. The question was, did he want it to happen?

He'd specifically told Art he wasn't getting involved with Miss Scrimgeour, and Art had gone out of his way to mention what a shitty idea it would be if he was. Art could hardly be considered an expert, though, after he'd helped Ben navigate straight into the shipwreck that his whole relationship with Ellory had become. Besides, although they might look similar on paper, there were all sorts of differences between the two women in practice. He had the feeling, first of all, that if he kissed her tonight he wouldn't have to worry about her relatives sending threatening letters to Aldous — or hearing about it at all. Of course, he'd thought the same thing about Ellory, back when all he'd really known about her was what he'd learned in Mexico.

The other thing that occurred to him was that running off to drink and subsequently snog and/or seduce Miss Scrimgeour was exactly what Ellory Pendergast probably expected him to do. He honestly couldn't be sure whether that made him more or less inclined to follow through on it. He really wasn't some sort of lecherous cad, and it stung that she was so quick to assume he was — but at the same time, she'd made him angry with all her damn letters, and there was some part of him that would relish the idea of doing something she would hate — even if she never knew he'd done it.

He slid one foot a bit closer to hers under the table, but stopped short of actual contact. Still undecided. "I think you mentioned running about and climbing trees when we spoke last," he said with an easygoing grin, "Which is an experience I don't think many ladies in your position have had. It's easy to find adventures if you don't mind bending the rules a little," he continued. "Which you clearly don't."

  

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MJ made this <3

If she had been aware of what exactly was in her drink, she may have been a little more cautious about how much — and how fast — she drank. But alas, Ben Crouch had been a huge douche and filled her glass with who knows what. As she took another sip of her drink, she couldn't help but let out a little giggle just from the fuzziness it brought over her.

She didn't even hear what he'd muttered at first, and didn't even think to ask him, because she was staring at him mindlessly. Examining him. Mr. Crouch may have been short (which was awfully disappointing), but he did have a charming smile. Well, his smile wasn't as cute as Mr. Gladstone's, but she did suppose his hair was nicer. Or was it? She didn't really like reddish hair on men — and it would look especially awful on Mr. Crouch — but Mr. Gladstone would look weird without it. No, what Reuben Crouch was missing was green eyes...

She could only just feel the alcohol in her system, but it seemed the mere knowledge that she was really doing this — you know, running off from home, being unchaperoned in an Irish muggle pub with a man, and getting drunk — made her a little more prone to taking risks she normally wouldn't take. And based off what left her mouth next, definitely more flirty.

"Mmm, I don't think tree-climbing is all that exciting. It was about all I had to do when I was little," she breathed, propping up her arm and letting her cheek lean into her palm. "You seem like the sort that's had all sorts of adventures. I don't suppose you had any suggestions for me," she prompted, leaning just a little forward.

  

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

It was the emphasis that decided it; she was definitely flirting with him. He could see the rest of the night playing out on any of a number of different paths, all of which he'd been down before. He could lean in the way she was and tell her adventure stories that she would lap up like a kitten at a bowl of milk, and they'd keep leaning in until it seemed the most natural thing in the world for their hands to brush, then to transition to that sort of casual fingertip dance that he played out along a girl's palm and pretended he wasn't doing. From there they'd go find somewhere more private, her most likely giggling all the way.

Or he could close the distance between their feet with a playfully light tap. The conversation wouldn't change, wouldn't indicate what he was doing, but he'd hold her eye contact so that she knew it was intentional and not just an accidental bump. There were all sorts of ways he could prime a girl for the inevitable, so that she was ready and willing to slink away into the shadows when they ran out of things they could pretend to be talking about. Or he could start edging his way around the booth now so that in ten or twenty minutes they were sitting side by side, his arm resting on the back of the booth and then falling casually to her shoulders, and if he went that route he could probably kiss her right here in the bar. Something about having an arm around a girl's shoulders made them feel like they were invisible, and given the setting — the booth in the back of the Muggle pub — they really might as well have been.

Coming here to meet her had been so reckless of him, so unlike the way he had approached things with Ellory. He'd tried so hard not to hurt her, taken so many pains not to mislead her, and tried to push her off in a more productive direction when he thought (as eventually turned out to be the case) that he was all wrong for her. He had made absolutely sure that she knew where he stood before he'd taken the liberty to kiss her. He hadn't even made an attempt to do that with Miss Scrimgeour (her first name, he should figure it out, probably before he kissed her). For all he knew, she was coming to this bar tonight thinking that he'd transfigure himself into some sort of knight in shining armor and they'd run away together into the sunset. It had been stupid of him to bring her to a place like this — a place where the contact seemed so expected, so inevitable — without taking any measures to ensure she knew what she was doing by coming.

Then again, it hadn't helped with Ellory, had it?

"I'm sure I could come up with a suggestion or two," he said, tone thickly flirtatious. "But I was a cursebreaker, you know, so not all of my adventures are for the faint of heart."

