Multiversal Cheaters, Hotwives and Cuckolds - Chapter 02 (Patreon)

A/N: Another cheaty story here, darker than I normally like with this kink. I feel like it ends on a really high note though, and that’s how I’ll always like to end one-shots in this series.

I’d written a whole scene too that I ended up scrapping at the end. It was essentially a final confrontation between Harry and Hermione where he showed his receipts, but it just made everything feel depressing - even when going into the epilogue.

If you guys really want that catharsis though in future chapters, let me know.

Chapter 2: Loyalty Test

Fandom: Harry Potter

Tags: Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Dean, Cheating, Divorce, Filming, Sexting, PAWG, Slight Raceplay, Happy Ending

Despite wanting to collapse with fatigue, his muscles screaming at him for rest and a reprieve from their torment, Harry ignored the pleas from his body and instead kept running up the hellish mountain.

His focus was almost supernatural as he dodged incoming spellfire, weaved out of the way of the swooping harpies’ talons and rolled under the streams of molten dragonfire. Sweat poured down his body in streams and despite wanting to do nothing more than quit and curl up into a ball, he persevered, ascending higher than any of his peers had before him.

The peak in sight, he eyed the dragon wheeling around to make another strafing dragonfire run at him while a second flew straight at him, its mouth open wide.

At this point, he operated more on instinct than logic. Facing the terrifying prospect of being pincered by nesting dragons, he charged at the newest arrival while the pest that had been hounding him since the start of his climb rapidly closed in on him from behind. When the dragon ahead blinded itself to him by opening its terrifying jaws wide, Harry didn’t even have time to think - he may have reconsidered, if he had - he just jumped, then slid.

Flattening himself against the hard, yet smooth surface beneath him, Harry allowed his forward momentum to carry him forwards and under the belly of the deadly beast. A massive thud and a crash was his reward as the titanic beasts collided at full speed, sending a shockwave he felt across the clearing before disappearing off the edge of the cliff.

When Harry finally stood, his body bruised and battered and his breaths coming in desperate gasps, he realised he stood alone at the peak of the mountain.

Feeling a sense of triumph and jubilation building up inside him and needing release, Harry roared his victory to the heavens as the craggy mountain top slowly disappeared around him, transforming until Harry stood in the middle of a rather ordinary looking room.

The door to said room opened and a rather mousy looking man hurried in looking rather annoyed.

At the end of the second war against Voldemort, Kingsley had been less than pleased with how the aurors had handled themselves when faced with real threats. When he became Minister, one of his first missions had been to raise the standards of the Ministry’s law enforcement body.

No longer did their training consist only of learning spells from books and magical duels - though they hadn’t been allowed to slack on that front either - but a rather large emphasis had been placed on the physical side of their training. Compulsory hours in the gym had been paired with hellish and progressively more difficult magical obstacle courses that they’d been encouraged to tackle.

He’d just completed the ninth level, the highest on record so far, as far as he knew.

Trudging out of the room that reminded him ever so much of the Room of Requirement, he looked around the auror’s gym and sighed in relief. Aside from Andrews who was doing some resistance training at the far end of the hall, the place was dead.

He didn’t really have the energy to socialise right now.

He carried his aching body over to the nearby juice bar, the brewer watching him approach with an amused smirk on his overly smug features.

‘Get your ass handed to you again, Potter?’

Not letting the flash of annoyance show on his face, Harry just smiled politely and said nothing. Sighing, the man - Walters - filled a tall glass up with a thick, green juice and handed it to him with a snort.

Harry quickly devoured the juice and groaned as the magical concoction almost instantly soothed his aching muscles while aiding in his general recovery. He didn’t doubt the Muggles would kill for a drink like this to go with their workouts - it was honestly a cheat-code when it came to building muscle mass, enhancing their endurance and increasing their bone density.

All of which were vital, especially given the increasing number of magical creature attacks lately.

He handed the glass back to Walters without a word and trudged off to the showers, burping and thumping his chest as he felt the juice take effect.

The changing room was empty, as was the large, open room that they all showered in. Harry stripped off and let the enchanted water heal his scrapes and bruises while he luxuriated in its warmth, resting his head against the cool, mirrored surface of the wall as his body slowly recovered.

He didn’t realise that he’d zoned out until the sound of the door to the changing room opening snapped him back to reality. Leaning back, he scrutinised his reflection in the mirror - he was unrecognisable to the man he’d been a year ago.

Before his superiors had started insisting they all start training their bodies, he’d had a wiry, runner’s build. After a year, his body had completely transformed. His shoulders were broader, his back wider, his muscles way more defined, his legs and arms were thicker - he honestly looked like a particularly shredded rugby player now.

Which made it all the more dispiriting that his wife had apparently lost all interest in having sex with him.

He felt the door to the showers opening and closing. Looking through the mirror instead of turning, Harry spied Andrews joining him in the showers, his eyes glazed over with fatigue and paying no attention to his surroundings. Harry eyed the naked man self-consciously, his freakishly big cock hanging halfway down his thigh and swaying from side to side as he trudged over to a shower head on the other side of the room.

Looking back at his own reflection, Harry scrutinised his own modest endowment. He’d never been self-conscious before when it came to the size of his cock, but a year with barely any intimate contact from his wife wore not only at his self-worth, but at his sanity.

Hard, he was a respectable and girthy six inches, even if its current, shrivelled state belied that fact.

He was definitely a grower, not a shower.

Unlike Andrews, apparently…

On his way home, he grabbed the packaged, rare arithmancy tome he’d ordered as a gift for his wife while also picking up a bouquet of flowers - Hermione’s favourite.

She was all smiles at the sight of the flowers, blushing prettily as Harry handed her them and the package both with a warm smile on his face.

Seeing her sitting there in their kitchen, Harry felt hope bubbling in his chest. Despite her insistence on wearing the most unflattering clothes possible, his wife was stunning. Her expressive, hazel eyes, delicate nose, elegant facial structure and enchanting smile still took his breath away to this day - even if she apparently didn’t feel the same way about him…

‘What is it?’ she asked coyly and Harry grinned cheekily.

