Chapter Two

Hermione’s lips met Harry’s in a kiss that was both familiar and foreign, the warmth of her breath a stark contrast to the chill of the secrets he harbored. Her hands, soft and gentle, cradled his face, pulling him closer as if to bridge the invisible chasm that had grown between them. Harry’s heart raced, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—relief at her affection warring with the sharp sting of betrayal. The memory of Ron’s name pressing into hers on the map flashed in his mind, the ink pooling where their bodies had joined, and yet here she was, kissing him with a love that felt unchanged.

Several months pass by, the memory of the map fueling Harry's libido, reigniting their sex lives, even with his small cock they still had some fun nights together. However the test of his wife's fidelity would occur again shortly as he was needed in Italy for nearly a month this time. The night before his leave he checked the bathroom cabinet, Hermione still had a bit of Anti-pregnancy potion left so at least she was being smart there, Harry wasn't stupid though, one of the reasons she and Ron had split up years ago was his massive breeding kink.

On more than one occasion she had had to beg the school's nurse to let her take one. three times overall if Harry remembered clearly. After seeing everything was in order Harry says his goodbyes to his wife and children before heading out.

Several hours and painfully long meetings later Harry is finally rested up in one of the nicer hotels in Italy, his back hitting the mattress in exhaustion as he flips through the TV channels trying to find anything spoken in English. As the night drifts in closer and the sun sets Harry feels the itch to check the map.

Harry’s fingers twitched against the parchment, the map warm from being tucked beneath his pillow all evening. He hesitated, the weight of his own curiosity pressing against his ribs like a second heartbeat. With a slow exhale, he unfolded it, the ink lines of Potter Manor materializing in flickering detail. His eyes darted first to the children’s rooms—Jaime’s name curled in sleep in his bed, Ivy’s small feet tucked neatly beneath her covers. Relief, then guilt, prickled his skin.

Then he saw her...or rather he saw THEM.

Harry’s breath hitched as the ink swirled into unmistakable clarity—Hermione Jean Potter and Ronald Bilius Weasley, their names pressed so tightly together the letters blurred. Ron’s larger, heavier footprints eclipsed Hermione’s delicate ones near the edge of their marital bed, the parchment trembling slightly in Harry’s grip as if reacting to the tension coiling in his stomach. His pulse roared in his ears as the tiny ink feet shifted—Hermione’s lifting, her legs wrapping around Ron’s waist as their names jolted upward, suspended mid-air against the drawn canopy of the bed.

Merlin, I've only been gone ten hours, he thought, watching Ron's inked feet brace against the mattress, the bedposts rattling in miniature strokes across the parchment.

Harry’s throat tightened as the map’s ink darkened—Ron’s name shuddering violently over Hermione’s, their tangled limbs pressing the parchment upward in frantic, uneven arches. A bead of sweat slid down Harry’s temple as he traced the path of Ron’s broad hands—ink smudging where they gripped Hermione’s hips, lifting her higher, the bed’s sketched frame groaning under the ****. His own cock twitched against his thigh, shamefully hard as Hermione’s tiny inked feet curled, toes pressing into Ron’s back in that telltale way Harry knew too well—the way they always did when she was close.

Then it happened.

The parchment trembled violently as Ron's name pulsed—once, twice—the ink bleeding darker with each throb until it nearly obscured Hermione's beneath him. Harry's knuckles whitened around the map's edges as tiny droplets of ink splattered outward from between Hermione's sketched thighs—Ron's climax spilling into her in thick, unmistakable spurts that made the bed's outline shudder. Hermione's feet arched sharply, toes curling as her own name flared crimson, the ink pooling where Ron's hips pressed hers deep into the mattress.

Harry’s breath came in ragged gasps as the map trembled in his hands, Ron’s name still throbbing in uneven pulses against Hermione’s—each shuddering beat marking another thick rope of seed pumping into her. His own cock strained against his trousers, trapped and aching as he watched Hermione’s ink-stained feet lock around Ron’s back, her toes curling tight enough to wrinkle the parchment.

A fresh droplet bloomed between her thighs—Ron wasn’t pulling out.

Harry’s throat went dry as the ink darkened, spreading in a slow, possessive seep where their bodies joined.

The ink pulsed in time with Harry’s racing heart—Ron’s name shuddering in thick, possessive strokes against Hermione’s, the parchment growing damp where Harry’s fingertips dug into it. A fresh, viscous droplet bloomed between Hermione’s thighs, the ink spreading in slow, glistening rivulets as Ron’s hips ground deeper. Harry could almost hear it—the wet, sticky sound of Ron’s cock twitching inside her, emptying another thick surge as Hermione’s toes flexed against the small of his back, her name flaring crimson again.

The parchment gave another violent shudder—Ron’s name already swelling darker again, his inked feet bracing wider on the mattress as Hermione’s legs fell open in surrender. Harry’s fingers fumbled at his belt, the leather sliding free with a hiss as his cock sprang out, already leaking against his stomach. He didn’t bother stifling the groan that escaped him as his fist closed around his own aching length, the pathetic twitch of it nothing compared to the brutal thrusts Ron’s ink-stained silhouette was delivering between Hermione’s thighs.

Harry’s fist moved in rough, **** strokes, his grip slick with precum as Ron’s name hammered against Hermione’s on the parchment—each thrust of their inked bodies sending a fresh ripple through the map. His own cock jerked pathetically in comparison, his thighs trembling as he imagined the stretch of Hermione’s cunt around Ron’s thickness, the way her walls would flutter as he dumped another load deep inside her.

