Author's note: Hi everyone! So, here I present you the very first story I have ever posted here, the very first story I have ever written about HP series. I'm looking forward for your reviews concerning not only the story but also the technical aspects of my writing because I am not a native English speaker. I really hope you enjoy my frst steps in writing.

Chapter 1

"What the sight can't reach"

„No human being is capable of doing such things without magic." – George thought as his eyes wandered from a tiny figure sitting at the desk, to the walls covered with paintings. The room was flooded with dim light from a small bedside lamp but he saw all the details quite well – golden earrings, a look of concentration, hands working quietly, yet very precisely, filling a sheet of paper with the most wonderful images he has ever seen in the muggle world. If only he could touch her, speak to her, stand beside her and watch her working on other little masterpiece.

He's been coming here ever since Fred's death. At first it was to escape. To escape the Burow, the grief, the people who were trying to convince him that it can get better while they didn't even understand his pain. His twin brother has gone, taking with him a great piece of George's soul. What if making a horcrux felt this way? If it was somehow similar then he was almost sorry for Voldemort. Poor man. But as good as George was at escaping his home and his family, he couldn't escape his mind. Wherever he went, he saw someone so similar to Fred that he had to force himself not to cry. Or maybe he was looking for Fred's features in everyone he met. It was hard to tell. All he knew was that his effort put into blurring the memories of a certain family member brought entirely opposite effect.

Till the day he saw her.

It was an evening like any other and he didn't expect anything special, anything different to happen that night. He asked Harry for his Invisibility Cloak once again and left the house. He didn't even know why he had started this night ritual of him but it was better to be alone and to watch people living their easy, happy lives.

He apparated from one house to another, watching through the windows little scenes from everyday life – kids sneaking into the kitchen, stealing cookies left on the counter, an old lady watering her collection of fly-catchers (he cringed at that one), a married couple sitting on a sofa with their eyes drawn to some shining box that shown even more people.

One more turn and he landed on a balcony full of flowers. The intensity of smell almost swiped hm of his feet in the first moment. He soon forgot it as he looked through the balcony window. Every piece of wall was covered with sketches, drawings and paintings. They were so vivid, so colorful that they almost seemed to be alive. He realized he probably found the first wizard since he'd started these little trips.

Someone's entered the room and he saw that he was, in fact, wrong. It was not a wizard. It was a witch. And a pretty one, too.

It's been two months and he still hasn't sorted out the "things" with Hermione. For the first couple of weeks he was mourning over Fred's death and he became cold and distant towards her. It's not like he actually wanted to push her away, it just sort of...happened. He loved her and he was sure of that but he din't know how to work it out. Anytime she tried to help him deal with the tragedy, he brushed her off with some cheeky comment and although he always regretted it he couldn't stop himself. It somehow irritated him - he knew her intentions were all the best but how could she understand? She didn't loose anyone in this battle - yes, she obliviated her parents but she can go and get them back anyday.

He was slowly getting better and with each day that passed he tried to gather the courage to finally talk to her. Just talk. Of course he had other things in his mind, especially certain moment during the battle which he would very lke to repeat... but he had to start with something.

He went to Ginny's room hoping to find Hermione there. She was leaning over her bed, all of her things spread out on the sheets. She seemed to be sorting through them, taking every book, piece of clothing and personal stuff in her hands and watching it closely before putting them in her little buttoned bag.

- Hi. - he said quietly, standing at the door, hesitant if he should enter the room or not.

She started at the sound of his voice, then she answered to his greeting as quietly, still looking at her possessions, avoiding eye contact.

- Can I? You seem very busy...

- Yes, you can. - her voice was calm but she hardly managed to hide her irritation.

Ron, trying not to be discouraged by her tone, sat on the bed beside her.

- What you doing? - he asked pointing his head at the book Hermione was just forcing into her bag.

