A Crisis of Confidence Meets Serenity Now! by kyc639

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Ron & Luna
Book: Ron & Luna, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/10/2004
Last Updated: 14/10/2004
Status: Completed

Ron suffers a crisis of confidence and feels there's no one to talk to. One-shot R/LL.




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Author's Note: Nothing is mine, not even the computer I'm typing this on.

I've always felt a little bad for Ron, considering some of the portrayals he receives in
fanfic. I've had this plot bunny in my head for quite some time, a realistic and possible
course for Ron to take, but since I couldn't really do it from a H/Hr point-of-view, I decided
to write this R/LL one-shot. Enjoy!

**A Crisis of Confidence meets Serenity Now!**

Conflict. It always seems that my life is marked by some sort of conflict. Fortunately it's
not the kind that results in someone dying, like Harry's annual rite of spring, but it's
conflict nonetheless. Growing up, it was just the typical sort of conflict that happens in any
family with seven or so siblings. Harmless really, like Bill and Charlie arguing over a girl, or
Fred and George playing pranks, or Ginny being an annoying little sister, or just everyone mocking
Percy.

And at Hogwarts, the conflict changed, especially now that the last of my brothers had left
(even if it was a bit earlier than planned). I still had Ginny to argue with, but fighting with
Ginny wasn't really fighting; it was more like me telling her to stop following me and leave me
alone. No, now I had someone much more infinitely fun and aggravating to fight with - Hermione.

I suppose it's like a sport, this arguing that I do. How best can I irritate Hermione today?
And sometimes I do it without even thinking about it - that's how good I am. Granted, I rarely
ever win the arguments (though I suspect that half the time I'm right, and she just wins based
on sheer stubbornness and big words…okay, maybe not *half* the time, but at least a couple of
times), but it's fun pushing her buttons. I swear, I'm always looking for an opportunity to
suggest that someone apparated into Hogwarts just to hear her get all huffy and tell us about
*Hogwarts: A History* for the thousandths time.

And then there's the conflict I have with Harry. It's not nearly as visible as my
conflict with Hermione, but it's there, underneath the surface, and that's probably what
makes it so much worse. Once, it reared its ugly head in fourth year - I was so bloody jealous of
him! Everything good happens to Harry: he's famous, he's rich, he saved the Stone, he
killed the Basilisk, defeated Dementors, the list goes on and on. And everyone one always cares
about Harry - poor Harry, wonderful Harry, tragic Harry, brave Harry. What about Ron? For years all
I ever heard about was Bill this, Charlie that. Did you hear what Percy did? Oh, those twins,
playing pranks again. But nothing about Ron. Little, unremarkable Ron. While I knew I'd get
some of that at Hogwarts, in typical fashion I become best friends with the one person who would
overshadow all my brothers. Hermione somehow manages to step out from underneath Harry's
shadow, being a freaky genius, but not I. Instead, I'm known as Harry's `other' friend,
and while I love him like a brother, I also resented him like a brother.

All that changed last year though, since the Ministry. Now, my conflict isn't with Harry,
but with myself. All those things Harry's done - the Stone, the basilisk, seeing
Vol…Vol…You-Know-Who in the graveyard - they all sounded like fun adventures, things to be jealous
about. *I* wanted to be the one to face Quirrell, to face the Dementors. I wanted to *be*
Harry Potter.

That was until I actually saw what it was like to be Harry Potter. I'd always thought that I
was brave and courageous like Harry. That if it weren't for the landslide, the broken leg, and
a multitude of other little things, *I* could have been the one to defeat the basilisk, or
save Sirius from the Dementor's kiss. I always thought that if not for dumb luck, I too could
be the hero. But that day, as we stood facing Death Eaters, outnumbered two-to-one, I was afraid. I
wanted nothing more then to be back at Hogwarts, where it was safe, and where I'd hear all
about the adventure after Harry woke up in the hospital wing. But if this is what Harry had to go
through every year, then I was a fool to be jealous of him. I suppose some small part of me knew
that, but I was fifteen, not fifty. And even though I think I controlled my fear well, the Ministry
also taught me something else about myself.

Anyways, I made my way down to breakfast with the rest of the Gryffindors, silently walking
beside Hermione, who was silently walking beside Harry, who was almost always silent nowadays. Ever
since we first saw him during the summer at Grimmauld place, he's been closed off from us. Not
in an obvious sort of way. In fact, if you barely knew him, you wouldn't think anything was
wrong. And while there were flashes of the `old' Harry, Hermione and I both knew that there was
something different about him. As I pushed my food around my plate, I looked up to see Hermione
doing likewise, stealing little worried glances at Harry. A bit of that old jealously flared up
again; couldn't she see that I too was troubled by something? That *I* had problems too?
But nooooo…to Hermione, it's always been about Harry. What about Ron? Who looks after me?

