Security Blanket

Rated "T"

Ron tries to shield Hermione from the elements during the Horcrux Hunt

No, I'm not J.K. Rowling undercover, so I don't own any characters or anything else of the Harry Potter universe. This is just an idea that occurred to me of a missing moment. I may be gate-crashing, but I brought this dish to pass.

I imagine this missing moment taking place during the Deathly Hallows chapter.

Thanks to all of you who've given me such lovely feedback – I wish technology would let me send you freshly-baked peanut butter cookies (or, if you prefer, chocolate chip) through the net! Characters' thoughts are in italics.

"Ron, I need you," he heard Hermione cry. "Don't let go. I need to feel you around me – all of you."

The roar of thunder woke Ron from his vivid dream. He could have sworn he felt Hermione not only in his arms, but pressing against him – all of him. They were fully clothed in his dream, but it had aroused him all the same. Another thought to sock away into the wank bank, he thought ruefully.

He rubbed his eyes and heard the relentless rain pounding the tent. He felt a draft coming in through the opening where Hermione was sitting, keeping watch. In spite of the fact she was covered in her sleeping bag, three blankets, and at least half a dozen sweaters, her slight frame was shivering. The late winter winds and the frigid water they carried were assaulting her.

Ron slipped quietly out from his covers (so as not to wake Harry) and made his way to her. He took one look at her and concern consumed him.

"Mione, you're blue."

"A-a-m-m I?" she chattered.

Ron grabbed the kettle and set it outside of the tent to collect rainwater so he could make her some tea. But he wanted to do more.

"This isn't helping," he said, looking at her soaked layers. "We need to get these off of you."

"As m-m-m-u-u-ch as you mi-i-ght l-l-ike to s-s-ee me s-s-tar-rk-kers, it's n-n-o-o-t g-g-go-ing t-t-to h-h-hap-pen!" she stuttered.

Ron chuckled. Time will tell, he thought.

"I mean, the wet blankets and clothes are making you colder, not warmer. You need to get dry and you need to get warm."

"W-what-t a-about—"

"I think the baddies aren't going to turn up in the next five minutes. Not in this weather, at least. C'mon back in."

Hermione got up and started peeling away the soaked layers of fabric. Ron rummaged through the beaded bag and pulled out one of Harry's hoodies, one of his own sweaters, a T-shirt and a dry pair of her socks. He also pulled out two dry towels. She hung the wet clothes, blankets and sleeping bag on the clothes line that ran across part of the tent so they'd dry over the blue flames she'd lit for the evening. Hermione had tried keeping the blue flames by her at the tent entrance during her watch, but the wind and rain conspired against her and extinguished them time and again. She was determined to pull her weight, her stubborn resolve the reason why she didn't wake either of her companions up despite her current miserable state.

Ron handed her a towel, which she used to dry her face and arms. He stood behind her and used the other towel to dry her hair. When Hermione realized what he was doing, she froze. His hands were moving onto her scalp now, massaging away the ache caused by the cold. She suspected her sudden warmth wasn't caused by her removal from the frigid winds and driving rain. Her cheeks flushed while she kept her eyes closed. His touches were affecting her in ways she couldn't let herself think about – not now, not in such close quarters with Harry, not while on this mission that would either save the wizarding world if they succeeded or plunge it into utter ruin if they failed. No pressure, she thought.

Ron lifted her locks off of her neck so he could dry the little exposed skin that was there. Hermione had dried off the front of her neck and the tiny bit of her chest that was exposed, but he gingerly patted her skin dry. He wanted to make it wet again with his kisses, but he knew that desire would have to wait.

When he stopped, Hermione turned quickly to face him and didn't realize how close he'd be standing. She could feel his warm breath caress her cheek.

"I got dry clothes for you."

"Great."

They both stood there, lingering in this intimate proximity, their eyes finally meeting after a few moments of awkward silence. After about a half-minute, they each turned away, unable to sustain the gaze which might give away their true feelings.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"Where are what?" he asked in return.

"The dry clothes."

"Oh . . . yeah." Ron bent down and gathered them up from the chair he had set them on a few minutes earlier. Hermione grabbed these, as well as a pair of dry jeans from the bag and went behind a makeshift curtain to change into dry clothes. In the meantime, Ron wandered over to the tent entrance to keep watch as the cloudy pre-dawn sky loomed over them in the wilderness.

