A/N: Thank you to my wonderful reviewers! You inspired this chapter :)
Harry and Hermione kept up their furtive glances and smirking for the entirety of the long walk from Ottery St. Catchpole back to the Burrow. Ron, unable to fume because of the insistent balloon of happiness expanding inside his chest, merely shook his head and allowed them to walk a little behind him, giggling and whispering like a pair of first years.
Mrs. Weasley was waiting for them when they got back, just as the sun was about to set. She waved to them from the front step when Ron pushed through the gate, and he turned to send a stern look that he didn't really mean to his two best friends.
"Not a word to any of them, yeah?" he said quietly, his eyes a mixture of threatening and pleading.
"Not even Ginny?" Hermione asked, half-teasing.
"Especially not Ginny. God, if she found out she'd tell the twins and then I'd never hear the end of it!"
"Alright, Ron," Hermione laughed. Harry was grinning so hard it looked like his face was going to split in two.
"Hello, dears," Mrs. Weasley said when they reached her, giving them each an affectionate hug. "Ron, would you mind shutting the chickens in before dinner? It's getting rather dark."
Ron, momentarily stunned by his mother's surprisingly good mood, simply nodded and went to do his chores, leaving Harry and Hermione alone with his family.
It happened in the middle of dinner, just as Ron had taken an enormously large bite of mashed potatoes. Fred was the one who did it, his mischievous grin flashing across the table before he played his jab.
"So, Ron," he started, waiting until his brother had looked up from his plate. "Did you see your village lover today?"
Ron nearly spit his mouthful of spuds across the table. Choking and flaming red, he managed to swallow and get down a gulp of milk before coming up sputtering. Harry and Hermione looked just as baffled as he felt, though, so he knew they had kept their tongues.
Giving a last little cough, he glared at Fred. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, bullocks," Charlie laughed. "You're redder than a Chinese Fireball. What's her name, then?"
"I do not have a-"
"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley had come striding over from the stove, where she had been refilling the gravy boat. "Is that what you were doing in the village all day? And where did you leave your poor friends while you were gallivanting around with this girl?"
"The bookshop," Hermione said in an undertone. Fred and George burst into raucous peals of laughter.
Mrs. Weasley rounded on Ron.
"Ronald Billius-"
"Mum, calm down! I don't have a lover!" Ron could feel his face go from broiling to burning.
"Well then why did you leave your friends alone in the bookshop? Hmm?"
"I just ran into her. I met her before Christmas, and I just thought I'd say hello. She's not… I don't really even know her. We were just talking."
"But she's a Muggle?"
"Yeah, mum. She's a Muggle. Why does that have to make a difference?"
"Oh, you're talking about the girl from the bookshop, aren't you?" Ginny asked, speaking up suddenly. Everyone rounded on her. "What what her name… Beth! Was it Beth?" Ginny asked, beaming at Ron. He was suddenly immensely grateful to his sister.
"Yeah, it was Beth," he admitted.
"I liked her," Ginny said, grinning.
And that was the end of that.
Three days later, Ron was packing. He was always slightly sad about leaving the Burrow, but this time a sense of melancholy had settled in that he just couldn't shake. Loath as he was to admit it, he knew it was Beth. He had to see her again before going back to Hogwarts for the spring term. Even though he had only seen the beautiful Muggle girl twice, there was just something about her that made him want to see her every moment of every day. He thought about her when he drank tea, every time he saw a book or a fir branch. He dreamt about her, found himself staring out the window morosely thinking about her. He lost hours of his time to her.
He was obsessed, and he knew it. He just couldn't stop it.
Finally, the evening before they were due to return to Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley found him sitting in the windowseat in the sitting room, a book abandoned in his lap, staring forlornly at the dark world outside.
"Are you still on about that girl?" she asked gently, sitting down across from him with an affectionate pat to the shins.
Ron suddenly found himself at a loss for words, and merely nodded at his mother.
"Well, perhaps she could write to you at Hogwarts, then," she suggested softly.
"Mum, she's a Muggle. She's not going to be very impressed when an owl comes tapping on her window. How am I going to explain that to her?"
"Maybe you won't have to."
"Mum… Muggles don't have pet owls that carry post for them."
"Yeah… but you do."
