In the City

Ron Weasley stepped through the brick wall at the end of Diagon Alley and into the back door of the Leaky Cauldron. He was on his lunch hour and had walked the few blocks from his office at the Ministry. It was one of those warm, lazy summer days when time seemed to pass a little slower, recalling other lazy days of summers past.

"Tom," Ron nodded to the bartender as he leaned against the bar.

"'Lo Ron, what can I get for you today?" the old man asked.

"Just the usual. I'll be right back."

Tom nodded and set to work while Ron threw his work robe over a chair and headed toward the front door. Stepping over the worn threshold into Muggle London, he walked a few paces and leaned against the warm brick wall, soaking in the sun.

He thought of her sometimes. Mostly it was just a fleeting memory, a passing feeling, but on warm summer days like this, he felt drawn to her world. He liked to come out here and watch them, hurrying down the sidewalks while talking on their little phones, pushing their children in prams, stopping to chat with one another.

They weren't so different, really. Were they?

Once in a while he would see a woman at the far end of the street, or just rounding a corner; her auburn hair would flash in the sunlight and his heart would catch. Then he would shake his head roughly, go back into the pub, and eat his fish and chips and butterbeer.

Sometimes Harry would meet him for lunch when he was in town. He had never told Harry about her. Well, Harry had had more important things on his mind that year; they all had. It seemed like a lifetime ago. After Hogwarts, Ron had taken a flat in wizarding London while Harry had traveled around the world trying to rid himself of the demons that still plagued him even though the war was over. Hermione had moved into a little cottage on the outskirts of the city while she studied at the Ministry's graduate program.

He had tried to make it work with Hermione. They had been happy together, he supposed, but he wondered if they hadn't just clung to each other because their relationship was the only thing they'd had left after the war. In the end they'd had to admit to themselves that they were different people who wanted different things. He hadn't seen her in a long time.

He looked up and down the street once more. Things were so peaceful now, both in the Muggle world and in his own. It would have been wrong to bring her into his world back then. There was a war going on; he could very well have been killed. He'd done the right thing. But now... well, it was no use thinking about now, was it? Mel was gone and even if he could find her, it wasn't like she would take him back. Not after the way he'd left, not after how utterly stupid he'd been.

The door of the Leaky Cauldron opened and a young witch stepped out. She, too, stood looking up and down the street as if waiting for someone and happened to meet Ron's eye. He smiled in greeting before pushing off the wall and making his way back inside.

His fish and chips were waiting for him at the bar and he ate quickly; he wanted to stop into Quality Quidditch Supplies on his way back to work. Tossing a gold galleon beside his plate, he waved to Tom and headed back out into Diagon Alley.

* * *

The blonde witch stood outside shielding her eyes from the sun. She was starting to get worried when finally, she spotted her friend coming down the street and waved her hand wildly.

"Mel!" she called.

The young woman waved back and picked up her pace, her auburn hair bouncing behind her.

"Celia! Thank goodness, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find you!" The two embraced and laughed. "It's so good to see you again," Mel smiled. "It's been too long."

"We should have done this ages ago," Celia agreed. "You look fantastic!"

"Thanks," Mel grinned, "so do you. But where are we going to eat?" she asked, looking around. "I thought you said it was a pub, but all I see are shops."

"Well, it's a wizarding pub, so, you know, it has a charm over it. I'm sure Will told you about those, didn't he?"

"Oh yes, I remember now. A Muggle-Repelling charm or something. What a horrible name, by the way."

"I know," Celia apologized, "I'm sorry. But you know, not everyone thinks Muggles are repellant. My brother certainly didn't," she grinned.

"How is Will? Gosh, I haven't seen him in so long."

"He's great. But we can talk about him later, let's go inside."

"Okay," Mel said with a determined look. "How do I get in?"

"Right." Celia placed her hands on Mel's shoulders and turned to face her toward the gap between the two stores. "The pub is right there in that gap."

Mel raised her eyebrows and looked at her friend. "No, it isn't."

"It is. But the key is that you have to believe it's there. Then you'll see it," Celia said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to believe a building into existence.

Mel frowned. "You're having me on."

"Mel," Celia sighed, "you know that magic is real. Will showed you, I showed you... you believed us, right?"

"Yes, but that was just little wand magic. I never saw you conjure a whole building."

"Please try, I really want you to see it, to see what our world is like."

Mel grinned at her friend's enthusiasm. "It really is a whole world, isn't it? Just like you said."

Celia smiled and nodded.

"Okay." Mel squared her shoulders. "Describe it to me."

"Well, it's a brick face with no windows, and there's an old wooden door just there with a sign above it in the shape of a cauldron."

Mel concentrated on the image and soon the air seemed to shimmer in front of her like a mirage. A fuzzy picture of a brick building swam into view, pushing the shops on either side of it out of the way and becoming sharper until she could see it clearly, as if it had always been there. She gasped. "I see it!"

"Brilliant!" Celia clapped. "I knew you could do it."

She grabbed Mel's hand and dragged her towards the door. The first thing Mel noticed when they stepped inside was that even though there were only a few people in the dining area, the place seemed filled with life. She stood still for a moment, taking it all in, and slowly realized that things were moving. And not things that should have been moving. A teapot floated through the air and refilled cups on its own; pictures on the walls looked like animated screens as their occupants moved in and out of the frames; glasses at the bar were drying themselves with an old dishcloth.

Celia smiled. "Shall we sit by the window?" she asked, gesturing to a table to their left. Mel tore her eyes away from the room and followed her, only to stop again and point in confusion. She looked from the door they had just come through to the window that had certainly not just been on the other side of that brick wall.

"Where did that window come from?" she asked.

"It's enchanted to look like the outside," Celia giggled. "Honestly, Mel, you'd think you'd never heard of magic before."

"Magic, yes. But this is magic."

* * *

Ron left Quality Quidditch and was making his way back down the Alley when he suddenly stopped and looked down at his shirt. His robe! He knew he had forgotten something. He looked around wildly. Had he had it in the store? No, he must have left it at lunch. Rolling his eyes, he set off at a trot back toward the Leaky Cauldron. He would have to hurry now, his boss wasn't keen on long lunches.

* * *

"So, would you like to see it?" Celia asked. "It's just through the back door. I promise you won't be disappointed."

"Absolutely!" said Mel. "I have the whole afternoon off; show me everything. I just want to stop into the loo first."

"Alright," Celia said, pulling out her change pouch.

"Is there anything special I should know about the loo?" Mel asked.

Celia furrowed her brow with a slight smile. "No, it's just a loo."

"Oh," Mel said, somewhat disappointed.

Celia watched as she disappeared down the side hallway and heard the women's room door shut. She dug into her pouch and pulled out a few galleons when the back door opened and a young man hurried in. It was the same man from the street before. She watched him curiously. He was very tall... and very handsome.

"Forgot my robe," he said to the bartender, who just nodded and smiled.

The man picked his robe off the chair and shrugged it on, catching Celia's eye as he did so. He gave her the same quick smile he had before, but his gaze lingered a little longer before he turned and left through the back door again. Celia blushed and smiled to herself.

"What's that look for?" Mel asked, returning to the table.

Celia shook her head. "Just... some bloke gave me a smile when he left just now. I saw him outside before when I was waiting for you."

"Ooo!" Mel said, looking around. "Was he cute?"

Celia shrugged. "Tall... redhead."

The smile faded from Mel's face. Her eyes darted around the room once more, though now with a sudden nervousness.

"What?" Celia asked.

Mel shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "I don't care for redheads really," she said, suddenly becoming very interested in gathering her things. "Ready?"

Celia nodded and they made their way out the back door, through the magical wall, and into the wizarding world.

* * *

Five o'clock, time to go home. Ron made his way to the lift and up to the lobby, queuing for the Floo along with everyone else. He had intended to Floo straight home, but when he reached the head of the line, he suddenly changed his mind.

"The Leaky Cauldron," he said clearly, stepping into the green flames. He would just stop in for a quick pint; he could walk home from there. He might even see that girl again if he was lucky. The pub was beginning to fill up with the regular after-work crowd. Ron took his pint and leaned against he bar, scanning the room.

The back door opened and a few more people came through, including, he noticed, the young witch he'd seen earlier that day, though it looked like she had a friend with her. He put his glass down on the bar and stood a little straighter, intending to say hello, but the words died on his lips as she moved to the side, and he saw the woman standing behind her.

Her hair was a little shorter, her face more mature, but she looked so like her that his heart stopped. Of course, it couldn't be her, but even the thought... even the chance... and then he realized that she had stopped and was staring at him, too.

"Well, fancy seeing you here again," Celia said, sidling up to Ron with a smile.

"What?" he asked.

"I said we seem to keep crossing each other's paths today."

Ron tore his eyes away and focused them on the blonde in front of him. "Excuse me? Oh... yes... yes we do." He smiled and shook his head. "Sorry, just thought I saw someone I used to know. Hi. I'm Ron."

