Well, it's basically been cold as death the past few days. And then, I asked my pal redheadsarehot to send me a few short fic prompts for oneshots, which resulted in her sending me a list that included the word "covers." That's how this smut came about, last night and throughout today.

Be warned: it is relatively filthy... and way fluffier than originally intended.

Also, if you happen to be following my (probably too) lengthy chapter story, "Thieves," I have been working on the next bit again and should have something to post within a couple of weeks. Thank you for your patience!

Covered

Ice frosted the moon-glowing glass of the tall windows lining nearly a full wall of Ron's Grimmauld Place bedroom. He had taken this room at the end of the summer after Hermione had told him how much she'd always loved it, windows finally cleared of years and years of dust. But now, the night before Hermione's winter holiday from Hogwarts, he found himself too cold to sleep.

The frost outside seemed to penetrate through the windows, seeping deep into his bones. He'd piled on an extra quilt, but his bare feet were frozen and numb. Didn't matter, because he wasn't going to be bothered to find a pair of socks. He wasn't good at sleeping in them anyway. They always managed to find their way off his feet and deep into his tangle of sheets, halfway through the night.

He rubbed his hands together, lying on his back, and blew warm air against his palms, easing the chill for a few moments before his skin cooled again. It didn't even seem to matter how hard he tried to charm the place, blasting heat through his blankets, through the frigid air. It never lasted. It never seemed to make too much of a difference, in the end.

He rolled to his side, facing the glowing glass, and he allowed his vision to blur as he tried to focus on tomorrow... on seeing her again, properly, for the first time in three and a half months. He'd been able to join her on a Hogsmeade day and had wrestled an invitation from McGonagall for Harry and himself to attend the two Gryffindor Quidditch matches that had taken place over first term. But that had literally been it. Three visits, hardly a chance to properly kiss her, much less unclench what he had come to accept as a permanent tightness in his chest at her absence from his daily life. Even knowing that he would finally see her tomorrow, finally get to be with her the way they had been over the summer... it couldn't quite undo what had been twisting tighter into him for months now.

The thought of seeing her again literally made him ache. He squeezed his tired eyes shut and tucked his knees up to gather body heat.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

He heard his bedroom door open, behind him, a soft creak on rusty hinges, and he opened his eyes, blearily.

"...'arry, I'm bloody freezing my bollocks off. Climb in, yeah?" he yawned, tucking his shoulders deeper into his quilts. "Get some bleeding body heat going-"

His mattress sagged with the weight of another person. His eyes widened a bit, speculatively.

"Oi!" he continued, still facing the windows. "If you're really getting in, you'd better have your kit on-"

A small, soft body wiggled beneath his covers and up against his back.

She sighed with relief... pleasure.

She?!

He flipped around so fast he nearly stabbed her in the ribs with his elbow.

"Fucking hell, Hermione!"

Her glassy eyes beamed at him, and he suspected she was trying not to cry.

"I basically begged," she whispered, "and Professor McGonagall finally agreed to let me floo here early."

As if letting go of a taut rubber band, his whole body snapped free of all the tension, discomfort and sadness he'd felt for so many days and nights.

He laughed, delighted, and gathered her against his chest, burying his face in the thick curls that bunched at her shoulder and neck. She squeaked excitedly as her arms flew around him. And he felt her tears fall against the side of his face. But as his bare forearms came into contact with bits of her skin, she squirmed in his arms.

"You're freezing!"

"And you're so warm," he muttered against her neck.

He slipped a bare foot between her stocking-clad calves as he pulled his head back far enough to meet her eyes, grinning madly.

"Oh, God- Ron! Your feet are literally blocks of ice! Why aren't you wearing socks?"

"Me and socks are having a disagreement right now."

She pressed her lips together. But it wasn't any good- she burst into giddy laughter as he slipped a hand up the back of her jumper, over her thin cotton shirt, but close enough to her skin to feel the heat radiating blissfully off of her. She placed a hand on his hip, right where his old, too-worn t-shirt gapped away from the elastic of his pyjamas. Directly against his skin.

Gooseflesh burst from the spot to cover most of his torso.

He sighed and removed his hand from the back of her shirt to cup her face and stare happily into her eyes.

"I can't believe you're really here."

