Chapter Ten

She woke early; ever since she moved she's been able to stay up reasonably late and wake early without being tired. The morning was cool and smelt fresh and new, almost as if it knew that something fantastic and wonderful had happened the night before. They'd finally forgiven each other and were in the right place and the right time. The morning was almost teasing her, daring her to think 'Nothing can go wrong now.'

Luckily, the thought would never enter her mind, not after the last time she thought that. It was clear that life never ends as happily as movies do. She carefully crawled off the couch and wrapped a blanket around Ron to replace her missing heat. She made instant coffee and went outside to enjoy the fresh air. She opened the door and stared.

The sight was breath taking, not to mention a little cliché. The dirt driveway lay still and you could see it connect to a seemingly endless road that disappeared into the slow rising run. Light washed over the vibrant green grass, glistening on the dew drops. You could see some construction tools to the left, but only barely. There was a very big step down from the door, giving promise for a front porch. Her car was parked around the right corner of the house, where she was thinking of building a garage. Hermione laughed at her self. it seemed she was determined to turn her life into a fairy-tale, with two point five kids and a golden lab. 'Wouldn't Destin love that?'

She slipped Ron's work boots on; they were about twice the size she needed. She closed the door softly and walked round to the left of the house. She drank her coffee in gulps as she inspected the rooms. They used many short-cuts; the rooms had no real insulation or electricity (none that would work properly without magic anyhow) and Hermione didn't know how they were planing on installing the windows she'd picked out cause there was no open spaces for them. They said they knew what they were doing so she didn't argue. She looked and realized that there wasn't much more needed to be done on the roof. The day was already starting to heat up, a promise of yet another hot summer day. 'I could finish myself.' She decided to surprise Ron so she set down her cup and did so; in Ron's huge boots, her shabby dance sweater and fitted, about the knees skirt.

*

Ron woke up to a soft hammering sound. He checked the time and realized how late it was. He hasn't slept in since his last year at Hogwarts. He felt around, but Hermione's weight had left his body, replaced by a blanket (much to his dismay). The hammering stopped and Ron stretched then sat up. Only when the hammering started again did he come to the realization that there was non one in their right mind that would . . .

'Mione.' He stood up and quickly started to stand up. 'Alone on top of the house? That's so dangerous, what was she thinking?' Ron made his way to the door, but came to a sudden stop. He could of sworn that he'd left his boots out by the door; he shrugged and went out bare-foot.

"Hermione! You out here?" Ron called loudly.

He turned the corner to witness Hermione nailing the last nail. His worries increased as she turned uncertainly to meet him. "Ron, you're awake, good. I've finished the roof so you don't have to stay in the sun all day."

"Hermione," his anger subsiding momentarily, "What are you doing?"

She smiled back and started down he ladder. It tipped precariously and Ron's anger came back as he rushed over. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her off the ladder. "Girl, you're going to get yourself killed," he lectured as he removed his hands now that she was steady.

"Me? Nah, I'm to graceful," she replied as she started back to the house.

"Hermione, someone who wears boots that are twice the size of their feet can't be graceful on an unsteady ladder." Ron followed her inside.

She rolled her eyes. "Come off it Ron, nothing would have happened." She entered the house and stepped out of the boots. "I'm going to fix breakfast, you hungry?"

Ron was still angry, but decided to give up. "Yeah, I'm hungry. I'm going to go install that shower for you. Harry already brought the new one in and threw out the old one."

Hermione was pulling out pans and such for bacon and eggs. "Good, then after breakfast you can install the windows while I do new flooring in the bathroom. But do the windows from inside would you? Don't worry 'bout the mess, I don't want you to make your back any worse from the sun."

"Your wish is my command princess. Do you want me to do the room in the back of the house or the side?" Ron was already down the hall towards the bathroom, tools in hand.

"Back, I want that to be Destin's play room. Its really close to her room so it she won't be tempted to scatter her toys around the house."

*

The day felt long. Unending and tiresome the day broke any hope of normality finally settling in. Bill's friend from the fire had shown up at the Burrow without Bill's knowledge and surprised Mrs. Weasley with the news she brought along. After it finally came out that they were engaged, and had been for a while, Bill yelled at her with such passion it was an assumed broken engagement. This could just be drama for all Hermione or Ron really knew, but it wasn't likely that Harry would come up with such a farfetched story, especially considering that a Ginny mood swing could have resulted.

Ginny and Harry had shown up at Hermione's at lunch with all four children. Ginny then decided she loved how the additions turned out so much that she wanted Harry to build a baby room pronto. This then turned into a fight between them, because Harry insisted he didn't need his office at home, and would be fine by turning that into the baby's room. Ginny was about to start arguing back when Ron had saved him by mentioning that the work probably wouldn't be good for his now infected injury. As it turned out all the work on Hermione's house was too much physical work for Harry, and he had to do a desk job when he returned to work. They left back to their real home finally, but not talking or looking at each other. Ron could tell Harry wasn't saying anything in fear of making matters worse and Ginny didn't want to make the first move of settling the problem.