"Celia," she said, shaking his hand. "And this is my friend..."

She turned to Mel, but faltered when she saw that her friend had gone white as a ghost. "Mel, are you alright?" she asked, reaching out to place a steadying hand on her arm, but Mel stared past her in complete shock.

"Ron?" she whispered.

Ron felt the color drain from his face as well and took a tentative step forward. "Cor, it is you."

Celia looked back and forth between them, suddenly feeling very much like an uninvited guest at a private party. "You two know each other?"

Mel's head moved up and down in a barely visible nod. "We used to..."

"When we were..." Ron added.

"Well," Celia interjected after a moment of silence, "I'll take that as a yes."

"Oh, Celia, I'm sorry," Mel said finally, gathering her wits about her and turning to her friend. "Yes, we met when we were teenagers; we lived in the same town. But we haven't seen each other in ages. I was just startled, that's all." She turned to Ron. "I never expected to see you here."

Ron's head was still spinning. "Likewise," he said with a nervous laugh.

Celia spun around to Mel. "I though you said you'd never met a wizard before Will?" she whispered urgently.

"I didn't know he was a wizard," she whispered back.

Celia's eyes went wide. "He never told you?"

Mel shook her head.

"Were you two..."

Mel nodded.

"Blimey." She looked over her shoulder at Ron, then back to Mel. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine, I just... I can't believe this is happening."

"Mel, I..." Ron began, but Celia whirled toward him and held up her hand.

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but it sounds like you've got some explaining to do."

Ron's defenses went up. He didn't like her accusatory tone, and he especially didn't like that she was standing between him and the girl he thought he'd lost forever.

"Celia, don't," Mel said, putting a hand on her friend's arm. Celia reluctantly backed off but kept a sharp eye on Ron.

"How are you?" Mel asked cautiously.

"I'm..." Ron began, but found himself speechless. "This is unbelievable," he said under his breath.

Mel, not trusting her legs any longer, pushed on Celia's arm. "It was good to see you, Ron," she managed, "but we really need to go."

"Wait!" he exclaimed, stepping in front of her. "Can we go somewhere and talk?" She looked at him with uncertainty, and he could see the distrust in her eyes. "Please?" he asked.

Celia bristled, but Mel replied, "I suppose that would be alright."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Celia asked softly.

"No, he's right," Mel consented. "We should talk."

Celia looked at her for a moment, her mouth agape. "Well, I suppose I'll go then." She paused. "I hate to leave you like this, are you going to be alright?"

"Yes, it's fine, really," Mel assured her. "It was so good to see you again," she said, hugging her friend. "Thanks for lunch, and for showing me around and everything."

"Oh, you too. Keep in touch," Celia said, then leaned in close and whispered, "I want to know everything."

Mel nodded, and with one more glance at Ron over her shoulder, Celia slipped away into the crowd.

Mel looked at Ron once more. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Wait right here," he said and turned back to the bar, beckoning for the bartender. "Tom, are any of the private dining rooms open?"

"Sorry, Ron," Tom said, "we're full up tonight."

"What about Harry's room?" Harry kept a standing room at the Cauldron for when he was in London. He didn't use it often, but he could afford to keep it at his disposal, and he and Ron had escaped to it for a quiet drink away from the crowds more than once.

Tom frowned, but then shrugged. "Well, normally I wouldn't, but since it's you, I reckon he wouldn't mind."

"Thanks, I owe you one." Tom handed him the key and he turned to Mel. "I know someplace where we can talk more privately. Is that alright?" She nodded and he led her away from the crowd, up the stairs to a room on the second floor. The door opened into a modest suite with a sitting room and private bedroom.

She looked around, still not quite grasping what was happening to her. "Do you live here?" she asked.

"No, it belongs to a friend of mine." He dropped the keys on the table and leaned against it, eyeing her curiously. Finally, he couldn't avoid the question any longer. "Are you a witch?"

"What?" she asked, turning to him with raised eyebrows. "Of course not!"

"Then why... how are you here?"

"My friend, you saw her," Mel said.

"Yes, but how do you have a friend who's a witch?"

Mel walked over and stood in front of him, looking deeply into his eyes. "This?" she asked softly. "This is what you couldn't tell me? This is what you broke my heart over?"

He didn't flinch, but met her gaze evenly, even though his heart was twisting inside. "Mel, I was seventeen, and my family... it just wasn't a choice that I could make. There's so much you don't know."

"You didn't give me a chance." The pain of that day in the park, when he had said goodbye and left without a trace, came flooding back to her. She couldn't take that rejection again. She shook her head and turned toward the door, Ron not realizing for a moment that she was intending to walk through it and never come back. When he did, he sprang to his feet and rushed forward, blocking her way.

"No, you can't leave, not now," he said in desperation.

She stopped, and he saw the sadness and hurt in her eyes. "You did," she said coolly.

Ron felt as though he'd been hit with a stunner. He could only stare numbly at her as she opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. His mouth hung open and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. This isn't happening, he thought, this can't be happening.

"You idiot!" a voice screamed in his head. "Go after her!"

He snapped out of his daze and ran for the door, tearing down the hallway toward the stairs. When he'd almost reached the bottom, he was brought up short by the sea of people in the dining area. His eyes searched frantically back and forth, but he couldn't see her anywhere. He fought his way across the room to the bar.

"Tom!" he called. "Did you see that girl I was with, did she come through here?"

Tom nodded, "She looked a fair bit upset, too. Just left through the front door."

Without waiting for another word, Ron pushed through the crowd and burst through the door into the warm evening air. The sun was beginning to set, blinding him with golden light. He squinted, finally spotting her hurrying down the sidewalk.

"Mel!" He ran after her, not having any idea what he was going to say, but knowing that he couldn't let her walk out of his life. She picked up her pace, but his long legs overtook her easily. "Please don't go," he breathed, coming to a halt in front of her.

She wiped her hands quickly across her cheeks. She didn't want him to see she had been crying. "Why?" she asked incredulously. "What are you going to do, Ron? Take me back there, introduce me to all your friends? You couldn't even tell me you're a wizard, you didn't give me any chance to... I loved you and you left me." Angry tears pricked her eyes again, but she shook them away. "Do you know how many times I went back to that park, searching for any sign of you? I asked around town and no one had even heard of you or your family. It drove me mad!"

"But I did come back!" Ron said, his voice choked with emotion.

"What?" she breathed, taken completely off-guard.

"It took me over a year, but I did come back looking for you. I even went round to your house, but they said you'd moved. The new people didn't know where you'd gone, and I didn't know what else to do." He shrugged helplessly. "I reckoned that I was too late and that you probably wouldn't have taken me back anyway."

He reached out and touched her cheek. "Do you know how often I've thought of you since then? I loved you too, remember?"

Mel stared at him, slowly taking in what he was saying until the old, forgotten feelings took over and there was nothing she could do but throw her arms around his neck and hold him as tightly as she possibly could.

Ron wrapped his arms around her and held her to him. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Mel shook her head against him. "It doesn't matter now," she soothed.

"Come home with me," he said.

She pulled back and looked up at him, searching his eyes. "Home?"

"My flat's not far from here; we could just sit and talk and have some tea or... I don't know... I just don't want to let you out of my sight."

She let out a short laugh, a happiness bubbling up inside her. But was she really ready to do this again? He was still a wizard and she was still a Muggle; had he really changed that much?

"Oh, Ron, I..." She looked down the street toward the Leaky Cauldron, then back up at him. "Are you sure? Are you really sure?"

Ron's lips turned up in a wistful smile. "I was sure from the moment I left you."

Mel didn't trust her voice, but nodded her agreement. A grin lit up Ron's face and he grasped her hand. "It's this way," he said, leading her back down the street.

They walked in silence, neither one wanting to burst the bubble with questions, until they turned down a narrow alleyway and stopped at a gate, broken and hanging off its hinges. Beyond it Mel could see an overgrown courtyard, surrounded by an abandoned building with broken windows and no sign of life. Ron opened the gate and made to step through, but she hesitated and pulled on his hand.

"You live here?" she asked in alarm.

Ron furrowed his brow. "Yes," he said uncertainly. He frowned at the appalled look on her face and looked back toward the building. "Well, I know it's not much, but it's comfortable enough."

She stared at him in shock. "Ron, it's falling apart! I can't even believe they'd allow a building to be in this state in the middle of London."

Ron was completely flummoxed. "What are you..." Then his eyes widened in sudden understanding. "You can't see it, can you?"

Mel raised her eyebrows. "Unfortunately, I can."

"No, no, no, I mean you just see a rundown building or something, right? You can't see it as it really is."

Mel shook her head, confused. She watched as Ron bit his lip, creasing his brow in thought. "But what if you can't see it? What if only magical people can see through the charms? I never even thought of that..."

Mel could see that he was becoming distressed and cast about for something reassuring to say. "But wait, I could see the Leaky Cauldron! Celia just had to describe it to me and then I could see it."

