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There Are Some Things Books Can't Do	By : I'veGotNothing Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 17692 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of Jk Rowlings works and/or characters, and I do not make any money from this story, its just for fun

Chapter List
- 17
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- 19
            Author’s note: So I’m betting y’all think I totally hate Ron Weasley. When actually I love him to bits, I just think he tends to do stupid things without thinking. So this is going to be a bit of a Ron centric chapter to give him a little love. It’s the least I can do for him! If any of you wants to see more from a certain character’s perspective, or think I haven’t written enough about any of the characters that have been mentioned in this fic let me know! Message me, review or email me. Thanks for reading!! Much love to you all!!
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            Ron dressed nervously the next morning in formal wizard robes. Underneath he wore a clean white muggle dress shirt in miniscule blue plaid print, gray pressed slacks and black dress shoes. He tugged at the solid blue tie around his neck uncomfortably. He was used to ties from his school robes, but he never liked wearing them. Although he had to admit, the muggle dress clothes, brand new and never worn, were comfortable enough.
            He stared at all the freckles on his face in the mirror, slightly crouching down to see in. Well at least it wasn’t dirt. His mum would be tickled pink. Ron straightened his tie once more before heading to the Headmistress’s office where he would be flooing to the Ministry for his first day as an intern in the Magical Sports and Games department. He would definitely have to buy some floo powder soon if he wanted to leave from the common room. And he would have to get it set up with the Floo Network. As it was, the Headmistress was being generous with her own personal supply.
            His stomach was growling, but he hadn’t woken up early enough to grab a bite to eat and make it to his internship on time. In fact, when he arrived, McGonagall was looking at her watch, a jar of floo powder in her hand. “You must hurry Mr. Weasley, you still have to get through Ministry security. Ms. Jones doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
            “Yes Ma’am. Thank you.” He took a pinch from the proffered jar and threw it in the fireplace, turning the flames green. He stooped down, his head practically at his knees. Well, not really but he honestly didn’t think there was much farther to go to get that far.
            “Ministry of Magic.” Ron spoke, almost bored, and off he went, spiraling over and over until he smoothly stepped out of the fireplace, careful not to hit his head on the bricks. He brushed his still clean robes off, just in case. He wished he could just apparate. But that would mean going to Hogsmeade every morning. It would be faster to just floo.
            Dozens of wizards milled around, some headed for security to check in as visitors, others simply showing their ID badges and wands to security guards and scurrying through. People around him noticed and whispered, smiling, waving and calling out greetings to him as he went through the process to get his badge and check his wand. He made sure to smile, his charming smile, to any that even looked his way.
            The young blond witch that was supposed to give him his name badge was bored, and wasn’t paying attention until he spoke. “Ron Weasley, here to start my internship.”
            She glanced at him, her perfectly made up pink lips curving into an alluring smile as she did a double take. She batted her eyes at Ron, making him stand taller as he enjoyed her attentions. She conjured him a badge after verifying his information. “I hope to see more of you Ron Weasley.” Her voice was low and sultry, matching her lustful expression.
            Ron grinned, slightly bashful, but merely winked before walking away, feeling more confident as he heard another female speak to the witch. “Ohmygod was that THE Ron Weasley? From the Golden Trio??”
            His wand readout was much less interesting, as the guard was semi ancient, and most definitely didn’t care who anyone was. Ron was sure that his wand readout could say that he had cast several Unforgivable Curses and the man would still wave him through. Fortunately, he didn’t test that theory, and sprinted to the elevators, knowing his stamina was not good enough for the stairs.
            He entered and waited impatiently for his floor. He briefly thought about his father, and made a mental note to visit him at lunch. As much as he liked the public’s attention, Ron was glad that everyone in the elevator’s kept to themselves. No one did anything beyond smile at him, most of the witches and wizards were carrying stacks of papers or items and seemed too busy for more than work chat with their coworkers.
            When Ron reached level seven, he scooched out politely, but hurriedly. He was almost late. He noticed immediately which division to go to, as McGonagall had told him he would be working in the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, as opposed to the Official Gobstones Club or the Ludicrous Patents Office. To be fair, the Quidditch Headquarters entrance was marked fairly sloppily by shoddily hung posters of the teams. On a quick glance they appeared to be in order of rank, which meant the Chudley Cannons were at the bottom.
            He would have loved to take time to study the posters and see the new lineups, but he rushed into the entrance; as he did a hush fell over the room, and he turned beet red. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but embarrassment wouldn’t let the words come out. Had he interrupted a meeting?