"I've missed you s-so much," she sniffed, winding her hand further across his body and up the back of his shirt... only there was nothing to separate her palm from his bare skin.

He brushed his thumb across her slightly chapped lips before he scooted the necessary couple of inches across his pillow to kiss her, slipping his foot free from her calves to straighten his legs and bring his body much closer to hers. She made a tiny pleasurable sound in the back of her throat, one that he remembered so well... that he fucking loved. He slipped his hand through her hair, holding the back of her head as she gripped his shirt in her fists.

When he pulled back, dizzy, her lips remained slightly parted, her eyelids heavy, until he let go of her long enough to reach down and rip the quilts up high, throwing his arm over his head to completely bury them both. He rolled slightly onto his back to adjust, and she propped up on one elbow to squint down at him through the darkness, beneath layered quilts.

"This is cozy," she said, softly, as he reached for her again. She flattened herself to his chest, chin against his collarbone as he wound a hand up her shirt again, in search of warmth.

"Mm, you're like a heater under here," he said, tugging the cotton shirt that separated her bare skin from his hand.

"Why are you so cold?" she asked, with a note of concern.

He smiled gently, soothed by the sound of her voice.

"I think it's those bleeding windows," he said. "It's been icy in here since the end of October."

"Oh, Ron," she said, sitting up slightly, "you should find a warmer room. Or... have you tried to charm the windows?"

"My charms don't do much, but I'm sure yours will," he grinned. "And I'm perfectly happy with this room. Anyway, it's the one you'll want us to have when you chuck Hogwarts, yeah?"

He felt a tremble run through her.

"Us?" she said, so quietly.

He swallowed.

"Am I assuming too much," he started, clearing his throat, "that you'll want to share?"

"Oh my God, I think I might go on and chuck ruddy Hogwarts right now if my alternative is the offer you just made me."

He laughed, the tiny bit of tension that had edged back up at her question now dispersing back into an unknown void.

"And... won't have to worry about fucking freezing to death if we're sharing body heat," he added.

"Logical," she grinned down at him. "Speaking of that, you know it'll be much warmer if we take off all these layers-" and she rolled away from him, lifting the side of his blankets and letting in a gust of cold air in the process.

He chattered his teeth and was about to make a cheeky comment about the draft when he realised what she was doing. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she pushed her skirt up her thighs and reached for the top of her stockings, sliding them off her thin legs one by one.

As she stood, shivering slightly, he pulled back the quilts another few inches to watch as she arched her back and slipped her jumper off over her head, her hair standing up with static as she repeated the motion on her thin cotton shirt. She dropped the shirt to the floor and reached for the snap at the side of her skirt, wiggling her hips slightly as she unzipped and slid the pleated material off her body to pool at her feet. Her progress left her standing, in the middle of his room, in only a flesh-colored bra and knickers...

It occurred to him that he should probably start breathing again.

Her eyes shifted to his, and he was sure he could make out a rosy flush across her cheeks and nose. The corner of his mouth turned up, and he lifted an eyebrow.

"Well," she huffed, "I've read it helps, to be, um, skin to skin."

"Right," he grinned wider.

She crossed her arms over her chest, which managed only to push her breasts closer together...

"Well," she cleared her throat.

"Hm?"

"Last time I checked, you were still clothed."

He shot her a comprehending grin before ducking fully beneath his covers again, wriggling out of his pyjama bottoms. As his hand shot back out to toss them in her general direction, she laughed lightly, and he could hear her moving closer.

"Come on," she basically giggled, as she uncovered him with a comically frustrated effort, facing him and bouncing closer until her hip pressed against his now-naked thigh. She reached for the bottom hem of his t-shirt just as he did, and they managed to rid him of it, Ron falling onto his back as she tossed the shirt toward the pile of discarded clothing in the centre of his room.

Still facing him, she chewed her bottom lip, legs crossed.

"I think that's a bloody second place record speed for getting me out of my clothes," he teased.

But her lack of response was punctuated by the roaming path of her eyes down from his lips to his hipbones. His ears warmed considerably as she retraced the path with a light index finger.

He shivered involuntarily at her touch, which she wrongfully assumed to be a reaction to the cold, reaching down and yanking the quilts up over them as she lowered her body over his. It was bloody freezing, nearly starkers, but he had several other things on his mind at the moment.

