January 4th, 1891 — After Dinner — Crouch Home, Swallowbury

The tension from their last argument hadn't resolved or lessened in the weeks since he'd walked out of the dining room — it had just shifted from place to place, the constant elephant in the room. Melody had put up a good show of cheer at Christmas, thankfully, and Ben had done his best as well, though Aldous and Roman must have noticed they didn't talk to each other the entire day. Silence reigned in the house. The question lingered in the air, still unanswered. They couldn't get divorced, he kept telling himself. He could think of a million reasons why it wasn't feasible, both from his perspective and from hers — but the longer the silence stretched on, the more he found thoughts intruding on him. Memories of what his life had been like before he'd been married. Fantasies about what he might be able to do if he were unburdened once again. He'd talked about portkeys with Art on New Year's Eve — the only thing standing between him and that sort of release was the respectable veneer he was trying to maintain for Melody's sake. He did so much for Melody's sake, and at moments like this it was hard to see what, if anything, he got for his efforts.

They couldn't go on just not talking about it, he knew, because they were incapable of talking about anything else while it lurked in the back of both of their minds. It was going to be quite obvious to everyone that they were unhappy very soon, if it wasn't already, and then all of the things their marriage was supposed to provide her — security, safety, freedom from gossips — would crumble.

After a silent dinner, Ben had taken a bottle to his bedroom — liquid courage — so when he came downstairs and found her in the parlor, he was already slightly buzzed.

"So are we doing this, or not?" he asked, taking a seat in the chair farthest from where she was sitting and eyeing her levelly.

Melody Crouch

  

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Melody's trunks were packed. The few personal effects that remained in her bedroom were duplicates that she could just as easily live without should she need to leave in a moment's notice. A perfume bottle, a hair brush, all simple things that she could ultimately live without if she must. Her trunks were shrunken to toy miniatures, tucked into a freshly created pocket underneath her skirts. If the authorities came for her she would have to run quick, apparate to the random spot just outside of muggle London. From there, she would change into her maid's outfit and fade into the streets. Or so she hoped.

In truth, she didn't imagine Ben would agree to informing the authorities without at least giving her ample warning. However, Aldous and Roman were loose cannons. Both elder brothers were highly respected within the ministry, and if push came to shove they would sooner use their respective powers to ruin her completely. The Crouch family protected their own, Melody had come to learn, and in this circumstance she was entirely not a Crouch.

Her loitering in the parlor was for looks only, not for any desire to speak to Ben. The weeks between Christmas and now left an electrified tension crackling throughout their house. Melody wouldn't be the first to break this silence and, unsurprisingly, she hadn't had to.

It was obvious from the way he brought up the elephant in the room that Ben was at the very least tipsy, meaning Melody would have to navigate this conversation whilst remaining painfully sober. "This?" She echoed with a raised brow. This could mean too many different things in this circumstance, divorce or talking to name the biggest two contenders.

  

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She knew exactly what he was talking about, Ben was convinced. She probably just wanted to force him to say it. No coward's way out for him — nothing done easy. If he was going to decide to throw her to the wolves, she wanted him to own it. He supposed he did owe her at least that much, if they were going through with it. Which, of course, they couldn't. Wouldn't.

He knew that she must have been thinking about it just as often as he had, given the way they'd left the argument and the fact that nothing was even near resolved. A part of him had been hoping that she would have just answered the question straight away, no matter what her answer was. Maybe she would have considered the options and decided she really could be happier without him, and she would want this, and when he asked she'd just say yes, we are and it would remove the burden of committing to it from him. Or it could have gone the other way and she could have said no, please, I want to stay with you and he could have gone with that, too. This lack of resolution made him feel as though anything he said was at least half the wrong thing. How could he possibly divorce her with everything they'd already gone through? But how could they possibly stay married if they stood no chance of ever being happy — and how could they be happy if they both still felt the way they had before Christmas?

"The divorce," Ben said gingerly. "Do you want to go through with it?"

  

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Although Melody thought the last discussion had made the choice fairly obvious, she was resolved in her beliefs that it wasn't hers to make. She had single handedly dragged them into this disaster with her impulsive decision, and now it was up to him what to do. She wouldn't blame him for wanting the divorce, nor would she fight against it. He might not have been the most eligible bachelor earlier this year, but she was a steadfast believer that Ben was a good man.

And good men deserved to be happy.

"Do you?" She returned genuinely, not intending to be snippy or confrontational in the least.

  

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Ben sighed. It wasn't unfair of her to turn the question around on him, but he wanted to know what she wanted. He had never thought of himself as marriage material, and he still didn't. He was riddled with insecurities about the sort of life he'd been able to give Melody, although as she was quick to point out it was better than some alternatives. So on the one hand, he didn't want to be married, and he thought that was likely a feeling that would linger long after their argument had ended. But he did care about her, and he wouldn't condemn her to wandering the slums and struggling to feed herself. He didn't want to hurt her, but it seemed as though every path forward would hurt at least a little for both of them.

