Half a Man

"

Ron adjusted his robes and took a look around. All around him walked witches and wizards who were wearing their most festive robes. He searched for a familiar face in the masses, but between the witches and wizards in glowing red, shimmering silver and bright yellow robes, he couldn’t find anyone he recognised. None of his five brothers were in sight. He grumbled to himself; if the Ministry insisted on hosting a party in the honour of Harry, Hermione and him, the least they could’ve done was invite people he actually knew. And Hermione’s big bush of hair was nowhere to be found.

In front of the security desk a long line of people were waiting impatiently. Three guards were busy checking the invitations and doing quick spells to check for Death Eaters coming polyjuiced as guests. The last thing they needed at the Victory Ball was a desperate attack from the remaining followers of Voldemort.

"There we go, mate," Harry said as he walked past the security. He patted his head one last time in an attempt to flatten his fringe. They stepped into one of the lifts behind the golden gates.

"How do I look?" a nervous Molly Weasley asked her husband while she put back a strand of hair that tried to escape from her hairdo.

"Lovely, as always." Arthur Weasley said, giving his wife a little kiss on her cheek.

Ron touched the letter in his pocket again as he took a deep breath. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He heard

Before Ron stood a very large woman who had managed to squeeze herself into a much too tight peacock blue robe that had a neckline that ended far below a place any other witch would have found decent. Next to her danced an old wrinkled wizard, who was so small he only came up to her bosom. He seemed to enjoy his view much as he kept nodding his head at the things she said to take a sneaky look at her figure.

A noise distracted Ron from his thoughts.

"Harry," he heard a girl squeal and then his best friend disappeared from sight into the arms of one happy Ginny Weasley. He looked away to avoid their too mushy ‘hello-again’ kiss. Luckily, his parents had already gone to greet the Minister on the other side of the room. He still couldn’t find Hermione so he took his time to look around for his own date. He found her standing behind a pillar, watching the dancing couples.

"All right there Luna?" Ron gave her a glass of glowwine he had taken from a waiter. "You look nice," he said and he meant it. Luna was wearing a white robe with a pattern of swirling silver lines on it. She had pulled up her blonde hair and put a silver ribbon around it.

"Oh Ronald, thank you," she said, taking a large gulp of her glowwine. It gave her cheeks a nice red glow.

"It’s so nice of you to be my date. Nobody likes to be a second choice." She smiled vaguely at him.

"Yeah, sorry about that, er, what? Me?" Luna gazed intently over his shoulder. Ron turned around to see a dancing couple; Neville Longbottom was with a blonde girl whose name he couldn’t remember.

"Hannah Abbott," Luna said. "He turned me down for a girl who still believes Sirius Black hides in the Forbidden Forrest in the shrubs. I mean, it could’ve been, of course, but everybody now knows Black died in this building two years ago."

She sighed. "He says she shares his love for Herbology." She stared dreamingly at Neville who hadn’t noticed the attention. "His fake hand looks fine, don’t you think? But Dad said they should’ve used the Rumanian Regrow spell at St. Mungo’s. Too bad the Healers still don’t believe there’s such a thing."

The both of them watched Neville and Hannah finish their dance. They broke off when the music stopped. "Do you think I should ask Neville to dance with me?" Luna said.

"Sure, I don’t mind, I’m going to see if I can find Harry." Ron directed his Airchair through the crowd of dancers. He was still trying to get to the lifts where he last had seen his friend when the music suddenly stopped. Everybody turned their head to the small podium where, instead of the orchestra, a tall middle-aged woman in green robes was standing. She had used the Sonorous spell to increase the volume of her voice to get more attention. It was Charlotte French, the Minister of Magic and his Dad’s boss. Most witches and wizard stopped talking to listen to what she had to say.

"Welcome on this lovely evening dedicated to celebrating the defeat of You-Know-Who, but I think it’s time to say his full name. Voldemort will not come back. Now, I would like to welcome the people who made this possible to the podium. First of all, of course is, Harry Potter. Harry, would you come up here?"

Ron saw his friend climbing up the podium and walking up to French. He took a stand two steps behind her back as if he was trying to shelter himself from the crowd.