A third argument had showered that day; between Ron and Hermione. It wasn't serious, there wasn't any yelling because Destin would have woken up.

"Ron, I told you not to go out in the sun. Now your fair skin is burnt so horribly that its peeling."

Ron didn't want to fight anymore. He replied, "My fair skin? You better keep it down or it might be offended," in an attempt to lighten Hermione's dark brown, almost black, eyes.

"Shut up Ron, this isn't a joke."

"I don't think it is. Listen, I finished both rooms now didn't I? They're just waiting for you to paint them tomorrow. My skin will heal, it's not like I haven't burned before."

"So you're going to give yourself skin cancer just -"

"Hermione," he interrupted, "I'm not going to get skin cancer. Lighten up; things are okay, hectic, but okay. Nothing bad is going -" Ron wasn't allowed to finish the sentence.

"Don't finish that sentence!" she shrieked at once.

"Huh?" Confusion consuming him.

"Never say that everything is happy and nothing can go wrong because something always does go wrong." Ron stared at her as if she had suddenly grown wings. "Look, lets forget about it. Turn around so I can put some lotion on your back. Then in half an hour I'll peel your back."

A look of horror was in his eyes as he stated, "That's just disgusting."

She rolled her eyes at his immaturity. "It's not a big deal; I peel Destin's all the time. She doesn't know when to stay out of the sun either." Hermione fake smiled at Ron.

"Har, har. Why weren't you this funny in school?"

Deciding to not respond she grabbed the lotion and forced Ron around. "Prat."

"Say something?" Ron said over his shoulder in such sarcasm Hermione wanted to hit him.

"No, you must be hearing things."

*

Ron didn't stay for a movie that night. Instead he went home to his deserted, lonely flat. He shook off his shoes and went to the kitchen. Everything was so clean he wanted to scream. That was always the way he felt when he fought with Hermione. Everything seemed to be in perfect order; just the way she liked it. It gives him a terrible urge to want to trash rooms just to make her angry. Maybe that was why he was always disorganized in school; definitely wasn't his fault. When he found his refrigerator empty he only became more angry. He stomped off to his home office to see if anything had come in since he last checked.

He walked into his office, which was so organized he felt even more angry. There was one window in the room, and everything faced away from it. When he first set up his office his desk was facing the window, so he could see everything going on. But soon he had found himself spending far too much time daydreaming about what could have been. So he rearranged everything away from it, so no matter how he sat in his desk he wouldn't be able to see anything eye catching. He had shelves full of books he had needed over the years; it took up a whole wall of the room. He then had filing cabinets carefully placed so that he wouldn't get any mixed up. Three of them just held files of closed cases; ones that he had either successfully completed or had ended because of death. He then had a whole filing cabinet just from Destin's case; partly because he had spent as much time possible on it. Ron had added much to this just in the last couple of weeks. There were only two other cabinets; one for his newest cases, the other for almost closed or cold cases. On his desk he had little personal belongings. There was one picture of him, Harry and Hermione, though Hermione had left for years, only recently returning to the picture. The only other things present on his desk were small devices in which he used to solve cases.

There was a sleeping owl over on a perch, obviously from the Ministry, with a letter still on his leg. Ron filled the water and food tray for the owl before taking off the delicately rolled parchement from its leg. The owl woke up, hooted thankfully and started to eat. The parchment look official; something to do with a case. He sat in his chair and opened the small letter attentively.

Ronald Weasley,

This is a confirmation that you have successfully finished

yet another case. Further investigation on Miss. Destin L. Weasley

is no longer needed. Her case is now officially CLOSED. A final

report is, however, needed; including her current living conditions

and knowledge of her future. Also needed is people aware of her

situation. A meeting may be necessary, to ensure the safety and

secrecy of this case. The report must be completed and brought in

within the next couple days, as early as possible. Congratulations,

Albus Dumbledore

Ron read and reread the letter. Another finished case. The report pending also meant his 'vacation' was over. He carefully folded the letter and put it in the proper file before starting the report. He was up late finishing it, then sent it straight back with the owl. He headed off to bed, and even though his eyes had an aching pain, advising him to sleep, Ron could not rest. Everything had happened so suddenly, it was done. After seven years of work, this case was over. He sat transfixed on his bed and stared at the floor. Early morning sun was dancing on it from a slit in the curtains. Everything seemed to be hazy, unreal and dead. Finally he rubbed his eyes and went for a shower.

The water was cold, as usual, but it didn't seem to have an effect on him this morning. He slammed the tap off, almost braking it, then got out of the shower. He dried off as fast as he could, not wanting to waste time. Dumbledore was a busy man and if he wanted to see him he'd have to go early. He dressed in his work robes and ate nothing. He apparated to the Ministry, and for once Ron couldn't see the elegance or glamour in the grand hallway. This was bound to be one of the worst days in his life.