A/N:

Written in response to a prompt by lilyweasley123 in the Hermione's Haven Bunny Bounce collection on AO3.

Many many thanks to my AMAZING beta bentnotbroken. Without her I literally wouldn't have made it. She made this story 1,000 times better!

I hope whoever prompted this finds this fic enjoyable, and I hope everyone else likes it too!

Happy Easter and Happy Reading!

Prompt:

Scenario: After being assigned by the Ministry to help Winterfell with their White Walker situation, Hermione finds herself in a world where she is always cold. Maybe Jon Snow can keep her warm.
Kinks: Smut, humor, death
Squicks: Anal
Additional Notes: N/A

Hermione kept pacing in front of a large fireplace in the hope of keeping warm. She couldn't feel her nose, her breath came out in puffs and her hands were shaking.

And to think that only a few weeks back she was sitting in her cozy, warm office, sipping tea and not even worrying about blue fingers and fur robes. Then it happened.

The Ministry had recruited her, Harry and Ron for this super-secret mission in another world. At first she had honestly thought Kingsley was pulling one over on them. Then she was presented with the case files, and finally had to believe it was no joke.

Of course, it was just her luck, ending up in a God forsaken place up in the bloody North of the country. Harry had ended up being assigned to aid this Dragon Queen in a far, warm land called Essos, Ron was tasked with collecting vital information in a nice, flowery place called Highgarden...and she? She had had to put up with people muttering "Winter has come" every two sentences.

As if she hadn't noticed, thank you very much. It was beyond bloody freezing! She had never been much of a complainer, but truth be told she was that far from throwing a huge Ron-style tantrum. She simply couldn't think with all that cold. Her brain might have started freezing over!

Oh, and how to forget? She not only had ended up in the worst place of the lot. She also had had to put up with the most stubborn host ever.

During her life, she had met all sort of people. People who discriminated her for her blood, people who made her feel inadequate for her love for books, people who were scared of her because of her powers.

What had never happened was to meet someone who wouldn't believe her.

And yet, this Jon Snow was the most suspicious person she'd come across.

She had to use her magic carefully, since apparently, he'd had a scarring experience with some Red Witch and anytime he saw her he seemed to be scared and not the least cooperative.

The Ministry wasn't happy she hadn't brought results yet, but bringing him to open up was a tough job. Plus, oh the cold! She couldn't function properly, her bones were frozen and every breath was painful.

She was still lost in her thoughts when a knock on the door brought her back to the present.

"Come in"

She was expecting someone supposed to bring her moor firewood, but when she turned around she came face to face with none other than Jon Snow.

"Miss. Granger, there is a raven for you"

It took Hermione a second to remember that ravens were this world's version of their owls.

It must have been a message from either Harry or Ron, they were keeping her informed on their progress quite regularly.

Hermione approached her host and extended a hand to take the message. "It must be a letter from one of my friends. I miss them so much, Mr. Snow. They're like brothers to me and we've never spent much time apart".

Jon Snow, usually so calm and collected, tensed at the mention of the word "brothers" and Hermione, being her usual curious self, couldn't stop herself from asking "Have I said something wrong?"

The rough man exhaled and unclenched his fists. "Do not worry, Miss. Granger. You most certainly didn't do anything wrong on purpose. It's just that…" he then looked away, staring at the fire while trying to collect himself "...my younger brother Rickon died recently. He was murdered in front of me by a psychopath. And I lost my older brother too, who again was murdered by a traitorous Lord. I've tried to come to terms with my losses, but it's a bit hard".

Hermione felt honestly sorry for the man, she had read in her files that he had his fair share of problems, and she couldn't even imagine what witnessing the murder of a brother would do to her.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive. I hope whoever did this was brought to justice"

Jon Snow smiled bitterly "I'm not entirely sure my world has caught up on your concept of justice. Is "an eye for an eye" your idea of justice, Miss Granger? Or well...a death for a death?"

Hermione frowned, not entirely sure how to answer to his question. She opted for some diplomacy, she didn't want to argue yet another time. Not when they were finally being civil to each other. "I guess...your world is more complicated than I had expected, Mr. Snow. And I am truly sorry for your loss".

Jon Snow nodded his thanks, and seemed to relax a little. Hermione hoped he would open up more, if only to make her work easier.