‘Just something I picked up that I thought you’d like -’

He barely got to finish the sentence before he was interrupted. His wife had barely torn off the wrapping paper when she’d started squealing - apparently, he’d made a wise choice in rare reading material. She enveloped him in one of her patented, bone-crushing hugs and thanked him over and over.

He just listened with a patient smile as she rambled on about why the book was so incredible - not a luddite himself, he struggled but still managed to follow along and provide meaningful input, her excitement infectious.

Later that night, after Hermione had showered, moisturised and slipped into bed with him, he started kissing the back of her neck before trailing even more kisses down her body with every intention to bring her to a screaming climax with his mouth.

‘No!’ Hermione snapped, actually kicking him away from her before he could so much as slip his hands under her unflattering nightie. ‘Will you stop pawing at me like a horny teenager?! I’ll tell you when I’m in the mood!’ She snapped, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glistening with frustrated tears. ‘Is that why you bought me the book? So you could have sex with me? Ugh, it figures. You know what? If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I think you should go and sleep in the spare room.’

His wife couldn’t have stunned him more if she’d whipped out her wand and cast a Stupefy. Harry just stared at her in pure shock, trying to mask the hurt and anger he felt bubbling inside of him.

Worried he’d say something he would later regret, he bottled up his roiling emotions and left their bedroom without any protest.

They didn’t say a word to each other the next morning, and Harry trudged off to work feeling like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. Again. Thankfully, nobody bothered him all day - he figured the apparent, metaphorical stormcloud raging over his head had something to do with that.

After his session at the gym, instead of going home, Harry decided to go to the Emirates. Arsenal were playing a midweek game against West Ham and they were in incredible form. They might even push on and win their first title in twenty years this season.

A night spent with a bunch of drunk, dancing and singing Gooners sounds just like what the doctor ordered.

Naturally, he was in an even worse mood after the game. West Ham, a vastly inferior opponent, performed a classic smash-and-grab after sitting with eleven players behind the ball for ninety minutes and having no shots on target. He’d gone in the hopes of improving his mood, and left wanting to headbutt someone.

‘Harry?!’

Frowning, Harry turned half-expecting the person to be asking for a different Harry but his eyes widened in surprise when he saw who it was.

‘Harry!’ the vaguely familiar man greeted with an incredulous laugh. ‘I barely recognized you! You been eating dragons for breakfast or something?’

‘Dean?’ Harry asked in shock, grinning at finally recognising his old school mate. He’d changed little over the years, growing a little taller and broader, but it had been ages since he’d seen him. ‘What’re you doing here -’ he winced, when an old bit of trivia floated to the forefront of his mind, ‘Ugh, Hammers fan?’

He spread his arms wide, his pearly white smile contrasting with his dark skin. ‘I’m forever blowing bubbles!’

‘Alright, read the room mate,’ Harry joked as the two approached, shaking hands and giving each other a one-armed hug. ‘Where’ve you been? You just up and vanished after Hogwarts.’

Dean shrugged as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat, the endless stream of grumbling matchday fans parting around them like a river around a boulder. ‘Let’s find a pub, yeah? We can catch up over a pint.’

Harry nodded, bumping his mate with his shoulder and grinning. ‘I hope you cunts get relegated by the way, absolute shitters.’

Dean barked out a laugh and the two talked football as they made their way to one of Harry’s favourite post-matchday pubs in Islington.

The place was already fairly crowded with drunk Gooners, but the atmosphere and vibe was relatively cosy and the drink, both affordable - for London - and delicious.

‘So, where you been mate?’ Harry asked, taking another sip of his beer. ‘The guys all thought you fucked off to America or something after you disappeared.’

‘Dunno what to say,’ he said, taking a sip and shrugging self-deprecatingly. ‘I slacked off during my NEWTS and got shit for grades - job prospects were pretty rubbish after that.’

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. He vaguely remembered Dean at the time of their NEWTS being pretty stressed, but he didn’t know it was this bad. ‘Are you okay? Do you need money? A place to stay?’

Dean laughed and waved him off. ‘Thanks mate, you’re a top bloke, but I’m fine, better than fine now, actually.’

‘What do you do for money? If you don’t mind my asking,’ Harry asked, finishing his beer then getting the attention of a harried waitress and asking for two more. ‘I assume you went full Muggle? Given we’ve not heard from you for years.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean replied, winking at the cute, blushing waitress as she brought their drinks and took their empty pints. ‘I’ve got a pretty good thing going on the internet, I’m more than comfortable.’

Harry’s eyebrows rose. ‘What? You, like, a blogger or something?’

Now it was Dean’s turn for his eyebrows to raise. ‘Yeah, something like that - you know about the internet? No offence or anything, but that’s…kinda surprising.’

Harry shrugged, noticing the dodging of the question and not commenting on it - Dean had a right to his own privacy and he’d long mastered wrangling in his inquisitive nature that came with his job. ‘Know is probably a bit of a stretch, but I’m not tech illiterate. Knowing how to work my way around a computer has come in handy more often than you’d think as an auror.’

Dean laughed, shaking his head as he eyed him up and down. ‘The Wizarding World must have changed a lot since I left - aurors never used to be built like brick-shithouses. What are you taking?’

Harry hummed in amusement as he took a sip of his beer. ‘Magical supplements, basically. The Auror Department has full time brewers now whose sole job is to make sure our training turns us into, what’d you call us? Brick-shithouses?’

‘Bloody hell,’ Dean muttered in disbelief before shaking his head. ‘So, how’s life? You still with Hermione?’

‘Married two years,’ Harry answered with a humourless smile and Dean winced. ‘Am I that obvious?’

Dean’s smile was awkward and sympathetic. ‘Your face looks like you picked up the old-sock flavoured Every-Flavour Bean - man I miss those.’