"I don't want you to be unhappy," he said eventually, which was not an answer to her question.

  

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"I think after all I've put you through this past year my happiness isn't what matters," Melody admitted honestly. "It isn't fair of me to force you to continue lying when you don't want to." He wanted out back in Paris, hadn't he? He wanted a time turner to prevent this mistake from happening. For once in their marriage the conversation didn't revolve around her and her needs.

  

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Ah, so she was in a martyr mood. Ben sighed again. "Of course it matters, Mel," he said wearily. She knew that, didn't she? If she hadn't caught on by now that half the things he'd done over the past year, he'd done with the express purpose of making her happy, then she wasn't paying very close attention. It wasn't even just that he was her husband and felt obligated — her happiness was important to him. That was why he'd gotten the stupid potion for her in the first place; to give her a method to achieve happiness in a marriage that she was certain would be miserable for her.

He rose, went to the sideboard, and poured himself another drink. This conversation was going to be longer than he'd anticipated, so he expected he would need one. He spoke while pouring, his back to her. It was a little easier to get through it all, that way. "I can't just turn you out and go about my merry way. I've always cared about you. I always wanted you to be happy. I just — I didn't ever think being married to me was the way to do it."

  

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"I've been happy since that night after the Cup." Back when they talked and she moved past her fear of him being unfaithful. Naturally, that fear had crept back in over the past few weeks, but if they were to be divorced what did it matter? It wasn't as though she would ever warm his bed again in that case.

Melody shifted in her seat and sighed. Why couldn't things between them ever be easy? "If getting a divorce is about what I want, then I don't want one. I don't want to leave you or this house or any of it." She loved him still, even if he would never love her. "But, you deserve to be happy, too. And if you're not ... if being married to me is making you feel trapped and uncomfortable and like a liar, then I want you to go to Aldous and confess. I'll go with you, too, if you think he'll let me leave without being arrested."

Being sent to Azkaban was her biggest fear at present. Surely, dosing a man into doing whatever she wished was a heinous enough crime to warrant such treatment. "I just want you to be happy in whatever form that looks like."

  

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Even in his wildest imaginings of what the future might hold, Ben had never contemplated such a dramatic turn of events as what she suggested. Confessing to Aldous and getting dragged to the solicitor's office, while Ministry investigators trailed after Mel? No, when he'd been considering divorce he'd been thinking they would go to a solicitor together, quietly. They wouldn't tell his brothers anything until after it was done, and afterwards Ben would tell them whatever he needed to in order to make peace with them — but never the truth. He cared too much about Melody to throw her under the bus like that — and if they were going to get divorced, it would have been because he really thought it was what would make both of them happier than staying together in this marriage.

She didn't want that, but even hearing everything she had to say about it, Ben wasn't convinced that getting a divorce wasn't the best shot they had at happiness. Four days ago, he'd been talking quite seriously about throwing everything away and going on a bender, for no other reason than he could. Melody, his marriage, and this veneer of respectability they had was the only thing standing between him and self-destruction. Could it do so indefinitely, or were they just a few short years away from what was happening now with Arthur and Desdemona? Stony silence in the house, him barely sober, her miserable...

Ben turned and leaned against the sideboard and took a drink.

"I don't know how to be happy," he said after a moment. "I wish I was any good at divination. I don't know what to do."

  

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Unfortunately,  Melody had never placed much stock in Divination and as such never took the class in school. She believed in the facts, in transforming things, in everything but the ditzy science of what existed in the dregs of one's teacups. She remained silent instead, pensive even. The choice remained entirely out of her hands.

"Ben ..." she tried and faltered after what felt like minutes. He didn't know how to be happy, and she didn't know what would make him happy. Nothing aside from freeing him from this misery, anyway. Melody wished then that she was undressed for the evening. Curling into herself was nearly impossible with her corset and petticoats still laced so tightly. How she wished to draw her knees into her chest as she had done on the rooftop back in January.

"You don't have to decide tonight. The Season won't pick up again for a few months, so you won't have to play the part of the happy husband for a few weeks at least." Delaying the decision would ultimately give her more time to liquidate the few possessions she had remaining from her former life. The more cash she had to travel with the better, since it seemed fairly obvious which way his heart landed.

  

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It was kind of her, he supposed, to offer him the chance to delay the decision, especially since there was no reason to delay it other than his own cowardice and reluctance to actually commit one way or the other. Putting it off wasn't an option, though, because every day of indecision only made things harder for Melody and delayed the inevitable for him. And the atmosphere that had inhabited their house since it had first been brought up was hardly sustainable.