He trembled once again, with pleasure, as so much of her wonderfully warm skin meshed with his much cooler skin. Half of her nearly naked body overlapped his beneath the quilts, only their heads and shoulders sticking out the top.

"Better?" she whispered, brushing back his fringe with her fingers.

"God, yes."

His left palm slid cross her back to rest flat just above the curve of her arse. His breath caught in his throat for a second, and she heard the lightly strangled sound he made, furrowing her brow with concern.

"You aren't catching a cold, are you?"

He shook his head against his pillow, smiling up at her.

"Still can't believe you're fucking here," he rasped. "Give me a mo'..."

Smiling back, she leaned in close enough to touch her tiny nose to his much larger one. He closed his eyes blissfully and wrapped both his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. She kissed him, unexpectedly, and his eyes shot open again as she sighed into his mouth. His right hand smoothed up her soft skin until his fingers wound into the hair at the base of her skull. Closing his eyes once more, he ran his tongue along her top lip, and she parted her own lips, shifting until her full weight rested on top of him. Her thigh pressed down between his legs, and he groaned throatily as she lightly bit his bottom lip.

When she finally pulled back, breathing erratically, she shifted her weight off of him slightly, hovering over him.

"Shit," he muttered, as her hardened nipples grazed his chest through her ridiculously thin bra. It was only now that he realised exactly how thin it was, a single layer of a light, silky material.

"Do you realise how many days it's been since we've-" she sniffed, cheeks rosy again and eyes a bit glassy, "...been together like this?"

"Probably millions," he sighed. "Bloody well feels like it."

She nodded, eyes on his as she flattened herself back down to his chest. He could feel her heart pounding madly against him.

"Reckon I'm actually fucking nervous again," he grinned.

"Really?" she grinned back. "That's good. I thought it was just me."

"You bloody stripped while I watched," he reminded her. "Didn't seem nervous to me."

She clamped her eyes shut and buried her face against his neck.

But after a brief pause, he felt her lips on his skin... working up his jaw.

"Hermione..." he breathed.

Her thigh pressed down against his straining erection again, and she moaned softly as he clutched her waist in reaction.

"I should go ahead and apologise for how shit I'm going to be at this right now," he said, lips close enough to her ear that they briefly brushed her skin as he spoke.

Her right hand shook as she pressed it to the other side of his neck, pulling back from kissing him to find his eyes again with hers.

"You think this is going to take long for me either?" she practically whispered, her cheeks nearly crimson now.

"Jesus, you can't say things like that and expect me to-" but she cut him off with a deep kiss, running her hands down his sides as his arms committed to the task of wrapping round her waist again, crossing his wrists and lowering his left hand to her arse, slipping down the curve of it as she pressed her hips insistently down against his.

"Ron…" she moaned, pushing up onto her knees, straddling him. Her chest heaved as she pressed her palms to his chest, and her nipples stood out darkly through the flesh toned fabric of her minuscule bra. He slid both hands symmetrically up her body, thumbs nearly touching at her belly button... across her ribs... And finally, flicking them up over both of her nipples at the same moment.

She squeezed his hips almost painfully tight, with her clenched thighs, as her eyes flew shut. Unable to take it any longer, he sat halfway up, jostling her a few inches down his body as he ducked his head to her right nipple, seizing it between his teeth, through silk, as her hand flew to his hair and yanked. His right thumb and index finger rolled her left nipple back and forth, and she rubbed her inner thighs against him, pushing harder down on top of him.

"Oh," she sighed, nails raking across his shoulder blades. "No... fair."

He sucked her nipple through her bra, losing his breath as she gasped.

"Ronnnn," she urged gently, pushing him vaguely away from her until he released her to topple to his back, attempting to drag her down on top of him. But she shook her head. "Your turn."

Before he could reply, she had lowered her head to his own hardened nipple, flicking her tongue around it as he clenched fistfuls of sheet in both hands.

"Goddamn- fucking-" She slid up just enough to press her soaked knickers down on top of his aching erection. "God... Hermione- can't..."

A familiar predicament occurred to him. In order to rid her of her knickers, he'd have to let her climb off of him. Which he wasn't prepared to do.