Hermione came out, drier and less blue. She resumed her position as sentinel and Ron grabbed the kettle to put it over the fire for tea.

"The rain's stopped," she observed while sitting down.

"But the wind's still blowing as hard as a politician running for office," Ron replied as he took a seat behind her. He took her left hand into his and felt it was ice cold.

"Let me take over. You're still chilled."

"You just stopped three hours ago. I've got five hours left."

"You'll get pneumonia."

"Really, I'm better."

"But not good enough." Ron shifted so he could see Hermione's face.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her as he looked into her eyes, searching for the answer before she said it.

Hermione paused. It was the most intense conversation they had had with each other since Ron had returned. She wanted to assure him that even though the memory of his abandonment still pained her, she had forgiven him and knew she could depend on him.

"Implicitly," she said softly while staring back into his eyes and briefly stroking his left cheek with her right hand.

Ron moved back behind her.

"Don't . . . freak out. This should help warm you up."

Ron slowly straddled her from behind and wrapped his legs around the outside of hers, then encircled her with his arms. His hands were holding hers, and his chin rested on her left shoulder. Hermione felt his stubble – softer now from growing out a bit – brushing up against her cheek. No one had ever held her like this. In all of her dreams, all the times she had longed for this sort of contact, she hadn't imagined this level of bliss. She closed her eyes to take it in, then quickly reminded herself she was on watch duty.

Ron was lost in his own dose of euphoria, inhaling a scent he recognized but didn't know why. Then he remembered – it was the perfume he'd bought for her two Christmases ago. He smiled, pleased that his gift made the cut in things Hermione felt needed to be included in the deceptively capacious beaded bag. Ron felt Hermione lean into him and squeeze his hands. He wondered if she could also feel his erection growing against her backside.

"Does this mean you're my security blanket?" she asked in a low voice.

"What's a security blanket?" Ron whispered in her ear.

Hermione let out a short giggle.

"You know, those blankets little kids drag everywhere. Like Linus in the Peanuts comic strip."

"What's a comic strip?"

Academic Hermione made a brief comeback.

"Seriously Ronald, when this is all over and I bring my parents back from Australia, I'm giving you an immersion course in muggle culture. A comic strip is a series of simple drawings published in a newspaper or magazine to tell a joke using drawn characters, known as cartoon characters. Usually the cartoonist – the one who draws the characters and writes the dialogue – uses the same set of characters over time."

"So, Linus is a cartoon character?" Ron asked.

"Yes. He goes everywhere with his light blue security blanket."

"Does the blanket have special powers, like Harry's invisibility cloak?"

"Well . . . it doesn't make Linus invisible, or have any real magic powers. It just makes Linus feel braver, more confident. It makes him feel protected, like he can brave any storm – emotionally speaking."

Ron thought about this for a minute. He wanted Hermione to feel all those things she said Linus felt with his blanket.

"Can I be?" he asked.

"You want to be my security blanket? To protect me from all of the harsh elements the world can assault us with?"

Ron wanted to use words and phrases like "desperately" and "more than life itself," but he didn't want to spook her.

"Very much," he whispered. He tilted his head so he could give her a quick, soft kiss on the cheek.

Hermione turned her head so she could face Ron.

"Only if I can be your security blanket, too," she replied.

"Please," he said in a low voice.

Hermione was sorely tempted to kiss him on the lips, and Ron was contemplating the same move. Instead, she kissed his cheek as well, but close to his mouth. She then turned back to face the landscape and wrapped his arms more tightly around herself.

"I need you," she admitted without facing him. "I need to feel you near me, around me."

"I need you, too," Ron replied.

A couple of minutes later, the kettle squealed shrilly. Ron gave Hermione a quick squeeze, then released her so he could make her a cup of tea. He knelt down to give it to her.

"Go back to sleep," she whispered. "You'll need to help Harry look for food in a few hours."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," she smiled. She fluffed his hair, and he stroked her cheek.

Ron got up reluctantly and made his way back to his bunk. As he nestled himself between the covers, he wished Hermione was with him, providing the kind of reassurance and security no blanket can possibly give.