Disclaimer: No... no... still no... it remains no... uh, no... I got it now! No... And... NO! Oh! Plus... No.

Summary: Ron is a sensitive, emotionally well-rounded guy. Really.

Terms of Salt


The emotional range of a teaspoon? The emotional range of a TEASPOON? What is that supposed to mean? Is she saying that I don't have feelings? I'll have her know that I am chock-full of feelings, thank you very much! So full, I'm about to burst! Even if my emotional range "is the size of a teaspoon". Let me explain.

The way I see it, feelings are like salt. How? I can see you wondering. Let me put it this way. What would life be like without emotion? Dull, empty, bleak, I can see certain know-it-all's using those words to describe it. But in my words, I'd say it would be bloody boring. Feelings are like little lumps of happy, angry, and the occasional jealousy. All of these feeling lumps are then gathered up and dumped in one place: our heads.

So, back to salt. What do we use salt for? Melting snow of the sidewalks? Sure, why not? But I'd say the common use for salt is flavoring food. What good are mashed potatoes without a little salt? They aren't. They're nasty, blah-tasting piles of white paste. So, if feelings are salt, and salt flavors food, then it's safe to say that feelings flavor life. The happy and angry lumps make life tolerable, and the jealousy lumps spice it up. There we go. All finished, right? Wrong!

My mum says a little salt will go a long way, and I'm here to say that it's true. I reckon a teaspoon of salt could easily flavor at least five plates of mashed potatoes. Believe me, this is coming from the guy who knows and understands mashed potatoes, five plates will hold a lot of it. Good stuff. Yum.

Ahem. Pardon me. Now where was I? Oh yeah. Salt. It goes a long way. Anyway, if you're talking about feelings in terms of salt, a teaspoonful is a huge amount. Therefore, it can only mean that I am loaded with feelings, emotions, whatever you want to call them. Take that! I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, am an emotional human being and wizard.

Besides, who is she to call me an insensitive wart anyway? She's the one writing to Viktor-Bloody-Krum. A guy who is older, a guy who plays international Quidditch, a guy who is stoop-shouldered, and duck-footed. How could he possibly understand her? Has he had to endure her nagging? Nagging to do homework, nagging to eat with mouths shut, nagging about hair, nagging about sleep, nagging about S.P.E.W. How could she possibly understand him? He lives Quidditch. She thinks Quidditch promotes bad feelings and hostility. He's being insensitive by even talking to her, and she's being insensitive by talking back. Her penpal, my eye!

Well, I'm happy to say that on this point, she's wrong about me. Sensitivity and emotion run all through me. I'm overflowing with feeling lumps. Merlin, talking about salt and mashed potatoes makes me hungry. I think I'll go see what's for dinner tonight.


Author's Note: Weird, I know. But fitting. I wrote it during Health this morning, we were talking about mental and emotional health and I decided to write out the idea for this fic that I had thought of a long time ago. I write story ideas on Post-It notes... and then I lose them, but every now and then, the memory comes back and I write them down. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and please review! Thanks a ton!

Plug: Chapter Two of Jumping on the Bandwagon will be up in a day or so.