A/N: Fizzing Whizbees-45 reviews! I really appreciate how so many people took the time to read and review Chapter 9! A ginormous (extremely big) THANK YOU goes out to: cathyrock, Seek, Schyler, GABBY, Lara Potter, milky way bar, sailorstarryeyes, GreenEyes, aurorasakura16, ShadowHexx771, Balewiyiel, Miss Court-A-Doo, Sunflowa, FairyPrincess, TheDaughterOfKings, joni, jenn, Bella, Thomas O'Malley, MyOnlyCat, I AM EOWYN, sakura668, Chrissy, Eloise, LadySimone123, antonia czinger, waterfaerie, Lipgloss, suckr4romance, Mandi Roberts, Amy Chris, Tay'slilgal, Eponine Weasley, DaggerQuill, KrazieChikadee, aishteru, dancerrdw, One With A Constant Sugar Highand last, but definitely not least,the lovely email reviewer Ellie!I would also like to thank the following readers who reviewed chapters other than 9 in the past week: Mrz. Potter, Lucy, Airifairy, mAlFoYiSaWeSoMe, Rupertlover14 and JSRfan. Now, without further ado, I present to you...the "Seduction Chapter" (although, I'm you beforehand that it may not turn out the way you expected it to, but it's still amusing!).


"This is a terrible, terrible idea," I murmured into the Kleenex Ginny had handed me to blot off the excess bright red lipstick she that she had cajoled me into allowing her to apply on my lips.

"No it's not," Ginny said absentmindedly, rifling through her cosmetic bag for a tube of mascara. "Blokes love big, pouty red lips!"

"Not this bloke," I corrected her, sorely tempted to wipe all the color off. "And not at 7:30 in the morning! He's likely to be more engrossed in devouring his kippers and porridge than staring at my mouth. Honestly, do you think Ron likes witches with stiff, made-up faces?" I was trying to be tactful- REALLY!

My close friend's shoulders visibly slumped.

"Hey, I'm sorry Gin," I said softly, trying to make amends. "I appreciate what you're doing for me and everything, but your brother has never been bothered before by the fact that I don't wear make-up. Even to seduce Ron I still want to be me- natural, wholesome Hermione."

"I was just trying to make you beautiful," she said dejectedly, returning the blue eyeshadow back to her bag as she watched me remove all traces of beauty products. "Not that you aren't already, of course," she added hastily.

I smiled wryly. "I reckon I get the point. How about just a light lipgloss?" I compromised as her brown eyes lit up. Unbeknownst to me, however...


"I can't take this anymore!" Ron growled, practically pulling his vivid hair out of its roots. Harry patted his arm sympathetically.

"Just tell her, mate," he grinned goofily, mind still whirling over his encounter with his best mate's little sister, who, well, wasn't so little any longer. His grin widened. "In fact, why don't you seduce her?"

Ron literally spit out the last of the Chocolate Frogs he had been saving since the journey home on the Hogwarts Express.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" he gasped. "I can't do that! Furthermore, Hermione would not want me to do that!"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Harry chuckled under his breath. "Not full-fledged seducing," he said louder, rolling his emerald eyes. "Just small, subtle actions- play with her curls, touch her hand, pay her compliments..."

Ron relaxed a tad bit. "Oh, you mean flirting," he sighed, an expression of relief crossing his face which quickly turned to utter horror. "Harry- I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FLIRT!"

"You'll learn fast," Harry shrugged, trying to flatten down his messy raven-colored hair, but, of course, his efforts were met without success. "Starting at breakfast." 'Ginny Weasley, you are my hero,' Harry snickered in his mind. He and Ginny had done more than just passionately snog...oh yes, much more (A/N: Get your mind out of the gutter, readers!), in the form of planning a wicked matchmaking scheme involving a certain witch and wizard who were clearly head over heels for each other but were too daft and scared to admit their feelings.

"Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a match," Harry sang softly under his breath as he followed Ron into the basement kitchen.


"Good morning, Ron," I smiled widely as the object of my affections took a seat RIGHT NEXT TO ME!"

"Morning, 'Mione," he flashed me a lopsided grin, that, let me tell you, weakened my knees to a jelly and would've resulted in me falling to the floor in an ungraceful heap if it hadn't been- thank Merlin- for the invention of chairs- 'No matter how uncomfortable they may be,' I thought as I squirmed around in my hard wooden seat, trying to find a nonexistent soft spot.

Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry and Ginny (who were holding hands surreptitiously under the table) suspiciously. Bloody- that woman can spot romance a mile away!

"Ginny?" she questioned. Blushing madly, her daughter nodded as she understood the unspoken question communicated through the bond only mothers and their children canshare. (A/N: Does anyone understand what I am speaking of?).

"Yes. Harry and I are together," Ginny clarified, sneaking a glance over at her shyly grinning boyfriend. I had to hand it to Mrs. Weasley- she took in all in stride, as if this was a normal, daily occurrence.

"I'm happy for you two," her Mum said simply, placing a plate of toast on the table and looking the couple over with a hint of a smile. Then her eyes began to tear up.

"What's wrong, Mum?" Ginny asked concernedly while Ron looked faintly alarmed.

"Nothing, dear. Just an old woman reminiscing."

"You're not old, Mrs. Weasley," I said truthfully- for SHE WASN'T! Many didn't believe that Molly Weasley was only in her late thirties- the stress of seven children and the growing threat of Voldemort- and the fact that her "good-as-a-son" Harry was #1 on Voldemort's agenda, gave her premature aging in the form of hints of grey hair, excessive lines, and wrinkles on her face.

"Remembering what?" Ginny questioned curiously.

Her Mum gave us all a watery smile. "When Arthur and I were falling in love 25 years ago (A/N: I know the dates don't jive, but please bear with me!), Voldemort was quickly beginning his reign of terror." She got a faraway look in her sea-blue eyes. "We were so young, so innocent, living in a world full of terrible evil. We didn't have time for a proper, slow relationship. Three months after we recognized our affections for each other, we were married."

My mouth dropped open.

"That must have been a whirlwind relationship," I pointed out, taking a sip of pumpkin juice (Merlin, I am ADDICTED to that stuff).

"Yes dear, it was," Mrs. Weasley smiled as her mind went back in time to twenty-some years ago. Her face then grew serious. "However, do you know why we did that? Because we weren't sure if we would live to see another day. Our love for each other was so strong that we knew we simply wouldn't be able to survive if either of us was killed. Therefore we made every minute count and were wed as soon as possible so we could enjoy the pleasures of being husband and wife, at least for a little while." Her face faintly colored at those last words, and I barely restrained myself from letting out a small giggle.

"That's so sweet, Mrs. Weasley," I sighed.

"You never told me this version of your courtship," Ginny said mock-accusingly.

"The point I'm trying to get to here, you lot," she silenced Harry and Ron who were beginning to chatter again, "Is that in a world full of uncertainties like today, you must live life to the fullest. You must not let anything be unsaid, confessions unmade- you must have no regrets." She glanced significantly at Ron and me. Blimey, did that get me thinking! Who were Ron and I fooling, dancing around a relationship at a time like this? Who knew what would happen in the future? I'd never be able to live with myself if Ron was ever murdered, not aware of my deep, true love for him- or vice versa. That did it. For once, I was actually going to take the advice of Ginny Weasley by my own will.

Very gently and subtly, I began to rub Ron's foot with my own. His reaction was BLOODY PRICELESS!

Nearly jumping out of his chair, he demanded of the occupants of the table, "Who's touching my foot?"

"Perhaps it's Kreacher," I smiled angelically, raising a forkful of kippers to my mouth.

The object of my affections proceeded to get down on all fours and crawl under the table, searching for that wretched house-elf, much to the amusement of Harry, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley, who, being the very keen and observant people they are, had caught on quickly.

"Touching my body parts," he growled in a muffled voice. "You bloody bugger! I'm going to tear you from limb to limb WITHOUT MAGIC!"

"There's no one here," came Ron's confused voice a few seconds later.

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," I snickered.

"Who's Sherlock?" an irate redhead-now-sitting-back-in-his seat and his sister questioned in unison.

"A fictional detective in a Muggle book series," I patiently explained, once again surprised at how ignorant the Weasleys- even though they were Purebloods- could be of the other world. I mean, HONESTLY! Who has never curled up with a good Sherlock Holmes mystery? (Voice echoes despondently because no one answers and instead stares at the bushy-haired witch almost pityingly).

"Right," Ron smirked. "I bloody knew that."

"Ronald, don't swear!" Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and I all reprimanded the redhead in unison, who immediately blushed.