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Yeah, that's right. Of course you did. Okay, um..." He opened the gate and led her through, looking around the courtyard haphazardly until his eyes fell on a rosebush in full bloom. "Here," he said, striding over to it. "Can you see these flowers?"

Mel followed him and looked at the scrubby, half-dead bush he was pointing to. "Uh... well... no," she finally admitted.

"It's a rosebush. Look, it has full red blooms all over it." She shook her head helplessly, beginning to get upset at her inability to do a simple thing like see.

"Here," Ron said, breaking off one of the branches and carrying it over to her. He held the dry twigs under her nose. "Smell it. Close your eyes and take a deep breath."

Mel closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The sweet scent of roses filled her nostrils and spread deliciously through her body. When she opened her eyes she almost wept at the beauty of the flower in front of her. She took it gingerly from him and held it to her nose, drinking it in.

"Yeah?" Ron asked, smiling.

"Yeah," she sighed. Her eyes roamed around the courtyard, taking in the well-manicured garden and bubbling fountain in the center, surrounded by an ivy-covered building with gleaming windows and overflowing flower boxes. "Oh, Ron, it's beautiful."

"Well, no thanks to me. The landlady does it all, she's always puttering around. But yeah, I like it." Ron took a deep breath and blew it out again, casting her a sideways glance. "I guess bringing a Muggle into the wizarding world is harder than I thought."

Mel shook her head. "No, it's alright. I think I'm getting the hang of it now. Can we go inside?" Ron smiled and nodded.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor where Mel watched, fascinated, as Ron used his wand and muttered a spell to unlock the door to his flat. It was bright and airy despite its small size and the clear evidence of his bachelor status. Ron busied himself picking up clothes and papers and hastily throwing them into the small bedroom that Mel could see just off the living room. When he had finished, he returned and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking around self-consciously.

"This is a bit strange," he mumbled. Mel chuckled and nodded in agreement. "What do you reckon we should do now?"

"A drink?" she suggested.

"Oh, right!" He hurried to the small kitchenette and opened the old-fashioned icebox. "I've got butterbeer, pumpkin juice... a bit of Ogden's, though that's probably too strong for you..."

"Well, since I don't know what any of those are... maybe just some tea?"

"Tea, right. Tea, tea, tea..." He rummaged through the cupboard and fished out a small tin while Mel smiled at his nervousness. Pulling his wand out of its holster, he pointed it at the stove and said "Incendio," setting a kettle of water over the flame.

When they were settled at the small table, steaming mugs in hand, Ron fell silent again, tapping his fingers nervously against the cup.

"Your wand," Mel said, pointing to the long stick of wood lying between them. "May I see it?" Ron nodded and she picked it up gingerly, running her fingers over its smooth surface. "I haven't seen one of these in a long time," she said softly.

Ron watched her, still not quite believing that she was sitting here in his kitchen after all this time. All of his questions bubbled to the surface again. "Mel, how..."

"The year after you left," she began calmly, still fingering the wand and avoiding his eyes, "my mum got a job in Yorkshire and we moved. There was a family who lived down the street from us with two kids, Will and Celia. Will was a year younger than me, and Celia two years, but the three of us became best friends." She smiled at the memory and looked up to meet his eyes. "There was something different about them, like they had a secret, and I loved being around them. We were a real trio, you know?"

Ron smiled. "Yeah," he said quietly, "I know."

"It wasn't long before Will and I started dating, and one night, at the end of the summer, he said there was something he needed to tell me." Mel drew in a breath and shook her head. "Celia argued with him and warned him not to, but he told her that if he and I were going to be together, then I should know."

"He told you he was a wizard," Ron guessed.

"And that Celia was a witch," Mel added.

"Did you believe him?"

"No, of course not," Mel smiled. "Not at first. I figured he was just playing at magic tricks, waving his wand around, and that they would break into fits of laughter at any moment and tell me it was all a huge joke."

"What convinced you?" Ron wanted to know.

"Well, it became obvious to me after a few minutes that it wasn't a joke. Celia was furious and started yelling things about memory charms and underage wizardry. I ran out of the room and was halfway home before Will caught up with me."

"What happened then?"

"We talked. And then we talked some more. He told me about getting his letter to Hogwarts and what it was like at the school and..." She paused and eyed him curiously. "Did you go to Hogwarts as well?"

"Yeah, of course," Ron said. "It's the only magical school in all of Great Britain. My whole family went there."

"So then," she puzzled, "are your parents magical, too? Your whole family is magical?" Ron nodded. "That's why you didn't want me to meet them," she said, almost to herself, "because I'm a Muggle."

Ron reached across the table and grasped her hand. "But it wasn't because of you," he said earnestly. "I grew up in a wizarding house and only ever knew wizarding things. My father works for the Ministry of Magic, my brothers work with dragons and goblins...not exactly the kinds of things you can bring up in conversation with someone who isn't magic," he snorted, shaking his head. "You know, my parents always taught us to respect Muggles and my dad is mad for anything to do with Muggle things. He makes a hobby of learning about the Muggle world. But I don't think we've ever actually had a Muggle in our house. None of my brothers ever had Muggle girlfriends." Ron frowned. "Your friends must be Muggle-borns then? Oh, that means..."

"I know what it means," Mel said tersely. "Yes, they were Mugg..." She stopped in frustration and pulled her hand away. "I hate that word. We're not Muggles. We're just people, regular people."

Ron gave a small smile of apology. "Not to us, you're not."

Mel dropped her eyes to her cup and swirled the tea leaves that had gathered at the bottom. "Will told me about the war." When he didn't answer, she looked up and saw that he wore a pained expression. "Was it horrible?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said in a gravelly voice, "it was. A lot of good people got killed."

"Will said that there were wizards who believed that all Muggle-borns should be killed."

"Something like that," Ron nodded.

"But then there was a boy who won some battle and then the war was over. Harry something or other?"

Ron's eyes shot up. "You know about Harry?"

"Not really, just that."

Ron smiled and shook his head. "Harry Potter. Savior of the Wizarding World... and my best mate."

Mel started. "Your what?"

Ron nodded. "Since we were eleven. We met at Hogwarts. Me and Harry and Hermione, we were inseparable. We fought along with him in the final battle. We got banged up pretty bad, but at least we came out alive. More than I can say for some of the others."

Mel was horrified. "But you must have only been..."

"Seventeen. Just after I met you."

Mel stared in shock, taking it all in. She pushed away from the table and walked to the center of the room, hugging her arms around herself. She didn't hear Ron stand also and move toward her.

"Now do you see why I couldn't let you into my world? It was better that you didn't know, you were safer that way." She felt his hands on her shoulders and his breath on her ear. "Please believe me. I hated myself for hurting you, but it was the only way."

Mel turned in his arms and looked into his eyes, full of regret and sadness, and for the first time believed that maybe she wasn't the only one who'd had her heart broken. She reached up and pulled his face down to hers, meeting his lips in a passionate kiss. He kissed her back with the same intensity, and they were lost in each other for several seconds before Ron finally pulled away.

"So, you and this Will," he asked breathily, "are you still together?"

"No," she answered, kissing him again. "Are you...?" she murmured against him.

"No." Their words were cut off by another searing kiss. He backed her against the wall, pressing her tightly to him.

"Ron," Mel whispered between kisses. "Stop." She pushed against his arms. "Ron, please."

He pulled away, but only slightly. "Sorry," he said, his cheeks flushed, "guess I got a bit carried away."

"Me too," she breathed, "but I think we should slow down a little."

Ron nodded and backed away, running his hand self-consciously across his lips. Mel blushed and smiled. He took her hand and pulled her toward the couch.

"Ron," she laughed in a warning tone.

"We'll just talk, I promise." He sat with his back against the arm and stretched his long legs across the cushions, motioning for her to sit. She climbed between his legs and nestled her back against his chest as his arms surrounded her.

"Tell me about Will and Celia," he said. "What was their last name?"

"Royston."

"Will Royston? I don't remember him from Hogwarts."

"You might not, he was a few years behind you. He was in Hufflepuff House." She turned her head around to look at him. "What house were you in?"

"Gryffindor."

"Which ones were they?"

"The brave ones."

"Oh yes, the ones who go off and fight battles at seventeen."

"Yep, that was us."

Mel smiled and pulled his arms around her a little more tightly. "So, Will would have been a fourth year when you were a seventh. The school closed early that year, didn't it? Because of the war?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "The castle had a lot of damage, but it opened again the next fall. How long were you together?" he asked.

"Two years."

"So, did he owl you from Hogwarts?"

Mel shook her head. "He never went back."

"What?"