‘Why don’t you buy some? You’re still allowed, you know?’

‘Mate, tell me you haven’t needed to exchange pounds for galleons lately without telling me you haven’t needed to exchange pounds for galleons…’

Harry’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are the Goblins giving you grief?’

Dean sighed and shrugged, as if to say ‘what else is new?’

Harry reached into his pocket and flicked him a gold coin. Dean’s eyes widened at the perfect arc and casual skill the action showed. Harry just grinned, ‘Learnt a few things over the years.’

‘Mate, I don’t want your money -’

‘That’s not money,’ Harry corrected, motioning to the coin. Dean flipped it over and his eyes widened when he saw the symbol of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. ‘Tell the twins that I gave you that, they’ll let you take whatever candy or toys you want. If you want to be a little bitch about it, you can transfer the cost in pounds.’

Dean smiled wide and shook his head. ‘You’re too much, thanks mate.’

Harry lifted his pint and they clinked glasses.

‘So…trouble in paradise?’

Sighing deeply, Harry stared into his half-empty pint as if it held all the answers in the universe. He didn’t know why, but Dean had an aura that made you want to talk to him - or maybe that was just the alcohol talking. Either way, Harry chuckled humorlessly before unloading on his old friend.

He told Dean about not having had sex with his wife in almost a year. He spoke candidly about how every time he tried anything sexual with her, he’d be ruthlessly rebuffed. Massages became unwelcome, gifts scorned, and lavishly prepared meals a ‘thinly veiled’ attempt at getting in his wife’s knickers.

He talked and talked and talked, unburdening himself of a year’s worth of depression and frustration on a man he hadn’t seen or spoken to in years. It was cathartic, and he honestly felt better afterwards.

‘I…think she’s having an affair.’

It was almost midnight by the time he finished talking, the patrons of the bar having slowly trickled out until they were some of the last few left.

‘That’s…rough mate. I’m sorry,’ Dean said, after just listening for what felt like hours and not saying much.

Harry shrugged, his expression pretty much screaming ‘what can you do?’

Dean bit his lip. He looked like he had something to say, but was warring with himself on whether he should say it. Harry patiently waited for him to make a decision while sipping on his sixth pint.

‘I…was a bit vague when I told you what I did for work earlier.’

‘I noticed,’ Harry said with a cheeky grin and a wink and Dean snorted.

‘Bloody coppa,’ he cursed good naturedly, wincing before soldiering on. ‘I’ve not really told anyone I know in real life this, but I -’ he looked around, noticing his voice was carrying in the now quiet pub, he leaned in closer and lowered it. ‘I do porn,’ he whispered. ‘Actually, more specifically, I specialise in cuckolding porn.’

Harry felt his ability to read people and their intentions had grown by leaps and bounds ever since becoming an auror.

You could have given him a million years and he’d never have guessed those would be the words to come out of Dean’s mouth when he started that sentence…

‘I - wow,’ Harry sputtered, somewhat dumbfounded. ‘That’s, well, I wasn’t expecting that. Why are you telling me?’

Looking supremely uncomfortable, Dean continued. ‘Look, I have a way to figure out whether Hermione is cheating on you. It’s a…call it a service I provide for my followers.’

‘Mate, stop beating around the bush and talk,’ Harry almost snapped with a tired sigh. ‘I’m not going to bite your head off, I’m not an angsty teen anymore.’

Dean smiled wide, clearly remembering his Voldemort induced hissy fits while they were still at Hogwarts.

‘Right, well, on my website, I have a service called Loyalty Tests,’ he explained, looking about as awkward as he felt about the topic of conversation. ‘My followers and fans pay me money to see if I can seduce their wives or girlfriends.’

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘People pay for that?’

Dean shrugged. ‘You have to understand, people who follow my work are really into the whole cuckolding thing - this is basically their ultimate fantasy. They get to act like the aggrieved husband or boyfriend, and they get a video of me fucking heir partners.’

‘They let you film them?’ Harry couldn’t disguise the surprise in his tone even if he wanted to. Dean just smiled and shrugged, trying and failing to sound humble.

‘I can be very persuasive, though most only agree if I promise to blur their faces.’

Harry’s eyes widened even further. ‘They let you post the videos?!’

Dean nodded, taking another sip of his beer instead of answering. Harry just stared at him over the rim of his pint before shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You want to try and seduce Hermione?’

‘Listen,’ Dean said in answer, his expression serious. ‘I’m sure you don’t remember this, but you saved my parents’ lives during the -’

‘I remember,’ Harry cut across him, sucking on his teeth after taking another sip. He remembered everything about the second war with Voldemort, no matter how much he often wished he didn’t.

‘Right,’ Dean said, grinning. ‘I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay. Let me do this for you - you’re clearly miserable -’

Seeing Harry’s amused grin, he paused in his pitch. ‘You want to pay me back for saving your parents lives by…fucking my wife?’

Dean shook his head and chuckled. ‘Look, I’m not gonna lie to you, I’ve always had a bit of a crush on Hermione, so this isn’t nearly as selfless as I’m trying to make it sound. That being said, I sat here listening to you pour your heart out over the past few hours and, mate, you’re not happy. Far from it. The way I see it, I succeed and you can rip the bandaid off and move on with your life, or I fail and you know you have something worth fighting for.’

Harry didn’t answer immediately. He stared into his almost empty pint, surprised that he wasn’t instinctively enraged or repulsed by the idea.

Sighing, he finally shrugged. ‘Sure, why the fuck not? It’s not like my relationship can get any worse - I barely have one as it is.’

‘So…’ Dean asked, his eyebrows raised and his one leading. ‘You want me to go through with it?’

Harry grinned and shook his head. ‘Maybe try a little harder to hide your excitement you tit.’ Taking another sip, he chuckled when he thought of something. ‘Honestly, I’ll be more surprised if she agrees to be filmed more than the shagging.’

