We got married in a gold rush
And the sight of gold will always bring me pain

Late Night; April 8th, 1890 — Crouch Home, Swallowbury
Reuben Crouch

The doubts cast upon Melody during dinner followed her throughout the remainder of the evening and well after when she should have been asleep. Between Aldous' omnious comments and Mrs. Malfoy's obvious distaste for her, she was no longer confident in their abilities to manage this marriage. Ben's family was the only one left to her and even they hated her. Even they could hardly manage civility for the sake of their brother. If they — the family who publicly accepted their marriage — couldn't contain their negative opinions for a brief dinner, why should the rest of Society?

She stripped down to her shift and robe not long after disappearing into her bedroom. While Melody silently missed sleeping besides Ben she was grateful for the privacy their new home afforded her. She no longer had to pretend to maintain the facade of accepting of the consequences at all times. This house was not lovely. The windows were drafty despite the charms she placed upon them and the floors creaked with every footstep. The furnishings were all wildly outdated, but they had hardly enough money to update the carpets to her standards nevermind the furniture. This wasn't what marriage was meant to be. This wasn't what she had in mind when she foolishly demanded Ben marry her.

Then again, if the life of luxury was what she had in mind she wouldn't have been screwing her lover in the closet of a Valentine's Day party four days before her wedding. The life of Mrs. St.John-Black had to be easier than this.

She had just finished taking down her hair and was about to start plaiting it when someone — Ben knocked on her door. He had to realize dinner hadn't gone as hoped, too, but Melody hadn't thought he would want to talk to her about it. They barely talked at all anymore outside of public appearances and necessary conversations. Sometimes, only in her loneliest moments, Melody missed their fights in Paris, for at least then they still talked.

  

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Well, it was over, and they'd survived, for what it was worth. The evening had certainly been rocky at points, but they'd survived. That really ought to be enough, given the circumstances — given what a big ask it was to even expect his family to come to dinner and be civil for an entire evening in the first place. Still, Ben had been hoping against hope that things might go well, and they certainly hadn't. The possibility that Nova and Melody might find some common ground had been shot out of the sky early in the evening. He'd had this notion in his head that they might even become friends — perhaps, someday, that Melody could think of her as a sister, since she'd lost her own sisters when she'd decided to marry him. In hindsight, that seemed utterly ridiculous — as much so as his childish hope that Nova would end up sorted into Gryffindor with him.

His brothers, too, had been... less than warm. Aldous was quite clearly still uncomfortable with Melody's existence, much less her role as his new sister-in-law, and Ben thought it was probably obvious enough that Melody had been able to pick up on it too, even without knowing him as well as Ben did. Roman had done the best of the three of them at being civil and polite through dinner, but that was just Roman — too political to reveal his true feelings. No one was happy that Melody was here, and she'd had that fact hammered in at every possible moment tonight, which wasn't fair to her. Despite everything that she'd done in the past two months, she didn't deserve to be miserable forever — and she didn't deserve to be stuck in a family that didn't want her. Ben still felt like maybe there could be a light somewhere farther down the tunnel — that this was just too soon to ask anything more than pretended civility of his family — but even so, he felt like he owed Melody an apology for putting her through all of that tonight.

Having made up his mind on the subject immediately after dinner, it still took Ben quite a while to work up the courage to go up to her room. This wasn't a thing that they did, visiting each other's bedrooms — intruding on each other's privacy — talking — any of it. Yet here he was, knocking softly and then hesitantly making his way into the room.

He'd waited too long; she was already undressed. He blushed, though not for modesty — he'd obviously seen her far more indisposed, both on their wedding night and in Paris. Rather, he was embarrassed to have forced himself into this conversation when she was clearly ready to drop the subject and go to bed. It was too late to back out now, though; he was here and he had no excuse for being here, other than the truth.

"Hey, uh, about tonight," he said, shuffling his feet a little as he made his way farther into the room. "I'm sorry."

  

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Without her many layers Melody was without her armor. She had no defense — no fan to hide behind for this conversation. Instinctively, she drew her robe closed as he entered, some last ditch effort to hide herself — and her feelings from him. It wasn't his fault his family despised her, after all. Ben did the best he could given the circumstances (even if he had brought up children less than ten minutes in).

