In the Village

The air at the Burrow was still. Ron Weasley lay on his bed, throwing a bludger at the ceiling repeatedly to stave off the boredom of his summer holidays.

"Why don't you go for a walk?" his mother suggested after lunch. "The fresh air will do you good."

"Yeah," he said. "Hey, maybe I could Apparate down to the village. I could explore around a bit."

Ron had just passed his Apparition License test the month before and had been practicing disappearing and reappearing every chance he got. But he had never gone as far as the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. It would at least get him out of the house for a while.

"Oh, Ron, I don't know," his mother frowned. "You have to be very careful in the village, and absolutely no magic. What if you were seen?"

"What do you mean? I can blend in with the Muggles, how hard could it be? C'mon, mum. It'll be good for me. I can take notes on all the Muggles and report back to dad on what I see." He smiled, knowing she wouldn't be able to refuse him if she thought he was somehow furthering her husband's cause of good Wizard and Muggle Relations.

His mother crossed her arms and surveyed her youngest son. "No magic. And you are to Apparate to and from the Ministry-approved Apparition points only. I hope I don't need to remind you of the importance of the Statute of Secrecy. If a Muggle in the village ever found out that we..."

"I know, mum. I know all the rules. Don't worry."

She sighed. "Alright. Be back by dinnertime."

Ron made his way out the back door to the small patio that was the designated Apparition point for the Burrow. He closed his eyes and pictured in his mind the small clearing on the edge of the Village Park that his mother had described to him. His body felt strangely detached for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, he was there. It didn't seem that anyone had noticed him except for a small squirrel at his feet that looked quite startled and scampered quickly up a nearby tree.

Wandering around the sleepy little village, Ron was so engrossed by looking in the shop windows that he didn't notice the girl until she ran into him headlong, scattering her bags across the sidewalk.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't see you there."

She began crawling around the sidewalk, picking up boxes and cans and stuffing them back into her bags. After recovering from the shock, Ron chased after some apples that had rolled away and brought them to her. He looked up and saw they were standing outside of what looked to be a Muggle food store. By the time all the food was repacked into the bags, he could see why she hadn't been able to see where she was going. There was far too much for just one person to carry.

"Are you alright? Here, I'll help you," he offered, lifting two of the bags into his arms.

"Oh, no, you don't need to," the girl replied sheepishly. "I can make it home from here."

"Don't be silly. I'm not doing anything, I might as well walk you home."

"Well, alright. Thanks. I just live a few blocks that way."

As they walked along in silence, Ron studied the girl out of the corner of his eye. She looked to be about his age, maybe a little younger. Her long auburn hair swayed as she walked and she had a soft, pleasant looking face.

Finally, he said, "I'm Ron Weasley, by the way."

She smiled shyly. "I'm Mel."

"Mel? Like Melanie?"

"Melodie, actually."

"Melodie. That's a pretty name," he said, marveling inwardly at how comfortable he felt with this total stranger. And a Muggle at that.

"Thanks," she said, shifting the weight of the bags in her arms. "I haven't seen you around here before. Do you live here?"

"Uh," Ron stammered, trying to avoid explaining the circumstances of who and what he was. "Yeah, it's a bit outside the village though. I don't come down here very often."

"You don't go to school here," she pointed out.

Ron shook his head. "No, boarding school up in Scotland. I'm just home for summer hols."

She nodded. They continued on until they reached a small side street. Mel stopped at the gate in front of number twenty-four, a tall brownstone building sandwiched in the row of houses.

"You live here with your family?" Ron asked. He had never been inside a Muggle house before, except for a brief glimpse of the Dursely's living room when he had gone with his father to pick up Harry once. He found himself extremely curious to see how this girl lived.

"It's just me and mum," she said. "Well, thanks for the help."

Ron followed her to the steps, but she clearly didn't mean to invite him in, so he set the bags on the doorstep and backed down the stairs. They stared at each other for a moment before Ron managed a smile. "Anytime," he waved and turned to go.

"Ron?" Mel said, stopping him at the gate. He turned around with his hand on the latch. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime? If you come back into the village, I mean."

