The Map Never Lies

Author's Notes:
So I admit I am a huge Harry/Hermione fan and honestly love Fanfiction with the two of them getting together living happily ever after BUT I'm also really into to cuckold/affair/cheating stories as well and as much as I dislike Ron as a Character I can see him and Hermione getting together but not staying together, the two sort of represent a massive ball of fire, hot and passionate but ultimately will die out before too long.

Our story begins one night in a hotel room in New York as Harry Potter lays out on the Hotel bed trying to rest up before his international meeting tomorrow, he begins to feel a little homesick and decides to unwrap the Potter Manor map he secretly created, wanting to feel closer to his family back home in London.

As Harry's fingers traced the intricate lines of the Potter Manor map, a mix of comfort and longing swirled in his chest. The names of his family members glowed softly—Hermione Potter in the living room, Jaime and Ivy in their bedrooms. But then, a familiar name appeared: Ronald Weasley.

As Ron's name appeared on the map, Harry couldn't help but feel a familiar mix of emotions—affection for his lifelong friend intertwined with the lingering sting of insecurity. He had long since accepted that Ron's presence in their lives was a constant, a bond forged through years of shared adventures and mutual support. Yet, the memories of those stolen moments Harry had uncovered during their Hogwarts days resurfaced, casting a shadow over his thoughts. Ron's robust frame moving gracefully in the dim light of the manor's living room, his laughter echoing as Hermione's voice carried a tone of playful teasing—sounds Harry had only imagined but never truly heard.

Harry’s breath hitched as Ron’s name shifted closer to Hermione’s on the map, their footprints pausing near the couch where she often read late into the night. His fingers tightened around the parchment, knuckles whitening as the two dots lingered, overlapping briefly before moving again—slow, deliberate. His pulse thundered in his ears, a rush of heat coiling low in his stomach.

On the map, Hermione’s name trembled, then stilled. Ron’s footsteps circled her, the ink of his label smudging slightly as if the magic itself hesitated to record what came next. Harry’s throat went dry.

Harry’s breath came in shallow gasps as Ron’s name plate on the map shifted, the inked feet moving with unmistakable purpose toward Hermione’s. His pulse hammered against his ribs as the two dots merged near the couch—just for a moment—before Ron’s label lifted, carrying Hermione’s name with it in slow, deliberate strides.

The parchment trembled in Harry’s grip as the paired names glided down the hallway, past the children’s rooms, toward the master bedroom—his bedroom. A bead of sweat trailed down his temple.

Harry’s fingers dug into the parchment as Ron’s and Hermione’s names settled onto the bed—his bed. The map’s magic flickered, the ink darkening where their bodies pressed into the mattress. His breath was ragged, his cock straining against his trousers, painfully hard despite the shame coiling in his gut.

The tiny feet markings shifted—Hermione’s splayed slightly, Ron’s planted firmly between them. Harry could see it without seeing: Ron’s broad hands gripping her hips, her back arching as he dragged her closer.

Harry’s knuckles whitened around the map as Ron’s and Hermione’s names pressed deeper into the mattress, the ink smudging with the weight of their bodies. His breath came in ragged bursts, his cock throbbing painfully against the confines of his trousers. He could see it—Ron’s massive hands gripping Hermione’s hips, her back arching as he dragged her beneath him, those thick, powerful thighs spreading hers wider.

A choked noise escaped Harry’s throat as the tiny feet markings shifted—Ron’s planted firmly, Hermione’s lifting, her ankles likely hooking around his waist.

Harry’s free hand fumbled at his belt, trembling fingers undoing the clasp with **** urgency. The map trembled in his other hand as Hermione’s name arched sharply—Ron’s name pressing deeper, the ink pooling where their bodies met. A soft, muffled groan escaped Harry’s lips as he finally freed himself, his own modest length achingly hard, slick at the tip.

The tiny feet on the parchment shifted again—Ron’s planted firmly, Hermione’s lifting, toes curling as if in pleasure. Harry could see it—Ron’s thick, veiny cock sinking into her, stretching her in ways Harry never could.

Harry’s fingers trembled as the ink on the map blurred—Ron’s name lunging forward in jagged thrusts while Hermione’s shuddered beneath it, the tiny feet markings scrambling against the parchment. A damp spot darkened the sheet where Harry’s precum dripped onto the bedspread, his own fist working his modest length in frantic strokes, imagining the obscene slap of Ron’s heavy balls against Hermione’s skin with every erratic jerk of their names.

