September 10th, 1891 — The Crouch Home, Swallowbury

The exhausted look the midwife shot her on her way out was enough to shame Melody for the next century. For the third time she had waited for the pain to become unbearable, for the pattern to become obvious. She couldn't help that her call to Reuben had happened well after everyone should have gone to bed, nor could she prevent the contractions petering out after the midwife had, once again, ensured everything was set up and dawn broke on the horizon.

Melody sat at the kitchen table with her shoulders slumped and a steaming mug of tea before her. "I don't understand," she muttered to Reuben miserably. "The midwife even thought this would be it." For hours, Melody had muddled through, following the midwife's instructions to the letter. Only to end up like this. Again! "I don't understand what keeps going wrong."

---

Ben checked his pocket watch for the third time in as many minutes, and still had to blink before he could make sense of it. It was late — or rather, by now it was early — and he was tired. He was dressed rather haphazardly, since he'd already been in his nightclothes by the time Melody had called him, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles from how he'd run his hands through it while pacing the hallway. Only for it to all culminate in this: Melody slumped at the table and Ben standing awkwardly with his arms crossed over his chest, wondering if they were supposed to just go to bed now.

"Nothing's going wrong," he responded, parroting back what the midwife had said before she left. It was all he could do, because he certainly didn't know enough about what was happening (or what wasn't happening) to offer any words of reassurance on his own. Though his words were intended to be comforting, he couldn't help that his tone sounded weary after such a long night. "This just happens sometimes. It's all normal, you know? Like she said."

---

"Yeah, like she said," Melody bitterly replied. Distantly, she wondered where exactly Reuben had found this foolish midwife. Obviously, his trust in professionals was too freely given considering this was now the second instance where said professional had failed her. (Or was he simply too trusting in general considering she had forced him into an unwanted marriage?) Unsure of how to address her concern without it being an accusation or devolving into another argument, Melody instead sipped on her tea.

A minute or two went by without her adding more to the conversation. There was nothing else to be said about the failed labor, not without being repetitive or angry. Finally, after her tea was nearly a quarter gone, she quietly addressed the other question she'd had for some time but hadn't yet mentioned to Reuben. "You know, we haven't ... we haven't discussed what we might name the baby."

---

The first thing she said sounded angry, but she couldn't possibly have been angry at him, so Ben wasn't sure how to respond to it. He hadn't done anything differently tonight than he had on previous occasions, and it wasn't like anything he did or didn't do would make the baby come any faster. She was probably just irritated about the whole situation, Ben decided. He had nothing constructive to say about that, because they'd already been over all of this before on the previous occasions they'd had these false alarms. Repeating it again would likely feel patronizing, not comforting.

Ben lost track of things for a moment — he was tired, and when they weren't doing anything except sitting in silence there wasn't much for his mind to latch onto in order to stay active — so when she spoke again he was almost startled. He blinked at her. "Oh," he said with a frown. She was right. They hadn't talked about much in the past few months, and the conversation they did have mostly stayed on superficial topics. They did need to talk about it sooner or later, though, and he supposed there was no time like the present. There wasn't a pressing need to do it now, in the early hours of the morning, but... well, maybe talking about something concrete like what they were going to name the baby would help with Melody's mood. It would certainly do her some good to think about the future — a future that she had a place in — rather than the present, where she was uncomfortable and unhappy and still probably afraid she was going to die.

Ben shifted his weight and rubbed his thumb along his jaw, trying to mentally wake himself up a bit more. "Did you have something in mind?"

---

Her thoughts had been so preoccupied with concern for both her and the baby's health the last few months that Melody hadn't often allowed her thoughts to wander towards names. Earlier in her pregnancy it had been a way to remain distant from the baby, to convince herself that she would be alright if the the pregnancy somehow failed. Now though, when they were just days away from meeting the baby in whatever health it would be, no amount of distance would save her from the grief if something went wrong.

"No, not really." She answered. "Nothing outlandish would be my only request, I guess?"

---

Ben nodded, but he wasn't sure exactly what she really meant by outlandish. His sister's name was November, which would have seemed strange to some people but had always just felt natural to Ben. Art and Desdemona had named their daughter Gwenog, on the other hand, and while that was traditionally more of a name than November he'd never been particularly keen on it.

"Nothing Welsh?" he asked hopefully.

---

"Definitely not," she confirmed with an amused shake of her head. Gwenog was a lovely child and all, but the Pettigrew's had a bizarre taste in names. (Granted, Desdemona was a bizarre name in of itself, though it certainly sounded beautiful to say.)

Hesitantly, she asked, "would you want to name the baby after your parents?"

---

Ben hesitated. He had positive memories of his parents, and particularly of his mother, but he wasn't sure about using one of their names. For one thing, Aldous already had their mother's name, sort of. Aldous Albert from Alberta. It also seemed a little presumptuous of him to take their father's name, as though he thought his family would be the avenue that carried on the Crouch legacy. He might have been the only one of his brothers married, but he thought either Aldous or Roman would probably prefer the name be left for them. Melody wasn't even a pureblood, and while Ben didn't care about things like that he suspected that when it came to family legacies, his brothers might.

"Not without talking to Aldous about it first," he admitted. Was that stupid of him? He didn't know. He'd never expected to be in the position of having to decide whether his child deserved to have his mother or father's name. He hadn't even really expected to have children, for most of his life.

