AN: This idea came to me a while ago and didn't quite fit with anything I was already working on. Now it's grown into its own one-shot. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

The Blanket Fort

"'Mione, love? What are you doing?" George called down into the living room, just barely above a whisper.

He was vaguely concerned about the mental state of the young witch. She'd seemed to be choking back tears through most of dinner and she'd been unusually quiet when they'd all gathered to relax and socialise. She'd pretended to be reading, but her lack of turning pages had caught his attention. He'd been staring at the ceiling of his old bedroom and trying to puzzle out what could be wrong. They'd been celebrating Fred and Angelina's engagement announcement tonight and he'd chosen to stay behind in his old room to give the happy couple a night alone in the flat. For reasons that he couldn't fathom, Hermione had opted to stay on the sofa downstairs. There were plenty of open beds, including the one that had historically been hers in Ginny's room, but she'd insisted on sleeping downstairs. For reasons that completely boggled the mind, mum had not made a fuss about it. On the contrary, she'd given Hermione free reign of the downstairs linen cabinets and left her to it when everyone not staying had left for the evening.

He crept carefully down the stairs, skipping the squeaky steps he knew would wake up mum and dad. Even at his age, he did not want to be caught out of bed by the hot-headed matriarch or have to explain to his long-suffering father why he was creeping about in his own home. When he peeked into the living room he was surprised at what he saw. Hermione had pulled chairs in from the kitchen and draped blankets and sheets over them. It also looked like she had nicked the cushions off the armchairs and drug them into what was clearly a blanket fort. His eyes went wide with surprise, this is definitely not what he expected he would come upon when he ventured to investigate the strange noises from downstairs.

He sat on the step and stared for a few moments. He figured there were only really a few things one could do when one found their grown adult mate had constructed a blanket fort in the living room. He could pretend he'd seen nothing and go back to bed. This would not do of course because he was dying to know why she had chosen to build a fort in the middle of the night. He also sort of wanted to see inside of it, wondering if she'd charmed it in any way or if it was a traditional non-magical construction. He could simply stroll into the room and ask her. This risked her getting embarrassed and pulling the whole thing down without explanation. He may also startle her and end up with a nasty hex. He did not want to meet the wrong end of her wand over his own curiosity. He decided option three would probably be his best bet and made his way quietly toward the kitchen.

He kept the lights low and moved as quietly as he could to not wake anyone upstairs, but clattering just enough to potentially draw out the witch he was fairly certain was awake inside the blanket fort. He dug up one of the older tea trays and set two mugs of hot cocoa which he'd promptly topped with whipped cream and sprinkles to one side and a plate of assorted biscuits in the centre. He couldn't remember which were her favourite, though he vaguely recalled having seen her sneak extras after tea. He levitated the tray ahead of him, low to the ground and leaned in toward her fort.

"Hermione?" he called quietly, knocking on the seat of one of the kitchen chairs near where he presumed the entrance was. He could hear the low sounds of the wireless coming from inside and what sounded like her whispering along with the words.

"George?" she stuck her head out, her cheeks going red when she came face to face first with the tea tray and then his amused grin.

"You alright, love? You didn't seem well at dinner and then I heard these noises…"

"I… I can explain this…" she stammered, opening the flap to allow the persistently pushing tea tray entrance.

He climbed inside, ignoring the absurdity of it all, and sat cross-legged in front of her. Without waiting for an invitation, he picked up one of the mugs and a biscuit as if it was the most normal thing in the world to call on her after midnight for a bit of hot cocoa in a blanket fort. He was pleasantly surprised that it had not been magically expanded and appeared to be a hand erected construction. He had a flitting thought that Bill and Charlie would be proud, having been the two champion fort builders when they were kids.

"Cocoa?" he offered, nodding toward the tray that she was staring at with some confusion.

"I… sure." She shook the bewilderment from her mind and carefully picked up a mug, licking off a bit of the cream and sprinkles first.

"So, what's with the fort?" George asked after she'd had a chance to relax at the feel of the warm beverage on such a cold night.

"I.. um… I was feeling a bit low. I wanted to do something that used to bring me comfort when I was wee. Whenever I was sad my dad and I would build a little fort in our sitting room and he'd let me sleep in it. Sometimes I'd spend all day in it reading or playing with my dolls." She explained, slightly embarrassed by the admission.

"Wicked! Mum never let us leave up any structure we built for very long. She never thought they were safe enough…"

"Knowing you and your brothers, they probably weren't. I happen to know the only reason why the tree house in the orchard is still standing is because your dad fixed it each night after you'd all gone to bed." She laughed lightly, he couldn't help but notice the slight sparkle in her eyes when she did.