‘You’ll be surprised what women will agree to in the heat of the moment,’ Dean said, as if he were imparting sage wisdom. ‘Especially if you agree to blur their faces.’

They clinked glasses, sealing the deal.

Before parting ways, Dean made sure to rib him some more about Arsenal before they exchanged numbers and his old friend promised to keep him posted on his progress. All he asked for was a cafe Hermione liked to visit, and he claimed he would take care of the rest.

He decided to walk the several miles home to his flat instead of apparate, his mind a crazy jumble of disparate thoughts.

One kept coming to the forefront of his mind, causing his guts to churn and his cock to harden in his pants.

He’d seen Dean in the showers back at Hogwarts. Porn was an industry that suited his…gifts well.

Why did the thought of him seducing his wife make his dick so hard?

-

Several days later, Harry switched on his phone after leaving the Ministry to check his messages - the blasted things never worked in such magic-dense environments, so he never bothered turning it on until he left.

He had a couple of messages from his Arsenal supporting mates, one from a squib forensics guy who he had working on one of his cases and -

His eyes widened when he saw the message from Dean, sent at around lunch time.

- Finally ran into Hermione at the cafe. Mate, she’s beautiful. We caught up for a couple of hours and agreed to meet up again - she seemed really interested in my transition from magical to muggle life. She didn’t seem overly flirty, just kind and inquisitive.

Along with the message Dean had attached a selfie. They were huddled up in a booth and smiling at the camera, Dean’s tall, lanky frame dwarfing his wife’s. Dean looked transformed from when he’d seen him after the game. He looked slimmer, wore a pair of thick glasses and dressed as if he’d just come back from uni.

His wife, as was her wont lately, completely hid her figure with a thick, woollen knit jumper and loose fitting jeans. Her hair was tied up in a loose, messy bun with wavy, chestnut strands framing her beautiful face. Her smile was mischievous and carefree and he felt a pang in his heart.

When was the last time she smiled that way for me?

What quickly drew his eye however was Dean’s arm casually draped over his wife’s shoulder. He’d said she wasn’t acting flirty, but he didn’t fail to notice how comfortable she looked with his arm there.

She’d almost shuddered in revulsion at his touch the other night.

Putting it out of his mind, he slipped his phone in his pocket and started walking to his forensics guy’s office, it wasn’t far.

-

The next week, Harry stayed back late in the gym and worked his frustrations out on the animated sparring opponents. He’d heard no updates from Dean, and the situation at home had deteriorated - the feeling of constantly walking on eggshells around his wife, less she snapped at him for one manufactured reason or another, wearing at his sanity.

And if he were being honest, wearing at his love for her too.

Hermione had said she’d be meeting friends for dinner and drinks after work, so he saw no reason to rush home. He took his time, working his body to the point of exhaustion and got a cheeky curry on the way home.

Even taking his time, he was still greeted with an empty apartment when he got home at ten. Looking at his phone, there wasn’t a single update from his wife letting him know she was okay or where she was.

He wasn’t concerned for her safety, his wife was a powerful witch after all. He remembered fondly however the times when she’d text him every few minutes if she were out with friends, saying how bored she was and how she wished she’d just stayed in with him, curled up by the fire instead of going out.

When he crashed that night, his dreams were of happier times.

When he woke, sunlight was streaming through the window and his wife was peacefully asleep beside him, curled up on the other end of their bed after having stolen all of their blankets.

After dealing with his full bladder and putting on a cup of coffee, he scrolled through his messages and froze when he saw one from Dean.

- Went on a date last night with Hermione. Sorry to say, she seemed pretty eager, mate, no sign of the hesitation when we first met. Some pretty heavy snogging involved.

Accompanying the message was a thirty second clip. Pressing play, he felt his stomach sink.

In the clip, Dean was holding up his phone behind his wife’s back to capture the action. Hermione was pushing him against his car and leaning up on her tippy-toes so she could snog his brains out. Dean’s other hand was squeezing and pawing at his wife’s big, soft ass, and he almost jolted when he realised what she was wearing - skintight jeans and an equally fitting silk blouse.

Even as his wife’s moans and the sound of their smacking lips assaulted his ears, he absurdly felt more angered by her relatively revealing clothes.

‘Are you watching porn?’ Hermione asked with disgust as she strolled into the kitchen dressed in the thickest robe he’d ever seen, as if she wanted to put up another barrier between them.

He didn't take the bait. She'd been sniping at him like this for months, essentially goading him into a fight. In his opinion, he was still within his rights to watch porn if he felt like it, but that's what she wanted him to say. She wanted that fight.

He didn't give it to her.

'No,' he answered calmly, pinning her with his intense stare. 'I've got a case that involves a cheating wife. She's meeting up with someone in the muggle world, I had a guy tail and film her. Evidence is pretty damning.'

He almost laughed in her face as she froze, eyes wide.

'Something wrong?'

He really had to thank Tonks for his interrogation training, he'd never have been able to pull off the clueless husband act otherwise.

'N-no, that just…doesn't seem like something aurors normally handle.'

'It's not,' he conceded, taking another sip from his coffee. 'Extenuating circumstances. How was last night?'

His interrogation training coming in clutch again, the question completely threw Hermione off guard.

'H-huh?'

'Last night,' Harry reiterated, his voice measured and soft. 'You were out with friends? Got home pretty late too, must have enjoyed yourself.'

'O-oh, yes, it was fine.'

Nodding, he watched Hermione snogging Dean again out of her line of sight and signed.

'Please let me know if you're going to be late next time,' he offered, his voice kind and non-confrontational. 'I was worried.'

That finally set her off. Hermione's eyes started to glisten, and just when he thought she would confess and potentially save their marriage, she turned on her heel and rushed up the stairs.

A part of him felt like pulling the plug right there. It wasn't even the snogging that did them in, it was the blatant lying and emotional abuse.