She was now grazing her teeth lightly back and forth over his nipple.

"Bollocks."

"Mm?" She lifted her head to look at him, flushed and gorgeous in the moonlit room.

"Just... trying to work out how to get your knickers off without you moving..."

Her chest heaved with desire as she tightened her thighs around his again.

"The fabric is pretty thin," she said, airily.

He blinked. She picked up one of his hands and moved it cup her arse again. He moaned and squeezed as he pressed his head firmly back against his pillow.

And then, he understood.

Opening his eyes, he watched her chew her lip, breathing rapidly with anticipation.

"Go on," she instructed.

Moving both hands to the narrow bit of fabric at the top of her right thigh, he attempted to tear it, earning himself a slightly shrill giggle from her at his failure.

"Tough bugger," he mumbled.

But then, without warning, he flipped them, and she squealed, suddenly on her back, legs wrapped around his waist, as he flicked his tongue out to run down the front of her neck.

She gasped again, arching her back to press her breasts to his skin as he made his way down... She had to lift her legs over his shoulders as he dragged an open-mouthed kiss down her stomach, catching the top of her knickers between his teeth as she squirmed.

With his legs now halfway off the bottom edge of the bed, exposed out the ends of the quilts, he slid his lightly clamped teeth around her knickers until he reached the thin right side. Looping his right arm underneath her leg, he held the fabric still as he jerked his head back, effectively ripping the rather weak seam in two.

"Gotcha," he breathed.

Moving to the other side, he repeated the motion, chest fluttering with intense pleasure as she gasped again.

Her destroyed knickers fell off the front of her without another bit of coaxing from him. He pulled the ruined fabric out from under her and tossed it over the edge of the bed.

Holding his breath, he stared, openly, between her legs.

Fuck, it had been so long. That last night, before her train to Hogwarts, they'd stayed up all night, crying, making love, talking softly to each other in the dark. He felt his eyes burn slightly even now, remembering how hard it had been to let her go.

Not wanting to ruin their reunion by suddenly sobbing like a baby, he distracted himself by ducking and dropping a gentle kiss to the smooth, silky skin just above the start of her soft brown curls. Her hands ran mesmerisingly through his hair as he clutched her right thigh to the side of his face, spreading his palm across her impossibly warm flesh.

And as he moved lower, he heard the wonderful, distant sound of her thick breathing, his name wisping out from between her parted lips. He grinned, pleased, as he slid down the final inch to press his lips to the hot wetness between her trembling legs.

She mumbled something incoherent and tugged his hair again, arching a bit into him. Surrounded by her scent, her skin, memories of the first time she'd let him do this... He couldn't stop himself from pushing his erection down into the mattress, jolting with pleasure as his hands climbed up her body toward her breasts. His left hand reached its target, molding over the shape of her breast through that sodding bra, which he had somehow neglected to get her out of yet. But she caught his right hand with her left before it reached its original mark, lacing their fingers together as she rubbed her foot against his bare back.

"Rrrronnn," she groaned, "you- you've got to sssstoppp. Ohhhh."

But instead, he ran his tongue up and down and sucked harder. She tugged their joined hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles as she shuddered.

"Please..." she breathed, and he separated from her only enough to glance up her body at her flushed face.

"This is fucking easy right now," he murmured. "Bloody hell, I could finish this in a few seconds-"

She dug her heel into his back and narrowed her eyes through a haze of desire.

"Don't want it like that. Not today," she begged. "Want you kissing me and-and inside me when we-"

"Oh, fuck," he interjected, sighing at her words. Hermione never, ever, talked like that. Except when they were alone. Except when she was too overwhelmed to think of a more clever and less obvious way to ask him for what she wanted. And that was just for him.

One more bit of clothing would separate them if he didn't do something about it now. So, he worked his boxers down his legs, kicking to free them completely. Glancing up at her amused expression, he smiled and pushed her legs off his shoulders, crawling up her body until his erection was barely touching her, light against her inner thigh. Positioning his weight on his left forearm, he reached his right hand down to lift her arse, her hands gliding up his chest. And, in one smooth motion, he slid into her, dizzy at the sounds she was making, the feeling he could never quite explain properly, enough to do it justice.

