authorsnote: wanted to write something on this note for a while
do enjoy, and yes do listen to the song whilst reading
songrecs: champagne problems - taylor swift
'A problem that is not as significant as others, but may be its own type of special insanity
or - 'a decision to make with no real significance, but important ones to the maker'
- champagne problems
-x-
'She would've made such a lovely bride'
"See what they say about me?" She mumbles in the cradle of his arms, skin against skin, his breath on the back of her neck, his fingers tracing up and down her arm as gentle as a butterfly's wing.
Skims her scar once or twice by accident, he flinches, she doesn't, not with him.
Never with him.
"They don't know you" He grumbles, that elicits a little giggle from her, something breathy and sweet, a sound no one else gets to hear, he prides himself on that, spends far too long each day thinking of ways to hear it again.
She shakes her head, turns to kiss his bare chest, right where his heart is, her lips just brush, with reverence, with meaning.
Few get to see his heart; she knows that well enough to treat it with care.
A handful more but still little get to see hers; he treats it with equal if not more care.
Like its breakable, like glass.
Like she is, like she's the most precious thing he ever holds.
To him she is.
To him there is nothing more precious.
"No" She agrees, her head tucked under his chin, the streets strewn about their hips, her breasts bare, the newspaper in her lap, saying a million different irrelevant things about them, as it has for months.
It will for many months more.
"Not like you do" She knows that, knows no one knows her like he does, she knows that in her soul.
As does he, in his. They are intertwined after all.
"No" He agrees, and then his lips are on hers, the newspaper crumples and is long forgotten, a scrunch of paper on the floor, and then to the fire, he takes satisfaction in burning it…
The paper claims they won't last, they know different.
They may only have each other but it's all they need.
-x-
'What a shame she's fucked in the head – they said'
They say it for the weeks after their romance is outed to the masses, and they keep saying it over and over.
How could she do it? Break up the Golden Trio? How could she forgive? How can she forget?
Why him?
The papers on his side of the tracks ask;
How could he go that low? How could he squander his good name?
Why her?
Why did he chose her?
Why did she chose him?
He asks himself that daily, why she chose him, but he asks it as a blessing, never a curse, it's the most precious thing to be chosen by her, he'll never ever deny it, but he does wonder.
He has no idea what he did to have her show up at his door that day, needing a place to hide, needing a place to tuck away and she chose him, she chose them.
The honor that bestowed on him surpassed all else.
He's never smiled so much as when she arrived, rain sodden and exhausted, and he ushered her inside.
And she was his.
"You're my safe place" She says to him sometimes, when she's tucked into his side, half on the edge of sleep, she always falls asleep first, at his side, as he strokes her hair, kisses her brow, marvels in just having her.
That she's his.
His greatest blessing, his highest honor, one he'd die before he loses it.
She always falls asleep first because he holds out, no matter how tired, he needs to watch her be safe, be sleeping, a little smile creeping up her lips, before sleep can claim him for a handful of snatched hours.
He always wakes first too, to make sure she's still there, still breathing, still his, still happy.
Nothing matters but her.
The papers claim he bewitched, enchanted her, they claim she's a fool, with him for his money or his influence, but they block out that babble, they know the truth, locked away in their Manor, they know they'd rather die than be apart. They laugh at the rumors; they kiss through the doubts.
She knows that's what the papers and the public really hate; that she didn't have this with Ron.
It didn't even come close.
He's never known it but with her.
When they marry with only elf's for witnesses they burn the Prophet the day it comes, and they dance alone, in the empty Manor ballroom, around and around, a glass of champagne in hand, his forehead pressed to hers, her eyes closed in complete and utter trust.
-x-
'You won't remember all my champagne problems'
No one understands, no one knows why she threw away Ron, her family, 3 red headed children and a comfortable Ministry position.
For him, his wild life, continent to continent, his smile, his joy, his Manor, his name, nothing guaranteed but everything for her.
But she does.
She'd do it again.
She'd do it all with him again, be his wife, his love, his life, its all she needs.
His heart in her hands precious as glass.
Hers in his, to be treasured always.
-x-
'Champagne problems'
do review if you can
Im also writing a longer version of this, to be posted (as a follow-up) soon
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