If Hermione wasn't in love with him anymore, it would hurt, but he'd get over it. He just wished she showed some of her supposed Gryffindor courage and admitted it, rather than making him miserable.

The echoing sound of a slamming door in the otherwise silent house as Hermione locked herself in their bedroom felt poignant.

-

When Harry left the Ministry a couple of days later, his phone immediately lit up with notifications. He scrolled through most of them until he saw the ones from Hermione and Dean.

Instead of reading the messages out there in the middle of the street, he ignored them until he was in the safety of his own home.

Naturally, the apartment was empty. Again.

Disrobing, he didn't look at his phone again until after eating his dinner and he was tucked away in bed.

He pulled up Hermione's message first.

- I'll be home late tonight. Just got a shipment of new rare tomes from Bill's latest dig that I need to catalogue. Love you xx

He couldn't help but chuckle. Not at the obvious lie, but at the fact that the throwaway text was the first time she'd said she loved him in months.

He swiped the message away and opened Dean's. He'd sent several messages one after the other.

- I want you to know, as much as I really fancy Hermione, I respect you more. I wish this was a lot more difficult than it was, but it is what it is.

- A part of me feels guilty for enjoying it so much, and maybe I'm just trying to justify it to myself, but I genuinely feel like I'm doing you a favour.

- You're better off without her.

He felt a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach as he read through the texts. He knew, intellectually, where they were leading, especially when the fourth message was a five minute video, but he still felt like all the wind was sucked out of him when he hit play.

The video started with Dean laying on what he could only assume was his bed. His phone was aimed down the length of his naked body, his thick, towering erection featuring prominently.

His stomach dropped when Hermione pranced into frame, and despite the direness of the situation, he felt his desire for his wife surge.

Gone were the unflattering clothes. She was naked save for a sexy set of French lingerie he'd bought her for her birthday that she'd adamantly refused to wear for him - ironically it had sparked another fight.

He didn't understand why. Hermione, in his eyes, was perfect. Maybe his mistake was telling her so often that she no longer believed him.

While not as fit or toned as some of his gym rat colleagues, she held her excess body fat exquisitely. Her bum was plump and soft, her thighs thick and alluring. He remembered fondly and with renewed desire how they would shake and jiggle every time he ploughed into her, his hands squeezing her soft ass so hard the pliable flesh seeped through his fingers.

And don't even get him started on her breasts. She'd always been jealous of Lavender's endowment, but Hermione had grown into her own after Hogwarts. They were a perfect C, bordering on D-cup with dark nipples surrounded by galleon-sized areola.

She had a perfect body, and she never showed it off.

Well, not to me, anyway.

Hermione's smile lit up her entire face, her twinkling eyes locked on Dean's massive cock hungrily. He felt his self-worth plummet as she eyed the hulking slab of dark meat the way she used to look at him.

Is it really so simple? Is it because my dick doesn't satisfy her anymore? Am I just too small?

As if sensing his insecurities, Dean's voice spoke out, unwittingly in the video, like a dagger to the heart.

'You ever suck a dick this big?'

Hermione shook her head in the negative, an impish smile on her beautiful face as she tied her hair in a pony-tail, preparing herself for the epic undertaking to come.

Hermione looked directly into the lens before looking back at Dean. 'You better not forget to blur my face.'

Dean sighed theatrically. 'I won't, but I don't know why. They know what you look like from the original pics I posted. My subscribers all love you, they've been waiting for this ever since I posted your first photo.'

She looked unmistakably pleased by this, something that confused Harry to no end.

It's like she's a completely different person…

'It's one thing having my face on the internet next to an old friend,' Hermione teased, smiling coquettishly as she crawled on the bed in between Dean's long legs and made her way towards the object of her desire. Her eyes were glued to his shaft and not his face or the camera as she spoke. 'It's quite another having it next to such an…impressive penis.'

'Oh yeah?' Dean replied in an amused tone. 'And what do you want to do with my… impressive penis?'

He said the last word in a mocking tone that he quickly had to swallow when Hermione gripped his shaft and winked at him. She didn't focus on stroking, instead, she cupped the plum-sized head of his cock and teased his opening with the nail on her thumb.

Dean hissed, the camera shaking as he struggled to hold it still.

Harry felt another pang of loss even as his dick grew hard in his pants. Hermione was - is - a fantastic lover, having devoted an inordinate amount of effort into researching the subject as soon as they'd first become sexually active.

Like most things she devoted her genius mind to, Hermione took to it like a fish to water. Those first few, exploratory months of sexual experimentation and discovery were some of his fondest memories he had of his wife.

It was those memories that he clung to, even as she cheated on him with another man. It was that 'Hermione' he thought about while stroking his aching cock as he watched her tongue poke out like a naughty kitten's and dance around Dean's urethra.

Dean groaned, running his hand through Hermione's wavy, chestnut locks as she lapped at his knob. 'You're such a naughty, slutty wife…'

Hermione shuddered at the sinful words, her smile stretching wider. 'Say that again!'

'Say what?' Dean teased with faux ignorance, as if he wasn't a man who knew his way around dirty, slutty wives. When Hermione started to cup and fondle his bollocks in conjunction with her licking, as if trying to coax the answer out of him, Dean groaned and did as she asked. 'You're a sexy, naughty, slutty whore. Your mouth was made to suck my big black cock.'

Hermione opened wide and engulfed the head of Dean's cock as he teased her, shuddering and groaning with that little bit of raceplay.

Apparently Hermione has a thing for black guys. Just another thing I didn't know about my wife to add to the list…

Where the fetish had spawned from, he had no idea - he suspected it might have something to do with the litany of erotic fiction on her laptop she thought he didn't know about - though a traitorous part of him couldn't deny how sexy her small, pale hand looked as it rapidly stroked Dean's almost foot-long cock.

Hermione had her lips sealed around his knob now, one hand stroking his shaft while the other played with his balls. Dean was very much appreciative of her talents, eagerly spewing out whatever she needed to hear to keep his wife eager and motivated.