"Also important in the defeat of You- Voldemort…" Ron could tell it had taken the Minister a lot of effort to say the name a second time. "… Is Ron Weasley, son of our Ministry employee Arthur Weasley."

Ron hoped he couldn’t get through the mass of people, but everyone who had been previously blocking his way took a step aside, so he could pass easily. He flew up to the podium and positioned his Airchair next to Harry. The third person Charlotte French was going to ask for was Hermione. It was going to be the first time he would see her after their fight. His hands started to sweat so he tried to wipe them off his robes. He could hardly hear French speak and he wondered if he was going deaf. He barely heard French announce "Hermione Granger…"

Time froze for Ron. No one around him moved and the whole hall seemed to have fallen silent. Seconds ticked by and he started to wonder where she was. Had she not wanted to see him after all and skipped the ball? But that couldn’t be. She had sent him the letter, right? She had to come.

A movement in the corner of his vision alerted him. He turned his head to see Hermione climbing towards him and Harry. Suddenly the sound was turned on and everybody was applauding. Clapping their hands for Harry, Hermione and him, Ron Weasley. But he didn’t care. The only thing he could see was the woman he loved walking towards him.

Hermione looked lovely; no, great. No, splendid. She was wearing bright red silk robes with a low neckline which drew attention to her figure. He wasn’t really paying attention to it, as he watched her face shining with happiness.

"Oh Harry, Ron, isn’t it marvellous? What she really meant, Ron didn’t know but he agreed with her anyway. She was standing to his left, between Harry and him, and he decided he always would agree with her if she was keeping this close to him. Her arm was barely touching his and he had never felt better.

Ron’s attention was drawn from Hermione by someone waving a large oval shiny object for his face.

"For assistance in the defeat of Voldemort, I award you the Order of Merlin, first class," Charlotte French said and she placed a medal in his hands. "Congratulations."

An Order of Merlin for him? Ron couldn’t believe it. He looked to his left and saw that Harry and Hermione also held one in their hands. Wondering where his parents were standing, he took a look around. At the end of the hall he could see three redheads together, but it was only Charlie, Bill, and Percy. Charlie saw him looking around and gave him two thumbs up. In the crowd of people closer to the podium, he could see his mother, laughing and crying at the same time. His Dad was next to her, patting her on her back, wearing a big smile on his face.

Ron smiled. Not even Bill or Charlie had an Order of Merlin.

As they were cheered by every important person in the Wizard World, the trio left the podium. Ron hoped for a moment to talk with Hermione, but he couldn’t get a single word with her because they were constantly interrupted by people he didn’t know. Having an Order of Merlin sure made him the man of the ball, Ron thought wryly as a gorgeous blonde asked for his autograph. Things sure had changed quickly. Harry apparently got the same treatment as he was surrounded by a pack of young witches who all wanted to talk with him. Ron grinned; Ginny wouldn’t like that one bit.

"Oh, my Ronnie," was the last thing he heard before he was engulfed by his mother. "Order of Merlin, I can’t believe it. I’m so proud of you!" Just as he was about to choke, his mother let him go.

Before he could even take a breath again, two more pairs of arms were around his neck. "Our little baby brother," George cried. "We’re never going to live up to his example, don’t you agree, Fred?"

When they released him, Ron could see the smirks on his brothers’ faces. He had known this was coming. But, for once he didn’t care about their antics. Especially since he had just seen Hermione and his dad join their little group. Hermione wouldn’t care about his brothers’ comments, so that couldn’t spoil his mood.

Fred was still doing his part of the act, whipping fake tears off his cheeks. "Who would’ve thought it? All these years without showing any signs of intelligence, courage or skill, and suddenly he’s saving the world."

"Yeah, and we knew him when he was still a baby, right Fred," George piped up. "We were there, when he was born."

"

"Ugly little bugger, that one. Looked more like a monkey than a little brother to us." George tried to continue his story, but he was interrupted by his mother.

"All right, you two. That’s enough," his mum said. "This is such a wonderful day. First the job at Puddlemere United and now this. I’m so happy."

"What job?" Hermione asked. She smiled uncertainly at Ron.