And then, just as quickly as my jealously came, it was replaced by shame, my internal conflict
between jealousy and reality. My issue was nothing compared to what Harry was going through.
Merlin, I'm such a selfish git for even thinking like this, for wishing for the kind of
attention he was getting. I groaned softly.

“Are you okay Ron?”

Or perhaps not so softly. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure? You've hardly touched your food.” Hermione asked. Harry looked up to watch
me, not doubt alarmed by the fact that I hadn't eaten.

“Just tired, that's all.” They were both giving me concerned looks, which only made me feel
guilty for wishing for attention earlier. I had to get out of there. “Look, I forgot something back
at the room for class.”

“But it's Saturday,” Harry said quizzically.

Oops. “Er, I meant for studying later.” The crowd goes wild! Another nice save by the Gryffindor
keeper!

“You? Study on a Saturday?” Hermione asked in almost astonished disbelief. And the crowd groans
as the Quaffle gets by.

“Erm, yeah, so, anyways, gotta go bye,” I said quickly and headed for the exit. Although
they'd be curious and mildly concerned, Harry had his own problems to deal with, and Hermione
had Harry's problems to deal with, so I knew I'd be safe for the moment. Instead of heading
for my room though, I instead went out to the lakeside. I found a quiet spot and settled down,
ready for a good dose of self-pity.

Or perhaps not. I groaned softly (for real this time) when I spotted *her* walking towards
me. At first, I had the glimmer of hope that it was just coincidence, but she was waling directly
towards me, so I knew Looney Lovegood was there for me.

Now she's a curious one indeed. From the moment I first really met her at the beginning of
last year, I knew why everyone called Looney: mainly because she is. Perhaps I'm being a little
unfair; after all, if not for her we would have never made it to the Ministry, and she lasted a
long time in the fight before being knocked out, unlike *some* people. But still, she was just
so weird! As she approached, my irritation growing, I could picture Hermione (or was that my mum)
in my head, her hands on her hips as she admonished me to be nice, that Looney *had* stood
with us in the Ministry, and that Looney was a nice girl, after all. So I sighed, and put on my
best fake smile.

“Hi Loo - na, what's brings you out here?”

She blinked, as if surprised to find herself outside. “For you, of course,” she said simply

Wonderful. That's all I need. “What can I do for you?” I fought to keep the edge out of my
voice.

She looked around while she responded, “I saw you left without eating breakfast. I suspected you
might be hungry.” She offered a plateful of toast.

I couldn't help but smile, both at the kindness of the gesture, and the fact that she
thought a few slabs of toast would be enough. “That's very kind of you Luna. But really,
I'm not Harry; toast wouldn't fill me up,” I said, tempering it with a genuine smile, my
first of the day.

She smiled mistily back at me. “Of course,” she said. She waved her wand, and a platter that I
hadn't noticed before floated from behind her to settle gently beside me. It was piled high
with eggs, bangers, bacon, and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Slightly embarrassed, I wiped a small
trickle of drool from my chin. I think I had my appetite back.

“Wow, thanks Luna,” I said gratefully and started to tuck in. After my third mouthful, my
manners returned. “Won't you have any?”

She shook her head and held up a half-eaten piece of toast. “This was for me.”

I nodded in acknowledgement and then continued to eat. We ate, well, I ate and she nibbled,
together in silence until I was satisfied. Actually, I could've eaten more, but the plates were
empty. I burped in contentment and then looked at her. Now what?

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“About what?” I replied automatically.

“Whatever it is that is bothering you.”

“Nothing's bothering me.” At that obviously false statement, she looked at me, and I mean
really *looked* at me. It was bit unnerving, since Luna *never* looks directly at anyone.
“All right, fine. But I'm not really in the mood to talk.”

Luna looked away, that serene, misty look back in her eyes. “Oh really? I would have thought you
might like to talk to me, since I'm the only one you can really talk to.”

“Huh?”

“Well, Harry has his own issues, and Hermione seems preoccupied with helping Harry.”

“It might come as a surprise, but I *do* have other friends,” I said a bit haughtily.

“Yes, but only Neville and Ginny would have an understanding of what you're going through.
Do you wish for me to get one of them for you?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but closed it. I couldn't talk to Ginny. I was her big brother
after all. Though reality might differ from how I saw it, she's supposed to look up to me;
I'm supposed to be invincible to her. And Neville? Yeah, right. Perhaps she had a point. Maybe
I underestimated her a bit. And I did want to talk to someone about it. And with Looney, while she
might not be sympathetic, she probably wouldn't be critical either. In fact, she'd probably
barely register anything at all. So, why not?