While Harry genuinely believed Dean respected him, and disliked how painful this must be for him, he wasn't naive. Hermione was gorgeous, and he'd been the envy of every bloke at Hogwarts when they'd finally realised it too.

Dean would happily seduce and fuck his wife, especially when she was so apparently eager. Instead of being resentful, Harry only shrugged it off. Better him than some other random stranger, and it's not like their affair was hurting their love life - that had died a long time ago.

It was a weird, almost zen-like realisation that made him feel like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He was just watching porn - very hot porn - starring a woman that only vaguely resembled his wife. The real Hermione, the one in his heart, died a long time ago.

You're just looking for a reason to not feel like a cuck while wanking to this, you filthy liar.

'Yeeeah, you gonna swallow my cum?'

Hermione, her mouth still stretched obscenely around Dean's monolithic cock, smiled with her eyes and hummed in approval.

Dean's gasps and pants were ratcheting up in volume and intensity as his orgasm neared.

'I'm cumming!'

His groan was long and loud, his thick shaft visibly pulsing as he spewed his prodigious discharge down Hermione's throat. When her hazel eyes widened, the ropes of cum not slowing down, Dean ripped his cock out of Hermione's mouth and stroked the last two ropes of cum onto her chest.

Hermione had knelt up, eager to accept his load then fell back with a laugh and a squeal. Her lace bra, the one he'd bought for her as a gift, was now soiled with another man's seed. Dean stood up on the bed, his phone aimed down at his wife as he slowly stroked his deflating cock, ringing out the last vestiges of cum.

Hermione smiled up at him, her cheeks rosy while her chestnut hair, having escaped the pony tail, fanned around her like a halo. She was almost purring, her back arched as she rubbed the cum into her chest as if it were moisturiser.

'Did you like my cum? You little slut?'

Hermione bit her lip and continued to smile up at him as she slowly nodded. 'There was sooo much, daddy,' she purred, sounding like a complete stranger to him. 'So much more than my husband.'

'Man, I feel sorry for your husband,' Dean replied, acting like he didn't know who Harry was - likely for his subscribers' benefit.

'You should,' Hermione continued to tease, grinning and playing it up for the camera. Harry thought this would have been the hardest hurdle for Dean to overcome in his seduction. Turned out his wife was a natural. 'Your dick is so much bigger than his.'

Harry grunted, the hurtful words somehow the trigger for his orgasm. Cumming all over his chest - indeed, a much less impressive load than Dean's - he watched as the video faded to black, leaving him in the silence of his lonely apartment once more.

I'm so fucked up…

-

On the day of their anniversary, Harry made a legitimate attempt to save his marriage.

He'd done a lot of soul searching since watching Dean's latest update, and he'd come to the realisation that he didn't really care about the infidelity. If it meant getting his wife, no, his best friend back, he'd be more than happy to open up his marriage.

It wasn't like he didn't have a wandering eye of his own. He'd been hit on and turned down countless women he wouldn't have minded having a tumble with.

It was the lying that he couldn't countenance, the lying and the emotional abuse.

Clocking off early from work and skipping his gym session, he hurried home and prepared a full, three-course meal of his wife's favourites. He'd brought out all the stops and he was genuinely pleased with the results.

She never came home. She hadn't even sent a message.

He waited like an absolute tit until nine o’clock before calling her. Surprisingly, she answered almost immediately.

His guts roiled when the line connected and he immediately heard her panting. His wife did not run, she did not work out or exercise in general. Her body was a result of a good diet and genetics.

‘Hello?’ Not only was she panting, she sounded completely out of breath, her voice hoarse.

From screaming?

‘Where are you?’ he asked coldly, but other than her panting growing more intense, she didn’t answer. ‘You’re aware what today is?’

He was genuinely surprised when, after several more seconds of silence, she cursed.

‘Oh bugger! I’m sorry!’ she replied, sounding genuinely apologetic. ‘I completely lost track of time, I’ll be home soon -’

‘Don’t bother,’ he snapped, before taking several deep, calming breaths. ‘I’m going to the pub.’

He ended the call before she could respond. Before he could interrupt more of her fun.

My life is a joke…

Slipping off his wedding band, he left it on the dining table next to their now-cold dinner and left without another word.

He didn’t stumble home until well past midnight, half a dozen pints in and feeling more world-weary than he ever remembered feeling in his entire life.

He paused in surprise when he saw Hermione asleep at the dining table, her cheeks red and tear-stained with his wedding band clutched in her closed fist. She’d made an attempt at finishing the dinner he’d prepared, a nearby empty bottle of wine making sure she’d stay asleep.

He made to walk past her up the stairs to pass out in the guest bedroom but he stopped and sighed before even ascending the first step.

Picking Hermione up, she mumbled incoherently but didn’t wake as he bridal carried his wife up to their bed. He made sure to tuck her in before silently closing the door behind him and collapsing on the bed in the guest bedroom with a weary sigh.

Out of curiosity more than anything, he grabbed his phone and switched it on. Immediately, it started to ding with so many notifications it sounded like a slot machine. He casually scrolled through the myriad texts Hermione had sent him after it became clear his phone was off - majority of them apologising and begging for him to call her.

When he came to Dean’s messages, he paused.

His old school mate had achieved what he’d set out to do. Dean had succeeded in seducing his wife and, as a result, Harry would be released from the miserable existence he’d been forced to endure over the last year.

So why was his finger still hovering over his mate’s name?

Because you’re curious. And a degenerate. And a glutton for punishment…

Sighing, he tapped on Dean’s name and their text history populated the screen. He was greeted with another video and a wall of text.

- For what it’s worth, Hermione wasn’t cheating on you. Honestly, I’m not sure you’ll like the reality any better.

- I bet your issues with Hermione started after you started going to the gym, after you started seeing some real gains.