"You have very pretty eyes." He blurted.

"Oh. Um… thank you." She blushed again, not expecting the compliment.

"I have no idea why that suddenly came out. I promise I didn't just come down here to hit on you…" he tried to cover, his own cheeks warming now.

"No, you came to be nosy and bring me a mug of cocoa and a plate of biscuits. Not that I'm complaining… Flirting and such is sort of why I'm in here. I really am very happy for Fred and Angelina, but it comes on the tails of a particularly bad rejection. There was a bloke at the Ministry I thought might have fancied me, but it turns out he wasn't so much interested in me as he was in trying to transfer to my department. I spent two months working up the nerve to make a move and it was all for nothing. And now, of course, I have to see him again on Monday." She groaned, covering her face with her free hand.

"That's awful. I'm sorry, Hermione." George soothed, reaching across the short distance and setting his hand comfortingly on her knee.

"I feel so silly for being upset about it, to be honest. I didn't even like him that much. I've just been so terribly lonely. I'm the only one left of the three of us without a partner. It gets awkward sometimes, always showing up at things alone. I guess I've been dwelling on it a lot lately…"

"Why lately?" he couldn't think of a reason why being single now would be such a big deal. He'd been stag for so long now it rarely if ever, occurred to him to be upset about it.

"Hannah and Neville's wedding is soon. I'd been hoping to have a date for it so I don't have to go to yet another function alone, but I haven't had any luck in that department…" she sighed heavily and popped a chocolate biscuit in her mouth.

"I'll go with you if you like. I was going to go alone otherwise…" he suggested.

"Surely you could get a date, George? I know you've always got women fawning over you at the shop…" she was almost scandalised by the thought that he didn't already have a date lined up.

"I could if I wanted to, but there's no one there I'd consider asking on a date. They're lovely, yeah, but looks aren't everything." He shrugged it off and broke eye contact, always uncomfortable by the excess female attention he and his twin attracted.

"We're a right pair, aren't we? I've built this lovely piece of nostalgia and we're sitting in her being depressing." Hermione sighed again and shrugged her shoulders.

"Know what you need?" He asked suddenly with a grin spreading across his face.

"No…" she raised her eyebrows in question, watching a series of thoughts rapidly cross his face.

"Come on. We'll only be gone a moment." He dragged her out of the fort and headed toward the back door.

"No shoes!" He chastised in a stage whisper when she tried to reach for her boots as he pulled her out into the dark and cold.

"George, what are we doing? It's freezing out here." Her teeth chattered slightly as the cold hit her, her pyjamas in no way providing enough warmth in the winter cold.

"At least it's not snowing…" he teased, wrapping an arm around her to help keep her warm as he pulled her toward the practice pitch.

"Why are we going to the pitch?" her voice was laced with concern.

"Just trust me…" he squeezed her comfortingly and tugged her along, stopping briefly to summon his broom from the shed and making her even more nervous.

"I know you aren't a huge fan of flying, but it's the only way to show you what I think you need to see…" he stopped mid-pitch and started to mount the broom, gesturing for her to join him.

She chewed her lip as she considered, eyes flitting back and forth from the sky to the broom to his patient face.

"Don't drop me." She said, climbing aboard just in front of him. She struggled to get comfortable, forgetting how her hands were supposed to go. He chuckled lowly behind her and slid her slightly closer to him, wrapping an arm securely around her before pushing off.

The cold air whipped around them for a few moments. Her eyes were squeezed shut in fear, her knuckles white where they gripped the broom. She was suddenly very relieved it had not snowed tonight as the cold was worse where they'd leveled out.

"Open your eyes."

"How do you know they're not already open?"

"Lucky guess." He laughed lightly and held her a little tighter when he felt a tremor of fear pass through her when she did open her eyes.

"Oh wow…" her breath caught in her throat when she saw what he'd wanted to show her. They were over the far end of the lake where the light of the house didn't quite reach this late at night. It was almost like they were surrounded by starlight, the water below reflecting the twinkling orbs above them. The sky was moonless tonight, making everything seem somehow more magical.

"Beautiful, right?" He whispered, not wanting to break the spell of it all. He felt her nod slowly.

"When I need to clear my head I come out here and sit on my broom in the starlight." He explained, voice sounding less sure than it usually did at the personal revelation.

"It's amazing." She breathed, leaning into him unconsciously.

"Everything else seems somehow smaller, right? Less important. Like it doesn't matter quite so much in the grand scheme of things." He swallowed nervously.