She was glad they had a civil exchange, he was always so withdrawn and serious, that she never knew how to read him. And if there was something that irked Hermione Granger, it was the inability to read people.

Speaking of reading, Hermione still had a raven to read. She hoped the bird would be a bearer of good news, she didn't think she could stomach anything bad, the cold was enough of a pain in the ass.

The letter was from Harry, who apparently was having a blast with dragons, drunken dwarfs and the rightful heir to the Throne, Daenerys. He was sure he'd be able to convince her to meet Jon Snow to create an alliance and fight the White Walkers. If only Jon Snow would cooperate, that is.

Hermione couldn't help but feel bitter. Both her friends were having a great time and had been welcomed without too many difficulties, and she had made no progress. Plus, she was tired of the cold. It was penetrating her very soul, making it difficult to think straight. All the weight of her situation came back full force, and she instinctively threw the letter into the dying fire.

A sob escaped her before she could stop herself, and she forgot all about the man who was standing right behind her, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

"I'm so tired, and here it's so cold" she dropped to her knees, "too cold". The last thing she remembered was the feel of two strong arms around her waist. Then it all went black.

When she got back to her senses she was lying on a double bed, covered in several thick layers of fur.

Hermione opened her eyes, and didn't recognise her surroundings. The only light in the room was coming from a large fireplace. She was still shivering, but she felt slightly better than she had the previous days.

Jon Snow must have kept her from banging her head, or from dying of hypothermia. She had to admit she might have misjudged him. After all he'd been through, his attitude was not only a coping mechanism, but also his only defence. Hermione couldn't stop thinking about his arms around her waist, or about his bitter smile.

All of a sudden she felt suffocated. The irony wasn't lost on her, how could she possibly feel the need to get some fresh air, when she was shivering even under layers upon layers of furry cloths? Yet, she did need to. She felt that if she didn't get out of that bed, his bed right then, she might explode.

Air and silence. That was all she needed to start thinking clearly again. To stop being distracted by the puzzle that was Jon Snow.

She jumped off the bed, taking only a fur coat with her in her haste to get out of there, then ran for the door, and took off.

She finally found a balcony and stopped there.

Air, she needed air.

Only, when she stepped out she didn't quite expect for said air to be that freezing. She felt a thousand daggers punctuating her lungs. She couldn't even move properly. What had she thought? Brightest witch of the age and all, and yet she managed to land herself in such idiotic situations.

What was worse? She couldn't stop thinking about the King in the North, the silent and mysterious Jon Snow. And his firm arms.

Hermione could barely move, and she suddenly felt so so tired. She couldn't feel her arms, or legs, or face...but she was sure that if she only closed her eyes for a second everything would be just fine.

She was having a pleasant dream, one that involved a dark-haired man, who was massaging her whispering sweet things.

Only he was massaging a little too hard, and he kept saying something she couldn't quite grasp.

"Wake up, Miss. Granger! Wake up!"

It wasn't a dream.

It was a very pissed off Jon Snow, shaking her awake. He didn't wait for her response and scooped her in his arms, walking resolutely to his room.

Hermione started feeling her limbs again, but couldn't speak yet. She leaned her head on Jon Snow's chest, where she could hear his frantic heartbeat. Had he been...worried? About her?

Once in the room he literally threw her on his bed and covered her in layers of warm and soft fur. Once he had made sure she wouldn't die of hypothermia, he looked at her and hissed "Are you bloody insane, Miss. Granger?"

"I've been here for weeks and I'm still Miss. Granger" is all Hermione could think of as a reply. She wasn't even sure where it had come from.

"Fine. Are you bloody insane, Hermione? Do you want to freeze to death? Don't you know people die daily out there? This-" he stopped his tirade only to point out the closed window "isn't normal cold. This cold, you'll never forget. Winter has come, and you can't just wander out there without the right winter gear! Do you have a death wish?"

Hermione could feel all her blood rushing to her cheeks. She'd been reckless, and she knew it all too well. "I am sorry, Jon. May I call you so?" He nodded his agreement so she went on "well, this cold is slowly killing me. I don't know what is happening but I can't even think. I can't get warm enough to sit down and weight all our options! I've been sent here to help and I'm just a liability! If only I could just get used to this weather. Or stop being cold for even a minute I'm sure I woul-"

But she never got to finish her long, frantic speech, since Jon Snow leaned over and kissed her with a passion she would never have associated with the cold man.

