Multiversal Cheaters, Hotwives and Cuckolds - Chapter 08 (Patreon)

Multiversal Cheaters, Hotwives and Cuckolds

Chapter 8: Birth of a Vixen

Fandom: Harry Potter
Note: Hogwarts starts at age 18, after the students receive a full, proper education.

Tags: Consensual Infidelity, assumed Cuckolding, Voyeurism, Stag / Vixen

Ron’s eyes snapped open and he jerked awake with a start as the Sun’s rays shone in through the window and illuminated his pale features. To call him tired would be an understatement, he’d been tossing and turning all night, only finally passing out in exhaustion when his overworked mind couldn’t take it anymore.

Realising what the morning would bring, he shot out of bed and immediately face-planted on the unforgiving cold, stone floor, his blanket still wrapped around his legs like an Incarcerous charm. Groaning, he only gave himself the briefest of moments to feel sorry for himself before he wiggled free from the cotton’s grasp and launched himself to his feet, his excitement and dread palpable.


Today was the day Harry - newly minted captain of the quidditch team - would be posting the results of the tryouts up on the noticeboard in the common room. Despite how excited he was to see if his hard work and hours upon hours of blood, sweat and tears had paid off, he was also a realist.


Cormac bloody McLaggen had been like the Giant Squid during tryouts, not letting anything past his superior defences and through the hoops he guarded.


Ron’s performance had been passable, sure, but compared to that? He didn’t dare hope.

And yet, he still did.

Throwing a robe over his bedraggled frame, he hurried down the stairs and into the common room only to throw himself to the side as he was almost bowled over by a furious, red-faced McLaggen.

Is that - does that?!

Feeling his anticipation grow, Ron hurried over to the group of students excitedly crowding around the noticeboard, the half a dozen steps feeling like twenty miles.

He ignored the good natured ribbing and back-slaps, his face set in a rictus of equal parts disbelief and nausea as he stared at the team sheet in shock.

He’d made the team.

He’d MADE the TEAM.

‘Bloody hell…’

Later, after a proper nap and having calmed down considerably, Hermione and Ron decided to meet up with their best friend for lunch, his girlfriend forced to drag his stupefied form around by his hand. A part of her mostly looked annoyed at having to cart around a man-sized puppy, but if one looked closely, they’d see the corners of her lips twitching in fond amusement.

Harry hadn’t been taking his lunches in the Great Hall lately, much preferring the quiet and solitude of the outdoors as opposed to the chaos of the castle, filled with students constantly vying for his attention. Dobby would fetch him some leftovers and he’d enjoy the serenity of Black Lake in peace, or with his own girlfriend.

Still rather not think about that, thanks Brain.

Harry flicked his head at them in greeting when he saw them approach, before turning back to the lake and firing out a fist-sized pebble low over the surface. A tentacle the size of a tree-trunk broke the surface of the water and snatched the speeding projectile out of the air before waving around in glee, like an excited puppy that had caught the frisbee. Harry snorted in amusement.

‘You think we could play over the lake? Sir Inksalot, might make a pretty good Seeker…’

Hermione smiled fondly and rolled her eyes, never a big fan of the name Harry and Ron had bestowed upon the mysterious creature. ‘I think we’ve got that position covered.’

Harry eyed his best friends with a grin before turning back to the lake with a carefree smile. His best mate had always been kind of…off. He often looked stressed and uncomfortable when surrounded by four walls and a bunch of fellow students, put him on a broom though? Or go hiking with him through the Forbidden Forest?

That’s when you’d see the real, carefree Harry Potter.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, without turning to them.

Hermione elbowed him in the side and Ron winced. His girlfriend’s elbows were as sharp as her wit. ‘Ugh…mate, I was wondering… I saw the team this morning -’

‘Congratulations,’ Harry turned and praised, cutting him off with a kind smile. ‘You earned it.’

Swallowing thickly, unable to hide the queasy feeling in his gut. ‘Yeah…about that… Did I? It’s not just because we’re best mates, right?’

Ron wilted when Harry’s smile quickly shifted into a steely-eyed glare. The Boy-Who-Lived, for those that knew him, was a pretty quiet and unassuming man that minded his own business and was fascinated by all things magic. He’d do anything for a friend and was talented at all things that required a wand or broom.

He also had one heck of a temper on him. Hogwarts’ motto Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus - never tickle a sleeping dragon - also applied to her star student even more, as was evidenced by his angry stare.

‘Mate, I have to take that from the sheeple in the castle, I didn’t think I’d have to take it from you too.’