The ink between Hermione’s thighs pooled darker, Ron’s seed spilling in thick, possessive waves—Harry could practically see it, the way her belly would swell with it, the way Ron’s fingers would dig into her hips to keep her from pulling away.

The parchment gave a wet, muffled pop as Ron’s name finally peeled away from Hermione’s, his silhouette staggering back—but not before Harry saw the thick, glistening strand of ink still connecting them, stretched taut before snapping against Hermione’s trembling thigh. Her name pulsed weakly, the crimson hue fading to pink as Ron’s seed pooled beneath her in a dark, swirling puddle that seeped into the mattress’s outline.

The parchment quivered under Harry's trembling fingers as the names on the map began to shift once more. Hermione's name, now a deep, fiery crimson, slowly started to rise above Ron's, their inked silhouettes realigning in a way that made Harry's breath hitch. It took a moment, but then the movement became unmistakable—Hermione was now straddling Ron, her name pulsating with a rhythm that mirrored the rise and fall of her hips. The ink between them glistened, a testament to the earlier climax, but now it seemed to shimmer with renewed activity.

Hermione’s inked silhouette arched backward, her name flaring crimson as Ron’s hands—thick, possessive strokes of black—gripped her hips. The parchment trembled with each roll of her body, the wet smear between their legs glistening as she rode him, slow and deliberate. Harry’s cock twitched in his fist, his own strokes faltering as he watched Ron’s name pulse beneath hers, the letters swelling darker with every grind of Hermione’s hips.

Harry’s fist jerked faster, his knuckles whitening as Hermione’s name flared crimson—her inked back arching, toes curling against the mattress as Ron’s thick hands dragged her down onto him. The parchment trembled, their silhouettes locked in a slow, grinding rhythm, Hermione’s feet quivering with each deliberate roll of her hips. Ron’s name pulsed beneath her, the letters swelling darker with every thrust, his seed still glistening between her legs as she took him deeper.

Harry’s breath hitched—Hermione’s name shuddered, her ink-stained fingers raking down Ron’s chest as her body clenched around him.

Harry’s climax was ferocious, tearing through him with a **** he hadn’t experienced in years. His semen erupted in thick, heavy spurts, each one ripping a guttural groan from his throat as he watched Hermione’s name flare brilliantly on the map. The parchment beneath his fingers was slick with sweat and the faint residue of his earlier climax, but he barely noticed as his hips bucked uncontrollably, his cock pulsating with each relentless wave of pleasure. The room around him faded into a blur, leaving only the map and the throbbing names that seemed to pulse in sync with his own racing heartbeat.

Harry's exhaustion was overshadowed by his relentless arousal as he continued to watch the map, his eyes glued to the pulsing names of Hermione and Ron. The parchment beneath his fingers was slick with sweat and the remnants of his earlier climax, but he couldn't tear his gaze away. Over the next hour Hermione's name pulsed with a ferocity that matched the rhythmic rise and fall of her hips, each orgasm leaving her name blazing in a deep, fiery crimson. He lost count of how many times she came, her body seemingly insatiable as Ron's silhouette drove into her with relentless vigor.

Ron's name pulsed four distinct times, each marking a powerful release inside Hermione.

Harry’s breath came in ragged gasps as the final shudder of his own climax faded, his fingers still trembling against the parchment. The map pulsed relentlessly—Hermione’s name arched in a perfect, trembling curve, her inked silhouette quivering as Ron’s thick hands dragged her down onto him again. A fresh, glistening smear spread between their legs, the ink darkening as Ron’s hips jerked upward, forcing Hermione’s name to flare crimson once more.

Harry’s cock twitched against his thigh, still oversensitive, but his eyes remained locked on the map as Ron’s name swelled impossibly darker.

Ron’s name pulsed violently—a jagged, uneven throb—as his silhouette arched off the bed, his inked fingers digging into Hermione’s hips hard enough to blur the parchment. Harry’s throat went dry as a fresh, glistening spill of ink seeped from between Hermione’s legs, the dark pool spreading in thick rivulets down her thighs. Her name shuddered, the letters twisting as Ron’s release flooded her, his hips jerking in shallow, possessive thrusts to milk every last drop into her.

As the last tremors of their shared climax faded, Ron's name on the map slowed its relentless pulsing, gradually transitioning into a gentle, rhythmic glow that mirrored the soft thrusts he couldn't resist even in the afterglow. Hermione's name, still shimmering faintly with the remnants of her latest orgasm, nestled beneath Ron's, their inked silhouettes intertwined in a tableau of spent passion. The parchment beneath Harry's trembling fingers was slick with sweat and the residue of his own earlier climax, yet his gaze remained transfixed on the subtle movements.

As the minutes dragged on, the pulsing of their names gradually diminished, the fiery crimson fading to a soft, steady glow. Ron's name slowly rolled off Hermione's, coming to rest beside hers, their foot markings intertwining like tender fingers clasped in slumber. The parchment beneath Harry's trembling fingers seemed to hum with the aftermath of their passion, the faint residue of his own earlier climax a stark reminder of his voyeuristic arousal. He waited, his breath held, for any sign of movement, but the map remained still, the only change was the gentle, rhythmic glow that suggested the ebb and flow of their synchronized breathing.

As the last remnants of pleasure faded, Harry's eyelids grew heavy, the weight of his exhaustion finally overpowering his arousal. The map, now dim and still, lay limp beneath his fingers, its surface glistening with the residue of his climaxes. He could feel the cool air of the hotel room brushing against his damp skin, but the sensation was distant, muffled by the haze of spent desire. With a quiet sigh, Harry let his head fall back against the chair, the soft cushion cradling his weary skull.

"Guess we'll see what tomorrow brings" his final thoughts before falling asleep.