Five minutes later, Ron had grabbed his broom and was laid almost flat along it, racing towards the little village. He pulled himself up short just before he could see the individual crosses on the windows of the houses, and found a bush to stash his broom in. Praying he would remember how to find it in the dark, he set off down the street.
The owner of the coffee shop was just closing up for the night when Ron ran up to her, breathless.
"Wait!" he called, and the friendly-looked middle-aged woman opened the door again.
"I'm sorry, dear, but I'm all out of tea. You'll have to come back tomorrow."
"No, wait. I'm just," he had to pause and gulp a mouthful of air. "I'm looking for someone. There's this girl. She… she comes here sometimes, sits in the corner and drinks tea."
"Hon, lots of people come to sit here and drink tea. You're going to have to give me more than that. I know a lot of people." The woman was smiling kindly at him.
"Her name's Beth. She's got curly brown hair-"
"Oh, yeah I know Beth!" The woman grinned at him. "She's a lovely girl."
Relief hit Ron like a wave. He could feel his stress-tightened limbs loosening. "Do you know where I could find her?" he asked the greying shopkeeper.
"She lives out on Kings Avenue, but I doubt you'll find her there!" The woman had to shout the last bit at Ron's retreating back. He tossed a 'thank you!' over his shoulder, and sprinted off down the lamp-lit street.
Even if he didn't find Beth at her house, he'd hopefully be able to find someone else who knew where to find her. With that knowledge in mind, Ron boldly climbed the steps to the first house on Kings Avenue, trying to slow his rapid breathing as he rang the bell.
Nobody answered.
Trying not to feel the stone of discouragement growing in the pit of his stomach, Ron climbed down the steps and ran across the lawn to the neighbouring house. Crossing his fingers, he rang the bell again.
A curse, and then a bellowed shout came from within the dark house. A light clicked on somewhere within, and Ron waited with bated breath for the stranger who wasn't Beth to open the door.
Ron had the impression of a bleary red-eyed man with stubble across his face and a bottle in his hand before he was assaulted with a barrage of spit-flying insults.
"Who the bloody hell do you think you are, ringing my bell at this hour? Huh? Answer me, boy, or I swear by God there's gonna be pay to shit!"
"I – I just – I'm sorry, sir-"
"Getchur ass off my doorstop before I-"
"Ron?"
Her voice. Behind him. Spinning, completely ignoring the bellowing man at his back, Ron's eyes found her.
She wore some kind of red smock, with the words Cooper's Grocery Mart embroidered on the front. Her curls were tied up on the top of her head, but falling out in adorable little messy waves, and she looked utterly exhausted. And freezing cold. Her hands were buried deep in the pockets of the coat that must have a broken zipper – for why else would she leave it undone on a night like this?
"Beth?" The bellowing voice behind Ron had suddenly become dangerous. "You know this boy?"
"I…" Beth started, but it came out as more of a broken syllable than a word.
"Hi," Ron said, turning to face the man whom he assumed was Beth's father. He stuck out his hand bravely. "I'm Ron Weasley."
The man stared at him, his bloodshot eyes narrowed with distaste. "You get your punk ass off my doorstep. And take that slut with you!"
The door slammed behind him, and Ron stared at it, speechless.
"Well that's just great." Beth's voice was sarcastic, but Ron could hear the hurt underneath it.
"Beth, I – I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…" Ron trailed off, stumbling down the steps to touch her shoulders.
She was shaking her head, avoiding his eyes. "It's fine, Ron. Just go home. I just have to wait a while until he calms down. Or drinks himself into a stupor… Why am I even telling you this?" She looked up at him, now, her eyes narrowed but helpless and watery despite her attempted anger. She just looked so… tired.
"Beth, let me take you somewhere. We can get a cup of tea. You could stay at my place for the night," Ron said, not even thinking about what would happen if she got anywhere near his house.
"Ron, don't. You don't have to do anything. I'm fine, really. He kicks me out all the time."
"Beth…"
"Really. Just go home, Ron. My neighbour will let me stay at her house until he falls asleep."
"Let me come with you?" Ron asked, unable to let her leave him just yet. "I want to make it up to you."
Beth watched him for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision because she slipped her small cold hand into his. "Come on," she said.