Seeing her boyfriend squirming under her friend’s glare, the stresses of leadership clearly getting to him lately, Hermione stepped in in the hopes of calming the situation.

‘Harry, you know I know nothing about Quidditch, but McLaggen seemed to objectively be the better keeper,’ she hedged, her voice somehow both firm and questioning. ‘I was there. As well as Ron did,’ she squeezed his hand in comfort before continuing, ‘McLaggen didn’t let a single shot through his rings. What more could he have done to earn his spot?’


Harry turned his attention to Hermione and, after letting out a long, steady breath through his flaring nostrils, smiled kindly. ‘You, I’m fine with asking that question. You’re not to know better. Yes, Cormac is the better shot stopper -’

Hermione frowned and Ron felt his gut’s churn. ‘Then why -’

Harry continued, talking right over her. ‘But, we have the best Chasers at Hogwarts. By far. When McGonagall gave me the captaincy this year, I thought for sure she was giving me a hospital pass.’

Ron hurriedly translated the sporting term for Hermione before Harry continued. ‘A bad pass that’s likely to put the recipient in hospital because it’s too close to the opponent.’

Again, Harry rolled over the interruption as if it hadn’t happened. ‘Not only would I have to replace five of our starting seven, but two of them were a pair of incredible beaters that seem to share a brain while another two were two-thirds of the flying bloody vixens!’


Seeing her puzzled frown, he continued. ‘Then I saw Katie flying with Ginny and Demelza. They’re not only amazing, but they might even be better than Angie and Leesh. And Katie just slipped in naturally with them as if they’ve been playing together for years.’

Hermione’s frown deepened, her frustration evident. She didn’t care for sports, and she cared for a topic that made her feel stupid even less.

‘Hermione, they’re so good we’ll always have the Quaffle. Teams won’t be able to lay a glove on us and the girls will just fly rings around them -’

Hermione’s eyes widened in excitement and Ron smiled. It was the same look as when she puzzled out a particularly difficult question from a professor. ‘Which means any keeper you field won’t be facing all that many shots!’

Harry’s smile nearly split his face, looking almost like a proud father. ‘See? And you say you don’t like sports, bah!’

Hermione flushed, her cheeks pinking adorably the way they always did when someone complimented her intellect.

Harry continued, a familiar fervour in his tone and expression, the one that always appeared when he talked about tactics.

‘Not only are we unlikely to face as many shots on our goals this year, making McLaggen’s admittedly impressive shot-stopping capabilities less important, but Ron actually is better than him at something vital.’

Turning to Ron, Harry grinned. ‘You have experience of not only playing as a chaser at a pretty decent level, but playing as one with Ginny and Demelza back home for years. You know what’s better than three chasers, Ron?’

Ron’s eyes widened in shock, his mate’s plans so bleeding obvious in hindsight that he was ashamed he’d missed it. ‘Four…’

Harry smiled wide. ‘Exactly. And, not to toot my own horn too much, but no other seeker at Hogwarts is better at linking up and joining in plays with the chasers as I am - you know what’s better than four chasers?’


‘Five!’ Hermione exclaimed, laughing joyously, Harry’s excitement infectious.

‘Exactly.’ Harry calmed, tempering his own excitement. ‘It’s a risky strategy, the kind of thing you only really see in the pro leagues, but I genuinely think we have the quality and chemistry between our players to pull it off.’

Ron stared at him, mouth agape. What Harry was talking about was the kind of strategy and tactics only the most elite teams in the pro leagues could pull off. You didn’t even see it at the World Cup, the players not having enough time together to drill on the automatisms needed for such choreographed and silky flying.

Harry continued. ‘I could have picked McLaggen, and he’d have been an amazing shot-stopper, but when I told him I’d be expecting him to link up with the chasers to create overloads, he just laughed in my face. I dropped him on the spot.’

‘Mate…’ Ron gasped, at a loss for words. ‘This is mental. We’re just amateurs at a school.’

Harry shrugged, completely nonplussed. ‘I not only expect to win every game this season, but I want us to dominate. Complete, suffocating control. Katie, Gin and Demelza want to go pro - that’ll never happen if they waste their time playing non-league Quidditch tactics.’

‘I’ve never seen you this animated before,’ Hermione muttered, she, too, staring at Harry in shock.

Harry blushed and shrugged. ‘I’m…inspired, I guess. Angie and Alicia were incredible chasers, but they didn’t get a single serious offer. Why? Well, my guess is all the scouts saw was a couple of big fish in a small pond, they didn’t show they could hang it with the big boys.’