"Their parents were too afraid to send them back. I mean, I know the war was over, but they were still afraid. They kept them at home and the three of us went to school together that year. The next year I think their parents felt things were a bit more stable, so they gave them the choice of whether or not to return. Celia went back to Hogwarts, but Will stayed. I don't think he was ever really comfortable being a wizard and he wanted to stay in the world he knew. And I suppose he might have stayed because of me as well. But Celia, she thought being a witch was the greatest thing in the world. She couldn't wait to go back." She paused and ran her hand along Ron's arm absently. "It's funny, but even though he told me all about the wizarding world, I never actually saw them do very much magic. It's not like he ever took me to magical places or anything. And Celia was too afraid of getting caught doing magic out of school."

"If he just wanted to live as a Muggle, then why did he tell you at all?" Ron asked.

Mel shrugged. "I guess he thought being honest was more important than protecting some secrecy statute." She felt Ron bristle behind her and turned around quickly. "Oh, I wasn't blaming you, Ron, honestly I wasn't."

Ron eyed her skeptically. "You must blame me a little."

Mel opened her mouth to deny it, but found that she couldn't.

"It's okay," Ron said softly. "I deserve it."

Mel sat up straighter and looked at him fully, placing a gentle hand on his chest. "Ron, that was a long time ago, and your situation was completely different than Will's. I see that now. I might blame you for breaking my heart, but not for being a wizard. To tell you the truth, I'm a little relieved." She smiled. "After all the horrible scenarios that ran through my head about why you might have left, being a wizard doesn't seem so bad actually."

Ron opened his mouth to protest further, but she shook her head. "We're here now. Let's not dwell on what we should or shouldn't have done."

Ron sighed and swung his legs around so they were sitting side by side. He reached for her hand and held it in his, slipping his fingers through her own. "Mel, is this okay?" He glanced at her uncertainly. "I mean, I'm sure when you woke up this morning, you never expected to be ending the day in my flat. And even though you know what I am now, you must have a job and a life and I don't want to throw a wrench into all that, I just... is this okay?"

She squeezed his hand and he looked up into her eyes. "It's more than okay," she said.

He lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. "Good," he exhaled, "because I don't think I could stand to lose you again."

She smiled. "But we...we really don't know each other anymore. It's been so long, and we're different people. We're going to have to get to know each other all over again."

"That's true," he agreed. A mischievous grin spread across his face and he leaned closer. "Can we start now?" he teased, brushing her lips with his.

She pushed at him playfully. "How about tomorrow?" she chuckled. "It's late and I need to go home."

Ron frowned. "Home?"

"Yes, home. Job...life... any of that ring a bell?"

Ron cleared his throat. "Oh yeah, I guess I did mention that, didn't I? But I don't want you to go."

She put her hand on his cheek and held his eyes. "There's nowhere in the world I'd rather be than here with you, but I need some time to sort all this out."

Ron nodded reluctantly. "Okay, just promise..."

She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I promise."

Ron saw her down to the street, where she hailed a taxi. "Are you sure you don't want me to ride with you?"

"I'll be fine."

"When will I see you again?"

She thought for a moment. "At the Leaky Cauldron, tomorrow for dinner. I get off work at 5:00. Will that work?"

He nodded. "I'll be there."

She hurriedly kissed his cheek and stepped into the waiting cab.

His heart beat faster and his palms grew sweaty as he watched her drive away. But then she turned around and waved to him through the back window, and he raised his hand in return and smiled.

As he got ready for bed that night, his eyes strayed toward his chest of drawers. He opened the sock drawer and rummaged through it until his hand closed around the small frame tucked in the back. He drew it out and ran his finger over the ever-smiling image of a fifteen-year-old Mel, the only reminder he'd had of her until now. He cleared a space on his dresser and set it there, shaking his head in disbelief once again before climbing into bed and turning out the light.

* * *

Ron looked at the address Mel had written for him on a scrap of paper. It had only been two days since they'd reunited for dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, but he was already anxious to see her again. She'd described her flat to him, and he had a vague idea about the location of her neighborhood. He closed his eyes, concentrated on her address, and visualized her smiling face. He felt the familiar squeezing in his chest as he Apparated, and when he opened his eyes, he was standing in a small but comfortable living room, furnished with squashy armchairs and warm colors.

Mel came around the corner from the kitchen with two glasses and a bottle of wine.

"Hi!" Ron smiled.

"Aagh!" Mel screamed and sent the wine smashing onto the floor.

Ron's face fell. "Oh no, I'm sorry! Did I scare you?"

"Of course you scared me," she said, clutching her chest. "How did you get in here?"

"I Apparated... you said I could Apparate, didn't you?"

"Yes, but not into my living room!"

"Oh." He felt the heat rise to his cheeks. Of course not into her living room, you git. She's hardly used to people popping in and out of her flat. "Here, let me get that," he said, setting down the flowers he'd brought and reaching for his wand. "Reparo," he incanted, picking up the empty bottle and handing it to Mel.

She held it in her hands, wide-eyed. "I don't suppose you can refill it with the wine, too?"

"Well, not that wine," he said, pointing to the dark stain on the floor, "but I can fill it with my wand." He held his wand tip to the mouth of the bottle. "Vinum Effundo," he said, and a stream of red liquid flowed out of it.

She sniffed the bottle and stared at him in amazement, then watched as he cleaned the floor with a flick of his wrist. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"Make a graceful entrance?" he replied. "That was so stupid of me, I don't know what I was thinking."

"Oh, I'm alright," Mel assured him. "I was just expecting you to come through the front door, that's all."

"I'll remember that."

She looked past him to the side table where he'd dropped his bouquet. "You brought me flowers?" she smiled.

"What?" He turned to follow her gaze. "Oh, yes! There, see? I'm not all bad," he said, retrieving the bunch of fresh-cut roses. "They're from the rosebush at my building. I asked Mrs. Grady and she said I could cut some for you. I thought they could remind you of that night, you know, when we met again."

"Handy and romantic. Alright," she teased, "I suppose you can stay."

* * *

"Tea?" Mel asked a few weeks later as she and Ron entered his flat one evening.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, throwing his robe and wand onto the counter and disappearing into the bedroom.

After a few initial dates, they had settled into a comfortable routine of his place, her place; dinners out, evenings in; long talks, goodnight kisses. She lifted the tea tin and mugs down and filled the kettle with water, setting it on the stove.

There were no knobs on the stove. She looked in the drawers for matches, but not finding any, her eyes fell on Ron's wand. She had seen him light the stove before, and ignoring the voice in her head, she picked up the wand and held it in her hand. Looking around the corner to make sure the bedroom door was still closed, she pointed the wand and gave it a little swish. Nothing happened. Feeling braver, she pointed it at the stove and whispered, "Incendio." Nothing happened. Gripping the handle tighter, she waved it in a large arc, gritted her teeth, and said "Incendio!"

Ron's arms surrounded her from the back and he hugged her tightly. "What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"Making tea," she answered.

He reached around and took the wand from her, setting it on the counter. "It doesn't work that way, love."

"But why? Why can't I do magic? Couldn't you teach me?"

Ron shook his head, his heart going out to her. "It's just something you are or you aren't. It's not the wand that's magic, it's me. It's in my blood. The wand is just a channel for it."

"But maybe it's in my blood too and I just never knew it! Couldn't that happen?"

"Mel," he said, "whenever a magical child is born, their name appears in the Hogwarts Roll Book. If you were magical, you would have gotten a Hogwarts letter when you were eleven. Just like I did, just like Will and Celia did."

They stood quietly for a moment before Mel mumbled, "Well, I think that stinks." She sighed. "This isn't fair."

He pulled her to him, resting his chin on the top of her head. "We'll work it out; there's no use getting upset over something we can't change."

"No, it's not fair to you," she said, pulling away. "You have a girlfriend who can't Apparate, can't Floo, owls can't find me, and I can't even make you tea! What if we got married and I couldn't cook dinner for you? What if we had children and they weren't magical? Would you really be okay with that?"

Ron raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a smile. "I didn't know we were talking about marriage and kids yet."

She frowned and crossed her arms. "I'm serious."

"So am I. We haven't even been together two months. Give us a chance, will you? Besides," he said, wrapping his arms around her, "I don't even like tea that much."

Mel's mouth twitched into a begrudging smile.

* * *

"So, she's a Muggle?" Harry asked again from his perch on Ron's sofa.

"Yes."

"And you met when you were seventeen but you never said anything 'til now?"

"Yes."

"A Muggle?"

"Yes," Ron said agitatedly, looking out of his window.

"What did your mother say?"

"Well... I haven't actually told her yet."

Harry stared at his best mate for a moment, then snorted in laughter.

"C'mon, Harry! It's only been four months, there's no need to drag mum into it yet."

"Apparently there was no reason to drag me into it either," Harry pointed out.

"You've been gone! Do you think I wanted to tell you something like this by owl?"

"I don't see what the big deal is anyway," said Harry. "Your parents love Muggles."

"Yeah, but as a hobby, you know? As a curiosity."

Harry grimaced. "That's not true. Your parents are the most accepting people I know."

"Harry, you know how my mother is about the Statue of Secrecy. We've never even had a Muggle anywhere near the Burrow."