Ron felt a tad annoyed. He had intended to tell her in a private moment, but now his Mum had ruined that for him. "I’ll tell you later, all right?" Maybe he still could tell her without all his family around them. She nodded.

"Dad, I don’t think it’s a good idea to let Mum that much time alone with John Walters. They really seem to chat a lot," Ron said. "You’re sure he isn’t wooing her?"

"Don’t worry. Walters isn’t like that," Arthur assured.

"Isn’t like what?" Molly wanted to know.

Arthur stroked his wife’s arm. "Er, he enjoys a different kind of magic than we do."

"What? No, he isn’t into the Dark --"

"No, nothing like that," Arthur interrupted. "He just likes to play with wands, that’s all." He blushed a bit; his wife usually didn’t approve of innuendo.

Molly was glaring at her husband. "John isn’t gay, if that’s what you’re trying to say. He fancies Maggie McKenzie, he told me himself."

"Maggie McKenzie? She doesn’t even look like a woman." Arthur was laughing out loud. "She’s got more muscles than he does."

"Hermione, can we dance?" someone behind Ron said. He craned his neck to look behind him where a tall man with a big mop of brown hair wearing white robes stood. The man took Hermione’s hand and pecked it. He smiled a broad grin, showing off perfect teeth that matched his robes. Ron suddenly lost all interest in his parents’ argument.

"

Feeling strangely defeated, Ron turned back to his family. He didn’t even have a chance to be alone with Hermione. And now she’d probably be off dancing all night with that smarmy git.

Charlie, who had reached their little group, put a hand on Ron’s shoulder. "Don’t you let him get to you. That’s Henry George, he was in my year. He works at the Ministry and thinks very highly of himself. Most pompous lad I’ve ever met, except for him," he said pointing at Percy, who now stood next to him. His brother looked very taken aback, but didn’t respond. Daily insults were all part of being back in the family. "Hermione won’t be impressed by him. She knows better than that."

Ron didn’t really believe Charlie. "Just look at them." Charlie pointed over Ron’s shoulder. "Do you think she’s having fun?"

He spun his Airchair around to watch Hermione. And indeed, Henry seemed to be enjoying himself, chatting excitedly while making all kinds of strange dance manoeuvres Hermione had to follow. She barely avoided being smacked into a large pillar by letting go of Henry’s hand and taking two big steps to her right.

But it was seeing Hermione yawn behind her hand a few minutes later that pushed Ron into making a decision. If she would dance with a flying monkey, she could certainly dance with him. He pretended to be getting a drink and headed to the side of the room where Hermione was dancing.

Twice Ron almost decided to go back to his family, but every time he got his nerve back to proceed with his quest. When he finally reached her, he suddenly didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Henry made it easy for him.

"Ah love, there’s a Weasley for you. You know, the handicapped one."

"It’s very rude to say something like that," Hermione said at her dance partner. "Ron, I’m sorry."

"That’s all right." Ron wrung his hands. It was now or never. "Would you — er —" When his voice did come out, it sounded an octave too high. "Dance? With me?"

Before Hermione could say anything Henry answered for her. "How are you going to dance in a chair like that, mate? That would look rather stupid, don’t you think so?"

Ron already had his hand on his wand, but he realised that that wouldn’t do. Jinxing a friend of Hermione wouldn’t impress her one bit. And he didn’t want another argument with her, especially not tonight. But being put down by a posh tosser like Henry, in front of the witch he loved, was more than he could handle. He really wanted to hex the man badly, but instead he flew backwards to get away from the couple.

Ron turned his chair so he wouldn’t have to look at Hermione. The last thing he saw of her was that she looked very angry with her date.

"Oomph," with a loud crash Ron bumped into a waiter, who was holding a full tray of beverages. The complete content of the tray landed on his head. In a second he was completely covered with all kinds of drinks, from red glowwine to pumpkin juice. It was dripping from his robes onto the floor. Several glasses lay in his lap.

The waiter wanted to help him, and lifted all the glass from him with a quick spell. Hermione, who apparently had seen the accident, ran towards Ron. She too had taken out her wand to clean up the mess.

