Author's Notes: I am in a writing frenzy. I have just written a Pansy/Draco one-shot for my "The Seven Deadly Sins" series and boy! I loved the way it came out! Then, I proceeded in proof-reading (is it proof-reading when you do it to your own work?) this chapter and boy! I hated it! Compared to my other fan-fiction I find this so bland and uninteresting.. Anyway, I hope you'll like it, naturally! I promise the next three upcoming chapters will be much better. Two things to know on this fan-fiction: 1. I will update a chapter every Saturday and 2. rating will go up to M from chapter four. Just one thing to know on this very chapter: there is a whole chunk of the chapter where I have no idea which verb tense I should use! I started with the Past Perfect, but it sounded weird so I changed some verbs back to Simple Past. It's the bit from "Earlier that month..." to "...manage to calm down.", every suggestion and corrections on that bit are more than happily received! Happy reading guys!

II.

"Hermione, keep up!" screamed Ginny above the noise of the crowd. "If we don't get to the backstage area in time we are never going to get the hair you need!"

"The hair Ron needs!" Hermione cried back. Her own voice came back muffled to her ears. Two hours in a concert and she thought she had gone deaf. And now, she felt all wobbly as she followed Ginny against a crowd of people who were trying to make their way to the exits. The two women, instead, were struggling to get backstage. The hair they were after was that of Glenda Chittock, the popular, powerful and gorgeous presenter of Witching Hour, at the venue that night to interview the Weird Sisters after the concert.

Earlier that month, Ron had expressed his desire to see his wife transformed in the W.W.N. superstar. The night he came home with the last ingredient needed for the Polyjuice Potion, the two of them had sat down at their kitchen table and read each other's list. Comments had been kept to a minimum on both parts (that was the agreement) except for when Ron had reached the name of Viktor Krum.

"Krum?" he asked venomously. "Oh, okay…" he added upon seeing the brackets following the name that said 'Just joking'.

Hermione had smiled at his reaction. As Ron discovered, her list followed a clear path. She didn't mention anybody they knew personally, anybody they have ever talked to or even seen in person. They were all people Ron had seen on some Chocolate Frog Cards, or maybe on the W.W.N. or even a few Quidditch players (they had to be that famous for her to remember) from some match he had dragged her to see through the years. Ron wasn't able to recall the appearance of most of the people she had written about, but the ones he remembered were famous for their good looks. The last point of her list informed him that she was also quite fine with a complete stranger. Apparently, the element of surprise excited her.

On the other hand, Ron's list started with Hermione's name. She smiled and wondered if he had felt let down by the fact that his name wasn't on her list. Then he had added some of his long time crushes, Madam Rosmerta, Fleur and Lavender Brown (Hermione had flared her nostrils without commenting), and apparently some new ones such as Glenda Chittock and Padma Patil.

They had stared at the lists for a long moment before actually speaking, but in the end it was Hermione who broke the silence. "You know what?" she asked out of nowhere. "I don't think that we should impersonate someone we know." She looked at him seriously. "I mean, imagine how awkward that would be to meet them after we had used their identities to have sex."

Ron seemed to think about it. "I don't know," he said unconvinced. "I don't think I would feel too embarrassed ordering a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks after I've had sex with Madam Rosmerta…" His eyes darted towards Hermione, alarmed at the slip of his tongue. "I mean sex with you!" he corrected himself.

Hermione smiled. "I know what you mean, Ron," she said calmly. "So, you want me to transform into an old lady to please you in bed? Well, that's not depressing at all…"

Ron looked at her ghastly. "You are the first name on that list!" he protested.

"Right," she said nonchalantly. She hadn't even started to explain to him why her name on that list was a great exercise in futility. "Have you decided how you'll get the hair?"

Ron looked at her without understanding. "How are you getting the hair?"

"I did a bit of research," she replied, "all the people on my list sell their hair in shops like George's."

Ron furrowed his brow. "Do they?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, for… you know… this kind of things."

"They sell their hair so that people can transform into them when they are having sex?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, officially you can buy their hair so that you can transform into them for fun purposes like a house party or your child's birthday. Officiously , it's mostly for sex. But you have to sign a contract when you buy hair like that and they put you under a binding spell until you have used the hair. So you can't possibly employ it for mischief," she explained.