He hesitated. A tense silence stretched out between them.

"We can't get divorced," he eventually answered. Which was what he'd been telling himself ever since she'd first brought it up months ago, and then consistently since the conversation had been opened again before Christmas. He might have entertained the possibility briefly, but even then it had only been if it was what she wanted. While she hadn't come out and said it explicitly, it was clear from the conversation so far that it wasn't what she wanted — which put them back at square one. This was the hand they had been dealt, and it was up to the two of them — somehow — to figure out how to be happy in this life.

He took a drink. "Maybe we... maybe we could try to go somewhere, this year. Like a real honeymoon," he suggested, cheeks flushing slightly — he supposed he was worried she would think it was ridiculous. "Sort of... start over. What do you think?"

  

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A real honeymoon.

Of all the suggestions she expected Ben to make, an extended trip somewhere to begin anew wasn't quite what she had in mind. She wasn't opposed, in fact a trip sounded rather nice, but it felt like such a jarring change from where they stood just an hour ago. Minutes ago, even. Melody was too stunned to reply for a few minutes, her thoughts struggling to make sense of this decision.

"Sure," she nodded her agreement. "When - when would you think we could go?" Before the Season began would make the most sense, seeing as that was the busiest time with Ben's job, but, again, she wasn't looking to be the decision maker in any scenario. "A fresh start sounds really nice. I'd like that."

  

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He read all sorts of things into the silence before she replied. She was shocked, he could tell. In disbelief that he would suggest something so stupid? That he thought it might be so easy to fix the two of them? Maybe shocked that he might even want a fresh start, given everything they'd been through together. It wasn't as though they could entirely remove the context of their elopement from their marriage, because if it weren't for the circumstances of the elopement they wouldn't have even been married (despite how much he cared for her, Ben knew he would never have volunteered to marry her while she still had any alternative), so maybe it was stupid to try. They were still dealing with some of the consequences from that night, too — most publicly her disownment, but probably just as significantly with the trust issues they both still had. Was it foolish to think they could push those aside to try and learn to be happy?

When she did answer, though, it was positively. Ben nodded, feeling almost as shaky as her voice had been. This was new ground for him. He had always been good at starting things, a little less good at ending them. He'd never had a relationship last long enough to fix anything. He topped off his drink, then crossed to take a seat next to her on the couch.

"February, maybe," he suggested. He set his drink down and gently put his hand on her knee. "Make some better memories for our... anniversary, I guess. Just go do our own thing and skip having to hear anyone's well-wishes." Or not-so-well-wishes.

  

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Melody rarely allowed herself to feel hope towards her relationship with Ben anymore. She was hopeful when they met, and then he was banished to Canada. A small blossom of hope bloomed in the weeks between their wedding and her taking the potion, but it had withered away as soon as Ben entered their small rented flat. She knew better now than to believe their relationship would remain on an uptrend indefinitely. The question was merely how terrible of a fall would the next then bring. She thought they were doing well, and then he went and confessed to pretending to feeling okay.

She knew better than to hope. Really.

Except, when Ben moved to sit besides her she couldn't help but feel that familiar flame ignite. Maybe this time they would be okay. Maybe this time they would be granted a true fresh start. Maybe this time wouldn't end with her glaring daggers and throwing wine across the table. Or, more likely, this would be the last straw for them. One last try before throwing in the towel and confessing their (her) sins. With any luck, she wouldn't be devastated in the end. But, she wasn't hopeful.

"That sounds lovely. We could go someplace warm, maybe? It's been a dreadfully cold winter thus far." She turned to better face him, her left hand coming to cover his own. Anywhere but Paris would be suitable.

  

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Ben looked down at her hand resting on top of his, not up at her face. "It has been a cold winter," he agreed, although his statement wasn't really about the weather. She probably knew that without him having to spell it out. He moved his thumb to move gently along the side of hers, not sure what else to say or do. The tension hadn't left the air. They might have just agreed to a truce of sorts, a compromise to move forward together, but it was still fragile, and pushing just a little too hard in any slightly wrong direction might cause it to shatter.

  

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The duplicitous meaning to his statement was clear and for a long minute Melody didn't have the slightest clue how to respond. There was still too much left unsaid, questions and desires alike left unfulfilled. She wasn't foolish enough to believe he didn't ultimately desire a divorce, that if the times and circumstances were different he would remain true to her. At the end of the day Ben was still trapped, he had just more or less resigned himself to it.

She lightly squeezed his hand once as her warm brown eyes met his. "Will you stay with me tonight?" The question was a quiet one, barely spoken above a whisper, almost as though making her request at full volume would shatter the tentative peace they'd just established.

  

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