He muffled a groan with a kiss, her parted lips eagerly moving with his as he lifted her left leg higher up his hip, pressing deeper into her. She let out an airy sort of squeak as he parted from her lips, drawing out of her as far as he could manage before sliding slowly back into her, her body shuddering underneath him.

"Shit," he shivered, arm shaking with his weight and trying to go slow, to make it last.

She moved beneath him then, trying to press her chest flush against his, looking a tad frustrated.

"Wait," she sighed out, and he froze, watching as she tried to reach behind her back to undo her bra clasp.

But it was no use from this position. And she only had to tap the inside of her knee to his hip briefly for him to know what she needed. Sweeping his arm beneath her, he flipped them again, moaning as her full weight was suddenly forced down, burying him inside of her as her knees widened to press into the mattress on either side of him.

"Oh!" she squeaked, her eyes snapping shut as she lulled for a drugged moment, pushing her hands against his stomach to fully balance, sitting on top of him.

Still puffing out erratic breaths, she opened her darkened eyes again and reached behind her back, this time easily undoing the clasp. Her bra slipped from her arms and dropped to Ron's chest. He tossed it aside just before she crashed down on top of him, her fully bare chest now finally skin to skin with his.

"You- ...feel fucking amazing," he managed to say, as she moved on top of him, knees trembling against his mattress as she kissed his lips, his neck... His hands clutched her arse as she melted into him.

She felt light on top of him, and he was lost in the way she was lifting her arse off of his thighs. She'd done this before, but it somehow felt even better than he could ever remember it, after so much time.

A light sheen of sweat was breaking out across her chest.

"Can't... bloody... move… anymore..." she sighed.

"Got it," he whispered, left palm sinking into the mattress as he lifted his back, nearly sitting up, holding her in his lap, as her eyes met his.

This was his favourite thing in the whole sodding world: looking into her eyes like this, seeing the aching love she had for him, pouring out... seeing the way every tiny move he made changed her, brought her closer to him. Holding her tight with a firm forearm, he slowly moved inside her until she was moving again as well, unable to help it. He unwrapped his arm from around her to clutch her waist with his large hand, long fingers tingling against her hot skin, thumb stretching to press between their joined bodies.

"God..." she breathed, hoarsely.

He rubbed his thumb slowly against her as she pressed her forehead to his, arms around his neck. He knew that if he didn't close his eyes, try to regain some composure, he would be done in a matter of seconds. But he couldn't bring himself to stop staring back at her.

"Love... you..." he managed, between spasms of pleasure. But before he could recover enough to be useful to her anymore, a tiny gasp escaped her, and her muscles clenched tight.

One last shaking move of his thumb, one last exhale, and he bent further forward, allowing him to lift his left palm from the mattress, climbing both hands up her sweaty back as he covered her half-scream with his mouth.

She went limp in his arms as he dragged his lips away from hers to breathe hotly against her damp cheek.

His muscles turned almost instantly to jelly, and he dragged her down on top of his useless body as he fell to his back, tangles of sheets and quilts around his legs. Sighing deeply, she reclaimed her right leg, sliding off of him and repositioning herself to overlap half of his naked body, stretched out on her stomach, her head sinking heavily atop his chest.

"God, I love you..." she whispered.

His arms tightened their grip around her as he smiled. He could feel the pounding beat of his heart against her ear, her hair splayed out across his chest as she drifted lightly toward sleep.

He shifted his legs, tugging the quilts down with his toes, to cover his feet.

"Better?" she asked him, echoing her question from much earlier about the cold.

He laughed at the grin he heard in her voice, and she lifted her head from his chest to his shoulder, rubbing her pink-tinged nose against the side of his neck.

"Don't ever chuck me, Hermione," he sighed, closing his eyes, content.

But she lifted her head quickly at his words, and he opened his eyes again, looking back at her serious expression, glistening eyes.

"Never," she whispered, urgently, brushing her fingertips across his cheek. "You know that, don't you?"

He covered her hand with his and turned his head to press her fingertips to his lips.

"Reckon I do," he said, lowering their joined hands to his chest.

And at last, covered in quilts and happiness and Hermione, he closed his eyes, finally warm, and drifted into the best night's sleep he'd had in months.