Disclaimer: As much as I want to, I don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise, and I most likely never will.

AN: I would like to apologize for the long period of time between this chapter and the last. School, athletics, and friends have kept me insanely busy lately. In a few weeks though, school will be over and chapters will come out much more frequently. I hope this is worth the wait. Enjoy!

Undeniable

(Hermione's POV)

Hermione awoke at the Burrow just the way she liked it, without an alarm. Although most people thought of her as a constantly busy brainiac, she loved to wake up at her leisure. She laid there on the slightly lumpy mattress for a few moments with her eyes closed, loving the soft feel of the comforter on her bare legs. It felt so familiar and welcoming. Hermione had always worn only pajama shorts to bed, just for this purpose. Waking up in the morning to a light blanket gently touching the smooth skin on her legs was a simplicity that she cherished. It wasn't just the blanket that felt like an old friend though; it was the entire house. Ever since she walked through the doors, she had felt a friendly, almost loving, attachment to the place. All of it was so relaxed and cozy, the exact opposite of her parents' immaculately clean home. She welcomed the change though. Like most people, as a child, she had always secretly harbored the desire to make a huge mess, and never be told to clean it up. Hermione had forever wanted to throw something on the floor, and not pick it up and put it in its correct place. In this new environment, she would be able to do just that.

Once she had fully awoken, Hermione opened her eyes and was welcomed by overwhelmingly blue walls, carpet, and furniture. The strong burst of color had somehow been unnoticed by the young witch the evening before. She had been so tired from the long day that she had walked in almost a daze to the indigo chest in the corner, and had chosen a suitably comfy set of pajamas for her first night in the Weasley house. The more she gazed around, the more her eyes were able to identify how persistent the designer of the room had been in using multitudes of blue. The walls were a soft sky blue; the carpet was a deep cyan; the full length mirror was rimmed with cobalt painted wood, and even the paintings on the walls were of blue geraniums and verbascums, swaying in an invisible breeze.

Hermione rubbed her tired eyes, and even when the caramel brown irises were tightly concealed by her lids, the overpoweringly blue room left its mark. The many shades of blue swam under her eyelids and she had to open them so as to not get dizzy. Hermione sat up and stretched, a satisfying yawn escaping her mouth. After a full night's sleep, she was ready to begin the day. Hermione, as always, began to plan out what she would accomplish throughout her day, but she found that she was unable to do her usual morning routine. Hermione had no idea what today would hold. For all she knew, she would be casting spells like everybody else in this new, strange world. At this thought, she became engulfed with emotion. It was an odd mixture of eager and nervous, that made her stomach churn. Before her nerves could get the best of her and cause her to stay in bed for a few more hours, she slid out from under the covers. She stretched once more, stood up, and walked to the chest against the sky blue wall. Hermione pulled hard on the lid, expecting it to be heavy, but to her surprise, it was extremely light. Knowing she wasn't that strong, she deduced that magic had been used in her new room to aid her in the day's simple tasks. It made her feel welcome that the Weasleys had gone to such lengths to make things simpler. She would surely need as many things to be simple in her new life as possible.

As the brunette was choosing a nice outfit for her first full day in her temporary home, a voice rang out below the floorboards.

"'Mione! Are you up yet?" Ron bellowed from floors below.

Smiling to herself, she cheekily answered, "Well, with how loud you're yelling, I doubt I could be sleeping!"

A deep chuckle could be heard, and Hermione could picture the lop-sided grin forming on Ron's face when he heard her playful remark. Even in her thoughts, his smile was so powerful that she had no choice but to return it. A smile turned into a giggle, and soon the worries that she had hidden in the back of her thoughts vanished. Such a simple gesture from this man could brighten her day before it even began. Hermione felt herself wishing to wake up to his strong voice every morning. The idea was pushed out of her mind as quickly as it had come though. She needed to get changed so she could get a head start on what was sure to be a day packed full of new and unusual experiences.

