May 3rd, 1891 — Ari & Dionisia's Bartonburg Home

This was nice—comparatively speaking. After weeks of being watched (perhaps monitored was a better word) by whatever friend or family member had been assigned to keep her company, Dionisia had finally been left to her own devices long enough to invite Ben Crouch to her home. And now he was here, in her sitting room, across from her on the long couch while Elliott played with his set of Hogwarts mascot stuffed animals in-between them. (Currently the Slytherin snake was strangling the Hufflepuff badger while the Gryffindor lion looked on. Dionisia had been watching with a confused but amused smile on her face for nearly five minutes, until Elliott finally decided the Ravenclaw eagle was going to swoop in and attack the... lion?) Dionisia looked up at Ben, subduing a giggle before it could escape and distract Elliott.

"And what house were you in at Hogwarts, Ben?" she asked quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. Elliott seemed unbothered by the conversation and continued the battle between the eagle and lion, abandoning the badger and snake altogether. There were plenty of things she didn't know about Ben, but she was still unsure what things she was supposed to know about him.

Surely everything would come back to her soon.

---

Reuben Crouch

  

---

Being with Elliott was always nice, and with how stormy his own house was these days it was a welcome change to be somewhere where he could just exist without worrying about any passive-aggressive comments (or fully aggressive comments) being lobbed in his direction. That said, there was something about this that made him a little uneasy, too. The last interaction they'd had was right before the duel, and it hadn't exactly been pleasant, though it wasn't as though they'd fought. He'd lied about it when she'd asked in her letter, because that seemed easier than trying to explain it all, particularly if she was still in something of a fragile headspace and it turned out it hadn't mattered in the end, anyway. Still, he was a little on edge, as though he expected her to catch him in the lie at any moment.

"Gryffindor," Ben replied, with a smile. "But you probably could've guessed that." Ben's house had always been a point of pride for him, since about his second day at Hogwarts. It was one of the earliest concrete indicators that he was different than his older brothers, and as he'd grown it had become sort of an emblem of his individuality. It was as much a part of him as Quidditch was, even though both belonged more to his past than his present. He had a tattoo of a Gryffindor lion on the back of one shoulder. If the circumstances surrounding Elliott's conception were a little different, maybe she would've seen it before.

"What about you?" he responded, with genuine interest — then after only a slight hesitation added, "And, uh, your husband?"

Elliott would probably end up in one of their houses, he imagined — the parents who raised you had far more to do with anything than biology did, Ben figured.

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

A Gryffindor. Dionisia was not sure how to explain it, but Ben looked like a Gryffindor upon closer examination. It was a silly thought, but Dionisia swore she could see. She smiled back and nodded, her gaze briefly dropping to Elliott. She’d always worried that one day he would grow to look less like her and more like Ben—especially when his features grew less sort and he grew into his feathers—but there were also questions of what other traits he might inherit. Personality traits. Hobbies. Interests. On the whole, she didn’t know much about Ben at all, and she struggled to remember what she did know—and the idea of asking was a daunting one.

“I was in Hufflepuff,” she answered, and briefly went silent as her mind went into panic mode trying to remember that detail about Ari. There were many moments like this—moments where she lost little details she knew she knew, and spent more time than suited for conversation trying to remember them. “And—Ari was a Hufflepuff, too. Lots of Fisks ended up in Hufflepuff.” She wasn’t sure if it was a genetic thing, or a byproduct of the Fisk family’s emphasis on loyalty and hard work.

Perhaps Elliott would, too; she at least hoped he would end up a kind, loyal, and hardworking sort of boy. (However, the poor badger was taking a beating at the moment, the stuffed snake’s body coiled around it.)

---

  

---

Ben forced a smile at that. He was a little disappointed, but trying not to show it. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with Hufflepuff, obviously, and it wasn't as though he had any right to be invested in Elliott's future Hogwarts house. It was silly to even think about that when he was so young; he might not have even shown any sign of magic yet, for all Ben knew. But he couldn't help that when he heard lots of Fisks ended up in Hufflepuff he thought Elliott probably will, too, then. His name was Elliott Fisk, after all, not Elliott Crouch. By the time he went to Hogwarts, his connection to Ben would just be a distant memory in his mother's mind, nothing more.

