A Crisis of Confidence Meets Serenity Now!

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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