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People often felt that there was something unknown and strange about the people that lived in the house on 36 Sterling Drive. All they knew for sure was that a young couple lived there; a young woman and a young man. The woman worked at home, and the man didn't work at all, as far as they could tell. They were a handsome couple, and could sometimes be seen strolling down the street, hands locked, talking nonchalantly about the weather, or some sport. Sometimes, the man could be seen walking alone down the street, sunglasses on and hands in his pockets, more often then not whistling to himself.

This would not seem at all strange, had the young man not been blind.

The young man was a handsome, cheerful- looking fellow, and anybody that tried to strike up a conversation with him would not be disappointed. He was charming, slightly clumsy, and had an almost lazy air about him. However, his strange sense of knowing what was going on in the world of vision was slightly unnerving, and people tended keep a distance. This young man, also known as Ron Weasley, was in his bedroom, reading a book.

In fact, it was his slight laugh that caused Hermione Granger to put down her pencil and investigate what he was doing. Hermione worked at home, for she was a writer of spellbooks, and a good one at that. She stepped into their bedroom and Ron looked up from his book, his blue, unseeing eyes full of emotion.

"How's it going?" she said, resting against the doorway.

"Brilliant, just brilliant," Ron replied, trying (and failing) to sound as if he wasn't enjoying himself, "you've actually got me hooked, Hermione, you've actually got me hooked on a novel."

"Novel," Hermione sniffed indignantly, "For crying out loud, Ronald, it's a Chudley Cannons book! Let me see it for a sec."

He held it out to her and she took it from him. She opened the bright orange book and ran her hand along it's pages. Tiny bumps, Braille, formed a plot and took the place of words. She nodded.

"Interesting…" she said, and Ron knew that she was lying.

Hermione was never one for Quidditch, even though she tried to get into it. The most she had ever enjoyed Quidditch was in their fourth year, at the world cup.

Ron laughed, "Gimme that," and he put the book on his bedside table.

He looked at her awkwardly; he had been charmed so that he could make out faint blurs of people, which is also how he was able to get around by himself. He needed no walking stick, no guide-dog. He had magic.

"What?" Hermione asked, knowing all too well the look he was giving her.

"I never thought I would say it, but I want to have a job; I want to do something with my life. I think I wanna be a professor."

"You think so?" Hermione said, "Why?"

"Why a professor?" Ron said, "Probably because they don't have to do a lot of work, and they get to boss people around."

Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"Ron! Being a professor is a lot of work! People's educations are in your hands!"

Ron lay down and faced the wall.

"I still want to teach," he said, "but I don't know how I'm supposed to get the training and all that rubbish."

Hermione smiled.

"I do. I have a couple connections at Hogwarts, and I'll see what I can do for you. But you also have an appointment today, so you should probably get up and get moving. I have your clothes on the chair."

Ron grumbled a thank you, and grudgingly got out of bed. Hermione left him to his morning ritual. Every morning, Hermione would pick out his clothes and put them on a chair. The two of them had everything set up so that Ron could navigate through the house and know where everything is. Hermione stepped into her library and looked around.

Books were everywhere; on top of shelves, on desks, on the floor; and of course on bookshelves. Some were normal books, others were Braille. Novels, spellbooks, potion-books, short-stories – everything you could imagine. A few of them, she had written herself, but most of them had been purchased. Hermione busied herself with her work until Ron appeared fully dressed, in the room, his hair a mess. Hermione giggled.

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed, "That water was effing cold!"

Hermione got up and smoothed Ron's hair down with one hand, and kissed him softly.

"Then why didn't you turn up the heat a little?"

"Because I dropped my damn wand, that's why!" He replied defensively.

"A simple accio would have solved that problem, Ronald," Hermione said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ron's featured darkened and he sulked; he had always been a little sensitive about certain things.

"How come you have the buckets of brainpower?" Ron asked, scowling and swinging his left foot an inch off the ground.

Hermione stifled a laugh, but there was no reason to keep from smiling – he couldn't see her expression.

"So I can help you find your wand, that's why." She replied smartly.

Ron couldn't suppress a shy smile.

"Yeah, but now I'm bloody freezing to death." He said in an undertone.

Hermione took his hand and led him towards their room.

"What're you doing?" Ron asked as she pulled him along.

"Warming you up," Hermione replied, and Ron tripped.

Hermione giggled and closed the door behind her; they had some time before they had to leave anyway.

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A/N – end of chapter one! What will happen at the doctor's office? Will Ron get to be a professor? Find out soon!

Reviews are much appreciated. Thanks:)

-Dayrunner