            Applause broke out, causing Ron to straighten his spine and flash a smile. Fame was a “chore” certainly. He even lifted his hand in a cheeky wave when someone behind him growled. “I believe the applause is for me, boy.”
            Ron spun around and looked down, but not much to see a tall woman, thick and strong looking, short dark hair framing her face and emphasizing her hard, steel stare at him. He recognized her immediately.
            “Gwenog Jones! You’re the Captain of the Holyhead Harpies!” Ron couldn’t help but blurt out, blushing furiously.
            “I am. And currently the head of this department.” She looked him up and down frowning, her heavy eyebrows scrunched up. She snapped her fingers, and a moment later she was taller than Ron by a few centimeters. He glanced down and noticed her heels had lifted several inches. “That only leaves with who are you, and why are you blocking my morning entrance into the office?”
            Ron swallowed, looking up at her face. It was the first time anyone (besides Hagrid and Madame Maxine) was taller than him, even by artificial means. “I’m Ron Weasley starting an internship today? Under Ms. Jones.”
            To his surprise and annoyance, she rolled her eyes and groaned. “When Minerva said she was sending a Weasley to me, I naturally assumed it would be Ginevra. Not some… boy.” She said derisively as if he smelt bad.
            Ron clenched his fists, but said nothing, not wanting to lose his temper. At his silence she gave him another once over, glower lightening up just a smidge. “Hmmm. Well, your silence indicates that either nothing phases you, or you know how to keep your temper in check. So, tell you what, if you don’t lose your shit today, I’ll keep you on for at least a week. Sound fair? Great. Now move out of the way boy.”
            Ron clumsily stepped back, his face redder than his hair, but he tried to keep his face impassive. Inside he was furious. She was threatening his internship before he even tried working? Before he learned anything? What the hell was he going to do if he lost it on the first day.
            Gwenog strolled through the room, the applause resuming as she walked. Any witch or wizard that had sat at their desks to begin work immediately leaped to their feet, clapping as if she had single handedly won the Quidditch World Cup. A middle aged wizard elbowed him using his head to gesture at Ron’s hands. He looked at the man bewildered until he noticed Gwenog was at the entrance to her glass walled office, staring at him, eyebrows quirked.
            He reluctantly began clapping, smacking his hands together harder than necessary, trying to get out some of his frustration. Apparently that satisfied her as she smirked and retreated into her office, a young witch following her in with a heavy tea tray laden with breakfast items and a large stack of paperwork. Only when the glass door shut with a bang and the workers noticed Gwenog sit at her desk, did they continue their work, voices rising again as they began their day.
            The middle-aged wizard patted Ron’s back sympathetically before walking to his desk, immediately sending out several memos and carrying a conversation with his desk mate.
            Ron still stood near the entrance, nervous, furious and feeling out of place. He didn’t know where to go or what to do, and he was starting to fidget. Was this one of those things where he had to take initiative immediately? A test? Gods he hated tests.
            After a few moments Gwenog’s assistant scurried out of her office and to him, arms laden with papers and quills. “Mr. Weasley? Ms. Jones has several tasks for you to complete before the end of the day.” She sounded flustered and oddly out of breath.
            He trailed after her, listening to her breathing get more ragged as he did. No one else in the office seemed to notice, and he was getting increasingly worried about this clearly overworked witch. She directed him to desk directly in front of the glass walled office, where Gwenog would be able to stare directly into the back of his head at all times.
            He was going to sit down when the witch started gasping. “Are you alright?! Shit whats the spell for a blocked airway?” Before he got frantic the witch calmly waved him off, pulling a plastic device from her skirt pocket. Within seconds her lips were wrapped around it, she pressed some kind of plunger as she inhaled. The device went back into her pocket as she held her breath, and then slowly exhaled after about five seconds.
            “Sorry about that Mr. Weasley, here are your tasks. When you have completed them, please come see Ms. Jones who will check your work. If you have any questions you may ask me if I am not in her office, or someone in this room. Good luck.” She sounded normal again, and began to walk away.
            “Wait, aren’t you going to explain what just happened?” Ron fought to keep his voice calm, feeling Gwenog’s eyes on him through the glass. He really wanted to freak out though.
            “Pureblood family I’m guessing? Well I’m muggle-born, and I use an inhaler sometimes to help my breathing. The device I just used has medicine in it to help.”
            “Um isn’t that kind of thing curable by a mediwitch?” Ron was still flabbergasted.
            “They can only treat asthma if it wasn’t caused by a spell. I would start your work Mr. Weasley. Ms. Jones doesn’t like excuses.” With that statement she scurried back into Gwenog’s office, sitting at a tiny table by the glass door.