For a second he almost suggested Aldous — as a middle name, anyway. Knowing what he did about the nature of Ben's marriage, though, Ben didn't imagine that he would see it as quite the honor it might have been otherwise. He shifted his weight a little awkwardly. He ought to say something else, but the first thing that came to mind was to ask if she had anyone. Given that she was disowned, he couldn't imagine she was eager to use any of her family's names as honor names, whatever their relationship had been like in happier times.

"What if it was something musical?" he suggested with a slight frown. "To go with Melody?"

---

"No, of course. That makes sense." Reuben was the third son, after all, and the one least likely to be favorably remembered. Melody hadn't particularly wanted to use their names anyway but was more thinking of what he might like. Her cheeks flushed from the awkward embarrassment they now found themselves in; what a foolish, presumptuous question for her to ask.

That he didn't in turn ask if she would like to use a name from her family was a stinging reminder that she had no family. Melody could hardly name a daughter Margaret after her sister and it not be immediately recalled by all of society that she had no lasting connection to her sisters. Nor grandparents. Nor cousins or uncles. Not even parents, even if her mother was willing to see her earlier this year. It was better that Reuben hadn't asked, for she likely would have burst into tears at their tiny kitchen table.

Music was an easier idea to latch onto, not that Melody had any inclination to name their child after an instrument she halfheartedly played for a year or two. Viola was pretty, she supposed, though it didn't speak to her the way she hoped a name might. "It's a thought...I'm not really a musical person, though. What about something literary? Or just a name you heard in passing that you liked?"

---

Ben almost replied that he wasn't a particularly literate person, but between how late it was and the general mood of the night he wasn't sure Melody would appreciate the joke. In all seriousness, though, Ben didn't have any books that he'd read and loved. He wasn't a connoisseur of literature by nature. He'd done more reading as a child than he did as an adult, but even then he'd been too full of energy to sit still long.

He shifted his weight again and made a quiet humming noise while he tried to think. "Theodore, maybe?" he suggested with a shrug, to indicate that he wasn't particularly invested in that specific name. "Stephen, Isaac? Probably nothing that starts with a C. What do you think?"

---

She pursed her lips at Theodore. The few Theodore's she knew hadn't been kind. Perhaps that wasn't true of all, but having endured the egos of three she was certain it wasn't a great choice."isaac, maybe. C names would be hard to pair with Crouch... What do you think of Lucius? Or Xavier?" Those were both classic, albeit not English originating, names.

---

"Lucius just makes me think of Lestrange," Ben pointed out with a shrug. He was hardly an avid follower of politics — in fact, he was pointedly uninformed on the subject as a point of difference between himself and both his brothers — but since the man was the Chief Warlock it was impossible not to be familiar with the name. It would have been as strange as not knowing who the Minister of Magic was, and he'd run into few enough other men named Lucius in his life that it would probably be his association for a while.

"Luke is nice, though," he suggested. Something about the idea of Luke Crouch felt comfortable — it had the same sort of feeling as Ben Crouch, he supposed. Less pretentious than Lucius and Reuben; more fun, more free. Maybe Melody would consider that a point against it rather than benefit. It wasn't as though most people would consider him a great role model.

---

Right. Most Latin names would relate back to the Lestrange family, best to avoid those then. Thankfully, Melody hadn't grown attached yet to either of her suggestions.

"Luke is a nickname the same way Mel or Ben is. We could name the baby Lucian and call him Luke? He might one day be in the professional world, so having a proper-" she used her hands to explain that she wasn't necessarily looking for a propriety "-name might help him later."

---

Ben pursed his lips, poised to argue. He thought Luke was nice, and he thought Lucian sounded stuffy and stiff. The word that came to the tip of his tongue was projecting — that Melody was only thinking about professional names because that was what she wanted for their child, because Merlin forbid he end up doing something like what Ben did for a living. It occurred to him before he spoke, however, that maybe he was projecting a little bit, too. He was assuming that his son would have something in common with him, and would be happier in a life without so many expectations as the Crouch family had thrust upon young Reuben — but maybe that was wrong. Aldous and Roman didn't seem to be suffering for their professional careers, even if that type of work had never appealed to Ben. And it wasn't as though anyone could really argue that Ben was happy for having followed his own desire for freedom and spontaneity for so long.

"Maybe this would be easier if we waited until the baby's born," he said with a shrug. "Maybe once we meet him he'll just sort of look like an Isaac or a Xavier or something."

---

As always, he misinterpreted her meaning. Melody wouldn't care if their child decided to follow in Reuben's footsteps (she wouldn't agree with it by any means, but she knew better than to attempt to dissuade a determined young adult). Not that he asked, not that he had ever once given her the benefit of the doubt. Melody's expression fell once more as he shut down the conversation. Merlin forbid they actually work through an issue for once.

Nodding, she gripped her mug's handle and pushed herself to standing. "The baby will be here soon enough, we might as well wait I suppose." She replied, echoing his opinion. "I'm going to try and sleep some."

---

Ben took half a step towards her as she stood, watching for any sign that he could help her up, but she seemed steady enough on her feet. "Do you want me to ask the cook to leave a cold breakfast downstairs for you?" he suggested. "So you can try to sleep in?" It wouldn't matter one way or another for him, since he still had to get up and drag himself to work in a few hours, but maybe Melody could get a bit more rest. She was going to need it soon enough, and she hadn't really ever been what Ben would call well during this pregnancy.

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