- This is going to sound ridiculous to both of us, but Hermione is incredibly self-conscious about her body, about not being a twig. I almost blew the whole operation by calling her my PAWG.

- As you started to get more shredded, not only was she self-conscious and embarrassed to be naked around you, but she started to resent you for making her feel that way.

- This sounds like I’m putting the blame on you. I’m not. Hermione is absolutely mental - there’s typical women levels of insecurity, then there’s Hermione.

- I’m not sure I wanna psychoanalyse more than that.

- I dunno if this matters to you at all, but if it were me, I’d want to know.

- And just a heads up, this isn’t the first time we shagged, just the first time she let me film. It will be the last though. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t enjoy it, but, shit man, I’m sorry things turned out this way. This is the first time I kinda wished I failed.

Harry shook with rage after reading the texts, his finger hovering over the video at the end of them.

It’s all so fucking stupid. She blew up our marriage for nothing!

He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to storm back into his bedroom and shake his wife awake, to beg how someone so brilliant could be so utterly stupid.

Instead, he just sighed wearily. Ultimately, this changed nothing. He’d already decided on divorce, everything else was just details.

Still, his guts roiled as his thumb hovered over the thumbnail of the video. He didn’t know if he liked what this whole episode had revealed about him, about how much he kinda perversely enjoyed watching his wife be seduced by another man.

He could blame it all on sexual frustration, and maybe that was the case to an extent, but he’d wanked to the video of Hermione blowing Dean countless times already.

His thumb started shaking for a different reason.

Excitement.

Standing up, he shucked his clothes and locked the door before throwing himself back on the bed, his cock doing its best impression of a steel pole.

I’m so fucked up.

He hit play, his breaths coming in excited pants as he enlarged the video and it faded in.

This time, Hermione was the one laying on Dean’s bed, her back against a mountain of pillows. Dean was standing at the foot of his bed and watching his naked wife play with her tits and slide her fingers along her glistening lips.

‘You ready for this?’ Dean asked, and the camera shifted to show his gargantuan cock before shifting back to Hermione. Her eyes were likewise locked on his shaft as she bit her lip sexily.

‘Oh God,’ she moaned, working herself into a frenzy. ‘Are you gonna stretch my little pussy with that big black cock?’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘So much,’ Hermione whimpered, leaning back and spreading her legs wide.

She was honestly one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. The fact that she’d been harbouring such crippling insecurities was maddening.

Both of Dean’s hands came into frame and he grabbed Hermione’s ankles, pulling her towards him until her bum hung off the edge of the bed.

Is he using a GoPro?

Taking his thick, veiny shaft in hand, he started to rub his knob up and down her glistening lips while his free hand held one of her legs wide.

‘Stop teasing me daddy,’ Hermione pleaded, sounding like a true sex kitten. ‘Put it in me.’

Without further adieu, Dean grunted and started to slide inside his wife, his thick, dark knob parting her pale lips obscenely around the plum-sized head.

Hermione’s moan was long and drawn out as Dean inched deeper until only half of his cock was buried inside her.

‘You’re so deep in me,’ Hermione panted as Dean looked up to capture her stunned features. ‘I feel so full.’

Unable to progress further, Dean kept his cock as deep as it would go and performed micro thrusts so his knob put increasing pressure against her cervix.

Harry stroked his cock at the erotic sight. Seeing such a big dick fucking his wife was such an unexpected turn on, he felt a wave of renewed sadness that they couldn’t have experimented with this kink together.

When Harry fucked Hermione, back when they were still intimate, he focused more on pleasuring her g-spot. It was a target that was more in reach for him than her cervix, and he’d never failed to rip several orgasms from her each time they shagged.

Given the way she was acting with Dean though, she enjoyed having her deepest parts plundered as much, if not more than her g-spot stimulated.

Her moans increased in intensity and volume, her perfect tits bouncing as Dean’s thrusts came a little more forceful. He watched as his mate’s dark hands gripped her breasts for leverage, the fatty flesh seeping out from between his fingers as he went to town.

It seemed like no time at all, with barely effort on Dean’s part that Hermione started to come undone.

‘Cumming!’

Her soft body shook and she hugged herself as her orgasm washed over her, her rapturous moans nostalgic and hitting him harder than he’d expected, like a favoured song he hadn’t heard in years.

Dean gave her no time to rest, apparently in a frenzy himself as he shagged his longtime crush.

Flipping her over, he ran his hands appreciatively over her plump bum before spreading her cheeks wide, her glistening pussy and puckered rosebud revealed to the camera.

Hermione was kneeling, her face planted on the bed and turned to the side so she could watch him admiring her ass.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Dean whispered reverently, his dark hands trailing over her pale skin. ‘Perfection.’

Hermione seemed pleased by the compliment. She started to wave her ass left and right like a snake charmer, giggling as Dean followed it with his gaze obediently. ‘You’re such a naughty boy - fucking another man’s wife better than he ever could.’

She yelped and moaned when Dean’s hand came down in a harsh spank, and Harry groaned as he watched Hermione’s bum jiggling from the impact.

She’s insecure about that?!

‘Punish me daddy,’ Hermione whimpered and she moaned when he spanked her again, this time on the other cheek. Dean did this for a while, alternating cheeks until Hermione’s pale, meaty bum was red from the abuse, her juices trickling down her thigh with her arousal. ‘Put it in me,’ she begged. ‘I want you in me Daddy.’

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. With her big ass providing a buffer for his huge cock, he was able to thrust back into Hermione all the way until his groin ground against her pillowy behind. They both groaned as he gyrated his hips while inside her, his member no doubt stirring up her insides.

As Dean started to shag in earnest, his hips crashing against Hermione and causing her glorious ass to jiggle, Harry started to wank in earnest. He couldn’t help it, she was just too gorgeous, and seeing that long, dark shaft sliding in and out of her, spreading her little pussy wide was just such a taboo turn-on.