            Ron looked around at his new coworkers, everyone looking hurried and busy. He begrudgingly pulled his parchment closer and looked at his assignments. At least he would get to learn the behind the scenes of Quidditch.
            Or so he thought. He looked at the list in disgust and dismay.
            Organize files in cabinets by year, alphabetically by team, then alphabetically by player.
            Every hour on the hour, in person deliver hot water FRESH from the kettle
            Pick up my new broomstick from Diagon Alley
            Pick up my clothing from Madame Malkins, drink this Polyjuice to ensure the fit
            It’s Robert’s birthday, so pick up a cake
            Besides the filing, he was essentially an errand boy. Ron wanted to hang his head and groan, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He set his watch to beep five minutes before every hour and started the filing first. There were only five things on the list, it shouldn’t be too terrible.
            Forty-five minutes later, Ron was sitting on the floor, folders half open, files surrounding him as he sat in front of the single filing cabinet. Instead of just getting more cabinets, the office had apparently decided to do to it what Hermione did to her bag, and the result was one gigantic mess. Essentially.
            Gods he wished Hermione was there to help him. Suddenly, his watched beeped, causing Ron to leap up. He saw the kettle from her breakfast was now sitting on his desk. He emptied the contents and quickly cleaned the interior, uttering the necessary spells. He used aguamenti to fill the kettle, and then produced the blue flames Hermione had taught him, making sure the flame was contained in a cup, letting the kettle sit on top of it. He had already looked for a stove, but of course there was none in the office.
            When the kettle whistled, he extinguished the fire, and carried it into her office, the door now wide open, he produced a tea cup and poured a steaming cup of water right in front of her. She didn’t look at him or thank him, merely dunked a tea infuser into the water as she pored over the documents on her desk. He noticed the assistant didn’t have any, so he poured her a cup as well, earning him a look of surprise, followed by a grateful smile.
            As he walked out, he thought he felt Gwenog’s eyes on him again, but when Ron looked, she was still immersed in her paperwork.
            Ron went back to filing, more determined than ever to finish it before his lunch break. But two cups of tea for his boss later, and he still was only half way finished. He could not believe that the workers had left files like that. Sure it was just records of teams from the start of the league to present, with their information, but surely the information was relevant to salary and rosters. In the back of his mind he started thinking about a better way to organize and access the information, most of the Quidditch teams would be starting from scratch in England and Ireland. The war had taken a toll, and many teams needed new members, or were eager to change their brand and get a fresh start. It was time for players to play hardball to get the salary and team they wanted to sign them.
            Ron made sure the rest of the files were at least off of the floor and on his desk before filing out for lunch. He noticed Gwenog still in her office, scribbling on parchment while her assistant gathered up her items for lunch. Ron had managed to send a memo to his father in between brewing cups of tea, and to his relief his dad was waiting for him in the elevator.
            “Ron!” Arthur Weasley embraced his youngest son tightly, glad to see him. “Did you want to eat in the cafeteria?”
            “Actually dad my boss needs me to run errands in Diagon Alley for her, so could be pop over there instead?” Ron was thankful he had remembered his list, the potion and even had a small bag of money on him. He really wouldn’t have time to stop at Gringott’s before he needed to be back to finish the files.
            His father agreed easily, mentioning how that would give him the chance to check in on George before his break was over.
            They apparated from the apparition point to the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. They ate a quick meal, Ron filling in his dad about his new plans. Arthur teared up a few times as Ron spoke. He was very proud of his son, but he noticed that Ron didn’t mention Hermione at all. Arthur kept staring at Ron when he wasn’t looking, and he could tell the young man had a lot on his mind. So he let it be.
            “So Ron, the word around the office is that Gwenog runs a tight ship. I haven’t even met her yet, how is working with her?”
            “Umm. Its fine. Yeah. I have a lot to do though Dad, but we can have lunch on the days I’m at the ministry okay? I’ll see you later.” Ron did not want to talk about his job yet, as he was damn sure it was a test at this point.
            Ron sped through his goodbyes, wishing he had time to say hi to George too, but when he looked at his watch he realized that he only had twenty minutes to be back in time to get Gwenog her next cup of tea.
            Ron really had never moved so fast or with such gracefulness. At least that’s what he thought as he zigged and zagged around people, picking up Gwenog’s broom, then a simple cake from the new bakery that popped up where Florean’s used to be. He didn’t notice how many people he accidentally clipped, he was too focused on his task. He glanced at his watch upon entering Madame Malkins and was dismayed that he only had seven minutes. There was only one thing to do.
