Chapter Four

His thumb hovered—trembling—over the call button as the map convulsed in his other hand. Hermione’s name arched violently, the ink pooling where Ron’s thrusts ground deeper, her footprints lifting entirely off the parchment as her back bowed. Ron’s letters swelled grotesquely, pulsing in jagged, possessive strokes—his silhouette locking her hips down as his name shuddered toward climax.

Harry’s breath came in ragged gasps. He pressed the call.

The line rang once. Twice.

The line rang a third time—then silence.

Harry’s throat tightened as the map trembled in his grip. Ron’s name had stilled, though the ink throbbed in heavy, possessive pulses where their bodies remained locked together. Hermione’s handprint slid across the parchment, fingers stretching toward the bedside table—her movements slow, languid, as if swimming through honey. The phone’s screen blinked Calling... before the soft rustle of fabric hissed through the speaker.

A breath. Then—

"Harry?" Hermione’s voice was thick, syrup-slow, the slightest tremor beneath it.

Hermione’s breath hitched—a wet, stifled sound—before she cleared her throat. Harry could almost see the flush crawling up her neck, the way her fingers must have been tightening around the phone as Ron’s weight shifted behind her. The map confirmed it: Ron’s name flexed possessively, his silhouette pressing deeper into the mattress, pinning her hips down even as she answered.

"Harry?" she repeated, voice straining to sound normal, but the thickness in her tone betrayed her—the same slow, dazed cadence she only ever had when she was still full of him.

Harry’s grip on the phone tightened, his other hand pressing the map flat against the desk as Ron’s silhouette shifted—slow, deliberate—behind Hermione’s trembling script.

"Oh, uh—just checking in," Harry lied, voice too bright, too ****. His thumb dragged absently over the map, smearing the dampness where Hermione’s name arched under Ron’s relentless pressure. "How’s everything at home?"

A sharp inhale hissed through the speaker—Hermione’s breath catching, then fragmenting into something suspiciously close to a whimper before she swallowed it.

A choked moan slipped through Hermione’s lips before she could stifle it—half-muffled against the pillow, but unmistakable. The map trembled beneath Harry’s palm, Ron’s name swelling grotesquely as his silhouette rutted deeper, pinning Hermione’s quivering script into the mattress. Ink pooled where their bodies joined, pulsing in thick, possessive waves.

“Fine—everything’s fine,” Hermione gasped, voice fraying at the edges. The bed’s outline shuddered on the parchment, her footprints lifting as Ron’s hips snapped forward again.

Harry’s eyes locked onto the map as Ron’s name surged forward, his inked silhouette rolling Hermione onto her back with unmistakable dominance. Her footprints scrambled against the parchment before stilling, legs parting wider as Ron’s larger, bolder letters pinned her down. The mattress’s outline dipped violently beneath them, the ink pooling where his hips pressed hers deep into the sheets.

"Just... just wanted to see how your day was," Harry managed, voice strangled as Ron’s name pulsed in slow, deliberate thrusts.

Hermione’s breath stuttered through the phone—sharp, wet—as Ron’s name on the map jerked forward in a brutal thrust, his letters swelling obscenely against hers. The ink darkened where their bodies met, pooling in thick, possessive waves as Ron’s silhouette pinned her deeper into the mattress. Harry’s own cock twitched in his palm, his thumb smearing pre-cum over the parchment where Hermione’s footprints trembled, toes curling against the sheets.

"It’s—ah!—it’s been quiet," Hermione lied, voice cracking as Ron’s hips rolled in a slow, deliberate grind.

Harry’s breath caught as the map’s ink darkened—Ron’s name swelling impossibly thicker, his thrusts turning jagged, possessive. Hermione’s script arched off the parchment, her footprints lifting entirely as Ron’s silhouette locked her hips down. The mattress’s outline trembled violently, the ink pooling in frantic, pulsing waves between their joined bodies.

“Just—mmph!—just finishing up some... paperwork,” Hermione gasped, the lie crumbling as Ron’s name shuddered toward climax.

"Ron—!" Hermione’s voice shattered into a gasp, sharp and involuntary, before she choked it into a cough. "I mean—Ron stopped by earlier, just for dinner with the kids—" Her words dissolved into a moan as Ron’s name on the map convulsed, the ink blotting violently where his hips locked against hers.

Harry’s breath came in ragged bursts, his thumb grinding into the parchment where Hermione’s footprints twisted—toes curling, heels digging—as Ron’s silhouette loomed over her, relentless. The mattress’s outline buckled under their weight, the ink pooling in thick, frantic spirals between their bodies.

"Oh good, has Ron been looking after you?" Harry murmured, his voice tight as his thumb smeared another bead of pre-cum across Hermione’s trembling name. "I was worried you might be feeling lonely."

A sharp, bitten-off moan crackled through the phone—Hermione’s breath hitching as Ron’s name on the map surged forward in a brutal thrust, his inked letters swelling grotesquely against hers. The mattress’s outline bowed beneath them, parchment creasing where Hermione’s footprints scrambled before going slack, toes curling in surrender.

"Y-yes," Hermione choked out, her script on the map arching violently as Ron's name ground down in a slow, possessive circle. Harry watched, transfixed, as the ink between their bodies darkened to an obscene black—Ron's silhouette shuddering with the **** of his restraint.

Hermione's footprints twisted against the parchment, heels digging in before her toes curled sharply—a telltale sign Harry knew too well. The mattress's outline buckled as Ron's letters swelled, his thrusts turning jagged, erratic. A thick bead of ink pooled beneath Hermione's name, spreading in pulsing waves as Ron's hips stuttered against hers.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, his voice thick with false concern as his thumb pressed down hard on the quivering ink of Hermione's name. "You sound—ah—like you're in pain."

The map trembled as Ron's silhouette arched over Hermione's, his letters swelling to a grotesque size, veins of ink pulsing along his shaft as he drove deeper. Hermione's footprints scrambled—heel slipping—before her toes curled sharply, the parchment wrinkling beneath the **** of Ron's thrusts.

"N-no, just—oh!—just a cramp love," she gasped, her script shuddering as Ron's name slammed forward, the ink pooling black between their joined bodies.

The names pulsed violently now, Ron’s script swelling to near illegibility as his thrusts turned erratic—deep, possessive rolls that made the mattress’s outline crumple beneath them. Hermione’s footprints lifted entirely off the parchment, toes curling mid-air as her voice cracked through the phone—

“Ron—please—quiet, oh god—”

—before dissolving into a wet, shuddering gasp. Harry’s thumb dug into the map where Ron’s name convulsed, the ink flooding black between their bodies as Ron’s silhouette arched over hers, his letters throbbing with each brutal snap of his hips.

"RON—!" Hermione's scream tore through the phone, raw and unfiltered, before her voice scrambled into a frantic cover. "Floo—he's at the floo, Harry—I have to—ohgod—"

The line went dead with a click.