Hermione was getting ready for their first day working together at the cottage. They would start at eight 'o clock, which was ten minutes from now. Ron told her he wanted to fix the roof first; after which he would start with the foundations. It seemed like a logical order in which to do things, and since he was the professional, she had agreed.
Hermione thought about the previous day. She had been afraid that Ron's presence would irritate her, or would bring back bad memories, but having him there had been great. She had forgotten his quick wit and easy smiles. Little about him had changed in that way over the past five years. He reminded her of their time at Hogwarts; the meaningless conversations by the fire in the common room, the bickering over little things that was mostly born from frustration over their feelings for each other. Seeing him across from her, drinking coffee while he was thinking about what needed to be done, had caused an immediate attack of melancholy in her. It also put in sharp relief the hurt and pain she had felt at not just losing him as a lover, but also as one of her best friends.
The conversation she'd had with her mother was also in her mind. It had been the only thing she could think of last evening. Why did her mother have to pick his side? And why had Hermione always know her to be right? That was the worst of it; not the fact that her mother was disappointed with her (a rare, but not unique experience), but that it had made her realize she was disappointed with herself too! They'd been having this discussion for five years now, and Hermione had tried to convince her mother to see her side of the story. A few years ago, she had realized she wasn't really trying to convince her mother, she was really trying to convince herself. She had then found herself countering Harry's indignation at Ron more and more, all the while growing desperately more disappointed with herself.
She knew the disastrous end of their relationship was as much her fault as his. Sometimes, she felt it was more her fault than his. Acknowledging that was hard. Accepting it was harder, though. Accepting to herself that she was to blame for the one enormous failure in her life. The one gigantic disappointment. It had been easy to blame anyone but herself, but she had come to a point where she could no longer convince herself of her innocence. Yes, she had pushed him away as much as he did her. Yes, she was the first to slap him.
She wondered if their relationship would have survived if Ron had not slapped her back. Would Ron be gallant and choose to ignore it? Would they still be together, or would she have slapped him again in their next row? How long would that abuse (because that was what it was) have taken place before things had escalated to a point where she would not even have been able to hire him like she had now? What would it have done to Ron?
Picking up the mascara, she forced the thoughts from her mind. No use dwelling on what could have been. Finishing the make-up, she forced a comb through her hair and tied it down behind the back of her head with a hairclip.
She arrived at the cottage just after eight, and Ron was already there. Many of the clay shingles on the roof had been removed.
"Hey, Hermione," he said, "Good morning! I've made coffee, it's on the windowsill."
Carrying two cups of coffee upstairs, she noticed Ron set the clay tiles apart in neat stacks of five. It looked like he had been busy for a while.
"What time did you arrive?"
"Six," he said, looking a bit sheepish as he blew on his coffee, "I wanted to start early. Make up for lost time."
"Yes, I understand. Cloe is a sweet girl, but her being there yesterday only held us up."
"I've never met anyone who took ten minutes to put a screw into a wall… How often can you drop it?"
She smiled. Cloe was such a clutz. "Let's just say she has other qualities. You should see her in the kitchen making dinner. She makes me feel like I can't cook."
"I'm sorry to break this to you, but you actually can't," he said, wagging his eyebrows, "I know, I've had to endure your cooking for quite a while. Everything you make is either flat, undercooked, or burnt."
She looked at him mutinously.
"Cheer up," he said innocently, "You have other qualities."
Together, they spent the day fixing various parts of the roof. Ron expertly removed the rotten underlayment, which turned out to be more than soggy; Hermione could flex the wood with her bare hands. Ron mostly did all of the heavier or specific work that needed to be done. Hermione helped him by handing him the right tools, sawing some of the wood as per his instructions, or doing some simple spellwork. Twice had she summoned specific tools from the shed, and once had she charmed a falling clay tile to float in mid-air; Ron had accidentally nudged it from its place.
They had mended two of the four main leaks in the roof before lunch, which was the remainder of the sandwiches Cloe had brought with her the day before.
"These are delicious," Ron said, as he finished his third sandwich, "You should thank her for me."
"Why don't you go over to her place and thank her yourself? Maybe you can work out together to get those calories off again."
Ron didn't reply, but merely raised an eyebrow. Where did that come from? Hermione thought, All he did was compliment Cloe on her sandwiches… Her reply sounded dangerously like jealousy.
They continued their work on the roof that afternoon, though they were a little more formal to each other than usual. Hermione spent half the time thinking about what she had said to Ron.