            Ron gulped the tiny vial of Polyjuice potion, which was a deep purple color, the moment he had Madame Malkin’s attention. Once he transformed, her lips turned from the O of surprise into a tight line of understanding and she had her assistant sprint to grab the order. The assistant helped Ron shimmy into the flattering dark green and gold dress. It hugged each of Gwenog’s curves. Ron glanced at his polyjuiced form and had to admit that the tight dress only made his boss look more intimidating. Kind of like a siren or a… well.. a harpy.
            Ron quickly thanked Madame Malkin, and realized he didn’t have time to change. Instead he apparated to the Ministry apparition point as Gwenog, still in the dress. He had to explain to the guard he was polyuiced, and unfortunately for him, they performed a spell to reverse the potions effects. If Ron wasn’t slender, he would have certainly ripped her dress.
            Security let him through, the old man laughing as he ran up the stairs, forgoing the elevators. He couldn’t run quite as quickly while carrying a cake, but he certainly did his best.
            He entered the office, head low and hastily prepared her fresh water. To his relief, he managed to set the cup down in front of her at only a few seconds passed the hour. He breathed a sigh of relief, until he noticed she and her assistant were staring.
            “I don’t know whether to laugh or burn the dress.” Gwenog Jones stated, letting her tea steep. Her assistant was flushed, biting her lip.
            “I’ll head to the loo and change.” Ron mumbled, chagrined, but trying not to be. It wasn’t exactly his fault after all.
            “Use mine. Just this once.” His boss pointed at the door behind her desk and Ron rushed into it, careful not to snag her dress. He dressed quickly, leaving his outer robes off, just his muggle clothes on.
            “Thank you, Ms. Jones.” Ron was polite when he emerged, and he gave her the new broomstick as well as the bill charges for her purchases. He had to pay for the cake out of pocket, but he didn’t mind that one.
            He left the office, Gwenog’s assistant following him. “What’s with the cake?”
            “It’s for Robert isn’t it?” Ron looked at her quizzically.
            “Robert’s her owl. He can’t eat that.” The assistant explained quietly.
            “Why did she say pick up a cake then?” Ron was getting even more frustrated. It was bad enough that he ran through the ministry in a dress, but now he was getting played by his boss?
            The assistant sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “Look she’s wary of new people, particularly men. She had to work extra hard to get here, and be able to stay captain of her team. In fact she is going to have to find someone to either replace her Quidditch spot, or her ministry spot before Christmas. She really thought she was going to get your sister, Madam Hooch told her all about how good she is.”
            “That explains nothing,” Ron insisted, grouchy and not wanting to sympathize even a little bit.
            “Prove to her that you aren’t here to screw her over, prove to her that even though her requests are unreasonable, you can do it in a professional manner and, more importantly, that you are here to learn. She can respect that. Even if you aren’t a woman.”
            “Bloody hell.” Ron sat back in his chair for a moment. “I love Quidditch, but I’m not good enough to go pro. But I want to be involved still. Isn’t that enough?”
            She shook her head smiling at him. “Maybe, maybe not. But she isn’t going to give you the chance if she thinks you’re only here because of your fame.”
            Ron was exasperated. “Oh yes because she by no means got here because of HER fame!”
            Gwenog’s assistant drew her mouth tight, eyes glinting and simply walked away. Men weren’t worth talking to when they were frustrated in her opinon.
            Ron wanted to apologize for his attitude, but she shut the glass door behind her, and drew the blinds, leaving him to his files, and task to get something suitable for an owl.
            A few hours later Ron was quite full of himself. He had finished the files, corresponded with Eeylops, and they sent him a cake of dead mice for Robert. He even managed to get the Ms. Jone’s tea out on time.
            Ron was so confident that when he was called into her office, a few minutes before he was supposed to leave, he pulled himself up to his full height. Gwenog was standing in front of the mirror, trying on the dress for her assistant, who was taking notes for something.
            “Alright Weasley, you didn’t lose your temper today, so I suppose you can stay. And you managed to finish your tasks. So you aren’t entirely useless. Minerva was a doll and sent me your class schedule. We’ll see you day after tomorrow, and Meredith will ensure that your real work begins.”
            Her assistant, Meredith apparently, slumped her shoulders briefly, but resumed her note taking, it sounded like needed to hire a caterer. Ron didn’t really care, he gathered his things and left, a bounce in his step. He managed to make it through his first day. It had been a weird day to be sure, but as the Boy Who Lived best friend, it was rather tame. Just hopefully he wouldn’t have to wear more dresses in public.
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There Are Some Things Books Can't Do