Harry’s breath hitched as the ink on the map pulsed—Ron’s name driving forward in rough, uneven strokes while Hermione’s shuddered beneath him, her tiny feet markings curling tight before splaying wide again. His own fist moved faster, the slick sounds of his palm working his cock drowned out only by the pounding of his heart. He could see it—Ron’s thick, ruddy length stretching Hermione impossibly wide, her nails surely digging into his freckled shoulders as he bottomed out inside her.

Harry’s vision blurred as the map’s enchantment flickered, the ink reshaping itself into the ghostly outline of Gryffindor Tower—the memory of that first stolen glimpse surging forward. Ron’s younger self loomed over Hermione on the four-poster bed, his freckled shoulders flexing as his monstrous cock disappeared between her thighs again and again. Harry’s fist tightened around his own aching length, his breath ragged as he watched the memory-play of Hermione’s younger body arching, her fingers twisting in the sheets while Ron’s heavy balls slapped against her.

Harry’s breath hitched as the ghostly memory dissolved back into the present, the map’s ink reforming into the unmistakable sprawl of Ron’s name pinning Hermione’s beneath him on their bed—his bed. A shudder ran through him as the tiny feet markings jerked erratically, Hermione’s toes curling and uncurling against the parchment as if she were clawing at the sheets. Ron’s label pressed deeper, the ink pooling where their bodies joined, the **** of his thrusts making the entire map tremble in Harry’s sweating palm.

Harry’s breath stuttered as Hermione’s name pulsed violently on the map—once, twice—the ink flaring bright scarlet before shuddering into a series of erratic tremors. She was coming. His grip tightened around himself, his own modest length throbbing in time with the frantic jerks of Ron’s name, still buried deep inside her. The tiny feet markings curled inward, toes clenched tight as if Hermione’s whole body had locked around Ron’s thrusts, her name quivering beneath his with each brutal snap of his hips.

Ron’s name jerked forward in sharp, uneven lunges—his thick cock pistoning into Hermione with reckless abandon now. The ink of his name pulsed darker, spreading like a stain across the parchment as his thrusts grew erratic. Harry could almost hear the wet slap of flesh, the creak of their marital bed under Ron’s relentless pace. Hermione’s name arched beneath his, her tiny feet markings quivering—then suddenly Ron’s label pulsed extremely hard, the ink pooling thick where their bodies joined.

Harry’s own fist twisted tighter around his cock as Ron’s name convulsed, the letters swelling grotesquely before collapsing into Hermione’s with one final, shuddering thrust.

Harry’s palm burned against his cock as Ron’s name shuddered one last time, the ink pooling thick and obscenely between Hermione’s splayed markings. He could feel it—Ron’s release flooding her, those heavy balls emptying deep inside while Hermione’s toes flexed in helpless little spasms against the parchment. The map’s enchantment flickered again, the ink swirling into ghostly afterimages—Ron’s younger self collapsing onto Hermione in Gryffindor Tower, his freckled back glistening as he pinned her, his cock still twitching inside her.

Harry’s throat tightened as the last of Ron’s release pulsed into Hermione on the map, her name twitching beneath his in the aftershocks. The ink of their tangled limbs shimmered, still damp with magic—or sweat—as Ron’s name finally rolled off hers, his freckled handprint smearing where he’d braced himself over her. Hermione’s feet markings stretched lazily, toes uncurling like a cat’s, while Ron’s label hovered close, his broad outline collapsing beside her on the mattress Harry still thought of as his own.

A bead of pre-cum dripped from Harry’s neglected cock onto the parchment, making Hermione’s name blur momentarily.

Over the next few days, Harry found himself consumed by the map, his fingers tracing the familiar contours of Potter Manor as he waited for the telltale signs of movement. Each morning, he’d glance at the parchment, his heart quickening as he noted the positions of Hermione’s name and the tiny foot markings that seemed to dance across the page. By Tuesday evening, he didn’t have to wait long—Ron’s name appeared abruptly, bold and unapologetic, as it had that first night. Harry’s breath caught as the ink shifted, Ron’s label pressing against Hermione’s with a familiarity that made his stomach twist.

Harry stepped through the front door of Potter Manor, the familiar creak of the wooden frame a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling in his gut. It had been days since he’d last seen Hermione, and the changes in her were immediate. Her figure seemed fuller, her curves more pronounced, and the way her breasts strained against the fabric of her robe sent a pang of both desire and resentment through him. The knowledge of her affair with Ron, though unspoken, hung in the air like a challenge. Hermione greeted him with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling in a way that hadn’t been directed at him in years.

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.

Author's Notes:
So the current plan is to update once a week, if anyone does have any questions then feel free to contact me however you can.