That ache in his chest returned as she spoke. Ben couldn’t recall feeling more conflicting emotions at once, at least not in any recent memory. His heart went out to her, particularly after her first statement. He wanted to make her happy — and if staying with her in this small room made her happy, if only for a few minutes, he wanted to do it. But a part of him was already feeling the pain of leaving her afterwards, of losing her again, and this time forever. And he was worried, too — worried that she would regret it, whatever she said now. She was emotional and distraught right now — not that he could blame her. Anyone would have been, and Melody had a track record of being level-headed generally — but eventually she’d move past the feeling of this moment, and then what would she think of what was about to happen?

“Listen, no one owns you,” he started, gently. “No matter who you marry. No matter what he does.”

Not that saying it would make her believe it. Merlin, how broken she must have been feeling at the moment. He wished there was something, anything, that he could say to improve things — something he could give her that would make her believe that everything would be all right, in the end — but there wasn’t. This was it; this was all there was. The two of them, hiding in what was essentially a tidied broom closet, killing time until the inevitable.

Well, if that was all that was left to them — and if it was really what she wanted — then he supposed they could kill time the way she wanted to.

Ben glanced down at Melody’s dress briefly, then his eyes met hers again. “If this is what you want,” he said. Was it just him, or had all of the air left the room? He moved his hands back to where they had been when he’d embraced her, pulling her close once again, then gently guided her to turn around. He let one hand wander along the front of her dress, feeling the ribs of the corset beneath. He leaned in to lightly kiss her neck while his other hand moved towards the laces at her back.

  

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Ben was the naive one if he truly believed she had any control over her life. Her intended, for she no longer wished to even think his name tonight, had first introduced himself to her in a letter that essentially boiled down to 'we're getting married. I'll see you soon!' A man like that, with no compassion or thought as for his future wife's feelings, obviously cared little for her dreams or passions. Once married, Melody would fall into a mediocre hobby, maybe sewing, and that would become her life. And then, if she were truly lucky, she would become no better than a high quality mare until she ultimately perished in childbirth like so many other Society wives. It seemed as though bearing children was the most dangerous task Melody would ever take part in again.

Melody hardly needed to reply, though, for Ben finally realized what she was asking. Instinctively, she moved her head to grant her better access to her neck. The air was steamy, hazy even. Melody was growing dizzy with desire. Before she knew it, her gown was loosened and puddled on the floor beneath her. Turning back to face him (the tight lacings of her corset ignored for the moment) Melody kissed him deeply.

  

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This was a mistake. Ben knew it as he undressed her, and the thought didn’t go away, but rather echoed through his mind like a drumbeat as he continued. This is going to end badly. She’s going to regret this. You’re going to regret this. Someone from her family is going to find out and make you regret it.

But now her dress was on the floor, so it was a little late for that, wasn’t it? He could have backed out of this five minutes ago, but now… well, maybe he still could, but it wasn’t as though he wanted to stop now that there was one fewer layer between his skin and hers.

He had never been particularly deft at getting women out of dresses — the closures were too diverse and complicated for him to get the hang of all of them, not to mention the proclivity of dressmakers to hide fastenings in inconvenient places (seemingly just to spite men like him who might find themselves engaged in a search for said fastenings) but corsets were much more consistent, and Ben made short work of hers. Hopefully she had some sort of charm up her sleeve when it came to getting her back into it, because he was going to be completely useless when they reached that point, but unlacing a corset he could certainly handle.

There was a bench against one wall (rather conveniently — maybe too conveniently, given his suspicions about the hostess’ motivation) and after exchanging several more kisses, Ben guided Melody to it, then turned his attention to his own clothes and discarded his jacket to the floor.

  

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Melody sat on the bench and watched Ben expectantly. This was really happening then. It wouldn't be a figment of her imagination for the rest of eternity. As he was taking his pleasure, Melody would be able to think back to the singular time she had her own. Hopefully, anyway. The talk she had with her mother last week had implied that it would hurt greatly the first few times, and the books she'd snuck into her room hadn't painted a prettier picture. She had to be confident in his experience and her rigid belief that Ben wouldn't hurt her.

Thankfully, Ben finished undressing before her thoughts could give way to any further panic. Before she knew it, he was seated beside her with his hands on her. And then...and then…

...

Melody felt little guilt in the aftermath. Had her family not led her to such desperation, she might not have found herself sore and a bit bewildered by the whole experience. Nothing her mother had explained to her mentioned the positioning (or the sheer power being able to control the motion instilled). Melody sat on the bench besides him staring at their clothes scattered on the floor. To say goodbye again immediately after having just experienced that felt wrong. "I … uhm … thank you…?" Definitely not the right thing to say, but she could think of no other words.

She knew one thing for certain as she turned her gaze to him: this wouldn't be the last time.