Hermione still looked shocked and Ron didn’t blame her. This was a side of Harry she hadn’t seen before. Being made captain had changed him…for the better, in his opinion. He’d always been a bit of a mopey git. Quiet and unassuming. He’d never shown this kind of passion and drive before unless his friends were threatened.

Or he was trying to master a new spell.

‘I…didn’t know you were this passionate about sport. I thought you just liked to fly…’

Ron snorted, returning his mate’s cheeky grin. ‘He’s not that passionate about Quidditch. He’s like Dean, in love with that Muggle footy-ball.’

Harry rolled his eyes, not even bothering to correct him, and shrugged. ‘There’s a lot of crossover between the sports - zonal play is zonal play, and numerical superiority matters no matter what sport you’re talking about.’

Finally understanding why Harry had chosen him - even if a part of him deep down still didn’t agree with the decision, or that he was good enough to fulfil the role Harry had envisioned - Ron just shook his head in disbelief. ‘Fine, I’m sorry for doubting you mate, but you still should have made McLaggen a reserve - he’s too good not to be picked.’

‘You think Cormac McLaggen could stomach being benched for you?’ Harry asked, his eyebrows raised. Ron and Hermione winced, knowing exactly what their friend was talking about. McLaggen was a smug braggart of the highest order, arrogant and completely overflowing in self-belief - his pride would never let him be second to someone he considered inferior.

‘Yeah…probably not.’ He then frowned, remembering something. That morning, when McLaggen was storming away from the team posting… that reaction didn’t make sense if he’d been pre-informed of Harry’s decision. ‘Umm… I think he thought you were taking the piss, mate. I saw him this morning storming off after seeing the team, he looked ready to start breathing fire…’

Harry stared at him, his expression blank and radiating confusion.

‘How’s that my problem?

Hermione barked out a laugh and sighed, shaking her head fondly.

‘Boys…’

-

Hermione’s head snapped up, only half surprised when an inferi in the shape of her boyfriend stumbled into her room, groaning in suffering and pain.

She grinned slyly and quietly chuckled to herself.

With the way he looks after those hellish training sessions Harry puts them through, he really does look like a zombie…

Ron barely even grunted at her in greeting, shambling over to the bed she was laying and reading on. Hermione sat up, her back against a mountain of pillows and crossed her legs just in time for her boyfriend to fall onto her bed, his face, as usual, using her lap as a pillow.

His favourite pillow, he often said. She recalled the sweet, somewhat dirty words with a blush, allowing herself a guilty smile and pleased thrill at the thought.

Whispering sweet nothings to him for comfort and running her hand through his ginger locks, Hermione admired the transformation Ron had undergone over the past several months. It made her feel guilty - not because she felt sorry for the apparent hell and countless drills Harry forced his team to endure, but because she was thankful for it.

Her boyfriend had always been tall and somewhat lanky at a reedy six and a half feet tall. With a healthy diet, potion supplements and intense Quidditch training four nights a week though…

She bit her lip and contained the needy moan that threatened to spill out, the hand not running her boyfriend’s hair instead rubbing circles over his now broad, muscular back.

The complaints had stopped rather quickly too, especially after they won their first game 450-0, the performance so devastatingly humiliating for the opposing team a fight had broken out after Harry had lazily, almost insultingly, caught the snitch.

They’d played seven games other than that one since, winning each one by several hundred points and conceding only two goals, both of them self-inflicted errors rather than clever play by the opposition.

Even Hermione, who was a novice regarding all things Quidditch and only showed an interest because her best friend and boyfriend dedicated so much time to it, had noticed the strange men that had started to show up at their games. Scouts, Professor McGonagall had called them - men who’s jobs it was to find the next best players for the pro leagues.

‘He’s a demon,’ Ron whined, his voice deep, pitious and muffled by her lap. Instead of answering, she let him vent, enjoying the moans and groans she ripped out of his throat as she hooked her fingers and started to gently scratch his scalp.

While he looked and sounded pitiable, Hermione wasn’t moved. Though tired immediately after training, she’d noticed an increase in his energy levels at every other time - and that, even more than his new, bulging muscles, she very much appreciated.

He continued to rant and whine, getting it all out of his system before flipping over onto his back and looking up into her eyes, a chocolate brown, very much like his own. ‘How was your day?’

She told him, skimming over as much of the gritty academic details as possible, just as he no-doubt skimmed over the minutiae when it came to Quidditch. They held a polite interest in each other’s passions, just enough to share their partner’s excitement, but nothing more than that.