"Does Elliott ever draw?" Ben asked, trying to change the subject. He might have been a little young for that, maybe. Ben wasn't sure exactly how much dexterity it required to hold a crayon. "I might... like to have a picture," he offered hesitantly. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, because if Dionisia did send him one of Elliott's drawings, what would he do with it? Keep it, of course, but where? There wasn't anywhere in the Irvingly house that he could trust it would be safe from Melody's snooping eyes, the next time she got suspicious about something. He didn't think she would do anything to it, like tear it up or throw it away, but he didn't want her having it all the same. There was something about the idea of Melody and Elliott interacting — even in such an indirect way as her holding a piece of paper in her hands that had once been in his — that made his stomach turn.

It was that everything was simple with Elliott, and nothing would ever be simple with Melody. There was too much history with her, too many fights. Even if they repaired things somehow, he didn't think he could ever feel the same genuine, pure love for her that he felt for Elliott. And — he didn't want Elliott sullied by association, however silly that might have been. He already regretted that Melody knew he existed at all, and that she'd read any of those early details Dionisia had sent him. Those should have been his, those exchanges; he hadn't ever consented to sharing them with her. He hadn't forgiven her for reading them, he realized. He'd told her he loved her since then, and he'd tried to put in more of an effort, but he hadn't ever forgiven her for reading the letters.

Merlin help their unborn child. The Crouches were doomed from the beginning — or if not from the beginning, at least from January.

---

The following 1 user Likes Reuben Crouch's post:1 user Likes Reuben Crouch's post
   Dionisia Fisk

---

MJ made this <3

Dionisia's gaze lifted back to Ben's at the question, and she found herself trying to think about it. Of course Elliott drew—all the children she knew liked to draw—and it helped that the child-sized table in the corner of his nursery was always littered with torn pieces of parchment and half-colored pictures that he'd started and then abandoned. There were a few completed ones, though, and the one of their family came to mind; although it was nothing more than three scribbled shapes with lines poking out of all sides it was labeled in her own handwriting and framed on the wall next to the pictures of Elliott that had been taken shortly after birth.

Smiling at seemingly nothing in particular, her gaze dropped back to Elliott. "Yes—actually, wait here," she said, pushing herself off the couch, crossed the room, and disappeared around the corner without another word. Dionisia had in her mind what she could give Ben. She'd been meaning to—she remembered that now, as if discovering a mental to-do list that had been displaced somewhere along the line.

Elliott finally looked up from his toys, eyes following his mother across the room, but he made no move to follow, nor did he cry. He looked up to Ben and blinked, and then, as if suddenly realizing the other man was there after playing with his toys for a few minutes, reached up and handed him the lion.

---

  

---

Shit, she was going to go find something right now. He'd have to decide right now whether he was going to take it or not, which — shit. He felt like this was a huge responsibility, like she was about to hand him something priceless and fragile and she didn't even know it. What if he took it and something happened to it? What if he took it and Melody found it? But if he didn't take it, what was she going to think? He'd been the one to bring it up, a moment ago. He'd basically asked, and he couldn't seem to change his mind so quickly without offering her an explanation, but he also couldn't think what he would say.

And then she was out of the room and Elliott was handing him the Gryffindor lion. Ben's throat was tight and his mouth was dry, but he smiled anyway. "You want me to play with this one?" he asked, and Elliott nodded. Ben took the lion and made him walk along the edge of the couch nearby, towering over the other figures on the floor. After an initial moment of stiffness he settled into it, into playing and coexisting with his son. He'd always been good with kids; they were just like people, but easier to get along with.

Elliott moved a few of the other animals around. Ben made the lion pounce dramatically from his perch on the couch, knocking the badger over and pinning the snake to the ground, a let out a playful roaring noise. That was when Dionisia came in, and he glanced over at her a little sheepishly, his hand still on the lion. Elliott, delighted by the toy carnage, giggled wildly.

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

It didn't take long to realize how long it had been since she'd actually looked through Elliott's things. Perhaps she had, and her memory was failing her again—but more likely it was a character fault. She'd always been so practical, so quick to try and keep things organized even if it meant stacking away all the pictures Elliott had made without really looking at them to avoid an unnecessary mess. Maybe it was because she'd never enjoyed the arts, because she'd been forced to do it as a child for appearances rather than pleasure.

But sifting through Elliott's work in the nursery, it was clear her son had as much of an ability to put his imagination on paper as much as he had the ability to turn his imagination into play. While most of the pictures were scribbles of the same color, most without shape or form, other's were—more purposeful. Like he'd decided where to put the colors, tried to form a shape despite the shakiness of his lines, and had been pleased enough with his results not to immediately crumple it up. She sifted through the pictures until she found one that she thought Ben might like, then tucked it under her arm and headed for his bedside table.

