Time Break

Author's Notes

So here we are with story number three and this one is shorter than Yule Ball Delight, a few things to expect, Harry/Hermione relationship, Ron/Hermione sexual content, **** (time frozen) sex. Also there will be a big time skip about half way through the story.

For a little context this was actually the fourth story I wrote but the next one is a rather legnthy one so I figured get this smaller story posted first. I will admit I did toy with the idea of rewriting this (and I might still do in the future) but hopefully you guys will enjoy it regardless.

AU, All characters are 18 or older in this story.

It happened back during his time at Hogwarts, Ron had wanted some time away from everyone after the disastrous Quidditch match, losing was never fun but losing to the Slytherin team was just too much.

He had decided to seek refuge in the Room of Requirement, wanting to hide himself; he had accidentally found the room's hidden treasure trove. It had not taken long before he started poking around before helping himself to some of the items inside of the room, Jewel's quidditch memorabilia and a few trinkets including a rather nice gold pocket watch.

It hadn’t taken long before he discovered the power of the watch, later that evening he had been extremely bored whilst Hermione was trying to badger him into joining her and Harry into doing his homework. He had tried for a while before he needed a break and found himself absent mindedly clicking the button on the watch in boredom.

Ron clicked the button with a soft snap, not expecting anything to happen—but the world around him froze instantly. The scratching of Hermione’s quill halted mid-sentence, Harry’s half-formed reply to her hung in the air, unmoving. Even the dust motes drifting in the dim candlelight of the Gryffindor common room hung suspended, as if trapped in amber.

Ron’s breath caught in his throat. He waved a hand in front of Hermione’s face—no reaction. Her brown eyes, usually so sharp and knowing, were glassy and unseeing. A strange thrill shot through him. He could do anything right now, and no one would ever know.

Hesitantly, he reached out and brushed a loose curl behind her ear. His fingers trembled as they grazed her skin—warm, but unnervingly still. He shouldn’t be doing this. But the watch was in his hand, and the power was intoxicating.

He leaned closer, studying her face—the curve of her lips, the faint freckles dusting her nose. Harry’s arm was draped lazily over her shoulder, fingers tangled in her robes. A sharp pang of jealousy twisted in Ron’s gut. He should be the one sitting that close to her.

Ron’s breath came faster, his pulse hammering in his ears. The pocket watch felt heavy in his palm, its golden surface cool against his skin. He stared at Hermione’s frozen face, her lips slightly parted as if she had been about to speak. The urge to close the distance between them was unbearable.

Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. His nose brushed against hers, and for a dizzying moment, he could smell the faint scent of parchment and ink clinging to her. His gaze flickered down to her lips. Just one kiss. No one would ever know.

His fingers tightened around the watch.

Then—guilt.

He jerked back, his face burning. What was he doing? This wasn’t right. Hermione wasn’t his to take. She was Harry’s. His best mate’s. The thought twisted like a knife, but it was enough to make him stumble away from the couch, nearly tripping over his own feet.

The common room was eerily silent. The fire in the grate was motionless, its flames frozen mid-flicker. Even the portrait of the Fat Lady outside was stuck mid-yawn, her mouth stretched wide in an eternal silent gasp. Ron swallowed hard, his throat dry.

He needed to think.

His eyes darted back to Hermione, still motionless beside Harry.

Ron’s fingers twitched around the watch, his pulse pounding so loudly he swore it echoed in the unnatural silence. He took a shaky step backward, his heel catching on the edge of the hearth rug. The frozen flames of the fireplace loomed behind him, their jagged edges like glass.

He couldn’t look away from Hermione.

Her lips were still parted—had she been about to laugh at something Harry said? Or scold Ron for not paying attention to his homework? The thought of her voice, usually so full of life, silenced in this eerie stillness made his stomach clench. He swallowed hard, his throat tight.

One more second.

His thumb hovered over the watch’s button. He could press it again, let time rush back in, pretend none of this had happened. But then—Hermione would turn to Harry, Harry would grin at her, and Ron would be left sitting there, useless, watching them.

His grip tightened.

Instead, he took a step forward. Then another. His breath came in shallow bursts as he closed the distance between them, his shadow stretching across the frozen figures on the couch. He reached out, his fingers trembling, and brushed the back of his knuckles against Hermione’s cheek.