Hermione only had time to think he probably did so to shut her up, before losing herself into the kiss.

His lips weren't exactly soft, but the kiss was pleasant nonetheless. She felt...warm. It was nice, so she eagerly kissed him back, raking her nails through his hair and eliciting a low groan.

Somehow, without even meaning to, she wound up in his lap, yanking his shirt and undershirt off his body and throwing them on the floor.

She ran her hands along the skin of his abdomen and shoulders, taking in every dip and scar as she gazed down at him. There were so many, and all so different, that she found herself wondering not for the first time what he'd been through. No one was as stand offish and as scarred as he was without reason.

But now wasn't the time for talking. He was already removing the rest of her clothing, exposing her back to the chilly air of the room so she needed to catch up. Hands groped and teeth clashed in a flurry of kisses and it wasn't long before she shoved her knickers down her thighs and he quickly pulled them all the way off.

She climbed back on his lap, fully intending to be the one controlling the situation, and she was doing a good job of it too; grinding down against his still clothed erection.

"Have you had many lovers, Mr. Snow?" She whispered in his ear.

He stilled for a moment and she worried she had said something to offend him again, but his hands gripped her hips as he replied, "Just the one." Then she found herself flipped onto her back, legs spreading wide to accommodate his bigger body. "But she was a very good teacher."

Before she could even think of a witty retort, his face disappeared from her view and she shivered from the sensation of his breath on her naked skin. Thumbs traced the lines of the creases of her legs and finally...finally there was the warmth of a tongue against her clit. She wiggled and bit her lip as he worked her over, but a hand on her stomach stopped her from moving away. She was at his mercy.

She let herself moan when his fingers breached her and she shamelessly fucked herself on them as he continued the lovely assault on her clit. It had only been a few minutes before she felt that spike of pleasure that indicated that the end was near. She was well on her way to an orgasm.

And that was probably the quickest she had ever come with a partner. She told him as much as he wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. He chuckled, which was a good sound coming from him, and replied, "I can't say much about your last dalliances, but like I said before…..I had a good teacher."

She hummed her agreement and sat up, reaching for his trousers. He let her do whatever she wanted so when his cock sprang free, her fingers immediately wrapped around it. It was hot and throbbing in her hand and she smirked at the way his eyes fluttered close for a moment. He was honestly a beautiful man, now that she really looked at him. Maybe being in this Gods forsaken icy wasteland wasn't as bad as she thought.

She gave it a few good strokes before he caught her chin with his hand, tilting her head to look up at him. "Let me…"

He guided her back down onto the bed and shook his trousers off before settling between her legs. She could feel his coarse hair where it brushed up against her as he lined himself up.

There was a cold, quiet fire in his eyes when he entered her in one hard thrust. The sex wasn't slow and she moved backward along the bed with the force of it but it was exactly what she needed.

A quick, hard, fuck. This encounter wasn't anything other than that. But she was going to enjoy it while it lasted. For what it was worth, he was a good lover. She'd never been with a man like him. He was different in almost every way. And different was defiantly good.

She fisted a hand in his curly hair and pushed her hips to meet his movements, moaning as his cock hit a particularly good spot. His teeth clamped down on her shoulder as he drove himself into her, over and over again.

"Shit. Shit." She muttered, holding onto him as if her life depended on it. The tiny flow of pleasure was returning until it overflowed and she let out a loud cry that probably sounded like she was being murdered. She didn't have it in her to care though, because her sounds of fulfillment must have done it for him. His hips clashed into her wildly as his rhythm faltered, and he buried his head into the space between her head and her neck as he moaned his own release.

She felt dizzy beneath him and she let her hands roam his sweat slick back as he regained his senses. He pulled out slowly and rolled onto his back, pulling her halfway on top of him at the last second. She would have to remember to cast that pregnancy charm later.

They lay in the aftermath together, limbs tangled, lips swollen and breaths shallow. She didn't move to gather her clothes and he didn't ask her to leave, so they just remained quiet in each other's company, staving off the cold night with the heat from their bodies.

Hermione smiled to herself. She no longer envied the boys in her life. She had finally found a new way to stay warm.