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   Ophelia Devine, Seneca Lestrange

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This wasn’t the first time Ben had taken a girl’s virginity, but it was by no means a regular occurence. During the act, he continually found himself looking for clues about what she wanted or didn’t want. Clues that she wasn’t giving — because, he had to remind himself, she probably didn’t know what she wanted. Eventually, he’d just had to focus on his own climax, which left him feeling a little out-of-sorts at the end. They’d just done something together, but… what was it? How had it gone? Had she even enjoyed it? He had no idea, and being so utterly in the dark on the matter was disorienting for someone who prided himself on trying to be as conscientious a lover as possible.

So her thank-you, awkward as it was, came as something of a relief. “Yeah?” he asked tentatively, reaching over to stroke a piece of her hair that had come loose back into place. “You liked it, then? I mean, it was okay?”

  

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Melody blushed bright enough to show on her warm complexion as he spoke. It had hurt, for sure, but the hurt had led to something far more pleasant than she was expecting. However, the high she felt her body building towards throughout hadn't exactly amounted to something she would claim as satisfactory. In fact, if she were certain the door wouldn't magically reappear and reveal them she might've mentioned that particular confusion to Ben. They couldn't linger forever, though, and certainly not long enough for a repeat performance.

"Yeah...I...it was good." She had never been rendered this speechless before. What were they supposed to talk about now that it was over? Melody hardly wanted to turn such a high into an even lower low than their previous meeting had brought them. "It was … different than I was expecting it to be." Her blush deepened even more, a feat she hadn't thought possible. "The book I read didn't mention the different erm…positioning?"

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   Reuben Crouch, Seneca Lestrange

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Ben couldn’t help but laugh out loud at her last comment. “The book you read!” he repeated jovially, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in to kiss her forehead before she’d had a chance to feel too self-conscious about his laughter, or try to explain or elaborate. He would have loved to have stayed like this, cuddled up next to her in their dark little hide-away (unglamorous as it was, particularly now that it smelled faintly of Ben’s sweat), but he knew that couldn’t last long.

“Someone’s probably missing you already,” he remarked wistfully. “I suppose we’d better get dressed.”

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   Seneca Lestrange

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Melody fought the urge to explain the book even as Ben hugged her. When Marianne had explained what intimacy was, Melody found she needed a more in depth answer. It wasn't as though ladies sat around the tea room discussing the various positions and pleasures intercourse could bring. Not even the book she had snuck to read in the depths of the library answered her questions as much as she would've liked. And now Ben had introduced her to this whole other world and she had even more questions.

Bloody hell.

He wasn't wrong. Someone - be it her mother or a friend - was likely looking for her. "Yeah…" Melody glanced again mournfully towards her clothes. Hopefully her mother wouldn't notice if the lacings weren't as tight as Lucy had tied them. The spell Melody knew could never pull the lacings as tight as the determined lady's maid could. Regretfully, she stood and reached down to grab her underthings. Once ready for her corset, she turned back to face Ben. "We'll see one another again though, right? This can't be the last time we ever speak…" Melody wished now that she had waited to address this until she was fully dressed. At least then she could have the dignity of escaping if needed.

  

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Her question had him confused, to be perfectly honest. Wasn’t that the point that she’d made on the rooftop in January? She’d said that once she was married, that was the end of them. Didn’t she want him to disappear, at that point?

“I… I mean, we’ll see each other,” he allowed, shifting his attention to his pants as he slipped them back on. Anything to avoid looking at her, right at the moment, and letting her see how uncertain he felt about this. This might have just been a thing she was saying here and now, and maybe there was no harm to it — maybe her resolve to be faithful to her new husband would solidify once again outside of this little cloak room. But if she was really implying that what she’s said before wasn’t quite as firm as it had appeared…

It wasn’t that he would say no. But he’d spent the past month resigning himself to bowing gracefully out of her life. He’d talked himself around to the idea that it was better this way. A clean break, so that he didn’t just stick around regretting what he couldn’t have. If she wanted to do this again… well, it would stop eventually, he was sure, but in the meantime it would just be a wound that kept reopening every time he saw her.

“Anything else is up to you,” he decided. If that was what would make Melody happy, of course they could keep having little interludes like this — even if it wasn’t, strictly speaking, going to be the best for his emotional health, and even if it was risky and would only keep getting riskier as time went on. “Whatever makes you happy.”

  

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Melody stared down at the corset in her hands as he spoke. To keep them in this cycle of heartbreaking goodbyes was inherently selfish, she knew that, but she couldn't agree to never see him again. They couldn't attend the same social events and never so much as say hello. Melody had partaken in that endless loop for years and that left her feeling even more devastated than she was now. "Okay." She responded simply before turning from him in search of her wand. There wasn't much left to say. Anything else would just be rubbing salt into the wound.