He had nodded. As always, Hermione had thought everything through.

"But I guess you can always go and ask Madam Rosmerta for a hair," she giggled, "she won't suspect anything at all."

Ron had glared at her at that time, mainly because she had been right. He had then decided, following Hermione's sensible suggestion, to go for the one person on that list that he didn't know personally: Glenda Chittock. Ginny had pulled some strings and had miraculously found them two tickets for a concert where the witch was going to appear for an interview. The tickets had cost them a fortune, since they included a backstage pass, but Hermione had assured Ron that it would have all been worth it.

It was only on the day of the concert that Ron had remembered that he had to work that night, sending Hermione into a fit of rage that only Ginny's proposal to go with her had managed to calm down.

"At last! I thought we would never get here!" exclaimed Ginny as she finally stopped in front of a door that read 'Weird Sisters – Private. Keep Out.' inside a star-shaped sign. "Who did Ron choose for you again?"

"Excuse me," said Hermione, leaning against the wall next to the door and catching her breath, "I chose for myself." She looked at her sister-in-law and shrugged her shoulders. "I went with the complete stranger. I just hope Ron chooses wisely." Hermione had sent her husband to buy a complete stranger's hair and gave him full discretionary power on the decision. She just hoped that his idea of 'handsome young man' was the same as hers. From his point of view, Ron was over the moon when he discovered that Gamble & Japes were selling the item he needed and that he didn't have to go to buy it from George.

"I understand," giggled Ginny, "I bet that, just for one night, you want someone who is not developing the same Butterbeer belly as his father…"

Hermione flushed. "Well, I find Ron's belly quite attractive," she mumbled. At that moment though, the door opened and a tall, darkish man with a strong jaw line looked down at the two women. "Yes?" he asked in a deep voice.

"We are here to see Ms. Glenda Chittock," said Ginny, raising her pass in front of the man's face. "I'm Harry Potter's wife."

The man looked unfazed by her introduction. "Wait here, please," he replied calmly, closing the door and disappearing inside the dressing room once more.

Hermione looked scandalized at Ginny.

"What?" asked Ginny. "Sometimes it works just fine if I mention that I'm Harry Potter's wife." She sighed. "Much more effectively than saying that I played Quidditch professionally."She crossed her arms. "Merlin! We won four European Cups while I played in the Holyhead Harpies!"

Hermione shook her head amused, but before she could say anything to make her sister-in-law feel better, the door opened again and the man told them to come in and to make it quick.

ooo

"Really?" asked Harry, chuckling and spluttering his Butterbeer on his way back from Ron's fridge. "You were thrown out of Glenda Chittock's dressing room?"

From the couch, Ginny nodded, laughing lightly, on the other hand, Hermione looked positively flustered. Ron wasn't laughing at all, on the contrary, he was feeling quite guilty, he sunk in the armchair with his hands clutched around his bottle of Butterbeer. All he had to do for Hermione was to buy the hair in Diagon Alley. She had to go and pull it out a woman, it didn't seem a fair trade to him.

"It was the Weird Sisters' dressing room and it is not funny," hissed Hermione, "we would have had a criminal record right now if they had pressed charges."

Harry laughed harder. "Just because you pulled one hair out of her precious head?"

"One hair?" giggled Ginny. "She tore a whole lock!"

Hermione flushed. "I was going for a hair, she… moved."

"And then you started a cat fight," said Harry, smiling. "And Ginny joined in."

"And the bodyguard too," added Ginny.

Harry sat down next to Ron. "No wands, no magic, nothing?"

Ginny shook her head. "Just hands, nails and hair." She pointed at her head where a whole lock was missing. Luckily, Hermione's bushy hair covered any bald spot that the fight might have left her with. "But it was fun!"

"If that's your idea of fun," hissed Hermione, crossing her legs and arms tightly.

"But you got the hair in the end, right?" asked Ron anxiously. He wouldn't have liked for Hermione to go through the same thing all over again. Or, Merlin forbid, he wouldn't have liked to have to do it himself in case she told him to go get the bloody hair without her!

"We got it," said Ginny as Hermione pulled a phial out of her pocket and placed it on the table for everyone to see. Ginny took it in her hands. "Her hair is flaming red." She examined it closely. "Actually, it looks a bit like mine, doesn't it?"