A heavy sigh slipped past at his apology. There were so many things they each had to apologize for (though her trespasses were admittedly far worse) that the list felt endless. "It's not your fault." She answered weakly. "They weren't prepared for you to elope, obviously. I don't blame them for their opinions." Hatred was the word she wanted to say, but her desire to not incite another argument outweighed her honesty.

  

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Melody sighed, and Ben echoed the sentiment. He felt tired, not physically but both mentally and emotionally, and he wanted to sit. There was only one chair in the room, though, and Melody was in it. There were other things that looked vaguely sit-able, but he hadn't been in this room before and he didn't know where she'd unpacked things, and the last thing he wanted to do was perch on top of a chest that she needed to get into in order to keep getting ready for bed, thereby further intruding on her. So he opted for sitting on the edge of the bed, although he felt a little awkward about it.

"Tonight was... well, I think it's good that we invited them, and that they all came — for the sake of appearances, you know," he said, looking at his hands rather than at her. The fact that they'd all shown up signaled that they were treating this marriage as legitimate — or at least, that they wanted everyone outside of the family to think they were — and it was a necessary first step towards smoothing things over in the long run. "But it was too soon for... well," he said, awkwardly. "I don't think any of them hate you, in case that was the impression you got. They just... need some time to get used to things. It'll get better."

Merlin, he hoped it would, anyway.

  

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Regardless of whatever Ben believed (and how well he thought he knew his sister) Melody was convinced of Mrs. Malfoy's hatred. Miss Finch still echoed through her ears as though the blond was shouting in her ears. It likely had been a blunder, a slip of the tongue due to Mrs. Malfoy being unaccustomed to her brother being married, but the insult had come when no correction was made. "I think your sister has some strong opinions towards me." Melody hadn't missed Mrs. Malfoy's reluctance to speak directly to her either — she was intimately familiar with a woman's brand of distaste and hatred.

She avoided looking at Ben sitting on the edge of her bed. The sight was too stark a reminder of the life she would never have — the love she had no privilege to. In another life, Melody wouldn't have hesitated before joining him on the bed. In another life, he wouldn't have had to knock.

"It was great though that they were willing to try. I know you were worried in Paris about selling this... the show of good faith will help." She too was worried but in a wholly different way. Ben was determined to be the lovesick couple, the lovers who eloped because they couldn't imagine life without the other. Outside of his compliments tonight, though, they should've just been close acquaintances for all the love they showed.

  

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"I think Nova's disappointed in me," he said, not realizing how true he felt that was until he said it out loud. He had barely even articulated it in his own head as a coherent thought, because he had been so busy worrying about dinner tonight and specifically about how Melody would handle everything, but — he was quite convinced that all of his siblings were disappointed in him, and his dear little sister was, in this case, no exception to the general rule.

"And I think you ended up getting the brunt of it, I guess," he continued, shaking his head. "She's... I don't know. She's not very confrontational," he said, though given her Miss Finch comment tonight he wasn't sure Melody would believe that. Even that, though, could have been construed as a barb intended for him — delivered to the stranger in the room, the person that she cared less about, in order to keep from having to come straight out and voice her opinion (or anything approaching it) to him directly.

"But she's really sweet, honestly. One of the kindest people I know. And I think she's... I think everyone is willing to make an effort," he ventured hesitantly. "It will just... take some time before they're ready. Aldous probably the most time," he continued, glancing at the toes of his shoes. "He's the one who, uh. Worked out the whole Canada thing, with your parents, the last time. So he... well, this came as quite a shock to him, to say the least. Since I promised him when I came back that I wasn't even going to talk to you."

  

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The prettiest rose, the sharpest thorn. Sweet was not a word she would've used to describe the ice cold woman at her dinner table this evening. If they were using adjectives Melody might've decided upon venomous or sneaky, certainly not sweet. For once, Ben was the delusional one between them it seemed. "I'm sure." She acknowledged with a small tight lipped smile. Unlike Ben, Melody didn't feel the pressing need to correct his wrong opinions. Really, she would've left it at that.

