Ronald Weasley had been a private contractor for about five years. He had abandoned his education, opting instead to go into the Auror academy with Harry. He had not finished his first year, due to personal reasons.
He had done some travelling then, seen a bit of the rest of the world, tasting new cultures and traditions. He had run out of money quite a lot faster than he had anticipated, and in his need for money had accepted a paid trainee position with a muggle contractor. He had taught Ron nearly everything he knew of carpentry, electronics, and construction. Ron had initially seen his job as a way to earn a quick buck, but after a week had grown intrigued by it. There was something therapeutic to sanding wood, an almost mystical quality to mixing concrete. It soothed him to finish a job and to just take a moment to behold the results and think: "I made this."
Ron was finishing up the last few stages of the job he was currently working on. An elderly couple had asked him to extend the back of their home with a patio. Ron had made a couple of sketches and drawings to show what he could do, and made a point to talk to the couple every day to show what he had done, and what he planned to do next.
"Lumos Construction, how may I help you?" he said, answering the phone in his usual way if the caller's ID was unknown. Arriving back in England more than a year after beginning his travels, Ron had wasted little time to set up his new business. He had thought of the name on the train-ride from London to his parents's home.
"Hello," said a strangely familiar female voice, "I would like make some inquiries into a renovation project I am going to start soon. I have been given your number by a friend, Cloe McMurdo."
Ron thought back at the bathroom renovation he had done for McMurdo. Nobody in construction liked doing renovations for bathrooms. It was horribly precise work, and it took ages to complete. The girl in question (she had been about his own age) had been very pretty, and he had made an effort to work as precise as he could. She had been very pleased with the results.
"Yes, I remember," he replied, "Third floor apartment, large bathtub and separate shower. Miss McMurdo was very content with the results I believe."
"She was. She still is. She recommended you when she heard I had bought a small cottage near Buckerell. She told me you do work in all of Great Britain."
Buckerell? That's really close to my parents's house.
"Yes," he replied, "I do. I am also one of the cheapest contractors in the country."
This was one of his favourite angles. Being a wizard did have its benefits. Where regular contractors spent hours travelling, or needed co-workers to move heavy objects, Ron could use magic to aid him. He could charm heavy objects to make them lighter, or levitate them altogether if there wasn't anybody around. He could work throughout the country, apparating to his work without losing valuable time commuting.
"I heard," the voice replied, "I would not have called if Cloe had not assured me that you deliver top grade quality."
"Well," he said, a little annoyed by her strangely familiar yet unknown voice, "I believe in delivering quality services and advertising by word-of-mouth."
"It is working," she said, "Can we meet someday soon to discuss the project?"
"Sure," he said, hoping that his voice did not betray the momentary surge of elation, "I think it would be best if we meet at the project site. I can make a quick assessment of what I think needs to be done, and give you an indication of the cost."
They arranged a meeting in a few days. That would give him a few days off, which suited him well. He was overdue for a visit to his parents. He loved going over to Ottery St. Catchpole and visiting the Burrow. His mother would cook him a large meal, and his father would sit with him after dinner, to discuss muggle appliances.
His father was proud of him, which clearly showed in his face every time Ron mentioned his work. His choice for a muggle profession made for one of his father's favourite topics. His eyes shone with longing when Ron mentioned a project, and he would insist on getting to know everything about it.
He did not visit his parents that often though, or at least not as often as he would like. Ginny and Harry regularly visited on Mondays and Fridays, which meant those days were off-limits for obvious reasons. 'She' came over every first Sunday of the month, which meant he had missed out on every single family get-together since returning to England over four years ago.
His mother lamented this fact every time he was back home. She would try to casually mention what they had done that Sunday, after which she would harp at him to join them next time. He had left early on numerous occasions because of it, which saddened him; his mother was obviously feeling very sad over the fact that he was never there. So was Ron, but he could not confront 'her'. He had meant to go several times, but always would find some excuse at the last minute. Some Gryffindor I am...