Finally, once her corset was secured and her dress straightened on her shoulders, Melody faced him once more. "I'll write you when we're back. If … if seeing me won't make you happy, please don't respond." Every word Ben had said thus far was centered around her and her happiness. Melody hadn't the slightest clue what would make him happy, but she was growing increasingly convinced that she wasn't part of it. After all, he didn't want to marry her under their present circumstances.

Without waiting for a response or a further goodbye from him, she fled the room and nearly collided with a smirking servant in the process. The man took in her imperfect bun and sweat smeared makeup before rolling his eyes at her and continuing down the hall. However, as he passed Melody distinctly heard him mutter "...revealed at midnight…"

No.

Panicked, Melody searched for the door she had just come from only to find a solid wall. No, no, no. What would be revealed at midnight?! The alcoves had been convenient, but she hadn't been wise enough to suspect a nefarious purpose. No. Where was that door? Where was Ben?! Without further details, Melody had to assume that if they didn't escape and soon there would be no wedding in a week, for she would be ruined. Everyone would know of her dailiance just now and she would be featured in Witch Weekly with the other harlots of her generation.

No, no. This couldn't happen. They hadn't sacrificed their happiness for her to be destroyed anyway! She should've left their relationship on the rooftop. She shouldn't have sought after another stolen moment with him. They had been testing their luck with every conversation they'd had since July. Melody frantically looked about the main room, searching for that familiar smile. While it would've been a blessing for him to have left already, she couldn't be certain he had. Another servant stepped around her, causing her to turn and ah! There he was.

As quickly as she could without being suspicious, Melody moved to the refreshment table for a wine glass. She couldn't trust that he would follow her without complaint, and they couldn't make a scene. Not now. Not so close to midnight. Hopefully, he would forgive her for wasting some of the potion on this. Hopefully it worked! Melody couldn't have him banished to Canada again because of her.

"Hello, Mr. Crouch." She greeted nonchalantly. There were too many people around for her to be as bold as she had been earlier, and now knowing the evil workings of the hostess Melody was even more reluctant to trust the enchantments the waiters had mentioned. "I believe my fiance was thinking of sending some firewhiskey back to America. Might you have a moment?" A lame excuse, she knew it. He would see right through it. But, how to switch their glasses?! They were quickly running out of time.

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   Aldous Crouch, Reuben Crouch

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If seeing me won’t make you happy, please don’t respond. Her words were left with him when she exited the room. What had she meant by that? Had he given her the impression that it wouldn’t make him happy? Maybe she was picking up on more of his internal struggle with this than he would have liked her to. With that statement, though, she’d put the ball back in his court. She wasn’t going to contact him again until after she was married — married and returned from a honeymoon somewhere — and then it would be up to him how to respond.

Fuck. He needed a drink. Maybe a drink and a cigarette. He’d picked up the habit in Canada and had since kicked it — it was too hard to come by cigarettes in the quantity he wanted, over here — but there was something about this moment, and this feeling in his chest, that felt more appropriate to the thin, tinny taste of cigarette smoke than a cigar. Cigars were for celebration, or relaxing at leisure in a club somewhere. Cigarettes were for people who just needed to make it through the next five minutes — and right now, Ben felt like he belonged to the latter group.

Was Art at this party? Because he could use someone to talk to, too. Someone who could maybe kick some sense into him before he ended up deciding it was a good idea to do something stupid… but who also knew enough of the backstory on Melody Finch not to just dismiss him as crazy and past hope for having come this far.

He finished dressing and slipped out — unnoticed, it would appear — back into the party, where he made a line for the refreshment table. After he’d gotten a glass of wine, he started scoping out the men at the party for anyone who might have a cigarette — or, hell, maybe something stronger, if that was an option. Anything to put off having to deal with this kind of decision right away.

He was talking to a group of men from Excalibur and working up to the request (because one did not, no matter their emotional state, just start out by asking for drugs) when he was approached by… Miss Melody Finch. Again. For a moment he could only stare at her while he tried to parse together that ridiculous thing she’d said about firewhisky and her fiance. She just wanted to get him away from the rest of the group, that much was clear. But why? She couldn’t possibly want a repeat performance?! It had been all of twenty minutes, maybe less, since they’d finished. But it wasn’t as though they had anything urgent to talk about. If she had something on her mind, there would have been plenty of time to bring it up before, during, or after they’d done the deed.

Unless someone had seen the two of them talking earlier and questioned her about it, and this was some sort of cover story. Oh, Merlin. Was she actually going to force him to go talk to her fiance? About firewhiskey? The only thing Ben wanted to do less at that moment involved physical torture.