But then, he mentioned Canada, causing Melody to finally turn a confused stare towards him.

"Why did you? Talk to me, I mean." She questioned tensely. The first night they ran into one another at some random ball Melody had been content to ignore him as they had for two years. It was him who insisted upon hashing it out, and it was him who said he missed her at the quidditch party. Melody wondered if he ever missed those feelings anymore.

  

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He should have been expecting a question like that, based on what he'd said, but he wasn't. He took a deep breath in and held it a moment, shifting his eyes up to the ceiling of her room. After a second he let it all out in a long, audible exhale. He hadn't taken the time to reexamine his motives since the elopement, and he didn't think anything good was coming to come of doing it here on the fly, but he couldn't just not answer the question. Particularly not when he'd brought it up in the first place.

"At the Quidditch party? I don't know. I was drunk; you were pretty. Making bad decisions when I'm drunk is sort of my thing," he said, with a hint of bitterness, though in this context he could really only be angry at himself and not at her or anyone else.

"I think I knew it was a bad decision even then," he said, then, after a moment's pause, corrected himself. "I mean, I know I knew it was a bad decision. Which is why I avoided you after I came back from Canada. I guess I was overdue for getting myself into trouble, or something. I don't know. I do stuff like this, every once in a while. Just keep doing stupid stuff until it all blows up, and then Aldous has to come bail me out."

  

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"Right." What else was she to say to that? Melody was always — and only — meant to be a 'bad decision' on his part. Some girl he tempted into the shadows alongside him and his self-destructive behavior. What he must not have counted on, though, was Melody had shadows of her own. Monsters of panic who waited for the scale to tip in their direction to frighten her into action. Ben was doing what he always did in talking to her, he just hadn't known he met an even worse person than himself.

Silently, Melody stood and moved over to one of her still unpacked trunks. Inside it was a bottle of spiced whiskey she snuck upstairs from his stash. Once retrieved, she unstopped it, took a long drink and moved close enough to hand it to him. "Sorry." She muttered as she gestured towards the bottle. Whether or not he knew it was missing Melody hadn't known or cared. Sometimes everyone needed something stronger than wine. "Was there ever anything real between us?" She then asked as she sat on the opposite edge of the bed. "Did I imagine it all? I mean...before Canada. There was something, right?"

  

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Ben took the bottle as she offered it to him, noticing with some surprise that he recognized the label. He hadn't noticed anything had been missing, since he had quite the collection downstairs and he hadn't been indulging as much as he might've in the days before their marriage. Not that he was intentionally trying to cut back, necessarily, but he'd been the type before to break out bottles for nightly parties at Excalibur's and other such things, which obviously weren't a part of his life anymore. He wondered if it was the first (or only) one she'd taken, but didn't know how to ask without sounding as though he was trying to police her.

And she'd asked him something else, one of those big questions, and if he asked about the liquor bottle she'd think he was trying to avoid answering it.

"Real," he said with a sigh, testing the word on his tongue. "I don't know if I've ever had anything that was real," he admitted. "I don't know what real means. When we were first talking... I don't know. It was different," he said with a shrug, moving to put the bottle on the nearby nightstand without drinking from it. "But I don't know if that's enough to say it was real."

He hesitated, feeling like he should say something else but not sure what to follow it with. "Sorry," he finally added rather lamely.

  

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Different was probably the right descriptor. Back then Melody hadn't been plagued by self doubt and melancholy. She was a young girl on the cusp of the (thought to be) best years of her life. It was then Melody recognized the even starker change between then and now — she was happy. Ben knew her without shadows and baggage, and then he was sent off to Canada and with him went her confidence.

"No, it's alright. I asked." She replied with a shrug. None of this — not even the marriage was his fault. Ben was many things, but one could never say he wasn't honest. Even if it meant inflicting pain with his truths. "It was different then...lighter, maybe." It was amazing what two years of bitter resentment did to a person, she realized. How much heartache could she have prevented them both if she had greeted him at that ball with a knowing smile and an easy goodbye? What other life might they had then?

She watched as he put the bottle on the nightstand with a slight frown. "Do you think we could get back to that? Not now...I know you need time...but one day?"