Just as she was about to finish, she remembered the awkward encounters she’d been having lately. She’d vowed to bring them up to Ron, even if she thought it was a whole lot of pointless nonsense.

‘I…’ hearing and seeing her hesitation, Ron perked up and stared into her eyes curiously. She blushed, and soldiered on, knowing how ridiculous she’d sound and wanting to get it over with anyway. ‘I think McLaggen is chatting me up…’

Hermione had been expecting and fearing one of two possible reactions. Laughter, obviously. She’d also worried the news would cause her boyfriend to fly off the handle, testosterone making men do silly things.

Her eyebrows rose when neither of those reactions came to pass, and Hermione chided herself, once again underestimating her incredible boyfriend.

‘You think?’

She was so caught off guard by the question, it took her normally brilliant mind several moments to reboot and comprehend the meaning of his words. Slowly, she regained her bearings and blushed. ‘I’m sorry I’m… I’m not used to this sort of thing. This isn’t something I’ve ever had to deal with before. Boys don’t look at me like they do other girls -’

She flushed deeper and frowned angrily at Ron when he cut her off with a chuckle. Seeing her reaction, he sighed and his expression softened. ‘Guys look at you all the time. Next time you’re climbing the stairs, try digging your nose out of the book you’re reading and turn around, you’ll see a whole line of guys staring at your bum like horny teenagers.’ His grin turned positively perverse. ‘Especially when you’re wearing those really tight jeans.’

Hermione blushed so hard it felt like steam would start squealing out of her ears. Her boyfriend chuckled again and reached up to cup her face, turning it so she was looking into his eyes. ‘Just tell me what happened.’

So she did.

It had started a couple of weeks ago, McLaggen would often bump into her in the hallways of the ancient castle after class and, seeing her heavy book bag, would offer to carry it. She’d politely refuse, and then he’d talk to her about classwork on the way to their next lecture.


That had been strange enough, but then he’d started to show up in the library. He’d see what book she was studying and he’d take a seat, talking to her about its contents.

‘I didn’t know McLaggen was so well read.’ She winced, then frowned. ‘I just sounded incredibly condescending, didn’t I?’

Ron snorted and poked her soft belly when he saw her troubled expression. ‘We’ll circle back to that. What else happened?’

Still weirded out by how well Ron was taking this, and questioning whether his reaction meant she was wrong to think McLaggen was chatting her up, she continued.

She frowned. ‘His surprising insights into my esoteric study material aside, there are smaller things. He’s often subtly invading my personal space, brushing himself against me accidentally, brief touches on my hand or arm - am I reading too much into this?’

‘You’re absolutely not,’ Ron confirmed, still looking up at her from her lap pillow. ‘And the reason he knows so much about your esoteric reading material is because he has someone on the inside.’

No doubt correctly interpreting her look of confusion, he elaborated. ‘He has someone who works at the library tell him what books you’re checking out and he reads them himself.’ Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if every bit of clever insight he spouted about those books came directly from the lips of his inside source at the library too. McLaggen’s no Crabbe or Goyle, but he’s not exactly in your intellectual weight class, luv.’

She blushed prettily at his praise and pinched his nipples with a playful grin. He yelped, and she mirrored the sound when her boyfriend immediately got payback, reaching up to pinch her nipples too. They both froze at the contact, Ron’s eyebrows raising in curiosity as he more gently squeezed her nipples again.

‘Someone’s excited…’

Hermione buried her face in her hands and groaned, unable to look her boyfriend in the eye.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me,’ she groaned piteously through her fingers. ‘McLaggen is positively repulsive, but, but -’

‘But the idea that a fit bloke is chatting you up excites you?’

She blushed harder, her hands covering her shame.

‘...Yes? No? I don’t know?’

At his prolonged silence, she slowly removed her hands and looked down into Ron’s eyes. She couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, but it certainly wasn’t mad.

Her boyfriend was a Weasley, she’d seen the infamous Weasley Temper countless times - often at the hands of his sister’s ribbing. Whatever he was feeling, anger wasn’t it.

‘You’re not mad…?’

‘Why would I be?’ he asked, genuine confusion suffusing his tone. ‘Are you two snogging in the library behind my back?’

Her eyes widened with surprise. ‘What?! No! Obviously.’

He kept staring up at her after her answer, the silence between them not quite uncomfortable, but deafening. Finally, Ron grabbed her wrist and gently guided her hand towards his crotch. Not resisting, her eyes steadily widened before snapping open in shock when he placed her hand over his furiously straining bulge.