As eager as she was to oblige Ben's request, she had something additional in mind. Most of the items in the drawer were sentimental—a first birthday card from Brannon, a dreidel from Katia, his first pair of booties from the winter of 1889. It took a minute to find the item she was looking for, and once she did she shut the drawer and headed back downstairs.

She had no expectations of what she'd find upon reentering the sitting room, but seeing Ben in the middle of pretend play with a laughing Elliott was not something that would have immediately come to mind. He looked over at her, smiling sheepishly, and Dio felt something tug at her heart, and she returned the grin. "Was that a roar I heard?" she teased lightly, moving around the couch. She leaned over and pick up the badger, and affectionately nuzzled it against Elliott's neck, causing him to let out another screeching laugh. "I don't think I've ever heard a badger roar, but they're just as mighty," she teased, wrinkling her nose at her son—an expression he mimicked before reaching up to grab the toy.

With an outstretched arm Elliott made a noise to indicate he wanted the lion back, and Dionisia took a moment to neatly stack the two items in her hands. "Here," she said, holding out the artwork for Ben to take. It was primarily comprised of circle-like shapes, but Elliott had used all the colors in his crayon box to repeat the same shape until there was almost no room left on the paper. Ben said he didn't have any kids, and probably didn't think it was much—she wouldn't have either, if she hadn't seen dozens of random ripped papers with random scribbles. "It took him a few minutes to do that one, at least."

---

  

---

Ben offered another sheepish smile at her line about badgers being fearsome and sat back slightly, leaning against the edge of the sofa so as to allow Elliott more room to interact with his mother. For a moment he was happy to just watch, even though he felt he was intruding on something that didn't belong to him. Then Dionisia turned her attention back to him, and held out a drawing to him. He couldn't put his mind off of it any longer, then: this was something Elliott had made, that she was giving to him to keep, to do with as he pleased.

He took a breath, then reached out to take it gently, as though he expected it to crumple if he touched it the wrong way. "It's — good colors, Elliott," he said to the child, voice a little hoarse. "I love these colors."

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

It wasn't lost on Dionisia how Ben's demeanor suddenly shift between the moment she sat down and the moment he took the paper in his hand. She watched him with soft eyes, her gaze periodically dropping down to Elliott, who had abandoned his toys as curiosity took hold. He shifted, putting his hands on Ben's lap and pulling himself up on his knees to get a better look. Elliott poked at the paper a little too hard in response to Ben's praise, causing it to make a crinkling sound. "Red," he said, pointing at one of the red spots, and then smashed his finger against another circle, which was better colored in, saying, "Blue!"

Dionisia smiled and looked down at the other, smaller piece of paper in her hand, cradling it against her palm while Elliott took time repeating other colors to Ben. Finally she looked up again, and held the picture out to Ben. It was an animated photograph of Elliott that she distinctly remembered looking at in awe when it had first been developed. Katia had ensured that a number of them had been taken at the conclusion of Hanukkah the previous year, some with Elliott alone and some with his older cousins. This one was Elliott alone, sitting at the bottom of the staircase in Brannon's home, his head tilting in all different directions, presumably in response to the directions Ari or Katia or whoever had taken the picture had given, but every other second the photograph-Elliott let out a giggle that shook his whole body.

"I want you to have this, too," she said, smiling. "It was a few months ago. We have others, but... I think this one is a good size for you to have," she explained, her gaze flickering back to Elliott who had abandoned the artwork to peak at the image of himself.

---

  

---

Ben froze when he saw the picture. It was captivating, of course, and he knew if he accepted it he'd find himself staring at it for hours when he had nothing better to do. He might have liked to take it, except — he couldn't. Surely she would understand why? It was too damning, if anyone found. This went beyond his hesitation about the drawing, beyond his paranoia that Melody would go through his things. A drawing might mean a good deal to his wife, who knew some of the context, but it was harmless outside of her hands. There were any number of reasons Ben might have a children's drawing among his possessions, and he could explain it away by saying it was from one of his nephews, or even Art's daughter Gwenog — they were even the same age, so that might seem plausible. Even if someone put enough pieces together to suspect he had a bastard child somewhere, they never would have been able to pinpoint who from a drawing. A photograph was dangerous. It was unexplainable, and would immediately generate a question in the mind of anyone who saw it: what was his connection to this child? Why did he have a photograph of him in such an intimate moment?

