Chapter Five

Author's Notes:
So as mentioned at the end of chapter four, this was originally intended to be the start of a sequel, however because both the first part and this were so short I decided to simply combine the two into one story. Bear in mind there will have been a massive time jump here, it's never stated but it's roughly 10-13 years.

Hermione's breath hitched as the glowing word Pregnant hovered in the air. Her reflection in the mirror paled, lips parting in silent shock before the scream tore from her throat.

"What the fuck—I'm pregnant?!"

Many Years Later.

It wasn't fair, not really, Ron had admitted this to himself over and over again for many years now, after finding his little trinket that had opened so many doors for him in life, the Time Stopping Watch remained forever by his side or rather in his pocket.

His last years at Hogwarts had been a lot different from his first several, after accidentally getting Hermione pregnant Ron was peeved at first that she and Harry had gotten engaged and married as soon as the law allowed them to, his baby being raised by another man didn't feel great but Ron would admit to himself that he was not even close to wanting to raise children yet.

Thankfully the baby girl that had been born (named Jasmine Lily Potter) displayed few of Ron's features other than a red tinge to her hair but considering that Harry's mother and both his grand mother's had possessed red hair it wasn't a massive shock though admittedly a few people did look at him twice thinking that he might be the father, thankfully no one ever brought it up plus Hermione still had no idea she had birthed his child and not Harry's so she was in the clear.

Hermione aside, he had used the watch on several other girls, Lavender Brown, The Patil twins, Katie Bell, even Professor Siniestra and Madam Rosemerta in Hogsmeade, thankfully he had learned his lesson and always 'borrowed' anti pregnancy' potion from the hospital wing when out on his adventures.

His grades hadn't been great but Ron had a plan for after Hogwarts and had begun to play quidditch professionally, with the watch at his disposal he quickly became the most sought after Keeper in all of Europe and even got to play on the international helping England lift the trophy in the last several world cups.

It wasn't fair Ron would admit this, he was a decent keeper admittedly but not that good, but it didn't matter when you could stop time and figure out which direction the chasers would try to score. He kept so many clean sheets that by the age of twenty five he was considered the greatest keeper in Quidditch history.

Fame and fortune, he had everything he wanted, though admittedly he still obsessed over Hermione, sadly no matter how powerful the watch was it couldn't stop her from loving her husband Harry or her family, one night when bemoaning over drinks he had seen Lavender Brown at the bar.

No longer needing the watch at least with such a gold digger they had drunkenly stumbled to his bedroom when he had shagged her well into the night, sadly neither of them had been sober enough to remember protection and Lavender soon became the mother to his son, his mother Molly screaming at him long enough had gotten him to finally marry Lavender and whilst she wasn't really what he wanted he could do a lot worse.

Several more years passed by and Ron and his wife ended up having another boy, Ron was still playing professionally and making more money than he could dream of. wWith the season now over and no internationals he had more free time and decided to head towards the Potter home to see what his friends were up to.

As Ron approached the Potter home, he couldn't help but feel a mix of nostalgia and resentment. The familiar sight of the Burrow brought back memories of simpler times, but his mind quickly shifted to Hermione. He wondered if she still thought about him, if she ever felt the same way. The thought of her with Harry, happy and in love, gnawed at him. He pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the present. His visit was supposed to be about reconnecting with friends, but deep down, he hoped to catch a glimpse of Hermione, to see if the spark he imagined still existed.

Ron’s knuckles hovered just inches from the Potters’ front door, his breath hitching as laughter spilled from inside. The sound of Hermione’s voice—warm, melodic—sent an old, familiar heat curling low in his gut. He clenched his jaw, fingers twitching toward the pocket where the watch still rested, its weight both a comfort and a curse.

Steeling himself, he rapped twice on the door. The laughter inside paused, replaced by the scrape of a chair and the patter of small feet. The door swung open, and there stood Harry, grinning, his glasses slightly askew and his hair as hopelessly messy as ever. “Ron! Didn’t expect you today—come in!”

Forcing a smile, Ron stepped over the threshold, his eyes immediately darting past Harry to the kitchen. Hermione stood at the counter, her back to him as she stirred something in a bowl, her curls piled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. The sunlight streaming through the window caught the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips beneath her fitted blouse.

Ron swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. Hermione turned, her face lighting up when she saw him—though not with the warmth he craved, but the polite fondness of an old friend. "Ron! What a surprise," she said, wiping her hands on a tea towel. The scent of baking bread and something sweet—treacle tart, maybe—drifted through the air, mingling with the faint floral perfume she always wore.

Harry clapped him on the shoulder, oblivious to the way Ron’s fingers twitched toward his pocket again. "You’re just in time. Hermione’s been experimenting with a new recipe."

"Just trying to keep these two from living off takeaway," Hermione laughed, nodding toward the kitchen table where James, their eldest, sat scribbling on a piece of parchment with a furrowed brow that mirrored Harry’s.

Ron **** a chuckle, but his eyes lingered on the way Hermione’s blouse dipped slightly as she bent to check the oven, revealing the barest hint of the lace-edged bra beneath. His pulse spiked. The watch burned against his thigh, whispering possibilities.

As the afternoon wore on, Ron found himself drawn into the familiar rhythm of the Potter household, the warmth of their family dynamic a stark contrast to the emptiness he often felt. Yet, beneath the surface of his laughter and reminiscing, his gaze wandered, inevitably settling on Hermione. She moved with a grace that belied the chaos of managing a household and raising children, her figure more mature, more alluring than he remembered. The way her blouse clung to her curves as she leaned over to help James with his drawing sent a sharp pang of desire through him. He could feel the weight of the watch in his pocket, a constant reminder of the power he held, the secrets he kept.

Hermione, oblivious to the storm of emotions she stirred in him, chatted effortlessly about her latest projects, her eyes lighting up with passion as she spoke of her work in magical law reform. Ron listened, nodding along, all the while stealing glances at the way her hair caught the light, the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He knew it was wrong, knew he should let go, but the years had only intensified his obsession.

Ron’s fingers twitched against his thigh as he watched Hermione move about the kitchen, her every motion sending waves of longing through him. The watch in his pocket felt heavier than ever, its presence a constant temptation. He shifted in his seat, trying to focus on Harry’s animated retelling of an Auror mission, but his gaze kept drifting back to Hermione.

Then it happened.

James, fumbling with his quill, accidentally knocked his pencil to the floor. It rolled under the table, coming to rest near Hermione’s feet. “Oh, I’ve got it,” she said, bending forward to retrieve it.

Ron’s breath hitched.

As she leaned down, the neckline of her blouse gaped slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage—soft, smooth skin disappearing into the lace of her bra. His throat went dry. The sight was fleeting, just a second, maybe two, but it was enough to send heat rushing through him. His grip tightened on the edge of the table, knuckles whitening.

Hermione straightened, pencil in hand, and handed it back to James with a smile. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear, completely unaware of the effect she’d just had on Ron. His pulse hammered in his ears, his thoughts spiraling.

Ron's fingers dug into his thigh as the last thread of his restraint snapped. The watch burned against his skin, its golden surface warm with promise. In the split second between Hermione tucking her hair behind her ear and turning back to the counter, his hand darted to his pocket. The familiar grooves of the watch's engravings pressed into his palm as he twisted the crown with practiced precision.

Time froze.