"I'll be only a moment!" she yelled loud enough for Ron to hear, wherever in the house he was.

Wanting to keep her word, she grabbed the first shirt, underwear, socks, and pair of jeans that her grasp found in the enormous painted trunk. After speedily throwing them on, she walked over to the mirror to see the final product. For the second time in mere hours, she was stunned by her grown appearance. She had changed so much, but her childish features were still detectable by someone who knew her in her youth. Even with her new womanly figure, she was still a bushy haired, no make-up know-it-all though.

Sighing because she knew no amount of time would tame her frizzy locks, she turned from the mirror. Now was not the time to pick apart her appearance. Hermione opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

She squinted. She hadn't noticed how dim her room had been, since she hadn't turned on the light, until she walked out onto the bright landing. Across from her room's wood door, was an entrance to another bedroom. To her right was one more door. This one was open though and past it, a ladder could be seen, leading up through a hole in the ceiling. To her left, was the long staircase. Blinking her watering eyes, she made her way to the stairs that were only a few feet away. The Weasley house was taller than it was wide, and her room was on either the third or fourth floor; she couldn't remember which. With her small hand grasping the oak banister, she began the long descent to the living room. Hermione only made it a few steps though, before she was once again distracted by something utterly incredible. This time, it was not a spell or owl though. It was a picture hanging on the wall to her left. By looking down the stairs, she could see that the entire left wall was covered in moving family photos, while the entire right was dotted with floor-length windows. Every five feet or so, a wooden rimmed window showed the woods and gardens so many floors below. As awe striking and beautiful as the view was, it was the photo nearest to Hermione that held her attention.

It was of that teenage girl, though much younger in the photo. Hermione knew it was her because of the intensity with which she looked at everything. It was the same curious yet piercing gaze that had been used on her at the hospital. The child seemed to be around ten years old or so, and she was opening a present wrapped in green wrapping paper, a decorative, red bow on the top. Her eyes widened as she saw the contents of the package. Hermione gasped as well when the gift was revealed. It was a toilet seat. The little girl seemed overjoyed by the odd Christmas gift, and she giggled so hard that she fell onto the hardwood floor. The two adults in the picture had completely different reactions to the present. The male, Ron's father, stood there smiling and shaking his head, as if a small child had done something mischievous but charming. Mrs. Weasley however, looked completely furious. She darted out of the frame and returned with a red envelope and parchment, on which she scribbled with a fury.

Hermione didn't have much time to be confused by the odd picture though, because Ron's voice rang out through the house once more, "'Mione! Hurry up, breakfast is getting cold! If you don't hurry, I'll eat it all!"

"Coming!" she answered, hurrying down the many flights of stairs, not stopping to view either the landscape or any of the photos that hung on the wall. By the time she reached the bottom, the picture was out of her thoughts.

Hermione jumped the last few stairs and speed walked into the little kitchen. Ron sat at the table, leaning back in his chair so that only two legs touched the floor. His maroon sweater had a large letter R sewed onto the front in gold stitches, and his jeans had some dirt on the knees. Mrs. Weasley was busy at the stove, cooking something that smelled absolutely delicious. Her brown, hand-made looking dress flowed with her as she cooked for her family. Her white apron with tiny, pink polka dots had at least six pockets sewn into it, but only two had something in them. Her wand and a long, wooden spoon seemed to be the only utensils that the woman needed to serve a meal for her large family. Before Hermione could ask what was being made, Ron's mother spun around and with a flick of her wand, a chair was pulled out for the young witch. Hermione happily took it and tried not to appear too fascinated by the magical gesture. Hermione could tell that Mrs. Weasley had been working for some time. Sweat dampened her red waves of hair and formed droplets on her pale cheeks. Had the two been closer, she would've offered to help, but since she had only just met the person, Hermione felt uncomfortable offering.