Ron grabbed it from her hands and looked at it. "It's nothing like yours," he said simply. "This is so much brighter and smoother."

Ginny glared at him, her hand going instinctively to her hair. "Why, thanks," she said sarcastically, before turning her attention to Hermione. "So, when are you going to try it?"

Hermione looked at Ron. "We don't know," she said quickly. "Maybe this weekend…" She shrugged. "The Polyjuice Potion is ready anyway."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, maybe, this weekend…"

Harry and Ginny exchanged a quick, knowing look. "We can take Rose," suggested Harry, with a smile.

"Yes, she can sleep at ours," agreed Ginny. "So her parents can have some kinky sex transformed into someone else…" She laughed.

Ron glared at her, but instead of replying something – or even thanking Harry and Ginny for offering to take Rose– he preferred to gulp down some more Butterbeer and try to forget that his sister and his best friend were talking about his sex life in front of him and, to top that, they seemed to enjoy themselves immensely.

ooo

"Dinner was very nice, Hermione, thank you," said Ron as he helped her cleaning the table. "You should make those mini quiches more often."

She took the plates her husband was passing her. "But then they wouldn't be special, Ron," she said matter-of-factly.

Ron nodded thoughtfully and checked the clock on the wall. "When do you want to start?" he asked, trying to sound cool despite the anxiety in his voice.

"As soon as I finish here," she replied sweetly. She did look much calmer than he was. Probably bottling up all her emotions for later on. He hoped she felt excited, though, and not uncomfortable like himself. Well, he was not uncomfortable, he just felt a bit sceptical about the whole thing.

"Right," she exclaimed as she gathered the table cloth and folded it neatly. "Ready?"

Ron stiffened. "Ready when you are," he said, forcing a smile with great difficulty.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "You know we don't have to do it, right? I mean, if you are not comfortable it would probably be wiser to abandon the whole idea and—"

"After all you've gone through for that hair?" he asked. "Of course we have to go through with it!"

"Listen, it won't work if you don't want it." She sighed. "I don't understand what the problem is, anyway."

He lowered his eyes. "Well, you know I'm not good with this kind of things," he blurted out, "I'm more of a let's go to bed, make love and fall asleep kind of guy."

"And that strategy is working… how?" she asked him, crossing her arms on her chest.

He leaned the back of his thighs against the table edge. "Okay, it's not working, but maybe this is not going to work either." He sighed. "Plus, I like you, so, I don't know how this is going to help."

"You like me?" she asked, flaring her nostrils. "Well, thank you, Ron, after four years of marriage I thought you loved me, but I suppose 'like' will have to do."

"I mean I like your body," he hurried to say. "Of course I love you."

Hermione gave him a half-smile. "It's still going to be me. And it's only for an hour, it's not like it's forever."

Ron snorted. "Yes, but it's a bit like cheating…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Listen, you have my permission to cheat on me with… me."

He snorted again. "If you put it like that, you make me sound stupid."

She didn't reply, but she secretly agreed. "So?"

"Alright, let's do it," he said, trying to sound quite enthusiastic.

Hermione smiled happily and wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoes to kiss him. "I love you," she whispered.

"Love you back," he replied, his hands on her waist.

She let him go and smiled. She turned and opened a cupboard over the sink, drawing out two glasses filled with a disgusting, green, thick liquid. She gave one to Ron and kept one for herself. "Do you have the hair?" she asked expectantly.

Ron nodded. "It's on my bedside table," he replied, eyeing the liquid with revulsion, he remembered very well the taste of the Polyjuice Potion and was not too eager to drink it again.

"Okay, you go to our bathroom and I'll use the one down the hallway," she said, "and no vomiting on the floor is allowed. I don't want to spend most of the hour we have cleaning up your mess."

"Why can't we share our bathroom?" he asked puzzled.

Hermione shrugged a shoulder. "I don't want to see your transformation," she said, "and I don't want you to see mine. You know how ugly that is…"

He knew and now that he thought about it, he agreed. "Okay," he said, tightening his hand around the glass.

"Okay," repeated Hermione.

"So, here we go." He didn't move.

"Here we go," she repeated.

He still didn't move, so it was Hermione the one who walked away. "Come on, Ron," she encouraged him, "I wouldn't like if one of us changed back to his normal self right in the middle of it all."

