"He beat you, Hermione," Harry said, his voice now dropping in volume again, "He beat you in the face!"
"Technically, he slapped me," she said back, carefully keeping her voice casual and light, but not in a way that would make Harry think she thought lightly of it. Harry had never forgiven Ron for hitting her, and though he meant well, he could get a little ahead of himself sometimes. When she had told him what had happened, through many tears and sobs, Harry had gone ballistic. He had noticed their strained relationship before anyone else had. He had advised both Hermione and Ron in private moments. When she turned to him after that final fight, she had only needed him to be there and listen. Instead, Harry had exploded into a fit of anger, and had sought to bring poetic justice to Ron. Since then, he had upgraded Ron's slap in her face to a punch, and had conveniently forgotten that she had slapped him first.
"A slap, a beat, that doesn't matter; he hit you!"
"Yes, Harry," she said, "He hit me. I know. I was there. Thank you for reminding me."
Harry looked at her in obvious discomfort, and Hermione felt that his discomfort was justified. Harry was a sweetheart in wanting to defend her, and his disappointment with Ron clearly showed, but it wasn't his fight to pick. Her hand was rubbing her cheek again. She dropped it.
"You know I bought a cottage near here, right?"
"Yes, so?"
"Well, it turns out that there is a considerable amount of renovation-work to be done. More than I had anticipated. A friend of mine recommended a contractor. It turned out to be Ron."
"There are other contractors in England, Hermione. You don't have to pick the one that slapped you. Besides, a bit of spell work should keep the costs down."
"Ron explained that to me too," she said, "He was as enthusiastic about doing this job for me as you are. He offered me some advice though, and after following it up, it turned out he was right in all accounts. Magic can't fix what's wrong with this house."
"But why does it have to be Ron? If magic doesn't help, won't a muggle contractor be better?"
"Ron only charges a fraction of what regular contractors charge. Besides, I know Ron. I can trust him."
"Trust him?" Harry said, his voice getting louder again, "If anything, Ron is the one person you can't trust!"
Harry's comment shook her. Yes, she thought, I had lost my trust in Ron. It was what finally drove us apart. I could no longer trust Ron in the implicit way that I once did. But after five years, my anger at him has abated. Five lonely years have gone by, and from what I've heard from his parents, they were lonely years for Ron to. "I trust Ron enough as a friend for him to fix my house. I'm not inviting him in for milk and cookies, nor am I starting a relationship again. All I want is for him to give me good advice and to fix my house. I will be paying him for it."
The afternoon turned into evening. Dinner was the regular, joyous event that it always was, regardless of the ill-concealed animosity that sometimes threatened to spoil the mood. Mr and Mrs Weasley did their best to steer the conversation away during those moments, and George could always be counted on to break the ice by placing a well-observed comment. That was one of the things she was in deep awe of with George. When there was a dissonant tone, like a crack in the ice, George would not skate around it like everyone else, but he would plough right through it like an ice-breaker. He would call out everyone on their bull-shit, and do it in such a lovely, funny way that nobody would be angry about it.
She wondered how much George missed Fred on these occasions. She wondered if his thoughts still dwelled endlessly on what Fred would be like if he was still alive today. Ron had spoken little of Fred since his death; it was a ragged, open wound in his heart, and if she ever mentioned him, it would guarantee a fight within ten minutes. She wondered how much Ron blamed himself for Fred's death. He had mentioned that once, but had since adamantly denied it.
Ron was looking at her again. She could tell by the tingling sensation she felt on her arms and legs. She knew he was sorry for slapping her, even though he had never actually apologised for it. No had she, for that matter.
She left earlier than usual, partly because she needed to sort out her thoughts, and partly because she wanted to look through the folder Ron had left her. She made her goodbyes, kissing Harry on his cheek, hugging Ginny and Fleur, and giving a general wave of goodbye to everyone else. She thanked Mr and Mrs Weasley for the dinner, and for having her over. Naturally, they replied by stating that she was always welcome, and needn't thank them.
On her way to the fireplace, she walked past Ron. A kiss on the cheek was something she was not feeling up to, nor a hug. She didn't want to leave without some sort of goodbye though, so she ended up with putting her hand on his shoulder and telling him she'd ring him soon. He pulled his attention away from the game of chess he was playing and replied with a simple "Okay, bye".
Once in her own apartment, Hermione flipped open the folder. She had already decided to let Ron do the job. She wanted to see what he would want to fix, and what the costs were. The offers were amazingly specific, a complete overview of projected costs and a planning of what would have to be done when. There was an accompanying note with questions and suggestions about the renovation. Ron's untidy scrawl had not gotten more legible over the years. Looking at the note reminded her of revising his essays for him in school.