  

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MJ made this <3

The angel on her shoulder was yelling off all sorts of alarms. While she had spent the last seven years fairly sheltered, she wasn't completely clueless; she knew what flirting what and she definitely knew what it could lead to if she didn't control herself. The devil on her shoulder, however, seemed intent on convincing her that this was all some sort of dream. It certainly seemed like one — she wasn't dressed like her normal self, she wasn't with a gentleman she frequently found herself in the company of, and she definitely wasn't in a place she was very familiar with. It just seemed unreal. But it was real, and her inability to realize — no, her denial about its reality — would be her downfall.

She needed to remember that she was here to have fun, not ruin herself and her chances of ever finding a happy match. She had a gentleman that made her feel all fuzzy inside, right? The devil on her shoulder was convinced that he didn't make her feel this way, not the way Mr. Crouch was. It told her that her other gentleman friend was only that — a friend — and may have zero intention to marry her. But if she was looking at Mr. Crouch in that way, as if she'd hoped to marry him after all of this, all of her alarms would have gone off by now... right?

It seemed the angel on her shoulder was having absolutely zero luck, as Bella stared at Mr. Crouch with big, blue eyes and let out a sort of a questioning sigh. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in sharing those adventures?" she asked suggestively. "I'm pretty sure my heart can hold its own. No weakness there." Liesssssss.

  

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

It seemed as though Miss Scrimgeour had picked the well-worn path for him, which at least saved him the trouble of having to choose himself. She wanted to hear about his adventures (or, perhaps, she had something more literal in mind when she suggested he share some adventures with her, but he wasn't quite ready to make that leap and potentially push her into something she hadn't been hinting at after all). With a dashing smile, Ben leaned back in his seat, one arm cocked up on the back of the booth and the other hand placed casually on the table. That hand was well within what might have politely been called her area of the table, but not touching her, and not quite so close as to look as though he'd intended to touch her. Just close enough that when she eventually moved — either to shift her weight or to take a drink or to lean even further forward with interest — she was almost certain to brush up against his hand. It was something of a trap, but if anyone he'd used it on had ever noticed and thought of it as such, they'd never had the presence of mind to be offended.

"Well, the last time I went on a cursebreaking trip was a vampiress' cavern in Turkey," he began conversationally. Merlin, had that really been the last time? It seemed like a lifetime ago, with everything that had happened since then. "The best part of that, though, wasn't the tomb — it was forcing Roman to miss his crumpets with the queen," snarked Ben. "That's my brother," he explained in case she didn't know, but he assumed most wealthy purebloods already knew Roman, at least by name and reputation. "Ministerial secretary and total — well, you know how family can be," he said with a shrug. "Ended up spending the weekend in Ankara with me, throwing up on Turkish spirits, instead of brushing shoulders with the nobility, or whatever the point of that dance was."

Normally Ben was very pro-Muggle and pro-integration, but the fact that Roman had made a big fuss over the invitation had made Ben disdain the event on principle.

"Not sure he's forgiven me yet," Ben continued with a blithe shrug. "But it's almost certainly the most interesting thing that happened to him that year. Unless you count losing an election as 'interesting.'"

  

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MJ made this <3

Bella couldn't quite follow what Mr. Crouch's story, maybe because she had no idea where Ankara was or why Mr. Crouch and his brother would be throwing up on Turkish ghosts (or maybe they were ghouls? How did one even throw up on a spirit? It seemed like a mildly absurd notion.), or maybe it because she was surrounded by unfamiliar sights and sounds. Nevertheless, she did the one thing she had been taught to do when she didn't understand the subject, yet wanted to still look pretty: smile, nod, and give sounds of agreement whenever it sounded like they were required.

"It sounds like you and your brother have an antagonistic relationship," she commented, knowing how that went. While she and Araminta had never annoyed each other purposefully, their dissimilar backgrounds and views on a multitude of things made giving passive aggressive remarks a fairly easy thing to do. In all reality, she'd had an antagonistic relationship with every member of her family — except maybe Julius, who always seemed the kindest of the bunch. Maybe that was because he was a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin like everyone else.

"Your brother never really seemed like the type to vouch for equality of everyone," she commented, unaware of if such a comment would cause offense. "Then again, politicians tend to do what they want, however they may want it, once they're in office. Minister Ross might prove the same," she sighed, her body shifting just enough for her elbow to touch him. She didn't glance down or acknowledge it, instead staring at him with knowing eyes.

It seemed like this was a game at this point, but it was a game that's ending was a complete mystery to her. It was such a Bella thing to do: act without thinking, often for the sole purpose of making a point. If her father was going to threaten and tell her he hadn't raised a harlot, she was going to show him that he had, whatever that really entailed. Whether she could really go through with that was a different story, but she was definitely going to push it.

The following 1 user Likes Bella Scrimgeour's post:1 user Likes Bella Scrimgeour's post
   Reuben Crouch

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Ben hadn't really intended to turn the conversation down a political avenue, but he was rather intrigued by her response regarding equality. He was, depending on his mood and what he thought might offend his brothers the most at the moment, either liberal or apolitical, but he was always interested in meeting and conversing with the former. And they had nothing to do but talk — at least for the moment. More might come later.

