A/N: So this is where I'll be posting random short bits of one-shot fic that I've posted on my tumblr. Because they will probably be all over the place, with various ratings, I'll put a little content warning before the sections where it seems necessary.

Chapter content warning: rough language

#1 - Hermione was asleep in his bed.

Hermione was asleep in his bed. In HIS. Ron's. Bloody hell.

He was staring, his throat gone quite dry. His socked feet curled into the rug as he chewed his bottom lip. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He'd nipped downstairs for a cup of tea, spent twenty minutes or so convincing himself not to go pester Hermione in Ginny's room, stuffed a couple of leftover biscuits into his mouth, brushed his teeth, and come up to his room… only to find…

Well.

The problem was that he could think of no reason that she should be asleep in his bed if she hadn't intended for him to find her. She couldn't have thought there was any chance that he wouldn't. So here he was, wondering if he ought to grab a quilt and kip on the floor, or if she would be expecting him to-

Goddamn it.

He forced himself to stop biting his lip raw, placed his cold tea on his bedside table, and resumed staring down at Hermione.

Her wild hair was half covering her face. Most of her half-bare right leg was sticking out from under the covers, and her lips were slightly parted, as if she had fallen asleep breathing lightly through her mouth.

She shifted, and his heart stopped.

Her movement had managed to accomplish one thing- the quilt that had been pulled up to her shoulders had slipped down, revealing the swell of her chest over the top of her too-thin vest.

"Shit."

His body felt entirely too warm, despite being clad only in pyjama bottoms, bare chest shuddering as Hermione sighed in her sleep. He was surely spinning slightly, or else he'd actually gone mental.

His eyes moved down her body, bits that he couldn't quite imagine buried in his sheets… And then, he felt it. His ears burned. And his eyes darted up to her flushed face.

She was looking up at him, heavy-lidded, but awake.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathed, startled into jumping back several inches.

She swallowed, blinking.

"What are you doing?"

He raised his eyebrows as she innocently waited for his reply.

"Oh, I dunno," he managed, "just trying to figure out what to do about this."

She licked her lips, a small flash of embarrassment crossing her face.

"Couldn't sleep," she explained, softly.

"Didn't seem to be having any trouble to me."

"I'm not, anymore. Not here, at least…"

"Oh."

His heart fluttered without his consent.

"Well," she whispered, "are you going to climb in… or not?"

One corner of his mouth turned up just a bit.

"Reckon I was about ten seconds from making myself comfortable on the floor, actually, before you woke up."

"I didn't mean to steal your bed. I thought…" she trailed off, and he raised an eyebrow, heart pounding.

Alright. She wanted to share. That was becoming too clear to miss, even for him…

He brushed a hand through his hair and gathered all the bits of stray courage that were presently dancing round in the pit of his stomach.

"Alright. Budge over."

As she moved, he caught her smiling brilliantly, turning her head away in a useless attempt to hide it from him. Breaking out in a radiant display of gooseflesh, he flattened himself to his bed, shifting closer, under the quilt, until her warmth was consuming the entire left side of him.

Silent, aside from the sounds of the two of them breathing, he wondered if he could risk a glance in her direction. Taking the risk, at last, he caught her risking the same thing.

They grinned shyly at each other, and he shrugged against his pillow.

"Gonna be your fault when I can't sleep alone anymore."

She pressed her lips together, and he felt her hand slide down his forearm, linking their fingers together.

"Good."