Half a Man

Normally Ron Weasley loved to eat. Morning, afternoon or evening, he always found an excuse to stuff food into his mouth. But things had changed, and his appetite had left him along with his ability to walk.

Nothing was as fun as it used to be, Ron thought as he gloomily stared into his juice. He had been watching it for the past ten minutes. It seemed anything was better to look at instead of Hermione, who sat across him.

In the last week since his screaming fit he had managed to avoid her. Several times she had tried to talk to him, but Ron always had an excuse to leave the room. He really didn’t want to talk about his feelings at all, and certainly not with her.

A sudden loud rustling sound distracted Ron from his thoughts.

"Oh Merlin, here they come again," complained Harry who tried to hide under the kitchen table. Molly Weasley jumped up from her seat and ran towards the outside door. She barely managed to open it in time to let about fifty owls in. Every single owl flew to Harry and Hermione and started bombarding them with letters. To avoid the possibility of broken glass Molly cleaned away the breakfast service and left the kitchen.

After the Ministry had announced the ball in the paper three days ago, Harry and Hermione started receiving an enormous amount of invitations. It seemed that every single wizard and witch in the country had been waiting to date one of the "Hogmeade Heroes" as they were named by the Daily Prophet.

Originally it had been highly amusing to read the letters aloud and laugh at the pictures some people had sent with the invitations. It was especially amusing because Hermione had a lot of fat, balding, older men among her fans. But for Ron, the joke had soon worn off. The huge piles of post before his two friends and the empty spot on the table before him were yet another reminder of exactly how attractive women found him.

"

Ron opened one of them, which was a card from a older witch in Leeds who sent something almost every week. This card had happy frolicking puppies and kittens on them. Disgusted, Ron put it back on the table.

The other letter was a bit odd, as the envelope was purple and smelt familiar to Ron. It actually reminded him a bit of Trelawney’s class room. As he unfolded the paper, a picture shot up into the air and started to move before his nose. It was a transparent image of a muggle in a wheelchair who was dancing. The man in the chair waved his arms above his head from left to right. It looked ridiculous to Ron. Then he read what the sender had to say.

"Ugh," was all he could utter.

"What’s that?" said Hermione. "Let me take a look… It’s really complicated magic, you see."

Ron didn’t want to show the letter to her. "It’s an invitation from Luna," he said. "She must be the only person wacky enough in Britain to want to go to the ball with me."

"So you’ll go with her, then?" asked Hermione, who had a strange look on her face.

"

Ginny, who had been sitting next to Harry, opened her mouth to defend her friend, but then wisely choose to say nothing.

"Ron," Hermione scolded. "It’s not nice to call her that name. Luna had put a lot of effort into this, so…"

Hermione couldn’t even finish her sentence because Ron was having a go at her. He didn’t need her to set him up with any girls. That, more than anything, hurt him the most. It hurt more than all the invitations that he didn’t get, and more than all the trouble with his legs.

"Why don’t you leave it alone," Ron shouted. "You and the other ‘Hogsmeade Hero’ can go together. I will stay at home, where I belong. Nobody’s interested in me anyway, not the papers and not your admirers. There’s no place for a cripple at that ball."

"Well, I can tell you something," Hermione screamed back at him. "We didn’t ask for this stupid ball. I am not a Hogsmeade Hero and neither is Harry."

Harry looked a bit offended by this. He surely didn’t revel in his status, but this time he seemed to think that he earned a bit of cheering since he had, after all, defeated Voldemort.

Hermione continued her tirade, but now there were tears in her eyes. "You know who are the real heroes to me? Lavender is one. The poor girl got an ugly burning spell in her face. She lost her beauty and almost her mind because of it. And Neville, who wanted further himself into herbology, will have a bad time doing that with only one hand. Life isn’t easy for either of them, but they aren’t wallowing in self-pity. You aren’t the only one who suffered, are you now?"

Ron started to feel bad, but that didn’t stop his anger. He knew that Hermione had a point, that he wasn’t the only one. But that thought didn’t diminish resentment or sadness away.

"And what about Colin Creevey?" Hermione continued the list of names. "Susan Bones, Andrew Kirke and all the wizards and witches we don’t know personally, who died in that battle? They deserve that title, not Harry, not me and not you. You, Ron Weasley, can get better. They can’t."

Hermione paused for a second to catch her breath. Ron had the distinct feeling that this wasn’t over yet. Nothing could stop her on a rant. He could have shouted back, but suddenly he felt very tired and old. Anything he said would only make the fight more drawn-out.

"And I am really sorry that you can’t walk right now, and that you missed your chance with the Chudley Cannons," said Hermione in a softer voice. For the first time during their row she looked straight into his eyes.

What she had said was obvious news to Harry, who shot Ron a confused glance. Ron shrugged at this, indicating that he would tell him later.

"But really," continued Hermione. "If it bugs you so much that the Daily Prophet keeps writing that you will stay handicapped, do something about it. Write them a letter, put Rita Skeeter in a jar, but do something. Complaining about perfectly nice women who send you cards isn’t going to change anything."

"You know what?" Hermione said. "I can’t stand this sulking of yours anymore. I don’t know what has got into you. Yes, your training is hard and painful. And that ball is almost an insult to you. But honestly, I am fed up to the back teeth of seeing you moping around. I thought that training would improve your mood, but it didn’t."

At this point Hermione stood up from her chair and walked to the door to the hall.

"You can take Luna to that ball," she added. "Or don’t go at all. See if I care. I have a new job to start in a few days and I am going home to prepare myself for it. Goodbye Ron." Hermione left the room and threw the door shut behind her.

"Good going, Ron," Ginny hissed at him before she followed the other girl, probably to help her packing.

Harry was watching Ron with a mixture of pity and worry on his face. But he didn’t say anything; probably didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend behind her back.

"Isn’t she lovely?" Ron muttered to himself before he smacked his forehead into the table.