Half a Man

Ron wasn't a prissy, really. Normally he was a meat shovelling, Quidditch-loving kind of lad. But today, Ron Weasley found himself standing before his closet complaining that he didn't have anything nice to wear.

He swore loudly and threw his black robes on the floor. He had two sets of them, which were good enough for wearing to normal formal events. But this wasn't any occasion, and Ron wanted to look his absolute best tonight.

He shoved a few boxes with old toys and his Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle comics aside, and dug deeper into his closet. From behind a stack of mouldy socks, Ron pulled out something that seemed festive enough. But when he unfolded the bundle, he saw that it was his dress robes from his fourth year Yule ball. He shuddered slightly. No way that he would ever wear those again.

Just when Ron was about to give up and go in his black formal robes, his eye fell on a glittering bag. It was silver and had flashing red letters that said "Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions". The letters on it weren't as bright as they had been years ago, but they still shimmered enough to get Ron's attention. He could kick himself for forgetting about that one.

In the summer after his fourth year at Hogwarts, George and Fred had given him the bag. Inside were very nice looking green dress robes.

"So you won't embarrass us the next time there's a ball," George had told him.

"Not with his robes anyway, we can't change his dance habits," Fred had added.

Ron still couldn't believe that his brothers had given him such an expensive gift. They were even 'one size fits all'-robes, that changed to flatter the body of the owner. Even though Ron had grown, they would be perfect for him.

Ron directed his chair out of his closet and flew in front of an old mirror which he had placed on the floor. Now it was the perfect height for him to see how the robes fit. With a swift wand movement and a spell he lifted himself out of his Airchair and pulled his robes over his head. The mirror, which was clearly annoyed at being ignored for so long, grumbled 'you don't look half bad'. He disagreed with the mirror, though, he though he never looked better. He really should thank the twins again. Especially, if his evening worked out the way he hoped.

Ron suddenly realizes how he was acting, and he smiled. He was really acting like a lovesick puppy, prancing around a mirror to see how he looked, trying to impress Hermione with fancy robes.

He really couldn't care less if he looked stupid tonight in his Airchair between all the dancing couples. The only thing he was hoping for was a good talk with Hermione. If only he could show her that he wasn't a boy anymore, that he had changed in the last couple of months. He wanted, no needed, to be friends with Hermione again. Not having her in his life was simply not acceptable.

So, maybe Ron could never have his secret wish come true. He could never be the man that Hermione loved. Well, he could live with that. No, not really, but he would die trying to stay her friend. Seeing another guy with Hermione would break his heart, as it had broken when he had thought she and Harry were together. But he needed to have her around, to see her as much as possible, to talk with her and to make her smile, even laugh sometimes. Seeing Hermione smiling was a joy for him. And if he could manage to make her smile that evening, his night would be all he could hope for.

***

When Ron entered his room that afternoon for his daily exercise, his fysciotherapeut -- John Walters -- was already there, standing next to his exercise bike. When Ron started to levitate himself out of his airchair toward his bike, John motioned for him to sit down again.

"There's something I would like to discuss with you before training, if that's ok with you," John said.

A bit surprised, Ron hovered himself back into his chair. He looked up at the other man. His normally joyous trainer now seemed extremely nervous. John was fiddling with his clothing, wrinkling his perfectly smooth robes.

"Ah, Ron. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. Your mother told me the Cudley Cannons made you an offer to try out for their second keeper."

Ron frowned as he heard this. After his shouting match with Hermione, the word about the offer had spread quickly through his family. But he never thought his mum would talk about that with other people. It had been his dream, and he didn't like the idea of someone laughing about it.

"She also told me that you hoped to try out next year, when you can walk again." John didn't look that well. He was twirling strands of hair from his ponytail. When he started rubbing his head with his right hand, turning his hair into a mess, Ron knew he was in trouble.

"I don't know how to tell you this, Ron. But I don't think you can ever play Quidditch professionally." John looked Ron straight into his eyes. "You're healing quite nicely -- and I do think that you'll be flying again in the spring. But your legs will never be strong enough to do that for a living.

After hearing John's opinion about his future career, Ron stayed still for a while. He didn't know what to say. John looked at Ron, as if trying to guess his thoughts. He frowned a bit, showing the wrinkles in his forehead. "I am so sorry, mate."