‘Are you -?!’

When she stared back into her boyfriend’s eyes, she was shocked to see that he was the one now blushing all the way to the roots of his ginger hair.

‘I know,’ Ron muttered, frowning in confusion. ‘I’m trying to decide what that means…’

‘Is this because…?’

He shrugged, averting his gaze.

Biting her lips, Hermione made a snap decision. Her cheeks as red as her boyfriends, he sucked in an excited breath when she unzipped his trousers and allowed his thick, rock-hard, six-inch member to sprout free, then he groaned when she gently palmed it, squeezing it just the way he liked.

‘Doesn’t the thought of McLaggen chatting up your girlfriend make you mad?’ she asked, her hand on his penis a far better truth detecting charm than magic could ever hope to achieve. She knew the truth of his answer before he’d even said anything, feeling his shaft pulse with desire.

Knowing there was no point in lying, Ron just blushed harder. ‘I…don’t think it was because of what you said - not exactly. I just… as you were telling me what happened, I started to imagine you, well… not being you. All I could think about was you two sneaking off to some hidden place in the library and snogging…’

Hermione made a noncommittal sound, her entire focus on her boyfriend’s painfully hard shaft as she gently started to stroke him. A part of her still couldn’t believe what was happening, but her analytical mind couldn’t stop itself from, well, analysing the situation.

‘Are you perhaps…turned on by the idea that other blokes fancy me?’

She narrowed her eyes in annoyance when he laughed in her face.

‘Sorry, I’m sorry luv,’ he backtracked, raising his hands in surrender at the look on her face. ‘I’m only laughing because of how adorably naive you are. Blokes have always fancied you - you should hear the absolute filth they say about you and how fit you are in the locker rooms.’

Hermione ducked her face, her furious blush returning as the thought of a dozen buff, naked boys talked about her and what they’d like to do to her in the changing rooms. ‘Surely not -’

‘Hermione,’ Ron cut her off, his tone exasperated. ‘I have a sister. I know girls are way worse. Tell me you haven’t heard the kind of vile filth they spew about us when you’re changing or in the baths?’

She blushed harder, not because it was embarrassing, but because he was more correct than she’d like to admit.

Harry gets it the worst…

She’d been brought up to think that boys were vulgar trolls that didn’t know how to behave around women, and while she’d never really been disabused of that notion, it had been a pretty momentous shock to discover how disgusting her own gender could be.

Her blush finally receded - though the fantasies remained - and she continued with a puzzled frown. ‘Does the thought of…fighting McLaggen because he’s chatting me up maybe excite you?’

Again, Ron snorted in amusement and instantly shot her down. ‘McLaggen is massive, I’d have better odds against a troll. The twat would snap me like a twig.’

Hermione’s cheeks flushed, Ron’s words ringing true despite wanting to defend his honour. As much as his recent intense training had done wonders for his body, McLaggen was on a whole other level. She couldn’t say for sure, but Hermione wouldn’t be surprised if he spent most of his free time lifting weights at the school’s gym.

When he’s not sneaking around the library and perusing my reading material to try and chat me up, apparently…

Her blush darkened.

Biting her lip, she looked away as she asked her final question, her embarrassment not allowing her to stare into her boyfriend’s eyes. ‘Does the thought of McLaggen seducing me and…succeeding excite -’

She didn’t even get to finish the question. Ron groaned, the sound not too dissimilar to when she’d been scratching and massaging his scalp, his shaft pulsed in her hand and he erupted all over his chest.

Now it was Ron’s turn to look away in embarrassment as Hermione stared at his soiled t-shirt in shock, thick ropes of pearly discharge a truer indication of his feelings than anything he could have said.

The silence in the room was thick and oppressive, the soothing sound of her crackling fire like thunder in her ears. Hermione’s face, no, her entire body felt warm.

And it had nothing to do with the fire.

Swallowing audibly, Ron looked away, embarrassed and ashamed.

‘I - I’m sorry, I -’

Hermione shushed him with a gentle finger to his lips.

‘It’s okay.’ She blushed at the predictability of what she was about to say. ‘It’s…not that uncommon, I’ve read about it before and -’

She broke when her boyfriend snorted, then started to snicker. Trying desperately to keep a straight face, Hermione’s face grew progressively redder as her mind betrayed her, the corners of her lips twitching uncontrollably

They broke out into hysterical laughter, the tension in the room released in one, ebullient moment with her boyfriend’s head still in her lap.

‘So…?’ Ron finally prompted, once he’d gotten his giggles under control.