His physical response to the tiny bit of contact she'd given him was almost reflexive, at this point, rather than something he had to think about. She may not have done much, but it was enough to open the door, so to speak, and now that it was open he could nudge it slowly but surely in the right direction. He tilted his hand just a bit on the table so that he could casually brush his thumb against the inner edge of her elbow as they spoke, tracing nonsense patterns against the fabric.

"Is that something that's important to you? I voted Brownhill," he explained; he did not add because I thought losing to a woman would make Roman even more sore than just losing, period. "I don't think she would have walked back the stuff she was talking about after she got elected. At least not the stuff about women's rights, y'know."

  

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MJ made this <3

Politics and alcohol were two subjects that were by no means destined to go together in any setting, especially in one where getting drunk was the end goal. She'd always been the sort of girl that was easily distracted, and was even more so while her head felt like it was buzzing. It took a solid ten seconds to even remember who she'd supported during the election, and five more to remember that the man she'd supported had won. Not that it really mattered; women couldn't vote, and she didn't foresee women being able to vote anytime soon.

"As a girl, I was taught to shy away from politics," she sighed, gently leaning her arm against his subtle touch. "Then again, I was also taught to shy away from alcohol, yet here I am," she mused, the corner of her lips tugging into an amused smile. "I supported Ross, though I admit his popularity might have been a contributing factor. It's not like I voted or anything." She probably wouldn't have voted even if she could have. While her values certainly favored equality and the Liberal Agenda™, she certainly wasn't campaigning for it!

"For some reason I'm not surprised you voted for her." Maybe it was because Mrs. Brownhill was pretty, or maybe Mr. Crouch really was liberal. His next words confirmed her latter suspicion. "You're not like other 'wealthy pureblood men', are you, Mr. Crouch? Not stuffy and cold and bigoted," she practically slurred.

The following 1 user Likes Bella Scrimgeour's post:1 user Likes Bella Scrimgeour's post
   Reuben Crouch

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Ben grinned at her comments regarding both politics and alcohol. "What a little rebel," he murmured flirtatiously. The word sounded good as soon as he'd said it; it sounded like it fit. Rebel. That could be the nickname he'd decided he ought to have for her. One shouldn't be on a Miss/Mister basis if meeting up in Ireland for drinks was a think they were doing, now — which apparently it was. The nickname was short enough to be handy, and cute, in an unconventional sort of way. He didn't think she'd object. Unless she did, the matter was more or less settled in Ben's mind.

When she leaned in he moved to compliment her, so that he had all of his fingertips on the smooth fabric of her sleeve now. He shifted his weight so that he could lean forward a bit on one elbow, which served the double purpose of making it more comfortable for him to continue his flirtatious little pattern-drawing on her arm and also brought them into much closer proximity, generally. She hadn't broken off eye contact, which was, in Ben's experience, the nonverbal way of saying yes; he had the feeling that he could do just about anything right now, from reaching over and playing with that piece of her hair that had come loose to rubbing her shoulder to even putting his lips against hers, and she wouldn't stop him. But it wasn't quite the time for that.

"Does that surprise you?" he asked playfully, raising his glass slightly as though he intended to drink but not quite following through with the action yet. "Did you come all the way to Ireland to meet up with me because you thought I was stuffy and cold and bigoted?" Now he broke to take a quick sip of his beer before putting it back down on the table and sliding it off to the right — out of the way in case he felt the need to lean in even closer than the two of them already were. "Don't worry, though. I know what you mean. You're not like other girls."

Every girl liked to be told they weren't like other girls. In this case, however, maybe it was true. She'd certainly proven to be a vast difference from Ellory Pendergast, who hadn't done anything more daring than putting quill to paper during their entire year-long flirtation.

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   Bella Scrimgeour

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MJ made this <3

Bella prided herself on her stubbornness and incredibly strong willpower, but it seemed Mr. Crouch was helping her learn many new things about herself, including that that supposed willpower was almost nonexistent. She'd came to be a rebel, and there was something incredibly enticing — almost paralyzing — about hearing the words come from his mouth. If she hadn't been staring him in the eyes and just watching him, she'd have almost been positive she'd been put under the Imperius Curse. Her cheeks tinted pink as his tone grew more bold and flirtatious, and she seemingly lost all control over her ability to not respond in a similar way.

"I guess it shouldn't," she responded in a soft, low voice. "But you never know what people will be like when they're alone. I guess I was taking my chances and got lucky," she teased. At this proximity, she swiftly coming to the realization that she could smell his breath. He smelled like beer, which in itself wasn't unpredictable; what was unpredictable was how inviting it was, even though she clearly remembered disliking the smell at one point or another.

"Not like other girls," she echoed in a soft breath. She leaned forward on her own elbows, though she didn't dare move her arms out of his reach. She wanted to see what he would do — if he would do anything. The game was reaching a point where she'd lost control over the mechanics, and now the controller was controlling her. Only she wasn't really fighting it; she was waiting to see where it would go and what it would lead to.

  

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— MJ is MAGICAL —