It was a last-minute arrangement, but somehow she felt more prepared than the previous time he'd come over. It was easier now that she knew him and knew his intentions, and after sitting with him during their last visit it did not feel as though a stranger was coming over. But that was another thing—Dio had thought she had a good grasp of who the real Ben Crouch was, but then she'd heard the rumors, and now she did not know what to think. He'd gotten into a fight with one of the Macmillans—a public brawl—and the way his letter had been worded suggested that something was not right.

It was 7pm when Elliott had gone down for the night, which at first she was a little disappointed about (she'd been trying to keep him up, but he'd woken up so early and he was so cranky) but upon further reflection she decided it would give them a better chance to just talk. Then, if the opportunity came, she could wake up her son and let Ben hold him, just as he'd done last time.

She was still in her afternoon dress, but she'd slipped on one of her larger coats on top of it for the comfort rather than the warmth and curled up on the couch in the drawing room, her arms crossed over her chest and her gaze fixated on the fireplace. She told herself, first and foremost, that she did not want this to be a confrontation; his business outside of Elliott was his own, and she did not want to accost him with questions about matters that she was not involved in, but - still. One did not work as a mediwitch for years without being able to tell when others were trying to hide when something was wrong, and his letter was met by the gut instinct that there was something there.

Dionisia rose off the couch as the floo lit up, and by the time she reached her feet Ben Crouch was there in her home.

"Hi," she said softly, suddenly realizing how quiet the house really was.

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