A fluffy one shot that popped into my head one night and begged to be written. I own nothing but the plot.

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Ron Weasley couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed until well passed midnight, unknown forces forbidding sleep to over take him. Giving up, he flung the heavy sheets off his body and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He glanced over at Harry, sound asleep on the cot against the opposite wall and sighed. As carefully and quietly as possible, Ron got out of bed and exited his room to head for the kitchen for some cocoa.

The stairs in the Burrow had always been noisy, but the red head felt as though they were especially creaky tonight. The sounds bounced off the walls as he hurried down the staircase.

Once on the bottom floor, Ron crept around corners. He was about to step into the kitchen when he noticed he wasn't the only insomniac that night.

Hermione Granger stood on her tip toes in an attempt to reach the cocoa mix on the top shelf in the pantry. Her seventeenth birthday still being two months away, and never one to break the rules, Hermione was unable to levitate the container from the shelf.

Ron could have helped her, if he so chose, but he was enjoying watching her struggle.

One might say he was enjoying himself too much, but then, they didn't see what she was wearing.

The brunette witch was clad only in an oversized t-shirt. It was too dark for Ron to be specific, but he liked the show none the less. While big on her, it still rose as she reached for the cocoa, revealing her long, delicate legs.

When minutes had passed and it seemed like Hermione was going to give up, Ron stood behind her and easily grabbed the mix from the shelf. He placed it on the counter and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Would you like some company?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, busying herself with the kettle. Ron sat at the kitchen table and watch as she worked. Finally, his eyes had adjusted and he was close enough to decipher her outfit.

She was wearing a Cannon's jersey!

Unless Ron was mistaken, which he usually wasn't when it came to Quidditch, he was the only one in the house who owned Cannon jerseys.

Plus, Hermione had said many times that she wasn't fond of Quidditch, so why would she buy herself a Chudley Cannon jersey?

There was only one explanation then.

"Hermione, why are you wearing my shirt?"

The girl in question blushed scarlet, though she never looked up from the mugs she was pouring hot water into.

"Well, one of the twins' old products sprayed ink all over my night dress, and so your mother gave me this to sleep in while she washed my clothes. I hope it's alright that I borrow it."

"Keep it," Ron said, surprising himself. Hermione froze in stirring the cocoa.

"It looks better on you," Ron finished truthfully, his ears burning the same red as his hair. He nodded a thank you as he took one of the mugs from Hermione, sipping from it immediately, for something to do.

He regretted that instantly, as the entirety of his mouth burned from the drink. He ran to the sink and stuck his head under the running faucet, drinking in the cold water.

He returned to the table thoroughly embarrassed, and dropped an ice cube into both his and Hermione's cups.

"'S bit hot," he muttered, and Hermione burst into soft giggles.

They drank their cocoa in a peaceful silence. As Ron drained the last of it from his mug, he ended up with a bit a whipped cream resting on his upper lip. Unconsciously, Hermione reached out, wiping it up with her thumb.

They paused for a moment, overtaken by the emotion in the room. Then Hermione lowered her hand, and Ron leaned back. He took notice of her empty mug and, grabbing his own, left the table to put them both in the sink. He watched the scrub brush start cleaning them, before turning back to Hermione.

"I suppose I should, er, go back to bed."

Hermione stood up quickly. "Me too," she added.

They headed up the stairs, Ron happily letting Hermione take the lead, as it gave him an excuse to stare at her never ending legs.

They reached the landing where Hermione shared the room with Ginny.

"Well, goodnight." Ron said.

Hermione stood on her toes once more, and kissed the boy's cheek.

"Goodnight Ron," she said softly, slipping through the door of the bedroom.

Ron climbed the stairs to his room with high spirits.

He didn't care if he ever got that jersey back.

So long as Hermione was the one who had it.

Fin.

A/N: And there you have it. Written at 1 o'clock in the morning when I'm half asleep xD Leave me a review and let me know what you thought!