Seeing her look of confusion, he elaborated.

‘What did you read, Ms Know-it-All?’

She got her mirth under control, her cheeks still red, and frowned in thought. ‘There’s a… kink some people have where they enjoy the thought of, or even watching their partner with somebody else.’

Hearing Ron’s excited intake of breath, her eyebrows rose in surprise. Realising she’d noticed his obvious eagerness, he blushed again and looked away.

‘Do you…like the sound of that?’

His face was so red at this point she was worried it might pop like a balloon. Still, he slowly nodded.

‘I can’t explain it… it’s just… the thought of you running around behind my back, acting like, like… with other blokes? You’re so perfect, the idea you’d be so naughty, for me.’ He screwed his eyes shut and shuddered with repressed arousal, which was probably for the best. It meant he missed the effect his salacious words had on her. When Ron’s eyes fluttered open again, he looked embarrassed, ashamed. ‘You must think I’m some kind of disgusting freak.’

She cupped the sides of his face and, when he tried to look away, she didn’t let him, staring deep into his eyes.

‘I wouldn’t ever think that.’ She paused, the corner of her lips quirking in amusement. ‘Well, mealtime mannerisms aside.’ Ron looked miserable, and she scolded herself, realising this wasn’t a time for jokes. ‘I love you Ronald,’ she confessed, her voice soft yet firm. ‘And you shouldn’t feel ashamed by what excites you. If we’re going to last, and I hope we do, we need to be honest with each other about our feelings and desires.’

Ron flushed, looking both inordinately pleased and embarrassed by her words. He reached up and covered the hands bracketing his face and squeezed affectionately. ‘You’re the best, ‘Mione.’

They lapsed into a more comfortable silence this time, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes.

‘So…?’ she eventually prompted, her eyebrows raised curiously.

‘So what?’ Ron replied, looking genuinely confused. Hermione remained patient, realising how difficult this must be for him - boys were rubbish at talking about the simplest of emotions - this was far, far from simple.

‘Is this something…you’d be interested in?’

He reddened again and dodged the question. ‘Why don’t you tell me what your naughty book said?’

Biting her lip, her fingers danced along his jawline as she recalled the book on sexuality she’d cheekily read out of sheer curiosity late one night after an epic study session.

‘As a kink, it’s generally referred to as cuckoldry,’ Hermione whispered, making sure she continued to sooth him as she spoke, letting her boyfriend know she wasn’t repulsed by him or his kink. ‘A cuckold is someone who likes to watch their significant other commit adultery or be unfaithful with others, they are generally turned on by the humiliation of being cheated on.’

He frowned, rapidly shaking his head. ‘I don’t want you to cheat on or humiliate me!’

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, startled by the vehemence of his response. ‘I thought you -’


‘Cheating means you go behind my back, that you do…things without my blessing. Sorry, I probably sound like a nutter, I -’

‘Shh,’ Hermione shushed him, stroking his face again, her fingers brushing over the barely-there stubble. ‘That’s actually really helpful, you don’t sound like a nutter. You just like the idea of…watching? Watching me? With someone like…McLaggen?’

Turning, he buried his face in her hand but slowly nodded.

Biting her lip, she tried to sound as gentle and understanding as possible. ‘You don’t think that giving McLaggen what he wants would be humiliating to you?’

He snorted, cracking open an eye to stare up at her. ‘I don’t care what that bellend thinks. I don’t want you to humiliate or tease me. I… just want to watch you being naughty.’

She bit her lip again, but this time the expression was far more sensual and less like she was trying to puzzle out a problem. She nodded slowly, leaning down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. ‘I understand.’

When she pulled back after their kiss, his eyes were wide, the worshipful way he was staring up at her doing just wonderful things to her nethers. ‘You do?’

There was so much hope and relief in his tone that her heart just melted on the spot.

She scooted out from under him and stood on the side of the bed. Her boyfriend watched her, his eyes wide as she dropped her shorts and let her knickers drop to the floor, flicking them away as they pooled around her ankles.

‘Wha -?’

Hermione grinned impishly at him, lifting off her cosy jumper over her head and tossing it aside. She never wore a bra when she was just relaxing in her room, and her large breasts flopped free when they cleared the hem of her top.

‘We never play on nights when you have training,’ she teased, getting back on the bed and straddling him. Eyes wide, Ron cooperated by lifting his hands and allowing her to remove his soiled t-shirt. ‘You’re often, understandably, too tired.’

