Morning of 15 February, 1890 — a Muggle hotel in Scotland
Ben woke to sunlight starting to stream in through an old and battered set of shutters, placing golden ribbons across an unfamiliar ceiling. He blinked and started to get his bearings. The first thing he noticed was actually a lack of something: his head didn't hurt in the slightest, which wasn't exactly typical for mornings where he woke up in strange places. He was warm, both because of a soft blanket that was pulled over his bare chest and because of the presence of another person in the bed beside him. He had his arms around her loosely, one under her neck and the other over her waist. It took him a fraction of a second to put the pieces together and figure out who it was — forgivable, maybe, because it wasn't as though he was used to seeing her from this vantage, with her hair loose and her shoulders bare. Most of her seemed to be bare, actually. Which made sense, given what he was starting to remember about the night before.
He was married to Melody Finch. Well — only that wouldn't be her name now, would it? Melody Crouch, then. Married.
That set his head to spinning. How had this happened? Well, he remembered how — the conversation in Art Pettigrew's backyard, then the floo to Gretna Green and the search for someone to actually marry them. The why he was slightly less clear on. He remembered the panic that had followed their little adventure at the party, but there had to have been a better option. Apparating to her house and waiting to see if her family came in in a rage, for instance, knowing that they could have always run off as a last resort. Sending someone back to the party to figure out what the actual damage was and if it could be repaired. Even sending one of them back, if they took some precautions to prevent them from being recognized — magic was, after all, a thing. They could have just momentarily disguised Ben and he could have gotten a clearer idea of the situation.
But they hadn't done that. They'd panicked, and Melody had said that marriage was the only option, and Ben had gone along with that. Merlin, where were they going to live? He had nowhere to take her home to, after this. She couldn't even walk into Excalibur to so much as help him pack his things. He had a membership at Black's where he could've gotten a room as well, but that would hardly help. He needed a house, and he didn't have one, nor did he have enough money to get one. Maybe he could rent something, but on his kind of income, what sort of something would that be?
Merlin, she was going to hate him. She might have thought marriage was a good idea in the moment (or the best idea they had left to them, anyway), but he was going to have to move her into some shit-hole flat in London, where she would be holed up all day doing nothing but reflecting on all the things she didn't have, and in a fortnight she was going to realize what a horrible mistake this had been, and she was going to hate him. What would she do when she reached that point? Walk out on him? Run off to try her luck somewhere else? Beg her family to take her back?
He instinctively tightened his grip on her. It was a slight movement but it was enough to cause her to stir slightly. Ben leaned in and kissed her shoulder lightly, wanting to preserve this moment and this charade of happiness as long as he could. It would be over all too soon. "Good morning," he murmured into her hair.
MJ made this <3