He drained his wine glass and set it on a nearby table. If he was going to go have to pretend to be interested in making a business deal with Mr. Whoever-He-Was, future husband of Melody Finch, he was certainly going to need the extra kick. “Alright, let’s see about it.”

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   Melody Crouch, Seneca Lestrange

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"Thank you." She smiled politely at the men he'd been talking to before leading them to a slightly less populated space. They were by no means alone, but it was better than trying to find one of those bloody doors all over again. Besides, there was less than twenty minutes until midnight. They needed to leave, and now. Later, once they escaped whatever catastrophe was about to befall them, she would devise an excuse to tell Samuel. First, she needed to force Ben from the party.

A friend of hers passed by them and quirked her eyebrows. "Mr. St.John-Black was commenting on -" she began and abruptly stopped as the friend was out of hearing distance. Melody didn't particularly wish to talk about the fiance she had cheated on only minutes ago with the man she had been with. In fact, at this very moment, she didn't want Samuel to exist at all. Seeing his empty hands, Melody offered her glass of wine to him. "Here. I don't need it." With any luck, the action would be discreet enough for both him to take it from her and the rest of the partygoers not to take note of it.

She waited until he'd taken a sip of the wine before continuing. From the little information she'd been able to find on its usage, it took effect fairly quickly. What she wasn't sure of (and didn't have time to find out) is whether or not he had to consume the entire glass to achieve the full effects. "We need to leave." Melody stated quietly. If he fought her on it she would simply wait until he drank more of the wine. But, she wasn't risking the consequences of whatever was to shortly be revealed.

  

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Ben hadn’t noticed the passing of the other girl, particularly, so the fact that Melody was still talking about Mr. St-Whoever (god, his name was obnoxious just on it’s own; why so long?) lead him to the conclusion that he’d guessed correctly that they were about to go and see him. Merlin help him. He took the glass of wine she offered him without thinking much of it and took a sip. It was sweeter than the glass he’d just finished — a different kind of wine, maybe, or a different year? In any case, it wasn’t bad.

We need to leave. Her voice was quiet but her tone was urgent, and there was a look in her eyes that Ben took to mean this wasn’t the time or the place to question her assertion. “Uh… okay,” he said, confused but not willing to risk making a scene by asking her for further details. He still had this mostly-full glass of wine in his hand, though, and he couldn’t very well just waltz out the door with it. He took another substantial gulp and looked around for a table that he could discard the rest on without someone noticing.

“Together?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. That seemed a bit risky — but then, everything they’d done so far tonight was, to put it mildly, a bit risky.

  

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While he wasn't questioning her motivations for approaching him again (which she was grateful for) he wasn't as agreeable as the potion seemed to imply he would be. She had guessed at how many drops were required for the full effects, and now he also had to consume the whole glass. Fuck. They didn't have the time to wait for him to drink it all. She released a frustrated huff. As long as they made it out the door before whatever was revealed they would be alright. Any questions he had could be answered later. "No, not together, obviously." What a scene that would cause! If they were to do that all of Society would know what transpired in the closet only minutes ago.

Still, she couldn't trust that he wouldn't leave, or, worse, that someone else would make him do something unforgivable with whatever effects of the potion he consumed. She had to monitor him until the potion was out of his system, and only then would she return home. "You go first. Wait for me around the corner. I'll explain when I see you." Merlin, this needed to work. Melody would never forgive herself if her need for, well, him caused even more havoc in his life. "Please."

  

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Ben still didn't understand what was going on, but he supposed he was willing to trust her, at least as far as the corner. It wasn't as though he was that invested in this party, anyway.

"Okay, okay," he said, hoping to soothe some of the frantic energy he felt from her. "I'll see you there."

He made a gesture of farewell and made his way across the room— not purposefully, not suspiciously, but stopping to exchange words in passing here or there— and finished his wine as he did so. He left the empty cup with a servant and retrieved his coat, then headed out the door.

Which corner? He supposed he'd just have to pick one, since it was too late for clarification now. He should have asked for more detail when she'd asked him to leave, but… something about the way she said it made him think it'd be better to just go along with what she wanted than to waste time overthinking it.

Hopefully she'd find him, out here in the cold.

  

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She tried not to fidget anxiously as she watched his slow progression out of the party. Without being able to inform him of the pressing matter of time, he didn't know to rush. Melody began her own goodbye (being certain to avoid her mother in the process) and darted out of the house with three minutes to spare. Did the enchantment extend past the party lines? Fuck. They had to find somewhere private.

Melody found Ben with relative ease. The corner wasn't very specific, but the footprints he left in the fresh snow were a bit more helpful. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her dress, desperate for any warmth against the frigid cold of the night. "There's some kind of spell on the party. I think everyone who took refuge in the rooms are going to be exposed." She explained quietly once she had approached him. "We are going to be exposed. We need to go."

  

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