Her skin was warm. Soft.

His heart hammered harder.

She can’t know.

The thought sent a guilty thrill through him.

Ron’s fingers lingered on Hermione’s cheek, his breath shallow. The stillness of the room pressed in on him, amplifying the rapid thud of his own heartbeat. He could see the faint rise and fall of her chest—frozen mid-breath—and the way her lashes cast delicate shadows on her skin. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, the touch feather-light, as if afraid she might shatter under the weight of his longing.

He swallowed hard, his pulse jumping when his gaze flickered back to her lips. The temptation was unbearable. Just one kiss. One stolen moment in the silence. His grip on the pocket watch tightened, the metal biting into his palm.

Ron’s breath hitched as he leaned in, his pulse roaring in his ears. The air between them felt charged, thick with the weight of what he was about to do. His lips hovered just above Hermione’s, close enough to feel the faint warmth of her breath—still trapped in time. His fingers trembled against her cheek, his other hand clutching the watch so tightly his knuckles turned white.

One second.

Then he closed the distance.

The kiss was soft, hesitant at first—just the barest brush of his lips against hers. But the moment their skin touched, something electric jolted through him. He pressed in deeper, his free hand tangling in her curls, his heart hammering so violently he feared it might break free from his chest. She didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, but her lips were warm, yielding under his. The guilt twisted inside him, sharp and sickening, but it was nothing compared to the dizzying rush of finally having this.

His thumb traced her jaw, tilting her head slightly as he deepened the kiss, his breath ragged. He could taste the faintest hint of the peppermint tea she always drank while studying. His fingers tightened in her hair, his other hand still gripping the watch like a lifeline. He knew he should stop—knew this was wrong—but the thought of pulling away was unbearable.

Ron’s fingers shook as he pulled back from the kiss, his breath ragged. Hermione’s lips were still slightly parted, her expression unchanged—frozen in time. His pulse hammered in his throat, his skin burning where he had touched her. The weight of what he had just done crashed over him, but beneath the guilt, something darker and hungrier coiled in his gut.

Ron’s breath caught in his throat as he stepped back, the weight of his actions crashing down on him like a tidal wave. The room, still frozen in time, seemed to close in around him, the silence deafening. He stared at Hermione, her lips still parted from the kiss, her expression unchanged. The sight twisted his gut with a mix of guilt and longing. He clenched his fists, the pocket watch still clutched in one hand, its metal edge biting into his palm. He wanted to turn back time, to undo what he had done, but the watch’s power was unlimited.

Ron’s hands trembled as they drifted from her face, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of her robe. The silence of the frozen world around him seemed to amplify every touch, every breath. He told himself he should stop, that this was already too far, but his body moved of its own accord. His palm rested against her shoulder, the warmth of her skin seeping through the material. He could feel the curve of her neck beneath his fingertips, and before he knew it, his hands were at the buttons of her shirt, his thumbs fumbling with the delicate fastenings.

The first button slipped free with a quiet snick, revealing a sliver of skin at the hollow of Hermione’s throat. Ron’s breath shuddered as his fingertips traced the exposed curve, the pad of his thumb brushing the delicate dip where her collarbone began. The fabric parted further beneath his trembling touch, each undone button sending a fresh wave of heat crawling up his neck. His pulse hammered so violently he could feel it in his teeth.

The watch grew slick in his sweating palm, its ticking muffled against his skin. He could stop now—should stop now—but the forbidden thrill of it coiled low in his stomach, drowning out the voice of reason.

The next button gave way with a quiet pop, the fabric falling open just enough to reveal the lace edge of her bra. Ron’s breath hitched—his fingers hovered there, trembling, the pad of his thumb skimming the delicate scalloped trim. He could feel the warmth of her skin radiating through the lace, the steady, unmoving rise and fall of her chest beneath his palm. His mouth went dry.

He should stop.

He would stop.

But not yet.

Author's Notes:

Sorry that the teaser ended up being removed early, I had a Minor Rule Violation, hopefully it won't be a problem again.

Also this might have been released a bit earlier than anticipated, due to the rule violation I need to get the story cleared first so if you're not seeing this chapter on a Monday that is why,