"Yes you have."

"Who?" Ron challenged.

"The Grangers," Harry stated as though it were obvious.

"They don't count."

"Why not?"

"Because they're Hermione's parents."

Harry chuckled. "So?"

"So, my parents love Hermione. She could have trolls for parents and they wouldn't care."

"Wow," Harry said, "you must really have it bad for this girl."

Ron looked away from the window and half-smiled. "Yeah, I do."

Harry smiled as Ron looked back down onto the courtyard. It was good to see him like this. After he'd broken up with Hermione, Harry had been worried that Ron might have given up on love altogether.

"Okay, here she comes," Ron said, turning away from the window.

The footsteps on the stairs grew louder and when they reached the landing, Ron opened the door. There was a rustling of bags as she came through the doorway, partially obscured from Harry's view by Ron's looming frame.

"Hi," she said, giving him a quick kiss. "I got Indian take-away, I hope that's alright?"

"Yeah, that's great," Ron said, taking the bags from her. "Smells good."

"Oh," Mel exclaimed when she noticed Harry standing by the sofa. "You're already here!"

Ron smiled. "Mel, this is Harry. Harry, Mel."

"Harry Potter," Harry said, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Hi, Harry," Mel beamed, shaking his hand. "Ron's told me so much about you, it's great to finally meet you. Are you home for long?"

"For a couple of weeks, then I'm out again to India."

"It must be wonderful to get to travel so much," Mel said, taking off her coat. "Ron says you're an Auror?"

He nodded. "International Defense Auror."

"That sounds so exciting," she said, her face lighting up. "I've always wanted to travel."

"Yeah, well," Harry smirked, looking in Ron's direction, "we used to get up to plenty of excitement here at home, too."

They heard Ron snort from the kitchen, and Harry's grin grew wider.

Over dinner, Ron watched as Mel listened, enraptured, to Harry's tales of their childhood. Harry had never been one to brag, but Ron could see that he didn't mind reliving the old stories to someone who had never heard them before, and especially one who hardly even understood the significance of the kind of life he had lived.

They talked and laughed until late into the night before Harry finally stood up to go.

"Harry, it was so nice to finally meet a friend of Ron's," Mel said to him in confidence as Ron cleared their glasses. "I feel like I know him much better now. Thank you."

Harry gave her a genuine smile. "My pleasure."

"I'm just going to walk him out," Ron said, returning to the living room. "Be right back."

Mel nodded and waved once more to Harry as they left.

"So?" Ron asked as soon as the door closed behind him. "What do you think?"

Harry chuckled at his friend's directness. "She's lovely, Ron."

"She is, isn't she," he smiled.

"Really. She's amazing. I like her a lot."

Ron nodded. "Good. I hoped you would. So, got any plans for the next few days?"

Harry shrugged as they made their way down the stairs. "I'll probably just hang around the Cauldron tomorrow and rest up. Then I'm off to Hermione's for dinner tomorrow night."

Ron's eyebrows went up. "Oh, yeah, Hermione's. That's good," he said stiltingly. "What's she up to these days?"

"Got promoted to head of her department. And she and David just bought a new house. That's why I'm going out... she wants me to see the new house."

"Oh, yeah? Well... good. Tell her I said hello."

Harry paused and considered his friend. "You should tell her yourself sometime."

Ron shrugged non-committally.

"She's going to ask if you're seeing anyone, you know. Is it alright if I tell her?"

"You'll tell her anyway."

"True," Harry smiled. "Should I tell her you're in love?"

A smile crept over Ron's face. "If you like."

Harry grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good to see you, mate," Harry said as they reached the Apparition point in the courtyard. "I'll owl you and we can get together for drinks later this week."

"Sounds good. Take it easy."

Ron stood in the cool autumn air and looked up at his window. A warm glow came from it, and he smiled.

* * *

"My mother's coming for a visit," Mel said casually one Saturday afternoon in late autumn as she flipped through the Daily Prophet while Ron lounged beside her on the sofa.

Ron choked on his butterbeer and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. "Oh?"

"Next weekend."

Ron was taken aback by her sudden announcement, and it took him a moment to recover. "Did you tell her about us?"

Mel nodded.

"Did you tell her about me being a..."

Mel nodded again.

"Does she hate me?" Ron asked.

Mel rolled her eyes. "No, silly, she can't wait to see you again."

"Oh." He thought back to the few afternoons he had spent at Mel's house in Ottery St. Catchpole all those years ago. "I always liked your mum."

"She always liked you, too."

"What did she say when you told her?"

"She said it explained a lot." Mel smirked at the look of shock on Ron's face. "She already knew about Will and Celia, and she's always believed in magic and those kinds of things. But really, she doesn't care what you are as long as I'm happy," she explained.

"Oh," he said, relieved. "And are you happy?"

Mel smiled and put down the paper. "Yes." She leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss, then snuggled down into his chest. Ron took another sip of his butterbeer and they fell silent again. He set his bottle on the side table and wrapped his arms around her, playing absently with her hair.

"Ron?" she whispered after a few moments.

"Hmm?"

She looked up at him, but he saw that her eyes had a worried look about them.

"What is it?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to respond, but then thought better of it. "It's nothing," she said

and laid her head back down on his chest.

"What?" he asked again.

She didn't look up this time, but wrapped her arm around his chest a little tighter. "Are you ever going to introduce me to your family?"

His hand paused for a moment, then resumed stroking her hair. She waited, biting her lip but not saying any more.

"How about the week after next?" he said quietly.

She pushed herself up and looked at him in surprise. "Do you mean it?"

Ron smiled at her eagerness. "Well, if I can't just keep you for myself, I reckon I can share you with my family. You think you're ready for them, do you?"

Mel nodded, her eyes sparkling.

"Alright, I'll ask mum when we can go down."

Her smiled faded a bit and she searched his face. "Will she be upset? When you tell her about me?"

He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, trying to think of a diplomatic way to describe what his mother's reaction would probably be. "She'll just need some time to get used to the idea. But I'll tell her before we go. That way she can get it all out of her system before she meets you."

"Oh," Mel said. "Well, now I'm a bit nervous."

"Don't worry, my reflexes are faster than hers. If she tries to hex you, I'll turn her into a rabbit. She hates it when I do that."

Mel's mouth dropped open in alarm before she came to her senses. "You're having me on," she said shrewdly.

"Yes, I am," he grinned. "Although she did try to hex my sister-in-law, Fleur, once. But that was under completely different circumstances."

"Ha ha," she said dryly.

"No, that one's not a joke."

"Oh dear."

Ron chuckled and took her hand, playing with her fingers. "So, we're doing this whole family thing, are we? Your mum, my parents. We must be getting serious."

She gave him a solemn look though her lips held the trace of a smile. "Very."

"Have I told you yet that I love you?"

She looked down at their entwined fingers. "Yes, but it was a very long time ago," she said. "Tell me again."

"I love you."

Her hand closed around his and she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and breathing him in. "I love you, too."

* * *

"Hey, dad," Ron said as he stood in the doorway of the old shed at the Burrow.

"Ron!" Mr. Weasley beamed, looking up from the contraption he was tinkering with. "What a nice surprise, wasn't expecting to see you today." He wiped his hands on a rag and straightened his glasses. "We don't see enough of you around here these days," he said, motioning for Ron to take a seat.

"That's why I'm here, actually," Ron said, sitting on an old wooden stool. "Wanted to see if I could come round for dinner some time next week."

His father gave him a puzzled look. "Well, you don't need to ask for a dinner invitation. This is still your home after all. Just pop round whenever you like."

"The thing is... I want to bring someone with me. Someone I'd like you to meet."

"Ah," Mr. Weasley said with a knowing smile. "I see."

"I've been seeing this girl for a few months," he began. "Actually, I met her a long time ago, but then we... Dad, do you remember the summer before my seventh year? I spent a lot of time in the village that summer. You even lent me some Muggle money. Do you remember?"

Arthur looked at his son for a long moment, a very fatherly expression on his face. "Yes, I think I do."

"Well, I met a girl there. A Muggle girl."

"Yes," Arthur said thoughtfully. "I always wondered what happened to her."

Ron stared at his father. "You knew?"

"I suspected. You can't raise six boys without becoming an expert in recognizing the signs of young love, Ron."

"But you never said anything."

"Well, there were more pressing matters at hand. And I thought, perhaps, if you could find a little happiness in those dark times, then you were entitled to it. It wasn't my place to take that away from you."

Ron had never ceased to be amazed by his father: his strength, his courage, his loyalty, but mostly his uncanny ability to know everything and say nothing.

"But what about the Statute of Secrecy?" Ron asked.

"Did you tell her you were a wizard?"

"No," Ron admitted.

"Then I was right not to be worried."

Ron rested his elbows on his knees as his father went back to tinkering. They sat in silence but for the clinking of tools against metal.

"She knows now," Ron said. The clinking stopped as Arthur listened. "We met again by accident this summer and we've been together ever since. I love her, dad, and I want you to meet her. But I haven't brought her here or told you about her because..."