Ron heart skipped a beat, but he tried to remain cool. "Yeah," he smiled, "maybe I will."

He took a few steps down the sidewalk, but then turned back and saw that Mel was still watching him from the steps.

"How about tomorrow?" he asked.

She smiled broadly. "Sure."

"I'll be down at the park after lunch then," he said.

She nodded, and he started up the sidewalk once more. When he reached the end of the street, he chanced another look back and was pleasantly surprised to see Mel still watching him from her doorway. He waved again and turned the corner, out of sight.

* * *

The next day Ron hurriedly ate his lunch and levitated his dishes to the sink.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked.

"To the village," he said noncommittally.

"Again? Why?"

"Why not? Nothing to do around here."

"Can I come?"

"No," he called, crossing to the back door. "I'm Apparating."

He hurried out the door before she could ask any more questions, and in a moment, he was standing in the clearing. He peeked around a tree, scanning the park, but didn't see Mel anywhere. After walking around the perimeter once, he settled on a bench by the duck pond and waited, trying to look more casual than he felt.

He had been unable to get Mel out of his mind all night. Maybe it was the fact that she was a Muggle and the first non-magical girl he had ever met that was his age. Maybe it was just that she was so unlike Hermione. But whatever it was, he knew that he couldn't wait to see her again.

He looked around nervously and had almost given up hope when he spotted her, a small dot on the other side of the park, growing steadily larger as she came toward him. She carried a paper sack in her hand, and her face broke into a smile when she saw him.

"Hi," she said, sitting on the bench but leaving a respectable distance between them.

"Hi."

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"Oh, no," Ron said, leaning back and stretching out his long legs. "I was just hanging out, you know, watching the ducks."

"I brought some bread. Want to feed them?" she asked, holding out the sack.

"Sure." He pulled a handful of crumbs from the bag and they spent the next few minutes silently tossing the pieces into the water and watching the ducks snatch at them.

When the bread was gone, Mel turned to Ron. "I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure if you'd be here."

He smiled. "I wasn't sure if you'd be here either. It was sort of a strange way to meet. I've never knocked a girl off her feet before."

Mel chuckled. "Do you want to go for a walk? I could show you around the village. Yesterday you said you don't come around here much."

"Yeah, that would be brilliant," Ron said.

For the rest of the afternoon they walked up and down the narrow streets, into shops and through gardens and alleyways. When they had exhausted the possibilities, Mel stopped in front of a small café with a few tables and chairs out on the sidewalk.

"Would you like to go in for some tea?" she asked. "I could use a sit down, my feet are killing me."

"Oh," said Ron, patting the pockets of his jeans. "I haven't brought any Mugg... uh... money with me."

"Oh. Well, I think I have enough," she said, digging into her pockets and pulling out a few pound notes. "My treat."

"Are you sure? Ok, well, thanks."

The first thing Ron noticed when they stepped inside was the lack of movement. It seemed too quiet and still, even though there were several other patrons talking and having tea as well. Then he realized it was the lack of anything magical going on that had struck him. There were no teapots floating in the air, no glasses filling themselves at the bar, no movement in the pictures on the walls. It seemed very... lifeless.

They settled into a small table in the corner, and Mel ordered two cups of tea and a plate of scones with strawberry jam.

"So," she said, pouring some milk into her tea, "what do you like to do? Do you play sports?"

"Yeah," he said, his face lighting up. Quidditch was Ron's favorite topic of conversation and it wasn't often he found a girl who liked to talk about sports, too. Except for Ginny, but she didn't really count. "I play on my house team at school."

"Really? Which sport, football?"

"What?" Ron's faced momentarily creased in confusion before he recovered himself. "Oh, yeah, football! That's it. Football."

"Which team do you like?"

"Uh..." Spending the day with a Muggle was turning out to be more work than he had expected. He wracked his brain for any football teams that he knew of and finally remembered the posters above Dean Thomas' bed. "West Ham. Yeah, they're my favorite."

"Oh no," Mel laughed, "don't say that around my house. We've always been Fulham fans. They're not very good, but we stand by them anyway. We just cross our fingers and hope for the best."

Ron laughed at her unknowing quoting of the Chudley Cannons motto and thought that maybe Quidditch and football weren't so different after all.