He groaned and she smirked when she ground her naked bum against his once-again hard, throbbing member. All the talk about Ron’s newly discovered kink had lit a fire inside her too, images of the beefy Cormac McLaggen chatting her up no longer a source of annoyance, but one of sinful opportunity.

When she slipped Ron inside her, they both groaned as she settled on his lap, her hands running over his deliciously bulging pecs.

Probably not as bulging as Cormac’s…

Shaking her head, she grinned naughtily. ‘You seem particularly inspired tonight though…’

She started to slowly bounce and Ron flung his head back and groaned, his hands reaching up to cup her large, pendulous tits and squeezing. She didn’t often love the way Ron would paw at them like they were stress balls, but for some reason, she relished the rough treatment that night and squealed when he started to pinch her nipples.

‘You’re such a dirty slag,’ he hissed as Hermione rode him.

Yesterday, she’d have slapped him for saying such a vile thing to her. Tonight though, with her mind conjuring images of Cormac McLaggen in his place…?

He wasn’t wrong…

Reaching back, she balanced herself on Ron’s knees and undulated on his lap, his member swirling around inside her and scraping against her g-spot.

He’s not the only one that can talk dirty…

‘Is this what you want to see?’ Hermione challenged, her tone breathless and her eyes smouldering with desire. ‘You want to come back from training one night to see me bouncing on Cormac like this?’

His reaction to her words startled her, his groan so loud and guttural she thought he might have cum on the spot. Instead, she squealed as he flipped them around, his hands on her ankles as he spread her legs wide and started to hammer into her.

‘Dirty. Filthy. Slag.’

Each word was emphasised with a powerful, toe-curling thrust, his groin crashing against her meaty thighs and causing them to ripple enticingly. Hermione was almost delirious with pleasure, her back arched and her breasts flopping all over the place, her moans like an erotic symphony that sounded alien to her ears.

They’d always been compatible sexually, but this was on a whole other level. Their libidos were both supercharged, heightening all sensations and making their lovemaking even better.

How will he be after he watches me shagging McLaggen?

She sucked in a startled breath as the naughty thought crossed her mind, a sound that was lost in the sea of moans and groans.

She realised it wasn’t an if in her mind, but a when.

The stunning admission had her orgasm coming fast.

Not wanting to finish on her own, she stared up into her boyfriend’s crazed eyes - her own looking similarly deranged, she didn’t doubt. ‘I’m gonna do it.’

She didn’t elaborate.

She didn’t need to.

With a mighty roar, Ron emptied inside her as her own climax crashed into her like a tidal wave.

As they lay panting and satiated in each other’s arms, Hermione knew their relationship had forever evolved and changed.

For the better, she hoped.

-

A week later and an exhausted Ron could barely keep his eyes open as he sat at the back of the lecture theatre for his Elemental Charms class.

Normally, he adored this class. Attending the brilliant lectures Flitwick put on was consistently one of the highlights of his week, but the past few nights had been particularly…intense.

Ever since their little heart-to-heart, Hermione and he could barely keep their hands off each other. Every day, without fail - heedless of his own exhaustion after gruelling training sessions - they’d shag until they passed out, their libidos inflamed so intensely that it made a Fiendfyre look tame by comparison.

He felt his eyes drifting closed once more, even as Flitwick demonstrated a wicked lightning whip charm, but he started awake when he saw a regal paper crane soar in through the window. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, students often messaged each other using this particularly nifty charm during lectures.


What caught his attention was the crane itself. Most witches and wizards, when they cast this charm, got nothing more than your typical origami crane and animated it to fly to its intended target.


The crane he saw fly through the open window was different, and familiar.

His girlfriend was brilliant in loads of ways, chief among them being her ability with casting complex magic - and if the magic wasn’t complex enough for her liking, she found a way to make it so.

Case in point, the Message Delivery charm. Most would be more than happy for their letter to fold itself into a paper crane and fly to its recipient.

Not Hermione.

Instead, his girlfriend altered the charm so the paper transfigured into a literal crane, the only things separating it from its real life counterpart being its size and its feathers still being made of paper.


The magical construct landed on the desk before him and, with a barely audible chirp, it shifted back into letter form. Ron perked up at the sight of his girlfriend’s elegant handwriting.

Waiting for you where we shared our first kiss.

I Love you,

Your Naughty Vixen.

All semblance of exhaustion left him as adrenaline started pumping through his body. She’d started calling herself a Vixen after she’d done some reading on his…kink. Apparently, couples who liked to watch the other be with other people sans the humiliation aspects referred to themselves as Stags and Vixens.