Harry and Ron proceeded to talk quietly amongst themselves about guy things, and as Ginny and her mother began to chat about what new school supplies she'd need for the upcoming year, I could feel my eyelids began to droop. I'd been up since the crack of dawn, for Merlin's sake, and had gone through some exhausting experiences in the following two hours (all involving a certain bloke and his best mate, of course). Finding it more and more difficult to resist sleep, I concluded that a little nap wouldn't hurt and gave into the sleep dust that had accumulated.

"You see Hermione, I rather fancy you," Ron flashed me his lopsided grin as he took another step closer to me.

"You do?" I breathed, shivering as he ran a strong hand down my cheek.

"So beautiful," he whispered huskily and then immediately passionately pressed his lips against mine.

"Oh, Ron!" I moaned as he trailed dozens of fiery-hot kisses up my neck and pulled me against him.

"Enjoying this, Mrs. Granger?" he said lazily as I fervently ran my hands through his hair, down to those broad shoulders, to his sexy, firm chest.

"Tremendously," I barely managed to squeak before his lips devoured mine again.

Once again, I moaned. "Oh, Ron! Please don't stop!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he smirked, as he ran his fingers up and down my spine.

"Hermione! Hermione!" I heard a faraway voice calling. "Ron," I gasped, "You are a damn good kisser..."

"Hermione!" This time the voice wasn't in my dream, as I awoke from my steamy thoughts and found myself face to face with a going-crazy-with-laughter-Ginny. This was simply not happening.

"Er-, hello," I said groggily, fully taking in the scene around me and seeing a Ron-with-the-absolutely-brightest-shade-of-red-imaginable-covering-his-face, and a Harry-about-to-pee-his-pants-from-merriment.

A bit irate at having my wonderful daydream interrupted, I snapped rather icily, "What the bloody is going on?"

"You fell asleep, and, well, you obviously had a very exciting, stimulating dream." Ginny made no attempt to hide her snigger.

"I did not!" I cried indignantly.

"Yes you did!" she smirked.

"You talked in your sleep, Hermione," Harry barely managed to snort before dissolving into another fit of manly giggles.

"You moaned," Ginny shrieked, obviously enjoying this a whole heck of a lot more than I was. "You said, 'Oh Ron! Oh Ron! Please don't stop!' And, my personal favorite, to quote you word for word, 'Ron, you're a damn good kisser!'"

Face steaming, I considered taking a leaf out of Ron's book and immediately crawling under the table. Only, I would never come out. I would make it my new home. 'Perhaps Ginny could shove some food under it every few days,' I thought morosely.

There was no way out of this. I simply would have to hold my head high and utilize some of my Gryffindor pride- and courage, the latter of which the supply of was running rather low these days.

"So what if I did?" I said airily.

"It's a bit more significant than your stubborn mind may comprehend." Harry leaned back in his chair. "You see, normally when a witch moans a wizard's name in her sleep, punctuated with remarks such as "You're a damn good kisser," it means that she rather fancies the wizard and desires to share a good snog or even a shag with him!"

I took a deep breath. "So what if I do?"


"Hermione, it's not THAT bad," Ginny tried to convince me through the locked door.

"Yes it is," I snapped, resuming my pacing around the bedroom.

"If you don't open that door right now," Ginny threatened, "I will use magic."

"You can't use magic outside of school!" I reminded her grumpily, flopping back onto my bed and staring at the cracked, dirty ceiling. "Please, just leave me alone!"

There was a long pause and suspicious sounds of something scratching the doorknob. Then, within a mere minute or so, the door swung open.

"Bobby pins," Ginnny said simply, throwing a bent one on the bureau. "The Muggle way to open locked doors."

"Well, aren't you just bloody brilliant," I grumbled, with great diffiuclty resisting the urge to wring a certain witch's neck.

"Why, I reckon I am," Ginny smiled and struck an arrognat pose reminiscent to that of a Muggle model.

"My life is RUINED!" I cried dramatically.

"Hermione," Ginny began sternly, "I thought you were better than this. So, the object of your affections knows you fancy him. What's the bloody big deal? I would expect you, possibly the cleverest witch to ever grace Hogwart's halls, to be able to handle a mere bloke! Let's face it, you've stared down the face of mortal danger so many times- this is absolutely nothing compared to those situations!" And with those parting words, Ginny Weasley exited our bedroom, obviously to find Harry and get another good snog out of him.

Ginny was exactly right, as usual. The only problem was, for me, facing Ron after he learned that I fancied him was just as scary as meeting face-to-face with Voldemort.

"What am I going to do?" I wailed despondently.

"You could start with combing thatbloody hair of yours," the old mirror wheezed.