* * *

Ron met Mel in the park nearly every day after that. Some days it was only for a short visit on the bench until one of them had to run off to a prior commitment, but some days they talked for hours. And despite the fact that Ron didn't share much about himself for fear that she would discover that he was a wizard, Mel said it only made him seem more intriguing and mysterious. It was certainly something he never would have heard from Hermione, and it made him feel good. She laughed at his jokes and told him about the things she loved and the things she hated, and the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder while she talked made him catch his breath.

July melted into August. One evening as they were saying goodbye, Mel suggested that they might go to the cinema. There was a new movie that she wanted to see and thought that since it was an action film, Ron might like it, too. They arranged to meet at the cinema the next day, and after much persuasion and dodging questions, Ron was able to talk his father into lending him some Muggle money.

"More Muggle research, eh?" he father had joked. "You're going to be quite the expert by the end of the summer." Mr. Weasley gave his son a shrewd look. "Are you sure that's all you're doing down in the village? You're spending a fair amount of time down there. Not getting up to anything you shouldn't, are you?"

Ron tried to keep his face neutral and shrugged. "No. I just like wandering around, seeing new things."

His father nodded and thankfully let the subject drop.

As he and Mel entered the theater, Ron tried not to show that he had never been to a cinema before. But once the film started, he became totally engrossed by it. Certainly some of the things he saw on the screen had to be done with magic, though he couldn't see how without breaking the Statue of Secrecy. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. But it was even more extraordinary that he was sharing it with the girl next to him.

During a particularly tense scene, Mel reached over and grasped his hand tightly, and a few seconds later, she jumped as a spectacular explosion lit up the screen. He chuckled and let go of her hand so he could put his arm around her, pulling her closer.

"Are you okay?" he whispered in her ear.

She turned to him with a soft smile and nodded, laying her head on his shoulder. Ron tried but failed to pay attention to the rest of the movie and concentrated instead on the feel of her hair as it brushed his cheek and the touch of her hand on his knee.

When they emerged from the theater into the late afternoon sun, Ron slipped his hand around Mel's and began walking up the street, but she hesitated.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I was going to walk you home, like I always do," he replied. "Why, where do you want to go?"

She stopped and bit her lip, looking behind her toward the other end of town. "I was thinking... maybe I could walk you home today."

Ron's throat suddenly became dry, and he glanced nervously up the street. "No, you don't need to do that. It's a pretty long walk, I wouldn't want you walking back alone," he reasoned, hoping she would let the idea drop.

"It can't be that far," she pressed. "You walk here every day. Please? I really want to see where you live."

He looked down at their hands entwined. "Mel, I... I really don't think that's a good idea." His heart sank at the look on her face, and he wished he could just tell her everything. But he knew inside that he just wasn't ready to bring her into his world.

"You've been so secretive about yourself, and now you don't want me to see your house or meet your family..." She looked at him accusingly. "You've been in my house and met my mum and she thinks you're great. Don't you want me to meet your family? Are you embarrassed to be with me?"

"No!" Ron said, looking straight into her eyes now. "No. That's not it at all. It has nothing to do with you. I really like you. Don't ever think I'm embarrassed by you."

She looked somewhat relieved, but still searched his face. "What is it, then?"

Ron sighed and leaned against the brick building they had stopped in front of. "My family is very... eccentric. I just think they might overwhelm you a bit, and I know you would overwhelm them."

"Me? Why would I..."

Ron reached for her hands again and held them tightly. "Please, just trust me. I know none of this makes any sense to you, but you have to believe me. I wish I could take you there and show you all the things you want to see, but I just can't."

Mel looked completely dumfounded. "Well, can I at least have your phone number so I can call you?"

Ron brought his hand to his forehead, knowing that what he was about to say would only make things worse. "We don't have a fellytone."

"A what?"

"A felly... a telephone. We don't have a telephone."

"You don't have a telephone?" she asked incredulously.

"I told you, my family's..."

"Eccentric. Yes, you said."