But Ron couldn’t let her help him. It was as if all the drinks had crept through his skin into his insides. They were ice cold and his face felt so hot, it probably looked like it was on fire. The last bit of his dignity had dripped with the drinks onto the floor. With the highest speed the chair possessed, Ron flew to the nearest bathroom. He had done it now. He couldn’t have made more a fool of himself if he wanted to.

***

When Ron flew outside the bathroom after cleaning himself up, the only thing he wanted was a quick escape from the ball. The stains on his robes he had removed with a quick cleaning spell, but his party spirit was gone with them.

With a quick movement he combed his hands through his hair. It was dry now, but all the work he had put into styling it had been wasted.

He smiled wryly, looking good was something he didn’t need anymore. Nobody was going to be impressed by that tonight.

Ron headed through the dancing couples in the direction of a very big pillar. Behind it started a long corridor leading towards some lifts. At the security desk upstairs they probably had a Portkey he could use. That was all he needed to make a clean exit. Luna wouldn’t even miss him. The last time he had seen them, she and Neville had been practising a difficult dance routine. Neville had looked very uncomfortable and had been shooting desperate looks at his own partner, who was tangoing with Fred.

Ron wanted to fly for it, when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Please wait." Hermione walked towards him, still looking beautiful as ever. "Don’t go. I’m so sorry for Henry’s behaviour. It was a stupid idea to go to the ball with him. He’s so full of himself. But he won’t be anymore."

Even though he desperately wanted to leave right now, Ron couldn’t resist asking why.

Hermione smiled wickedly. "Well, let’s say I made sure he won’t be sitting down for a week. Boils are so hard to cure."

The cold feeling inside Ron disappeared. He levelled his chair to look at Hermione. Her cheeks were still a bit rosy from earlier. Evidently she had been screaming at Henry. Shouting during a fight had always made her blush a bit. It was the one good thing about their arguments.

"So, you won’t be dating him again?" He couldn’t stop the insecure tone of his voice. But Hermione didn’t seem to notice.

"I wasn’t planning to, you know." Hermione suddenly found the tiles beneath them very interesting. "He was only a last minute date."

"Last minute? Who turned you down then? I can’t imagine what more important business he had then going to this ball with you," Ron said.

"

Thinking coherently had become a lot more difficult with her warm little hand in his big one. Sparks of electricity seemed to shoot up Ron’s arm. And when he felt her other hand lightly touching the back of his neck, he hardly could remember what he had intended to do. She was so close that her hair almost tickled his face. But because he was sitting down, he couldn’t reach closer to actually feel them.

The warmth of her hand gave him the nerve to proceed with his plan. He took it from his back and put it before him. He let her other hand go the same way till he was holding both of them in front of him.

Hermione watched him expectantly but she didn’t say a word. Ron didn’t either; he needed all his strength to concentrate. He looked down on her tiny fingers, her nails perfectly manicured except for the one on her pinky. She probably had broken it carrying around big heavy books.

"Ron, are you feeling all right?" He didn’t look up at her, but he knew she was biting her lower lip in a nervous habit.

Ron lifted his left foot from his chair and slowly put it down on the ground. Then his other foot followed suit. With all the power in his body he pushed himself up. First his buttocks left the seat of the chair. He felt them squeeze together with the effort. His knees were next; they cracked a little when he stretched them. Flashes of cramps shot through his calves when he finally stood up straight. The next part was easy compared with that.

Ron grinned at Hermione and took a small step closer to her. He had to let go of her left hand, but the sense of loss was immediately compensated when he touched her lower back. His other hand he levelled to a dancing position.

"I’ve never felt better," he said and he meant every word of it.

Hermione looked as if she had seen a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Her mouth hung a bit open and her pupils were dilated. "You can walk? What? How?" She let go of his hand and took a step backwards.

A Bludger in the head couldn’t have Ron made feel worse than this. What had he done wrong? Why wasn’t she glad for him? He glared down at his stupid legs that hadn’t made Hermione happy. He had been so sure of it.

"Oh Ron," he heard Hermione say and than he felt her arms around his shoulders. Locks of her hair were now really tickling his face, because she had hidden her head in the crook of his neck. For a second he didn’t know what to do, then he put his arms around her. It was such a good feeling. He felt an urge to pull her even closer and never let go of her.