"You don't need to be," Ron said finally. "Look, I didn't even think I could walk again and I know Professional Quidditch is a bit far off. I'm just glad I can move my legs. "Besides", he added. "I love the Cannons to much to saddle them with a half-crippled keeper. They would never win again."

"That wouldn't change much," John Walters muttered. Before Ron could protest such a blatant insult to his favourite team, John asked him another question. One he didn't like too much.

"So, any other ideas about your future then?" Ron was still hesitant to talk about this. He had just given up on one dream. And he wasn't ready for his new one to be shattered. But John looked at him in a friendly manner, his scruffy hair still sticking out of his ponytail.

"Well, er, I kind of like what you do," Ron said. "This training really does work and I've read some books about it... It seems like a nice thing to do. You can help people and you don't have to sit in a boring office pushing papers all day." He felt a bit awkward after this confession.

"My job?" John asked him with surprise. "I've never though about that. But maybe it is." John stared at the Cudley Cannon posters on Ron's bedroom walls. Suddenly he turned his head towards Ron.

"Hey, I've an idea," John said. He sounded like himself again. "It would be perfect. A friend works for Puddlemere United. He's looking for someone to train as an assistant fysciotherapeut. He and his wife had a baby, so he wants to spend more time at home. He's tired of travelling. Daniel, Daniel Jones is his name, would still be the main therapeut and help the team when they are at home. You could assist him then and work during the games and tournaments when they're playing anywhere else. Should I asked him if he's interested? I know they're not the Cannons, but..."

"Could you?" Ron interrupted. "It sounds bloody brilliant. And I do like the team, they are my second favourites. So, maybe they haven't won the league since the forties. Oliver Wood started playing for them last month and Harry always says that that man is too fanatical for his own good. And you know Dumbledore..."

A shrieking sound stopped Ron from rambling on and on about Puddlemere United. It came from John's watch, which shouted "You're late! Stop babbling and run."

"Sorry, our times up. And we didn't even practise today." John put the bike on his shoulder. "I'll get back to you about that job. And good luck tonight. Don't step on your partners' toes when you're dancing." Still laughing about his own joke and looking like his own smug self again, the fysciotherapeut apparated from Ron's room. Leaving Ron searching for his copy of 'Puddlemere United, not a mere history'.

Normally Ron hated to wait. He had wasted enough time in his life waiting for his family members to leave the bathroom so he could wash up, or waiting until dinner time with a grumbling stomach.

But today waiting for his mum to get ready for the ball was a thousand times worse. Ron sat next to the fireplace playing with a piece of paper he had pulled from his pocket, and then stuffed back again.

Molly Weasley had insisted she needed every minute until before nine o'clock, when the ball was scheduled to start. "Everybody will be looking at you and Harry when we arrive," she had said. "And I'll be standing next to you two, so I want to look nice."

Ron still couldn't understand why dressing up would take a witch so much time. Half an hour was all it had taken Ron to get dressed, and that had included a nice long shower. And he was the handicapped one in the house.

Molly's dressing up mania must had affected Harry too, because he still was in his room trying to flatten his hair successfully for once. But that probably had something to do with the fact that Ginny had special permission to leave Hogwarts for the evening to join them.

His parents, Harry and he would go together to the Ministry where he would meet his date for the evening. His dad had asked for a portkey because Ron still had trouble apparating. His mum had decided that flooing in wouldn't be the grand arrival Harry and Ron, as the special guests, deserved.

Ron couldn't understand why he felt cold while sitting next to the fireplace, when he was sweating at the same time. Eating dinner that night had also proven a difficult task, and now it seemed his stomach would sent his food back early.

Every time Ron though he couldn't stand it anymore, he took the little paper from his pocket to read it again and again. A few hours earlier, an owl he hadn't recognised, had delivered a letter to him. It didn't say much, but the words inside still gave Ron some hope that the evening would go better than he had thought when he first had gotten his invitation.

It read:

Dear Ron,

I am sorry about our fight last month. Yesterday, when I was in Diagon Alley, I ran into Luna. She showed me the article in The Quibbler. I am very proud of you. She also told me you will be her date to the ball. So I am looking forward to seeing you tonight.

Bye,

Hermione

He never could have imagined that this would happen. But Ron Weasley couldn't wait till the ball started.

***

A/N: Only one chapter left. What will happen next? Will Ron make an arse of himself at the ball? What will Hermione think of the 'new and improved' Ron? Dumdumdum...

As always, I am really thankful for the help I'm getting from Kewii and Kedavra 77.