Once she was seated, Mrs. Weasley set silverware, a glass, and a plate on the table for her guest and turned her attention to her youngest son. Hermione was surprised to see her smack Ron in the head with the large, wooden spoon she had been using to cook, and holler, "Ronald, don't sit like that! I don't know how many times I have to tell you. You'll fall and hurt yourself if you don't sit properly!" As soon as the wood hit his flaming haired head, Ron returned all of his chair's legs to the floor.

"Ow! Mum that hurt!" Ron said, while rubbing his injury with his freckled palm.

"Well maybe if you listened to me once in a while, this wouldn't happen," his mother calmly responded. Turning once more to Hermione she added sweetly, "Now eat up Hermione; you barely had anything to eat at dinner and I don't want you to stay just skin and bones my dear."

Hermione, not knowing how to respond to being called 'just skin and bones', just smiled and reached for the fork that was laid out in front of her. Mrs. Weasley took this as a silent agreement to her offer, took her slender wand from her apron pocket in her free hand, and flicked the thin piece of wood once more. Dishes filled with all sorts of breakfast foods came zooming out of the fridge and cupboards. Juices and milk soared to the table and landed softly before the hungry young girl. Danishes, cereals, hotcakes, waffles, scrambled eggs, and blueberry muffins were only a few of the dozens of options that were set out for her. Magic would never cease to amaze her. Once again, she tried to seem used to objects moving on their own. As she was choosing which to begin with, Ron shoveled a helping of each dish into his overflowing plate.

"Ronald, you already ate breakfast. Let Hermione take what she wants first," his mother lectured, earning her a groan from her son. A death glare silenced Ron's annoying moaning though.

"But Mum, I've been waiting for hours for her to wake up. I'm starved from all that patience!" he whined. Ron's stomach growled almost as if it was on cue.

"Hours? Hah! It's been only twenty minutes," Mrs. Weasley said while trying to hold back a smile.

An honestly shocked Ron said, "Blimey, only twenty minutes? I really am terrible at waiting. I bet I would be better at it with a full stomach." With a grin, he once again began to pile food onto a plate. This time, it wasn't his though. Once the dish was packed with an assortment of delicious ways to start the day, he handed it back to Hermione. "And maybe you would wake up on time if you actually ate something."

For a moment, Hermione forgot to take the stuffed plate from the redhead. She just sat there, staring into his chillingly blue eyes. Whenever he said a cheeky comment, they lit up. It was breathtaking. How lost she could get in a single, perfect glance. And how even more marvelous and sparkling his eyes became when he blushed. The intoxicating blue stood out more when his cheeks were rosy. Hermione was barely able to pull away from his gaze to take her meal from his firm grip. She grasped into the white ceramic and began to busy herself with her food. She needed something to distract her. If she was left without something to busy herself, she knew she would end up staring once more into those beautiful pools of sapphire blue.

Hermione couldn't help but groan quietly. It was no longer deniable. She couldn't just push it out of her thoughts anymore, because it was all she had been thinking about. She knew it was foolish and absurd, but she felt more than friendship towards Ronald Weasley. Sadly, she knew another fact that she could no longer hide from herself. She was just his friend. When he spoke of the past, he only ever referred to her as his friend. If there had ever been something more between them, she would've surely been told. And if they had been together since the beginning of their school days and nothing more than camaraderie had developed, how could it now? Why would he love a broken woman when he had no feelings for her when she was whole? For the rest of her life she would be making distractions. Just as she entertained herself now with playing with her morning meal, she would make up task after task to keep herself from falling even more for the man across the table from her.

AN: Well, I originally planned for this to be a lot longer than it turned out to be, but as I said in the above Author's Note, I have been insanely busy lately. I'm afraid that if I don't put this part of the chapter out there, that it will be another week before anything new is published. My dance recital is this Wednesday though, so after this week, I will have Mondays and Thursdays free. This will hopefully give me some time to write. Thank you to everybody who has read my story so far and please, please review. They honestly mean the world to me and are what inspire me to keep writing.