Something wet was finding its way from his neck to his collarbone. Hermione shuddered against him with little hiccups of her crying. "You really can walk, it really worked?"

Ron hardly could hear her. "Yeah," he murmured. "Those potions Snape made didn’t kill me after all. Can you believe that old bat? Dumbledore probably blackmailed him with a position as DADA teacher."

Hermione lifted her head up to watch him. Her eyes were red but they shone with happiness. She was hiccupping again, now from laughter. "And that job your mum was talking about, what about that?" Even in an emotional state Hermione really wanted to know everything, Ron marvelled.

"

Tears dripped down again on Hermione’s face. Ron used a finger to wipe them away. He wondered how salty they would taste if he kissed them away.

"You’re not crying about that, are you? They’re not that bad a team." He raised his hand to grab a bit of hair that was sticking on her moist cheek. He intended to lower his hand, but it seemed to have a mind of his own, cupping her soft face in a tender gesture that even surprised him.

"No, it’s just that I’m so very happy. And proud and so, so very…" Hermione was at a loss for words. Ron could see that she wasn’t lying, she was happy. Her face was glowing as if a little candle was shining just for her. Her eyes were sparkling, not with tears but from joy. And Hermione’s red lips were curving up in a beautiful smile against his hand which now was stroking the soft skin of her chin.

Again Ron felt the need to hold her closer and to keep her there for ever. His face now moved like his hand, without permission. His neck worked with them, slowly tilting a bit. And then Ron couldn’t control even control his lips. They were brushing against Hermione’s. The most wonderful part of it was that hers were brushing back. And before he knew it, Ron Weasley was kissing Hermione Granger with a passion he didn’t know he had in him.

His hands worked completely independently from his mind. They were pulling Hermione closer, and stroking her arms and even brushing through her hair. His nose was inhaling all kinds of interesting scents; the rose-scented perfume he had once given her for Christmas and a faint smell of shampoo. All the sounds around them; the romantic song the orchestra played, hundreds of dancing feet moving on the dance floor and Hermione sighing slightly, all melted into one perfect song. Their song.

Too bad his knees decided that he had had enough fun. He could feel them tremble and then buckle. He used his arms to prevent him from falling flat on Hermione, but that was all he could do. Before he even could think about it, her lips were gone and her elbow was in his stomach. When he opened his eyes again, they were no longer a kissing pair, but a tangled mess of body parts on the floor.

"Sorry." Hermione removed her elbow and sat up. Her arm was still around Ron so she supported him when he sat straight up.

"I’m not used to standing so long. John and I are working on that." He looked around him to see if anybody was there. He hoped the twins hadn’t been near their corridor so they could tease him terribly with his stupid attempt of kissing Hermione. She probably was sorry now. Her crying had evidently put her in one of those strange girl states, where they become so emotional that they don’t know what they were doing.

He watched Hermione closely to see if she was going to cry again, or worse, slap him. Instead she smiled at him. "Well," she said and then she started to kiss him again. She kissed him. Hermione was kissing him!

When they stopped, a very long time later, she buried her face against Ron’s chest. "So, now you know," she murmured against him.

"Now I know what?" He had to bend his head a little to hear her next words.

"That I think you’re great."

"Oh." If Ron had been one of his brothers’ fireworks he would have exploded right here and then. "I don’t mind that one bit." He stroked her back, letting his fingers glide over her bumpy spine. "It’s sort of handy, you know."

"

"

"Really?" Even after their kissing she was a little know-it-all.

"Yeah, really."

"That’s good." She stroked her mouth all over his jaw, leaving a trail of kisses. "Because I feel the same way about you."

Ron put his arms around her and held her close, so very close. He didn’t know if he would ever have such perfect moment again. Then he realised that no matter what, with his new job or not, with his legs totally working again or not, with Hermione in his future he was going to have a lot of these moments. When everything had seemed lost, he had put the pieces of his life together. And she had been the last piece. With her in his arms, he felt whole like he never had been before.

AN: After a year of working, this story it’s finally finished. I couldn’t have done it without the help of Kedavra77, Buckbeaky and especially Kewii. They made sure nobody could tell English isn’t my first language. Thank you, you are the best.