"Because you're afraid of what your mother might say?"

"Yeah," Ron exhaled. "Did you ever tell her? Back then?"

"No," Arthur shook his head. "It was only a suspicion, after all, and times being what they were, I thought it best to keep my thoughts to myself. And then you went off to school, and then the war, and then Hermione... To be honest, I'd forgotten all about it until you mentioned it just now."

"Well," Ron exhaled, standing up, "I came down here to tell her, so I reckon I should get on with it. Thanks for letting me practice on you first."

Arthur smiled. "Anytime. And don't worry about your mother. I'm sure I'll get an earful tonight, but I'll talk her down."

"Thanks, dad." Ron said, making his way to the door.

"Ron?" his father said, making him pause. "I'm happy that you've found someone."

Ron smiled. "Me too."

"Oh, and Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think she might take a look at this for me and tell me what it's for?" he asked, pointing to the nondescript machine in front of him with a gleam in his eye.

Ron chuckled. "I'm sure she would."

He made his way across the yard and in through the kitchen door.

"Uncle Ron!" A small, fair-haired blur ran across the room and flew into his arms.

"Hey, Trina!" he exclaimed, catching her. "What are you doing here?"

"Gran's watching me and Thomas today. But Thomas is sleeping."

"Oh, we should be quiet then."

"Nah, Gran's put a Silencing Charm around him. We can be as loud as we want!"

"Lucky us," Ron grinned. "Trin, can you go tell Gran I want to talk to her?"

"Okay," Trina said and bounced away up the stairs. Ron snuck a biscuit from the tin on the counter while he waited.

"Hello, dear!" Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "What brings you here?"

"Hi, mum. No reason, just stopped by for a chat."

"Oh, if you want to talk to your father, he's in the shed," she said, busying herself with making lunch.

"I know, I already saw him."

"Well, sit down then and I'll make you a sandwich. Did I hear Harry's back from Italy?" Ron nodded. "I'll have to ask him round for dinner. That poor boy, always traveling about from place to place, never getting a home-cooked meal."

Ron smiled. "I think he does alright. Speaking of dinner, mum, I wanted to ask if it'd be alright if I brought a friend over. Maybe some time next week?"

"Of course, that would be lovely!" she said, chopping some fruit. She eyed him curiously. "Would this be a female friend?"

"Yeah," Ron grinned. "I want you and dad to meet her."

"Is it anyone we know?" she asked, pulling some pumpkin juice from the icebox.

"Uh, no. No, you wouldn't know her."

"Trina! Lunchtime!" Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs.

"Mum, there's something I need to tell you about her."

"What's that, dear?" she said, pulling some glasses from the cupboard.

"She's a Muggle."

Molly stopped at looked at him. "And?"

Ron was at a loss for a moment. "Well, I don't know... I just wanted to warn you I guess."

"Why would you need to warn me about that?"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Really? You're not upset?"

"Honestly Ron, I'm surprised at you," she said, setting out plates. "We've never made distinctions between Muggle-borns and purebloods in this house, you know that."

Ron's shoulders slumped and he shook his head. "No, mum, not a Muggle-born," he said, watching her face. "A Muggle."

Mrs. Weasley froze with a sandwich tray in one hand and a knife in the other. She stared dumbly at her son, and he could see the confusion in her brow growing deeper by the second. "A Mugg..."

"Gran!" Trina called, coming into the kitchen, "Thomas is awake." She plopped herself down at the table and looked expectantly at the sandwiches hovering over her head. "Gran?"

Molly shook herself and turned her attention to her granddaughter. "Yes, dear?"

"May I have my sandwich?" the little girl asked.

"Yes, of course," she said and promptly turned around and carried the tray out of the room and up the stairs.

Trina cast a confused look at Ron, who bounded after his mother. "Mum!" he said, catching up to her. "Here, I'll feed Trina, and you get Thomas."

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed, noticing the platter in her hands. "Yes, thank you Ron. And don't you go anywhere," she added with a stern look.

"I'll be right in the kitchen," he promised.

Ron and Trina sat quietly munching on their lunch until Molly returned with the sleepy-eyed little boy. Ron watched in apprehension as she set him in his high-chair and fixed his lunch without saying a word. Once Thomas was settled, she sat down and fixed her son with a concerned gaze.

"So, you're seeing a Muggle girl."

"Yes."

"And how long have you been seeing her?"

"Five months," he said, feeling that it might be best to give as little information as possible and still answer her questions. The faster he could get through this, the better.

"Are things very... serious between you?"

"Yes."

"And you've told her you're a wizard and about... all of us?"

"Yes."

"What on earth did she say when you told her? Was she very shocked?"

Ron smiled slightly. "Not as much as you'd expect."

Molly stood and paced around the kitchen, crossing and uncrossing her arms, fidgeting nervously with things on the counter. Trina's eye followed her while she sipped her pumpkin juice, and occasionally a squeal from Thomas would break the silence.

"However did you meet her?" Molly wanted to know.

Ron took a deep breath. "It's sort of a long story, but she has a friend who's a witch. Her friend brought her to the Leaky Cauldron and I met her there." Encouraged that his mother was still in too much shock to be yelling yet, he plunged on. "Mum, the point is, we're together and I love her. I want to bring her here so that you can get to know her, too. I want her to be part of my life."

This seemed to break through Molly's haze and a sudden fire lit her eyes. "Oh yes, love. Well, that just fixes everything, doesn't it?" she said, gathering steam. "Have you even thought about what it will mean for this girl to bring her into our world? No magical ability, no knowledge of... Oh, Ron!" she said suddenly, clutching her chest, "You're not thinking of living as a Muggle yourself!"

"No, mum! Of course not."

"What's a Muggle?" Trina asked. Molly looked at Ron, then gestured in exasperation toward the little girl, as if the fact that a five year old witch did not know what a Muggle was should explain everything.

"A Muggle is someone who can't do magic," Ron explained patiently.

Trina screwed up her face. "But they should just go to Hogwarts, and then they can learn," she said.

"No, Trin," Ron said. "Muggles can't do magic, even if they go to Hogwarts."

"But how can they live without magic?"

"They find other ways of doing things," he said simply.

Trina frowned. "Well, that's just weird," she said, biting into her sandwich.

"It's not weird. It's just different." He glanced as his mother to make sure she was taking this in as well.

"Trina, run along and play now. You can finish your lunch in a few minutes," Molly said, and Trina reluctantly left the table.

Molly shook her head and muttered under her breath. She turned to the sink and began scouring the dishes vigorously with her wand. Ron stood and leaned against the counter beside her.

"Will you meet her?"

Molly paused and raised her finger at him. "If you choose to go down this road, Ron, it won't be easy. The war may be over, but there are still those who won't understand. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"My choice is already made. But it would be a lot easier if you could be happy for me, too."

Molly stopped scrubbing and rested her hands on the edge of the sink, gripping it slightly.

"She's dying to meet you, you know," Ron went on. "We know it's going to be hard, but we're just taking it as it comes. She wants so much for you to like her. And I know you will, mum, if you just give her a chance. She's beautiful, she's kind, she's..."

"I'm sure she's lovely, Ron," Molly said, squeezing his arm. "I didn't mean to imply that she wasn't. I just worry about you." She took a deep breath and put on a smile. "Bring her round Friday next and we'll have a nice dinner together.

"Thanks, mum," he exhaled and kissed her cheek. "And it doesn't have to be anything fancy, just something simple, alright?"

"Yes, alright. Would you like to invite Harry as well?" she asked. "I assume he already knows about... Oh, but you haven't told me her name!"

"It's Melodie. Mel. Yes, Harry's met her. I'll ask him."

"Well," she sighed. "That's that then." She patted his arm and turned away to clean up Thomas.

Ron took that as his cue to leave. It had gone much better than he'd hoped, really. Best to leave her to it.

"Right, I'm going to go," he said. "See you next week."

She nodded at him, and he stepped out the door and Disapparated.

Molly gathered up Thomas and made her way outside, crossing the yard with her jaw set and worry lines creasing her forehead.

"Arthur!"

* * *

"Oh Ron, it was so nice to see you again after all this time," Mel's mother said several days later as they waited for the train that would take her home after her weekend visit. "I'm so glad that you and Mel have found each other again. I haven't seen her eyes sparkle like that in a long time."

"Mum," Mel grinned, embarrassed.

"Thanks, it was nice to see you again, too," Ron smiled.

The train whistle sounded and Mel pulled her mother into a hug. "Bye, mum, I'll see you at Christmas," she said and hurried to open a compartment door.

"Have a good trip," Ron said as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"Take care of my girl, Ron," she said softly.

"I intend to," he assured her.

"And don't worry," she whispered, "your secret is safe with me."

Ron inclined his head. "I appreciate that."

"Mum, hurry or you'll miss the train!" Mel called. She helped her mother into the compartment and jumped back down onto the platform as the train pulled slowly away, waving until it was out of sight.

