Melody felt as though she'd been stunned as he spoke. Her muscles pulled taut, her expression froze into one of disbelief. Ben was well into his cups, there was no denying that, but every word he spoke was one she'd dreamt of hearing for two years. This was the conversation she had desperately wanted to have with him but couldn't due to their circumstances. They still really shouldn't have been speaking of their past relationship in such a crowded environment, but her panicked look around them showed that most people were decently distracted.

She frantically tried to think of the proper - no, not proper, proper would mean walking away from him again - the least incendiary reaction to have here. "Mr. Crouch." She repeated futilely. How could he not have meant the harsh words he'd spewed in reaction to her? She certainly had in the moment. Melody downed the glass of firewhiskey in her hand. Never before had she wished to be a Gryffindor as much as she did now. "I know. Me too." She said finally.

The warmth of the whiskey made her head swirl slightly. It was nothing she couldn't handle. Melody placed the empty glass on the table behind her, then suddenly wished she hadn't. Without it, she had nothing to fidget with.

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