"I can't take that," he said gently, with real regret obvious in his tone. "I'd like to. Really. And I appreciate that you offered. But — I can't. If anyone saw..." he drifted off, sure she could put the pieces together on her own. Ben's eyes slid over to Elliott, who was looking up at him with eyes that seemed unnaturally large and clear. He was probably wondering why Ben wasn't so happy with his drawing anymore. Ben forced a smile to try and reassure Elliott. His throat was tight. "I don't want anyone to think less of him because of me," Ben said to Dionisia, though his eyes were still fixed on his son.

---

The following 1 user Likes Reuben Crouch's post:1 user Likes Reuben Crouch's post
   Dionisia Fisk

---

MJ made this <3

To his response a smile slid onto Dionisia's face, small and sad. It was at times like these that Dionisia questioned which of them really had the most to lose; her reputation could be ruined by the public knowledge that she'd conceived a child out of wedlock, but Ben... no matter which way this went it wouldn't end ideally for him, would it? She was determined to prolong the relationship between him and Elliott as long as possible, but there would still come a day that Ben would have to say goodbye.

And she knew how it would look. How could she not, when Ben was looking down at Elliott like that? With sadness and pain and the forced smile that said more than words could? Dionisia could not resist the urge to lean forward and touch Ben's arm, a gesture she'd made plenty of times before but now felt much heavier, more meaningful. She angled her head to catch his eye, and she smiled back at him with a similar look of regret in her eye.

"I know," she said, her tone soft and full of understanding, "and that's why I want you to have it. I... I can't give you much of him, but I can give you this, and I know you'll keep it safe." It was a token, a moving image that would not fade with time or circumstance. He was still young enough in the picture to recognize, but in a few years it would be harder. If someone saw it five, ten years from now—they wouldn't know, would they? The portrait wasn't labeled. The rewards outweighed the risks, assuming Ben could be careful enough to keep it hidden—and Dio thought he could.

---

  

---

Ben's stomach sank at the last thing she said: I know you'll keep it safe. He hesitated, and a pained expression passed across his face. She didn't know anything. He didn't want to tell her. There was something familiar about this moment, although the context was different. This was the way he'd felt in the garden with November in March. He was hanging in a moment of indecision knowing that it was about to end and he was about to say something, and already regretting whatever it would be. He could tell her that he didn't want to take it because he didn't trust his wife not to go through his things. He'd gotten a magical safe to keep November's letters safe from her prying eyes, but like hell was he going to keep Elliott's picture with Elmer Macmillan's love letters, and he couldn't justify having two in the house without just openly advertising the fact that he didn't trust the person he lived with, and that he was keeping secrets from her. So he could tell Dionisia that, and have her think poorly of his wife, or he could lie to her and tell her he didn't want the picture, and have her think poorly of him. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn't going to accept it. He couldn't, no matter what Dionisia thought.

Lying to November about it had been necessary, Ben thought, but it had been painful at the time and it hadn't lasted — though that had more to do with other circumstances that had arisen than with his own resolution to keep Melody as pure as he could in the eyes of his sister. If he hadn't had to talk November down from her own misery, he would never have let on how unhappy his marriage was. He still hadn't told her most of it, or even hinted at how right she'd been when she confronted him in the garden.

So: did he want Dionisia to think poorly of him, or of his wife? Did he want to prioritize this public charade he'd been putting on for so long, or this secret connection that he had with her? Did he want to lie to her, or tell her the truth?

He made his decision, regretted it immediately, but said it anyway. His expression looked vaguely panicked as he spoke, as though he couldn't believe he was saying this: "My wife found the letters you wrote me in January."

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

My wife found the letters you wrote me in January.

Her initial instinct was to ask which letters?, because she knew she had written to him in January—that was the foundation of these secret meetings—but much like other areas of her life the details were lost to her. She'd forgotten what she'd admitted to, how she'd phrased things, and even how she'd signed her letters. It would have been more troubling if she'd signed with her own name, because it was such a unique name that anyone would be able to figure her out—but then, that seemed like the exact reason she wouldn't have signed her own name. Maybe she'd written about Elliott, either using his name or simply referring to him as Ben's son, and maybe she'd revealed some details that wouldn't be damning. If she was considering those things now, surely she'd considered them then.

