Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

A/N: Written for the lovely sm_jl's birthday! Send her happy wishes and also go read/comment on her amazing fics!

The Missing Jumper

Happy birthday sm_jl!

It's Mid-January, and Ron is more perplexed than ever as to why he can't find his favorite jumper. He's searched and searched through his trunk multiple times with no such luck at recovering the lost item.

It's really quite infuriating how his clothing mysteriously disappeared. The more dramatic side of him feels offended that he's been robbed of his cosiest jumper, which makes him just want to crawl up into the fetal position on the floor and have a good cry.

And if it's just one of his dorm mates playing a practical joke on him, well, there better be a plan to give it back. Granted, he's not super attached to his clothes. Most of them are Mum's hand-knitted jumpers, and though the sentiment is nice, sometimes the wool is itchy and the heat of the material makes him sweat.

However, not once did it occur to Ron that there could be another culprit at play here. At least, not until his eyes spot the very jumper he's been missing.

The discovery is made as he wakes up shivering in the middle of the night. The castle is bloody freezing, and he longs for the warmth of his lost jumper even more. Trudging out of his four poster bed, he decides to sit by the fireplace in the common room.

He's not the only one who has had the same idea, he realizes, as he pauses just before descending down the final step on the staircase. It's Hermione that he sees fast asleep on the chaise closest to the fireplace, which he knows is her favorite place to curl up with a good book. Judging by the dwindling embers burning in the hearth, it looks like she's been here for a while.

Much to his surprise, she's managed to find another way of staying warm, bundled in a maroon-colored jumper.

And it's got an R stitched on the front for Ron. Ron! The corner of his mouth curves up. Bloody hell, if anybody else sees her wearing it, they'd think — well, what would people think?

Perhaps he should consider this type of theft the highest form of flattery. It feels good to know that Hermione didn't steal Harry's jumper, or anyone else's. She stole his. But, why?

When he's not around, or so she thinks, Hermione wears his jumper and has a way to stay connected to him. Although it doesn't seem to be her intention for anybody else to find her wearing his clothing, Ron can't help but take pride in her change of style.

Honestly she just looks really fucking adorable and so small underneath the oversized jumper. He only hopes that it smells good — how does it smell? How does he smell? Well, she's wearing it, so it can't be that bad to be wrapped in his scent.

Ron can just imagine her raiding his trunk for — wait just a bloody minute. How did she even get his jumper?

Nevermind that. It's Hermione. He decides it's probably best that he doesn't know how she managed it. As long as she's not planning to commit a crime and frame him for it.

Though it may happen to be his favorite jumper — and perhaps Hermione knows this after seeing him wearing it quite frequently — he finds he doesn't really mind that she's nicked it.

Doesn't mind at all.

"Hey, Harry? Have you seen my maroon jumper?" Ron asks the next day, just loud enough for Hermione to overhear from the opposite end of the table.

"Which one?" Harry responds, a hint of sarcasm evident in his tone, without even looking up from the parchment he's revising on.

"Y'know, my newest one. The one Mum knit me for Christmas. It's the one that fits me best, but I can't seem to find it anywhere."

When Ron glances over at Hermione, he notices how tense her fingers look holding her quill, and although her eyes are still trained on the book in front of her, she's seized all movement.

A rare kind of satisfaction rolls through him. Yes, she's definitely listening.

Harry shrugs before returning to his work, oblivious as to what's going on. "Haven't seen it."

"Well, whoever's nabbed it, I hope they're taking good care of it. Wouldn't want Mum to worry."

A forced smile appears on Hermione's face. "I'm sure it'll turn up."

Without another word, she packs up her belongings, prompting Ron to ask, "Where are you going?"

"I'm late," she replies in a haste before scurrying out of the room holding her books close to her chest.

"Late for what?" Harry inquires with confusion settling between his brows.

"Haven't a clue," Ron mutters, unable to contain his grin while chuckling to himself.

Later that evening when Ron returns to the common room, he finds his jumper draped over the back of a chair. As he picks it up, he discovers that the garment has been washed, most likely to mask any traceable scent of the wearer. Ron's surprised by how disappointed he is by this notion, although the material has still managed to maintain its original softness.

He doesn't have plans to stash it back inside of his trunk again. Instead, he simply moves it to the chaise closest to the fire and folds it as neatly as he can onto the seat before walking up the staircase.

He decides he doesn't really want the jumper back after all.