He watched them fuck for several minutes, his wife cumming multiple times on her lover’s gargantuan cock. He started, along with Dean and Hermione, when his wife’s phone started to vibrate on the nightstand.

No bloody way!

‘Who is it?’ Dean asked, his breaths coming in ragged pants as his orgasm drew near. He didn’t pull out as Hermione crawled over to her phone, instead shuffling along behind her, his cock staying nestled in her abused womanhood and his hands on her hips.

‘It’s Harry,’ his wife answered, shaking her head before looking over at Dean with a naughty grin. ‘Don’t stop shagging me.’

Dean did as ordered, picking up the pace as his wife answered his call, her voice raspy from her non-stop moaning. ‘Hello?’

She kept her eyes locked on Dean as he thrust into her, her naughty smile gradually slipping as his own voice spoke on the other end. Then her eyes widened and she jolted in shock.

‘Oh bugger! I’m sorry!’ she said, and Harry was at least comforted by the fact that she looked genuinely contrite in the video too. ‘I completely lost track of time, I’ll be home soon -’

Her eyes widened further when he hung up on her. Dean had stopped thrusting, clearly wanting to know what went down.

‘Everything okay?’

‘I forgot it’s our anniversary,’ Hermione admitted with a wince, moaning when Dean started to thrust into her again, his dick slick with her juices.

‘You came to shag me on your anniversary?’

Harry was surprised by Dean’s genuine disbelief, though the twat didn’t stop thrusting as he spoke. To be fair, he’d been doing a bang-up job for almost half an hour at that point - he had to be close to cumming.

‘I forgot,’ Hermione admitted lamely and Dean let out a bark of laughter.

‘I’m not sure that’s better…’

Hermione rolled her eyes before swivelling around so she was laying on her back again, Dean’s cock still buried deep inside her. ‘C’mon, fuck me Daddy, I need to go soon.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ Dean obeyed, hooking his hands under her knees and pulling her close. He gasped and grunted as he started thrusting again in earnest, his cock buried as deep as it would go. Hermione had her hand over her brow and yelped with each thrust, her delicious, heavy tits jiggling nonstop.

Dean came with a roar, his obscene shaft once again visibly pulsing as he pumped rope after rope of cum inside his wife.

When he pulled out, he made sure to zoom in on Hermione’s utterly destroyed pussy. It was gaping, red raw and leaking a veritable river of his cum onto his once-clean sheets.

Harry groaned at the sight, his end taking him by surprise as he came all over his chest.

As the video faded to black, Harry was left alone with his thoughts once more.

The lies and the abuse…there’s no coming back from that, no matter how hot I thought that was.

His decision solidified in his mind, he cleaned himself up and slept more peacefully than he had in a long while.

He filed for divorce the next day, ignoring Hermione’s begging and pleading to give them another chance. He didn’t even give her a chance to explain herself, he no longer cared.

The ink was barely dry when he abruptly quit his job and pulled a vanishing job not too dissimilar to Dean’s..

-

One Year Later

Harry screwed his eyes shut, groaning in bliss as the sun bathed his naked skin in its warm glow. He was on a handsome yacht off the coast of Croatia, the weather utterly perfect and the water, like glass.

Beside him, a gorgeous, equally naked blonde laid face down, soaking in the sun’s rays. Her unblemished, bronzed skin was without any sign of tan lines, a testament to how much she disdained bathing suits.

He was startled out of his reverie when his phone rang. Answering his partner’s grunt of annoyance with a slap on her perfect ass, he chuckled as he checked who was calling. His eyes widened when he saw it was Dean.

Not having spoken to his old friend since the fiasco with his ex, he shrugged and answered.

‘Yo,’ he answered, surprised by how relaxed and carefree his own voice sounded.

‘I can’t believe your Gunners actually did it,’ Dean said by way of greeting from the other end of the line. ‘I guess that’s what happens when you lot steal our best player.’

Snorting in amusement, Harry grinned wide. ‘Mate, I’m still getting over the hangover. A part of me still doesn’t believe it.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Dean replied with a laugh. ‘So anyway, I’ve been thinking about you ever since I watched the game. How’re you doing? Are you okay after…well, you know.’

‘Don’t read the Prophet anymore, I take it?’ Harry asked, highly amused as he ran his hand over his partner’s perfectly smooth rear appreciatively.

‘Not really my scene anymore. Why?’

‘Babe,’ Harry called out to his partner, earning another annoyed grunt. ‘C’mon, turn around.’

As if spurred on by the clear excitement in his voice, his partner rolled over with a wide, mischievous smile. She posed prettily as he snapped several pictures of her naked form before sending them to Dean with a perverted grin firmly etched on his features.

‘Check your messages.’

‘What? Why do I - BLOODY HELL!’ his mate exclaimed and both Harry and his partner broke out in gales of laughter, his voice so loud it was audible through the small speaker. ‘You went from being married to the most insecure woman I’ve ever met, to, what? Dating?’

‘We’re engaged,’ Harry explained, taking the woman’s hand and smiling lovingly at her. She mirrored his expression and crawled over to him, her hand going right for his rapidly hardening member.

‘Wow, that was quick. Congratulations! Anyway, you went from married to the most insecure woman ever, to being engaged to the most arrogant, self-assured, narcissistic -’

‘Zat is not very nice,’ Fleur Delacour replied with an amused chuckle before taking his aching cock between her talented lips. Dean laughed boisterously while Harry sighed in bliss, running his hands through his fianceé’s blonde locks.

Dean’s laughter abruptly cut off when he heard the strange sounds coming from Harry’s end.

‘Harry, don’t lie to me - is she sucking you off right now?’

Harry grinned, and instead of answering, he snapped another photo of Fleur, her lips pressed right up against his groin, before sending it off to Dean.

‘Bloody hell,’ Dean gasped with awe as he looked at the erotic picture. ‘So, err, if you need another loyalty test - I’m ALWAYS available. Like, seriously.’

Both Harry and Fleur burst out with laughter.