He knew she was right, so as she disappeared into the guest bathroom he went to his room, put the hair into the glass, where it fizzled until it melt, and walked into their bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror. He was dressed with an oversized dinner suit, a new one that Hermione had bought to fit his transformed self – measures were on the package. Hermione herself was dressed with a sexy, short, black dress. A revealing thing that he had chosen for her. He hoped that it would have fit her figure when she changed into Glenda, but he wasn't sure.

He brought the glass to his mouth and inhaled the foul smell. Merlin, what don't you do for your wife? He decided that the only way he would have drunk that was if he thought about the naughty things that were about to come. "Okay," he said out loud, "here way go, three… two… one…" He didn't move. "Bloody hell, Ronald Weasley! Three, two, one…" He downed the potion in one gulp, the disgusting taste filled his mouth, then his throat and finally his stomach. But it was only when it came back up to his nose that he knew he needed to throw up. He grabbed the edges of the basin and waited for his vomit, his throat contracting involuntarily. Luckily, despite the horrible taste, nothing came out of his mouth. He panted a bit and decided to raise his head and watch as his appearance changed.

Slowly his hair started to become blond, his blue eyes turned darker and he felt his torso and arms beefing up. His freckles disappeared and his nose became slightly smaller and straighter, his mouth became fuller and his jaw more prominent. But it was only after a long moment – made it even longer by the pain of the transformation – that he finally managed to have a very good look at his whole appearance.

The man looking back at him from the mirror was handsome, there was no mistake there. The dinner suit fitted him perfectly and he looked like he came out of the W.W.N. fashion program that his sister used to watch every Tuesday night. He brought his hands to his face and touched the warm and smooth skin. His blond hair was ruffled in a very fashionable way and he had the words 'Only you' tattooed on his neck, under his left ear. Suddenly, Ron was aware of how good looking this complete stranger was and felt a jolt of jealousy.

He wanted Hermione to enjoy herself, but at the same time, he didn't want her to get too much pleasure from this body. Or at least, not as much as she got from his own body. Yes, and he knew that this was the whole point of this game and how his musing sounded stupid even to himself.

Ron unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and discovered a sculpted abdomen that he himself had probably had only for a very short time in all his life – during the few months that he had followed a very strict training to become Auror – and that was now replaced by a bit of a belly on an otherwise quite lean figure. He flexed his arms to see the muscles jolt under the skin and grimaced at the mirror.

"Oh, right, you think you are such a good looking son of a witch, don't you?" he asked himself. "Let's see if you are good enough for… oh okay. Alright… not too bad," he said, peering inside his underpants.

He jumped when he heard the Grandfather Clock they had in the living room chiming eleven. He must have spent a good ten minutes there, ten minutes that he could have used to seduce his wife. Hermione! Suddenly he remembered that soon she would have come out of the bathroom as Glenda Chittock and that he could do to her anything he wanted. She had given permission. Now that he had transformed, he felt how real this was and he was getting excited. He started to think about possible games and scenarios. They would have been two strangers; two complete strangers that knew each other's desires perfectly well. After all, this could have been a recipe for success.

He buttoned his shirt up and smiled cockily. He walked out of the bathroom, expecting Hermione – or better, Glenda – waiting for him on the bed. She wasn't. He looked puzzled, but decided that there was no time to wait for her there, the clock was ticking. He went to the guest bathroom and knocked on the door.

"Hermione?" he called, his voice unchanged. "You all right?"

He heard her moan.

"Hermione?" he called again. "Are you okay?" He tried to open the door, but it was locked. "The door is locked. Can you let me in?"

He heard her standing up and walking towards the door. "Ron, maybe you were right," she whined, "maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

Ron looked at the door in disbelief. "What?" he exclaimed, his voice slightly altered with rage. "Are you kidding me? Because I don't want to look like this for an hour for nothing." He knocked again. "I thought you wanted this."

He heard her sighing. "I did, but…"

"No buts, just come out," he said seriously. "I'm sure you are going to like what you see and… vice-versa."

Hermione took some seconds to reply softly, "Close your eyes, first."

"Done," he said, impatiently, shutting his eyes. He heard the key turning in the hole, the door opening and Hermione's steps as she came to stand in front of him. "Can I look now?" he asked, excitement in his voice.