"You're right." She agreed, cautiously bringing one hand out of its death grip on the broom and giving the arm around her waist a thankful squeeze.

"I know it won't make anything feel much better or easier, but maybe for a few minutes it can be a distraction…" he trailed off, still unsure if it would have the same calming impact on her as it usually did on him.

"Thank you." She whispered, taking a few deep breaths as she studied the sky around them and the reflections below.

After a few moments, she shivered from the cold and he made the descent back to the ground, landing much closer to the back door than he normally would to get her in from outside.

"Sorry, I probably should have let you grab a jacket and boots. I was just excited…" his ears and cheeks pinked as they slid back inside. He leaned the broom against the counter to deal with later and stripped the now mist dampened pyjama shirt off himself, not noticing when Hermione swallowed hard at the sight.

"No, no, it was nice. Thank you for showing me." She smiled at him, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to warm them up while she tried to avert her eyes from his chest.

"Come here…" he chuckled and pulled her into him, wrapping her in his warmth. Every ex-girlfriend he'd ever dated had been adamant that he was a walking furnace, even if he'd just been running naked in the snow. It occurred to him it was a little strange he'd been naked in the snow on more than one occasion.

"You're really warm…" she forced out, stiffening when he noticed she was now against the very chest she'd been trying not to ogle.

"So I've been told. Are you feeling a little warmer?" He asked, loosening his hold on her so he could look into her face.

"Much," she responded, stepping out of his hold when her eyes lingered on his a little longer than she'd intended them too.

"I'm hungry." He announced suddenly with a laugh, poking his head into the pantry to see what might be found.

"We just had biscuits…" Hermione teased, popping up onto one of the counters to watch him root around for whatever it was he thought he needed to eat in the middle of the night.

"Apples?" she asked, happily surprised at the choice.

"And peanut butter," he grinned back at her as he got a knife and cutting board to ready the snack.

Everything was fine initially until an apple rolled unexpectedly when he tried to cut into it and sent the blade of the knife over the top of his hand when he'd lost control.

"Bugger!" he shouted, immediately jumping back and letting the knife clatter to the ground, hoping the noise hadn't woken anyone.

"Come on…" Hermione acted fast, taking him by the wrist and yanking him back toward her blanket fort. Once inside, she pulled her little bead bag into her lap and fished around for a moment before finding what she wanted.

"Give me your hand," she demanded. He complied quickly enough, hoping he wouldn't smear blood all over her.

She made quick work of cleaning the wound and casting the initial healing spells, the skin stitching back together neatly. She traced her fingers gently over where the cut had been, smoothing on the dittany from her bag with practiced motions. She wrapped it carefully afterward to let it sink into the skin undisturbed and held his hand in his a moment longer than was totally necessary. He'd sat in total silence the whole time, amazed at how quickly she could jump into triage mode.

She looked up to see his reaction when she'd finished, their eyes locking for a long moment in consideration. She moved to speak but before she could get any words out his lips met hers and she couldn't stop herself from tangling her fingers in his hair. She felt his hands travel from her shoulders down to her waist, coaxing her to turn and uncross her legs so he could pull her closer.

"There's not enough room…" she panted, trying to catch her breath.

"That depends on what it is you want to do in here…" George looked at her searchingly, unsure of what it was she wanted from him. He was still reeling that she'd accepted his kiss at all.

"Be quiet and take me upstairs…" she murmured into his lips when she recaptured them with hers. He apparated them up without delay, knowing a command when he heard one.

He'd been accurate enough that they landed on his bed and not on the floor. He'd had some definite concerns when she'd bit his lip rather suddenly just before he moved them. He slid his tongue over her bottom lip, seeking entrance hungrily moving his mouth in time with her's when she accepted. It wasn't long before they were a tangle of naked limbs, lips, teeth, and tongues exploring in the darkness. All too soon, it was over and they were panting in the afterglow.

"Bloody hell, Granger…" he laughed lightly.

"Hmmm…" she snuggled into his chest, starting to drift to sleep.

"You don't want to sleep in your blanket fort?" he teased lightly, combing his fingers through her hair as he settled back into the pillows.

"I think it's served its purpose." She muttered.

"Oh?" He laughed again, smirking in the dark.

"Brought me the comfort of you didn't it?" He felt her smile against his skin and pulled her closer.

"That it did." He leaned down and kissed the top of her curls.

"If I'd known to get you to pay attention to me all I had to do was build a blanket fort, I'd have done it years ago." She admitted, a happy sigh escaping her tired lips. He couldn't help but smile as he held her, thinking much the same thing.