Ron let out a breath as they left the train station. "One down," he said tiredly.

"Oh, come on. It wasn't as bad as all that," Mel laughed, pushing against his arm.

"No, it wasn't at all," he admitted. "I told you, I like your mum. But what I like even better is just you and me," he said, stopping on the sidewalk and pulling her into an embrace.

"Is that so?" she asked, teasing his lips with hers until he kissed her properly.

"That's so."

"Oh, I forgot!" she exclaimed. "I wanted to buy our tickets while we're here."

"Tickets?" he said as she turned back toward the train station.

"For Friday, to Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Why do we need tickets to Ottery St. Catchpole?"

Mel stopped and looked at him in surprise. "How else do you think I'm going to get to your parents' house? Fly on a broomstick?"

"Oh, right!" Ron said, and Mel rolled her eyes. As they stood in the queue for the ticket counter, Ron said softly, "You know, we could go by broomstick if you wanted to."

Mel turned to him, incredulous. "You want me," she said under her breath, "to fly on a broomstick through the freezing cold and hanging on to you for dear life all the way to your parents' house so that I can arrive a nervous wreck and looking like something the cat dragged in? Please tell me you're not serious."

Ron cleared his throat and looked at his shoes. "Just a suggestion. But no, you're probably right. Train is much better."

She bit back a smile and shook her head. "A broomstick. Honestly."

* * *

They emerged onto the platform in Ottery St. Catchpole the following Friday to a light rain. Ron hailed a taxi and directed the driver toward the other end of town.

"I haven't been back here in years," Mel said wistfully, looking out the window. "Look, there's the grocery where we met!" She sighed. "It's so strange to think of how we were back then, isn't it? We were so young."

Ron looked across her out the window at the shops on the High Street. "Speak for yourself, I'm not even thirty yet!" he chided and she laughed.

As they left town, Mel craned her neck to look at the surrounding countryside. "How far is it?" she asked.

"Just at the top of the hill, not too far now."

After a few minutes, Ron asked the driver to turn right and the smooth, paved road gave way to a bumpy, tree-lined lane. They continued along until they were well away from the main road when Ron suddenly said, "You can drop us here."

"Here?" the driver asked, confused. "You sure? I can take you all the way," he said.

"No, this is fine," Ron said.

Mel looked around with apprehension as there was no house in sight, but she trusted Ron so she gathered her purse and the bunch of flowers she had brought and stepped out of the car. She counted out some Muggle money and handed it to the driver, who still looked concerned.

"You sure you're alright, Miss?"

"Yes, we're fine," she smiled with more confidence than she felt.

The car rumbled back the way it had come and Mel shivered. Ron put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "It's just through the trees there, but only magical cars can go through the barrier, so we'll have to walk. It's not far."

She nodded and followed him toward a well-worn path through the trees and into a field. On the other side of it, a crooked house rose into the air with gabled windows and smokestacks jutting out at odd angles against the evening sky. An excitement rose in Mel as they walked toward it. She could almost feel the magic crackling in the air.

"Wow," she breathed, gripping Ron's hand tightly.

They stopped just outside the front door. "Ready?" Ron asked, his hand on the doorknob.

"Yes. Oh, wait," she said hastily, "do I look alright?"

"You look beautiful," he smiled.

"How's my hair? Is it straight?" she asked, running her hand over her head.

"Mel, you're fine," he spoke reassuringly. "It's just a little dinner, nothing to get worked up over."

"Are you two going to go inside, or do I have to stand out here all night?"

"Harry!" Ron grinned at his friend, who had Apparated into the yard just behind them. "Would you tell her she looks fine?"

"You look great," Harry said, coming onto the porch. "Don't be nervous about the Weasleys, they're the nicest people you'll ever meet."

"Thanks, Harry," Mel smiled, relieved to have another familiar face at her side.

Ron opened the door and the three stepped into a comfortable living room, homey and well lived-in.

"We're here!" Ron called out while Mel looked around the room, taking in every detail she could. They heard footsteps on the stairs, but instead of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, two young boys appeared around the corner.

"Uncle Harry!" they squealed when they saw who it was, rushing at Harry and tackling his legs.

"Hey!" Harry yelped, "Give us a chance to sit down first!" he laughed, dragging them both to the sofa and tossing them onto it.

"Andrew and Peter," Ron said in Mel's ear. "My brother George's kids. They're only ten months apart, and they're as close as Fred and George ever were."

"Ah," Mel nodded, watching the display.

"Uncle Harry, turn Peter into a toad!" Andrew chimed.

"No, turn Andrew into a lizard first!" Peter insisted.

"Maybe later," Harry chuckled. "Why don't you say hello to Uncle Ron and his friend first?"

They turned expectantly toward Ron, but both boys became suddenly quiet when they spied the new person standing beside him.

"This is Mel," Ron said to the boys, "she's just come over with me for dinner."

"Hello," Mel said, waving shyly at the boys.

"Hi," Andrew said, disinterested, while Peter merely stared at her from behind Harry. "Uncle Harry," Andrew said excitedly, turning back around, "did you have to fight any bad guys on your trip? Did you capture them and lock them up?" Harry looked toward Mel with an apologetic grin.

"Don't mind them," Ron said. "They're eight and seven. If it doesn't blow up or make funny noises, they're not interested."

"Well, Harry's story does sound much more interesting than meeting some old girlfriend," Mel chuckled. Having grown up with no siblings, she wasn't used to houses full of children and noise, but she could already feel the love in this house. It felt like a home.

The stairs creaked again and Mr. Weasley appeared, smiling. "Ron!" he exclaimed. "Didn't hear you come in, what with all the noise from this lot," he said, gesturing to the boys. "And you must be Melodie." He held out his hand and shook hers vigorously. "So pleased to meet you."

"Hello, Mr. Weasley. Thank you for having me."

"Where's mum?" Ron asked.

"Busy in the kitchen, I expect," said his father. "Why don't you two go through and say hello? George should be here any minute to pick up the boys and then we can all have a nice chat." He turned his attention to the three boys on the couch. "Harry!" he boomed, "Welcome home."

As Harry and Mr. Weasley began to talk business, Ron led Mel around to the kitchen, but it was empty, save for several bubbling pots that were stirring themselves on the stove and a knife busily chopping carrots at the sink.

"Maybe she's out in the garden," Ron said, peering out the window, but Mel had stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and was watching the grandfather clock in fascination.

"What's this?" she asked.

"The family clock," he smiled, coming to stand beside her. "Mum uses it to keep track of us all. Though it's not quite as accurate now that we've all left home."

"Yours says 'traveling'," Mel noted. "Is that you?" she smiled, pointing to the picture of a young Ron that still graced his clock hand. "You're so young!"

"Yeah, that's me. Ickle Ronniekins."

"Aw, can I call you that?" she teased.

"No."

Just then the back door opened and Molly Weasley entered carrying a bunch of fresh-cut lilies in her arms. "Oh!" she said, startled at seeing them there. "You're here! I was just out gathering some flowers for the table," she smiled, setting them on the counter and wiping her hands on her apron. Mel self-consciously clutched the simple bouquet she had brought to her chest, somewhat embarrassed.

"Hi, mum," Ron said, striding forward to kiss her cheek. "This is Mel."

Molly turned to the girl standing in her kitchen with a strange expression of wonderment on her face. Mel smiled nervously, not sure what to say, when the older woman's face suddenly lit up in a smile. "Mel," she said, walking over and placing a hand on her arm tenderly. "It is so nice to have you here."

Mel's heart was racing a mile a minute. She hadn't been sure what to expect from Ron's mother, but it was not the plump, kindly woman standing in front of her now. "I'm glad to be here," she managed to squeak out, holding up her flowers in greeting. "I brought these, but your flowers are so beautiful. You can just put mine aside for later if you like."

"Nonsense," Molly said, taking the flowers wrapped in cellophane, which had begun to wilt after the long train ride. "We can liven these right up. Would you like to help me? Dinner's not quite ready yet."

Mel followed Molly to the table, glancing at Ron as she went by, who gave her an encouraging grin. She watched as Molly pointed her wand at a blue vase on a high shelf and floated it down. Catching it out of the air, she handed it to Mel.

"There, why don't you arrange the flowers in that and I'll finish cooking." She turned to her son as Mel filled the vase with water. "Ron, do you know when Harry will be along?"

"He's here," he said, gesturing toward the living room.

"Oh! I'll just go and say hello," she said. "Back in a snap," and she disappeared around the corner.

Ron walked over to where Mel was trying to make her flowers stand straight in the vase. She looked at him and smiled.

"Alright?" he asked softly. She nodded as he leaned down to kiss her. "You're doing great."

"Yes, but my flowers aren't."

"Let mum fix them, she likes that kind of stuff."

Molly bustled back into the kitchen. "Ron," she said, sliding past him, "why don't you go out and sit, you're just in the way here. Mel and I can handle things."