- Packing myself. Cause, clearly, I'm not wanted here anymore. - last words came out as a trembling whisper and she turned her face to the window, pretending to look at something very interesting.

- What? Has Percy said anything to you? I'm going to beat his arse-

- No, Ron. - she was getting more and more angry - Don't you really understand? Use your brain! It should only take a couple of seconds!

He has already heard these words once in his life. And last time he heard them, he screwed up hard. He tried to figure out what he has done apart from being grumpy from time to time, but nothing came to his mind. After all, who could blame him? His brother was dead. It's not something people get over with easily and quickly. He won't come back and there was nothing Ron could do about it.

The thoughts of Fred put Ron back into defensive mode. Didn't she know what he was dealing with? It was not about her, it was about Fred. He never tried to hurt her, at that moment he was even tryng to make things good again and she couldn't see it.

- What are you talking about? Have I done anything to you?!

She turned back to face him, her cheeks red from aggravation.

- THAT is exactly what I'm talking about! Every time I try to speak to you, you make it obvious that you don't want to have anything to do with me! I'm sick of it! - her voice, at first loud and violent, now was just cold and sharp - Look, I'm sorry Ron. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown myself at you then, during the battle, but as hard as it is to believe now, you seemed to want it too. I'm not always right and it was one of the times I happened to be completely wrong. But there is no need to punish me for it every day. I thought that after all of this we could at least be friends. - There was a lttle pause as she wated for him to react some way but all he could do was just stare at her, not being able to process everythng she just said. - I promise you I will be out of here before supper, so we won't have to embarass ourselves the whole evening. But for now I must ask you to leave me alone.

He didn't even know what to say. He had never seen her like that - there was not one emotion showing on her face, it was like a stone.

- Ron, please, go.

His brain seemed to finally start working properly and as he didn't want to annoy her even more, he immediately stood up and went out of the room. Walking through the corridor he could hear sobs coming out of his sister's room.

The anger which was boilng within him when she was screaming melted instantly. He considered her words once more. So she thought that he regretted the kiss. That he didn't feel the same way about her. Hermione Granger was wrong only one time in her life. And that was the time she spoke these words. He won't let her go. He once did and the pain was unbearable. Besiides, she didn't even have a place to go to. A home. Here was her home. She was a part of the family like Harry. No. She's staying here. He needed to give her a reason and he had a good one.

- So... working in the Ministry, you must know every wizard living in the neigbourhood. - It was one of these rare moments after the war when George spoke. Percy was even more surprised when he found out his brother was actually talking to him.

George had not forgiven him some of the events that occured during last year and Percy knew that very well. There was not much he could do to try to earn famlly's trust but he figured out, he could at least be as polte as it was possble. So, although he was a bit suspcious about his brother's question, he answered it anyway.

- Yes, pretty much. We keep record of every muggle and wizard famly in the country, so we could- - he didn't finish the sentence. He felt blame washing all over him. They had lists of all the muggles so they knew who was next to...eliminate. - What do you want to know Georgie?

- You know this house in the village with loats of flowers? There's a witch girl living in there. Just wanted to know something about her. You know... - he half-smiled.

- But she's a muggle George. That red-hair with a big garden? Hundred-percent muggle.

- No.. It's impossible, I saw her, she must know magic, otherwise she couldn't do... stuff.

- What did she do exactly? - Percy didn't know when George found time and way to observe her so closely but thought that any new information must be important for the Ministry. What if they really overlooked something?

- She... she paints. - George felt his face turning as red as his hair. Even for him this answer sounded inaccurate, not to say stupid. - But it's not average painting. You'd have to see it-

- I'm sorry brother, but I am completely sure of her magic skills. I would know if she was a witch. I can assure you.

Percy might have been sure, but hasn't the Ministry ever been wrong? Haven't they manipulated with data so they could send people to Azkaban? There was something weird about this girl and he was determined to find it out himself. Even if it meant starring at her window every night. Especiallly if it meant it.