“It's about Harry…” I began.

“I thought as much,” she said.

“Really?” How could she know? Was I *that* obvious?

“Yes. But you know, there *are* worse things than being best friends with the
Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Such as?”

“*Being* the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“I know that.”

“You do?” Luna actually looked mildly shocked.

“Yes, I do. I no longer wish to be in Harry's shoes.” At least not most of the time; Hey,
give me a break. I'm still dealing with it.

“Then what's bothering you?”

I took a deep breath. “That day at the Ministry…during the fight…” I struggled to find the right
words.

“What is it?” she asked gently, no trace of that dreamy-quality in her voice. I guess it gave me
the confidence to continue.

“I just feel so bloody useless!” I said suddenly, angrily. “Five minutes into the fight and I
get hit with some damned spell. And not even a real spell! Some stupid inebriation spell, like the
Death Eater wanted to toy with me, didn't see me as a real threat!” Now that I was talking, it
was coming out in spades. “People see me as Harry's sidekick, but I'm not even good enough
to *be* his sidekick! You, Ginny, and even Neville - `effin *Neville* - lasted longer
than I did! What good am I if I can't help Harry?” I ranted on for a few more minutes, not even
sure of what I was saying but feeling better for getting it all off my chest. After I was finished,
I looked at Luna, afraid to see contempt, or worse, pity, in her eyes. Instead, all I saw was
tranquility.

“There's no need to feel ashamed.”

“I'm not ashamed,” I said quickly, though, of course, I was. Ashamed of my weakness.

She just gave me a tolerant smile. “Fortunately, there's an obvious solution.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “Practice.”

“Practice?”

“Practice,” she said simply. Ah, now it made sense. Practice! Why didn't I see it before?
All I had to do was practice…um…huh? What am I supposed to practice?

“Practice?”

“Yes Ronald. Practice. Practice your spellwork, and you'll be more confident next time.”

I sighed. “But I *did* practice before. What do you think the D.A. was for?”

“Funny. I thought it was for you and Seamus to set each other's hair on fire,” Luna said. I
couldn't stop the chuckle. Yeah, that was pretty funny… “What you need,” she continued, “is
someone to practice with that will focus on improving your skills.”

“Like who?” I asked. “Harry's not doing the D.A. this year, and Hermione's too busy with
Harry…” She just continued to look at me. Surely she didn't think I would practice with
*her*? I mean, she was…well, she was Looney! What did she know about…and then I remembered the
not-so-little fact that she handled herself far better than I at the Ministry. I really need to
stop underestimating this girl. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of it. I
wouldn't have to share my problems with anyone else, and Luna was a nice girl, after all.
“Luna, would you mind helping me?” I asked.

She smiled then, and I was suddenly struck with how pretty she looked when she smiled. “I'd
love to Ronald.”

We just kind of smiled goofily at each other, and before long I started to feel a little
uncomfortable. “So, that solves my problem,” I said. “Now we just have to figure out how to help
Harry.”

She looked surprised…well, more so then usual. “Isn't it obvious?”

“Luna, things that are obvious to you aren't so obvious to the rest of us.” She bowed her
head slightly, taking my comment as a compliment. I didn't mean it as such, referring to her
belief in imaginary creatures, but as I thought about it, maybe I did mean it as a compliment.

“Whatever was held in the prophecy has Harry feeling isolated. We need to get him to talk about
it.”

Prophecy? What? I thought she was going to talk about Sirius; at least, *that* was the
obvious problem to me. “The prophecy? You mean that little glass ball? Harry and Neville said it
broke, that there was too much noise to hear it.”

“Just because the glass ball broke doesn't mean the prophecy was lost.”

“No?”

“No. The ball was just a record. Whoever originally heard the prophecy must've told Harry,
and thus his current condition.”

“Oh. So, what do we do?”

“Ask him about it.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

All right then. I guess we were going to ask Harry about it, just like that. And as we walked
back to the castle, leaving the plates behind for the House Elves, I knew it wouldn't be an
easy conversation. Harry would be stubborn and difficult. But with Hermione's help, we could do
it.

But then I amended that thought as I glanced over at Luna, who was humming softly. With Hermione
*and Luna's* help, we could do it.

**A/N:** As you know, Ron's humor is very different from Harry's. Harry's more
sarcastic and dry, and Ron's just…well…Ron. I tried my very best to write his POV differently
from the way I write Harry's, but I don't think I quite succeeded. So, any criticism that
“it sounds like Harry” will be accepted.

Hope you enjoyed!

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