Which brought her to her second instinct: that his revelation was rooted in a desire to protect his wife's feelings. She'd kept this entire arrangement from Ari, too, out of fear that he'd take it the wrong way and assume she was trying to introduce Elliott to his biological father because she felt Ari wasn't sufficient. That fear had not disappeared with the head trauma, nor had the panic at the mere thought of Ben and Ari interacting. Ben had probably been putting the same effort to keep this from his wife, and if she'd had found out... "Oh," she said, her lips parted and her brows angled upwards in surprise.

"I should have—I didn't mean to—" There was suddenly a thickness in her throat, and her mouth was dry, and as she spoke she struggled to push the words out. She didn't know Ben's wife, or know anything about her, really, but to know that her husband had a bastard son by another woman... "I didn't mean to complicate things for you," she finally said, her expression falling into one of regret and guilt as she spoke. She'd spent so much time considering how Ari learning of this entire arrangement would hurt her marriage—clearly she had not spent enough time considering how it would affect Ben's. "Was she... very angry?" At you? At me? She held the question in her heart, hoping it was the latter rather than the former but finding she was not brave enough to ask.

---

The following 1 user Likes Dionisia Fisk's post:1 user Likes Dionisia Fisk's post
   Reuben Crouch

---

It wasn't as though the words were pouring out from her too quickly for him to parse them, but Ben felt immediately overwhelmed by her response all the same. For a moment he just stared at her, looking panicked. He didn't know what to say. There was nothing he could say. She was worried about all the wrong things, but he couldn't tell her that. He couldn't let out a bitter laugh and say this wasn't what complicated things, even though it would have been a genuine sentiment. He couldn't answer her question with she's always angry even though it was true, at least these days. It wasn't even that he was devoted to preserving this charade, necessarily, either — Dionisia was unlikely to spread any rumors about the state of his marriage when she had no good reason to know anything about it. It was just that there was no way to say it all, to explain his marriage to Melody to someone else.

He hadn't been trying to launch into an explanation of it, though. That wasn't where he'd been going, with his confession that Melody had seen the letters. What he had been admitting to was that he wasn't the safe repository that she clearly thought he was. She couldn't trust him — and maybe it didn't really matter if it was because he was untrustworthy or because he had a paranoid wife, in the end, because the result was the same. She couldn't give him little bits of Elliott to take home, when he left this house, because they weren't safe with him. She might not even feel comfortable continuing to send him letters, if she knew how much risk she was putting herself in by signing her name.

"I just can't take a photograph," he said, after a moment of difficult silence. "I'm sorry."

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

He didn’t answer her question, or even acknowledge her apology; instead he returned it with an apology of his own, and Dionisia wasn’t sure what to do or say or even think. Because surely he didn’t think that the matter of being unable to accept the photograph would upset her for any other reason than the fact that he felt he couldn’t protect Elliott.

“No, I’m sorry. I understand,” she murmured, her gaze dropping. By that point Elliott had caught wave or the new tension in the room and had begun glancing back and forth between Ben and Dionisia, a frown on his fact that caused his chin to wrinkle. Dionisia noticed but made no move to comfort him, instead bringing her gaze back to Ben.

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have... pressured you into meeting me.” The urge to apologize persisted, though she had such little information that she couldn’t be sure what she ought to be apologizing for. She did know one thing: she needed to apologize, because it had been her letters and they’d been the ones to complicate things.

“And if you didn’t...want this anymore, I... I wouldn’t think badly of you, ever. I just thought you deserved to know about him—to see him.” She might have cried from the guilt, had she not been so paralyzed by it—but now all she could think about was poor Melody Crouch, what she was thinking, and how Ari might feel if he was in her shoes.

---

  

---

Ben felt like this conversation was slipping and he didn't know how to grab hold of it anymore. He regretted having told her at all, but it wasn't like he could go back and undo all of that now. He also couldn't explain anything to her, because all of it was too big and too messy to talk about. That, and — he didn't want to talk about Melody with her. He didn't like these two sides of his life to touch, and everything else in his life was already affected by Melody. He liked that he could come here and no one asked him how Melody was, or looked at him sideways because they thought the worst of him. He didn't want to start bringing that in with him when he was here (though maybe he already was; maybe it had been stupid to think he could leave it at the door when it was, in essence, his entire life).

"No, no, that's not — That's not what I meant," he said hurriedly, though now he didn't know what it was he had meant. "I don't — I want to. These visits. They're — she found the letters before I agreed to do this, and — fuck," he said, this last under his breath as he struggled to find the right words for the sentiment he was feeling. "I haven't told her, but I — shit, it's not — not like you're thinking. We're not — I want to do this. Seeing Elliott. I want this."

---

  

---

MJ made this <3