AN: I have started taking on asks on Tumblr. For anyone not following me, my account is accio-broom. Just thought it was worth recording my fics elsewhere too, just in case. :-)


Hermione has a quiet afternoon, so she hides herself away in Ron's room at the Burrow, under her favourite blanket of his.


Hermione had finished her chores for the day. Ever since the war, and the Weasley's invite for her to go and stay with them, she had been trying her hardest to be helpful. She mucked out chickens, degnomed the garden and did baskets full of washing.

Her main job, of course, was being there for Ron when he needed her. Since their kiss in the room of requirement, he had started opening up to her more. The ability to finally open up and discuss their feelings came as a surprise to both of them. But when Ron wasn't around, she felt his loss.

It was raining, so she couldn't go for a walk. Harry and Ron had started going to Weasley Wizard Wheezes to start the clean-up whilst George couldn't face it, and Ginny had gone with them for the day. But Hermione couldn't bring herself to go to the shop yet. Instead, she helped herself to a muggle storybook from the family bookcase. After considering where to get settled, she eventually picked Ron's bedroom where she could finally enjoy an hour or two of peace.

Ron's room was one of her favourite places in the house. They were starting to build some delicious memories up there, but that wasn't the only reason she liked it. It violently reminded her of him; his personality poured out of every crack—from the bright orange walls to the Chudley Cannons posters. It even smelled of him, despite being occupied by a ghoul for almost a year—earthy, with faint undertones of the sweets he had eaten up here.

On Ron's bed lay a blanket that Molly had hand-knitted from all of Ron's old jumpers. The Weasley matriarch added to it yearly, and it was slowly growing, draping well over the sides of Ron's twin bed. It was a mismatch of colours that clashed horrifically with the rest of his bedroom. Hermione pulled it from Ron's bed as she made her way to the window seat. She surveyed the view for a while before wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and starting to read.

It was easy for Hermione to get lost in the fairytale, especially after only reading textbooks or the 'Tales of Beedle the Bard' whilst on the hunt. She revelled in the opportunity to disappear into another world, and a couple of hours passed quickly without her noticing.

A cough from the bedroom doorway finally roused her, and she turned her head quickly. Hermione's heart immediately started to pound against her ribcage as she caught sight of Ron leaning wearily against the wooden doorframe. She watched him as he trudged across his room to his bed and flopped noisily onto it.

"You okay?" She studied him carefully as he rolled onto his side to look at her.

"Tired. Came up here for a nap, but it seems my blanket is missing!" Despite the fact he looked tired, Ron's blue eyes still twinkled with mischief.

"Your duvet is still on your bed," Hermione stated matter-of-factly as the corners of her mouth twitched.

"Hermione…"

The sound of her name on his lips caused a stirring deep in her belly. It was still a new feeling, but one she had enjoyed exploring with Ron. Slowly, as if to tease him, she pushed herself off the window seat and closed her book, sauntering over to him. She heard him growl a low moan of frustration. She put her book down on the bedside table and offered him the blanket, but before he could take it, she pulled it back.

Without waiting for an invite, she slid onto the bed next to him, turning to face him. For now, she kept his blanket behind her, holding onto it tightly with one hand.

"That was my blanket! Come on…"

He reached an arm over her, pushing himself closer to her. He had been working hard, and she tried to ignore the heat building inside her as she breathed in deeply, inhaling his scent. His fingers, hard and calloused, pulled at her own, sending a shiver over her skin. Everything about him just turned her on, and she was finding it harder to resist his attempts.

"Nope!" She tried to wriggle out of his grip, without putting too much distance between them. "You need to pay me for it!"

He pulled his arm back and slid two fingers under her chin, pushing her head up. "Will this be enough?" Slowly, he moved his face closer. Hermione licked her lips before closing her eyes, savouring the moment when their lips finally touched. She didn't think she could ever get bored of kissing Ron, and she couldn't believe it had taken them seven years to get this close.

As soon as the kiss started, Ron pulled away, eliciting a moan of disapproval from Hermione's lips. He stared expectantly at her, waiting for the blanket. She wasn't going to give into him that easily. She slid a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him crashing down for a harder kiss. He gasped in pleasure, and she took the opportunity to slide her tongue past his lips.

She rolled onto her back and waited for Ron to settle more of his weight on top of her. Carefully, she pulled the blanket over them, wrapping them tightly under the comforting pressure of the old battered wool.

Eventually, they pulled away, and Ron tucked his head under her chin. "That's better." He closed his eyes, his breathing already slowing down.

"It's Sunday tomorrow," Hermione whispered as she carded her fingers through his hair, stroking it in the way she knew he loved. "Do you fancy the usual?"

"Sleeping in?" His eyes blinked open, already full of sleep, and he tilted his head up so he could look at her better. "Hell yeah!"

"Well, I was hoping for other things too, but I guess sleeping in is a nice start."

"You'll stay in here tonight?"

"If I can get away with it. But nap now, we can make arrangements with Harry and Ginny later." Hermione reached for her book, letting Ron settle down against her before quietly reading to him. It didn't take long before he was fast asleep, a small smile on his face. She was grateful that she could give him even a moment of peace. She continued to read to him, hoping that her words would give him pleasant dreams.