Mel looked sharply up at Ron, who was quick to notice her apprehension. "Oh, no, that's alright, I'll stay in here," he said.

His mother stopped and raised her eyebrows in the way that only she knew how.

"Or, I could just go," he mumbled, hastening out of the kitchen.

"Now, let's see what we can do with these flowers," Molly said, her smile back in place. She took out her wand, waved it over the vase, and the blossoms sprang to life, opening with rich color. "There," she said as Mel stared at the flowers, wondering if she would ever get used to this.

"Is this your first visit to Ottery St. Catchpole?" Molly asked conversationally as she tended to the pots on the stove.

"Oh, no..." Mel replied, startled by the question. "Did Ron not tell you how we met?" she asked, confused.

"Yes, he said you met at the Leaky Cauldron. You were there with a friend, I think?" she said, opening the oven to check the roast inside.

"Um... no," Mel said carefully, "it wasn't exactly..."

The back door opened and a tall, well-built man stepped through, holding a young girl in his arms. "Hi, mum," he said as the girl scrambled to be let down. "We're not late, are we?"

"Hello dear, just in time," Molly said, straightening up. She gestured toward Mel. "Bill, this is Melodie. Ron's friend."

Mel smiled. "Hello," she said, wondering if all of Ron's brothers were this handsome.

"This is my son, Bill, and his daughter Trina," Molly explained. "I invited them to have dinner with us since Bill's wife is out this evening."

Bill nodded. "Nice to meet you," he said in a deep voice, then turned to his mother. "George said to tell you he's running late. He and Fred had some problem at the shop and he asked if the boys could stay for dinner, too, since Rachel is out at her class tonight."

Molly sighed. "Oh, I suppose so. There's never an empty table with this lot around, is there Trina?" She smiled at her granddaughter, who shook her head in reply.

"Where are the boys anyway?" Bill asked.

"In the living room torturing Harry for information," Molly said offhandedly.

"Harry's back? Good, I need to talk to him." He gave a short smile to Mel as he passed and stepped through to the other room, leaving Trina at the table to turn a curious eye on their visitor. She smiled at the little girl as she arranged the lilies that Molly had picked around her own bouquet. Trina regarded her silently for a moment, but Mel got the distinct impression that she was being sized up.

"Thomas went with mummy to visit her friends," she blurted out suddenly. "He's my brother, but he's just a baby. Do you have a brother?"

"Nope, no brothers," Mel answered.

"Sisters?"

Mel shook her head. "Only me," she smiled.

"They don't let you have brothers or sisters either?" Trina exclaimed. A puzzled look came over Mel's face, but before she could ask what the girl meant, Molly bustled over to the table with the steaming bowls of food.

"Now Trina," she said, "don't bother her with silly questions." It seemed to Mel that Mrs. Weasley had become somewhat flustered, though she couldn't think why.

"Dinner, everyone!" Molly called, and a herd of footsteps made their way into the kitchen.

"Sorry," Ron whispered, sliding into a seat next to Mel.

"Not at all," she said, nodding to Trina. "We've been having a lovely time."

"I want to sit next to Mel," Trina announced. Mel patted the seat next to her and she wriggled happily into it.

Dinner passed pleasantly enough. Different conversations cropped up here and there along the table and eventually, Fred and George arrived, looking harried but grateful for a hot meal. Introductions were made once again and more places set.

Ron was beginning to think they might make it through the evening unscathed until his mother asked casually, "Where was it that you grew up, Mel?" Ron stiffened and cast a nervous glance at his father, who returned his glance with a raised eyebrow but said nothing.

Mel wiped her mouth with her napkin before replying, "Ottery St. Catchpole, actually."

The look of surprise on Molly's face was evident. "Really? What a strange coincidence! Well, we don't get down to the village very often, so I suppose it's no surprise that you two never met before. But isn't that odd?" she marveled.

Mel turned her head to look at Ron with an expression that clearly said, "Yes, isn't it?"

Ron cleared his throat. "Actually, mum, Mel and I did meet in the village once. It was a long time ago, one summer while I was still in school. But we, uh, hadn't seen each other since then." He reached over to Mel's lap and took her hand. "Not until we met again at the Leaky Cauldron, like I told you."

The older Weasley brothers bit their tongues and exchanged significant glances as Harry tried to kick them under the table.

A flush crept into Molly's cheeks. "I see," she said, working quickly through the implications of what Ron had just told her, but deciding not to press him for details. She could have words with her son later; it wouldn't do to cause a scene in front of their guest. "And what is it that you do now?" she continued.

"I'm an assistant at an employment agency," Mel said.

"But I thought you were a Muggle?" Trina piped up.

All conversation suddenly ceased as everyone turned their eyes on the little girl.

"Trina," Molly said in a scandalized whisper, though she was stopped from saying anything further by Arthur's gentle hand on her arm.

Well, there it was, Mel thought. The question of the hour. "Yes, I am," she said simply.

"Is it really true that you can't do magic?" Trina asked skeptically.

"Yes."

Trina cocked her head to one side and considered this while everyone else held their breath. "Well," she shrugged finally, "if you need any help, you can just ask me."

Bill coughed to hide his smile and a general chuckle rose from the table.

Mel smiled at the girl's sincerity and patted her hand. "Thank you. I'll be sure to let you know if I do."

* * *

"Do you know what my mother said to me as we were leaving?" Ron asked once they were settled into a taxi on the way back to town.

"What?" she smiled, snuggling closer to him in the back seat.

"She asked if there was anything else she should know before she sees you again," he grinned.

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes! It means she's expecting to see you again," he chuckled. Ron was giddy with relief that the evening was finally over and his mood was infectious.

"You were so bad not to tell her how we met. Honestly," Mel swatted at him lightheartedly, "if I were your mother, I'd give you an earful for embarrassing me like that."

"Oh, I'm sure I haven't heard the last of it. But I don't care about that right now. You were so brilliant. They all liked you, I know it."

"Really?" she asked.

"Really." He lifted her chin and kissed her, running his thumb over her cheek. "I love you, you know," he said, looking into her eyes.

She smiled. "I know."

They cuddled together, watching the lights of the village grow larger as they drove down the hill. On the outskirts of town the moonlight reflected off the duck pond at the village park. As they passed it, Ron suddenly sat upright.

"Stop. Stop here," he said urgently, and the driver quickly pulled to the side of the road. "We'll get out here."

"Why?" Mel asked, looking around.

"I just want to. Is that alright?" he asked.

"But we'll miss our train," she said.

"No, we won't. Come on," he said, tugging her hand.

"Alright," she shrugged, and they stepped out into the cold night air.

The grass was wet on their shoes as they tramped into the park. Ron led her around the duck pond toward a clump of trees at the far end, but when Mel realized where they were headed, she slowed her step and tightened her grip on his hand.

"It's okay," he said softly. They walked until they were standing in the clearing surrounded by thick trees, the last place they had set eyes on each other all those years ago. Moonlight shone around them, casting a glow on their breath as it rose into the air.

He turned to face her, grasping her hands in his. "This is where I Apparated to and from whenever I would come to the village to see you," he said in a strangled voice.

"Ron, you don't have to..." she began, but her words caught in her throat.

"This is where I disappeared from that day, that day I told you I loved you."

"Ron," she whispered, tears falling from her eyes.

He leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss that warmed them both from head to toe. A kiss full of promise and security and love. His fingers wound through her hair and he held her so close that their shadows looked like one in the night. When he finally broke away, he looked deeply into her eyes.

"I have too many sad memories of this place. I needed to make a happy one."

"Thank you," she sighed. "I needed one, too."

"Care to make another?" he asked.

She hoped he couldn't see her blush in the dim light. "What would that be?"

"Marry me."

All traces of a smile left her and her eyes grew wide. "What?" she breathed.

"I know we've only been together a few months, but in some ways I feel like I've been waiting for this moment for far too long. I didn't plan to ask you tonight - I mean, I don't have a ring or anything - but I want to do this here. And I want you to be able to look at me and know that I will never leave you again. So marry me."

"But," she stammered, trying to catch her breath, "I can't do magic." She didn't know why that was the first thought that came to her head, but she couldn't help but feel that it needed to be said.

He shook his head. "I don't care."

Her head was spinning. "But magic is so important to you, to your family. I can't..."

He gripped her shoulders and spoke passionately, almost in desperation. "Do you love me for my magic or for me?"

His question cut her to the quick. "For you, of course."

"And I love you for you."

She stared at him, searching his eyes, but saw no hesitation in them. "Married?" she asked.

"Husband and wife," he said.

"And waking up late together on Saturday mornings?"

"I can conjure us up breakfast in bed," he nodded.

"And children?"

"Riding on toy broomsticks," he smiled.

"And what if they can't ride toy broomsticks?" she asked.

"Then I'll love them just the same."

And then she found that she had run out of questions, and there was only one thing left to say.

"Yes."

The End