Hermione took a sharp breath. "Just remember, this is still me, okay?"

He smiled. "I know," he said before his eyelids fluttered open. He started looking at her from her legs up, slowly, indecently, caressing her body with his eyes like a lion would do with a gazelle. Glenda was even better than he had expected. She had smooth, white skin; supple legs that went on forever; a flat stomach and a round buttock; two full breasts and white, skinny arms. Finally he reached her collarbone, where a splash of freckles crowned her milky skin and a frame of flaming, red hair reached her shoulders.

"I like what I see, so far," he whispered, and he was about to take a step forward and grab her waist when he finally saw her face and all his excitement dissipated like fog on a windy day. He took a couple of steps back and hit the wall, his back sliding down as he sat on the floor.

Hermione smiled weakly. "It's still me," she said in her own voice.

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "But you are my sister," he murmured and felt a jolt of disgust at what he had been thinking. Why did he have to start looking at her from bottom up? Couldn't he start from her face like every normal person?

Hermione kneeled in front of him. Her breasts pressing on Ron's legs through the sexy dress. "Ron, I'm sorry," she said frantically, "I must have gotten the wrong hair when we were fighting…"

He looked at her and then away. "I should have known," he said bitterly. "You have a history with Polyjuice Potion. You can use the most complicated spells, you can brew the trickiest potions and solve the hardest problems, but you can never get the hair right." Before she could protest, he took off his black dinner jacket and handed it her. "Wear this, please," he asked her feebly.

Hermione looked down at her body and flushed. She took the jacket and wore it, clutching it shut on the front. "You look very handsome," she said, attempting a smile and pressing her hand on his cheek.

"Thank you," he said, patting the hand awkwardly.

She tried to smile seductively and leaned forward to kiss him, weirdly enough without expecting him to try to escape her advances. He did escape her advances, moving back from her and placing a big and warm hand on her face, covering her mouth and cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said, "but what are you trying to do?"

Hermione looked sheepishly at him. "I'm trying to kiss you," she mumbled from behind his hand.

He snorted. "And scar me for life?" he asked. "I hardly think so." He pushed her back a little and she fell on the balls of her feet. He stood up and disappeared into the living room.

"Well, that's all?" she asked him, raising her voice a little. "I've just ingested a disgusting potion for nothing?" She followed him into the kitchen.

Ron grabbed a pack of Chocolate Frogs that they kept as a reward for Rose when she was good and opened one, he managed to grab a bite before it jumped away. "I hope that's not anger in your voice," he hissed, "because, if you haven't noticed, I am not the one who screwed up tonight!"

Hermione crossed her arms and looked terribly like Ron's mother. "Yes, I screwed up," she admitted, "but we can still manage. We can have sex with the lights off. Can't we?"

"No!" exclaimed Ron. "Sex is off the table as long as you are in Ginny's body."

"That means an hour," she reminded him.

"Forty-five minutes, actually," he corrected her, nodding towards the Grandfather Clock. "And I would appreciate if you'd wear something less revealing as long as you are in that body."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay," she snorted as she went to their room to change. She came back a few minutes later with a big, shapeless pyjamas covered in ducks. "Happy?" she asked as she sat next to her husband on the couch and crossed her arms.

"No," he said, biting off the head of another Chocolate Frog. "Happy would be this handsome stranger having sex on our bed with Glenda Chittock at this very moment."

"I'm sorry," she said irritated, "how many times do I have to say it?"

"As many as needed," he replied sourly. "You just turned what could have been an exciting night into my worst nightmare."

She opened her mouth to tell him something, but then shut it before any sound could come out. Probably – hopefully – she understood why he was so crossed. "Do you want to do something else?" she finally asked.

"Like what?" he asked back, without looking at her.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Playing Wizard Chess?" she suggested.

ooo

"Really?" asked Harry in disbelief as he handed Rose's bag of toys to Ron. "You ended up playing Wizard Chess all night long? Instead of having sex?"

Ron glared at him. "Did you want me to have sex with your wife?" He swallowed. "No, wait, did you want me to have sex with my sister?" The very thought of it nauseated him.

Harry chuckled. "No, but…"

"Then shut it, Potter, I don't want to hear another word about last night." And Harry couldn't do much except watch his friend as he Apparated from his house and, once he was gone, burst into laughter.