  

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If they'd had this conversation the day that they'd gotten on the boat to France, or even the night he'd brought out that stupid card game, he would have said yes. Ben hadn't ever been one to fantasize about romance, but he understood that was probably something Melody wanted — and while he wasn't confident that he could give it to her, he had at least been willing to set it as a distant goal. Something to work towards, in the hope that one day the two of them could be happy together. Or at least happy ish.

With each passing day, though, that goal seemed less and less attainable. He still wasn't sure he had really forgiven her for the potion — either potion, really. He understood, and he wasn't going to bring it up and fight about it again, but how could he ever really trust her? And if he couldn't trust her, how could he in good faith pretend that he could ever grow to love her?

"I don't know," he admitted with a sigh. "A lot has changed since then. I'd like to say yes, but... I just don't know."

  

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Try as she might, Melody had yet to forget Ben's true desire when it came to them. He didn't hope or yearn for reconciliation. He didn't one day think they might be friends in the least. He wanted out — to be rid of her and her impulsive decisions. If someone could find her a potion to reverse time Ben would be the first to shove it down her throat. And yet, he was the one insistent upon just...accepting these consequences. Ben was the driving factor behind their lovesick act, after all. Left to her own devices, Melody might have confessed to her sins at the first opportunity.

She fidgeted aimlessly with a loose thread in the blanket. The ache of knowing he didn't and had never loved her didn't hurt as much anymore, but the idea of living like this for the rest of her life stung like a fresh slap to the face. "Okay." Melody said quietly, because again, what else was there? He knew where she stood — and even if he hadn't before tonight he could certainly infer her thoughts through her questions.

  

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The silence stretched between them after her one-word response. Ben didn't have anything comforting to say on the subject, so he thought it best to say nothing at all. He hadn't come up here to make things worse, after all; he'd come to apologize. He'd technically done that, so he ought to just go, but this seemed like the wrong note to end on if he was going to say goodbye. She'd just gotten out a liquor bottle, and he didn't particularly want to leave her alone with it and her thoughts for the whole evening. He knew all too well how that sort of situation ended.

"Hey, um," he said after a long while, looking not at her but at his feet. "I, uh... Maybe we could..."

(Ben had never had to verbalize this before; it always just sort of happened, but for obvious reasons it seemed unlikely to occur spontaneously in this case).

"I've been looking into things we could do to, uhm, keep you from — you know. Getting pregnant again," he said awkwardly. "Since we're... you know, married. I figured sooner or later..."

  

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For a minute — admitteely, a much longer minute than it should've been, Melody had no idea as to what he was hinting towards. Her thoughts were so far from intimacy and her wifely duties that she briefly thought Ben had imagined some other conversation and was replying to that instead. It shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did, though. After all, he was a man (a notorious flirt at that) and men had needs.

She hoped the dim candlelight hid her blush as she glanced towards him then back to her lose thread. Memories of that first night (not of the closet, but the happy, sappy love they shared) flashed through her thoughts. And yeah, if he was willing to make it enjoyable for her, too, she was willing, but she wasn't about to lie back as she would have for Samuel.

"It's effective?" She asked quietly. The abortion still weighed heavily on her mind, Melody didn't think she could live through that again. "The things that prevent pregnancy?"

  

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Ben sighed, waffling as he thought of how to answer. His main source on this was Art, because most of his friends weren't married, and most people who were married had no particular need to prevent themselves from having children. Since Art currently had a child, the efficacy of his methods and knowledge on the subject was... well, suspect, to say the least. It couldn't have been one hundred percent. On the other hand, Dez hadn't found herself guzzling an abortion potion six weeks after their wedding night (at least, not to the best of Ben's knowledge), so it had to be better than nothing.

"It's hard to say," he admitted. He wasn't going to lie to her in order to trick her into sex. "If you don't want to chance it — or if you don't want to yet — I could..." Ben drifted off, then shrugged. There were options, but none he really wanted to articulate specifically (not that he really wanted to be verbalizing any of this). "Do something else," he said vaguely. After a pause, he added, "Something discreet. So. You don't have to."

  

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