Mel looked like she was on the verge of tears but valiantly trying to hold them in. He wanted desperately to kiss her and make all her doubts go away, but he was painfully aware of the people passing by on the street and the fact that they were in a very public place. Instead he pulled her into a hug and buried his face in her hair.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, "I don't know what to do."

Mel clung to him, and he could feel the tension in her shoulders. After a minute, she took a deep breath and seemed to gather herself together. "Alright. I, um, I think I need to go home. Alone."

She tried to leave, but Ron held on to her. "Will you still meet me tomorrow?"

"I can't tomorrow."

Ron's heart started pounding. "Mel..."

"But I will the next day. Okay? I'll meet you on Thursday at our usual spot."

He breathed in relief and finally let go of her. "Okay."

She walked away, up the street, and didn't look back.

* * *

Thursday couldn't come soon enough for Ron. He just hoped she would show up. He couldn't bear to think about what he would do if she didn't. But when he emerged from the clearing, she was already there, on their bench, waiting for him. He sat down next to her and waited for her to talk first. When she didn't, he opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand.

"It's okay," she said, looking up at him. "It's okay. I don't understand it and I don't like it, but I like you and I don't want this to ruin our last few weeks together. So, I'll just deal with it, I guess."

"I'm sorry," he began.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "None of that. Come on," she said, standing and pulling him to his feet. "Let's have some fun."

Ron smiled and was struck again by how remarkable this girl was. "Okay, but I need to do one thing first."

"What?"

Without another word, he grabbed her around the waist and before she could react, he planted his lips firmly on hers. It took only a second for her arms to find their way around his neck and she kissed him back with all the pent-up energy that she had been keeping inside for the past two days. They broke apart and looked into each other's eyes.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that," Ron breathed.

"Oh," she smiled, "I think I do."

* * *

The next two weeks were an idyllic blur of talks and outings and kisses stolen under trees and in secluded doorways. But as the end of August drew nearer, the cloud over Ron and Mel grew more pronounced, try as they might to ignore it. On the last day of the summer, when they could avoid it no longer, they met in the park for the last time to say their goodbyes.

"I have something for you," Mel said. They had just finished a picnic that she had made for them and Ron was lying on his back, one arm propped under his head. He took the small package she held out and sat up.

"But I didn't get anything for you," he apologized.

"It's okay," she smiled. "Just open it."

He tore open the paper and stared at the frame in his hands. It was a picture of Mel, sitting on their bench, smiling radiantly with the sun behind her, lighting up her hair. He waited for the image to wink or wave or show some sign of life. But it didn't. And he realized that after today, this unmoving, ever-smiling image was the only one he would ever have of Mel again.

"Thank you," he said, his throat becoming tight. "I love it."

Mel, picking up on his change in tone, felt the smile fade from her face as well. "This is really it, isn't it."

Ron looked up from the picture. "I guess so."

She turned away and packed up her picnic basket, reaching for anything to prolong their last moments together. Finally, they stood up, but neither of them could bring themselves to move first.

"Can I write to you?" Mel asked. But she knew the answer even before the question left her mouth.

Ron tried to imagine Pig, his owl, soaring over Mel's house and being welcomed in through her kitchen window with a letter tied to his leg. But somehow, he couldn't meld the two worlds in his mind. "I don't think so."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I don't know," his voice cracked. Her strong façade finally crumbled and the tears she had been holding back for days spilled onto her cheeks. He gathered her in his arms and fought to keep control himself. "Please don't cry. This is killing me."

"I don't understand why you won't let me into your life. What did I do?"

"Nothing. You didn't do anything. It's just me. I'm not... I'm not who you think I am."

"What does that mean?"

"Just please know that being with you has been the best time of my life and I will never forget you. Ever."

"Ron, please, just tell me. Whatever it is. Please."

She was crying in earnest now, and he felt his own tears splash onto his cheeks. "I can't."

He kissed her and tasted her tears for only a moment before he whispered, "I have to go."

"No."

"Mel. I have to go."

He backed away from her slowly, clutching her picture against his chest. He watched as she buried her face in her hands and turned away from him, and his heart broke as he whispered, "I love you."

But he didn't see her look up. And he didn't hear her whisper, "I love you, too." Because when she turned around, he was already gone.