If he had to choose, he definitely preferred that as a title, even if Hermione hadn’t shown any interest in wanting to see him sleeping with another woman.

His mind raced as he tried to remember where they’d shared their first kiss. There had been plenty of snogging over the years, but their first kiss was a much more gentle, tentative affair, given to him after Hermione had agreed to be his girlfriend.


The abandoned classroom in the DADA tower!

He ignored the stares as he shovelled his books into his bag and rushed out the nearby door, his cock steadily hardening in his pants and making running incredibly awkward.

Is this it?! Is it actually happening?!

In no time at all, he was standing in front of a large, oak door at the end of an empty, dusty corridor. In his excitement, he’d almost ruined everything by barging in there like a rampaging dragon. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, Ron pulled out his wand and aimed it at the large, cast-iron hinge.

‘Lubricato.’

Even though he whispered the incantation, the whispered word sounded like a thundercrack to his hyper-sensitive ears. A small jet of oil spat out from his wand and soaked the ancient looking hinge, and he followed it up by doing likewise with the lower one.

With shaking hands, he finally cast a pretty advanced disillusionment charm on himself before screwing up his courage and slipping into the room as quickly and silently as possible.

As it turned out, he needn’t have bothered being so sneaky, he doubted either occupant of the room would have noticed.

Slipping into the shadows nearby, he felt like he’d been hit in the gut by a bludger at what he saw within. Illuminated by the huge, stained-glass window Hermione - his Hermione - had Cormac bloody McLaggen pressed up against the wall and was standing on her tippy-toes as they snogged each other’s brains out.

Hermione had his shirt unbuttoned and open and let out mewls of delight as their tongues warred for dominance, her delicate hands squeezing and fondling his bulging pecs appreciatively while McLaggen’s encircled her slim waist, holding her close.

A part of him felt sickened by the stomach churning sight, and had he not been hiding behind a stone pillar, his legs would have likely given out and he’d have fallen to the floor like a tit. Instead, he used the pillar for support and watched the scene before him with wide eyes, his cock growing painfully hard as Cormac’s large hand slid down and cupped Hermione’s meaty ass through her tight jeans.

No words were spoken between them and Ron watched them snog for several more minutes, his naughty girlfriend occasionally bending down to suck one of McLaggen’s nipples into her warm mouth.

That twat liked that. He liked that a lot.


Unzipping his trousers, Ron pulled his member out and slowly stroked himself at the insanely erotic sight.


Finally, as if some invisible signal was given, they pulled apart, the both of them panting and out of breath. Hermione looked stern and sexy while Cormac smirked down at her, an infuriating smirk on his lips that filled him with fantasies of caving his face in with a beater bat.

His girlfriend was apparently of a like mind.

‘I really wish you’d wipe that smirk off your face.’

‘Can’t help it,’ McLaggen jeered, somehow managing to sound even more smug than usual. ‘I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been looking forward to this for a long time.’

‘Oh?’ Hermione challenged, arching her brow. Ron nearly gave himself away by gasping when, despite her challenging tone, she slowly dropped to her knees before the hulking git. ‘Was this before or after you were dropped from the Quidditch team?’

Atta girl! I love you so much!

The smirk instantly slipped from McLaggen’s face and his jaw clenched in undisguised fury. Ron palmed his wand when he saw a hint of rage flaring in his eyes but, thankfully, the twat calmed himself and his smirk returned in full force.

‘That’s old news,’ he said with a clearly forced, careless shrug. ‘Besides, looking at you kneeling between my legs like the needy slag you are, it’s hard not to feel like I got the better end of the deal.’

Hermione smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘McLaggen, you’re much more attractive when you don’t open your mouth.’

‘Funny, I was about to say the opposite about you,’ he countered with a cocksure grin as he unzipped his trousers and pulled out a large, hefty cock that looked to dwarf his in size. Ron thought Hermione did admirably not to gape in shock, her eyes only flicking down to his prodigal girth briefly before returning to stare up at her lover.

‘And what do you suppose you want me to do with that?’

McLaggen seemed to be enjoying the verbal sparring, his smile widening with glee. ‘Do what comes natural, you cheating whore.’

Hermione remained stone-faced, tilting her head to the side as she stared up at him, unimpressed by his vulgarity. She made no move towards McLaggen’s cock, even as he held it out and jiggled the hefty slab of man-meat before her.

As the silence stretched on and Hermione remained still as a statue, McLaggen groaned in disappointment then sighed. ‘Alright, fine, will your majesty please deign to put my lowly, definitely-much-bigger-than-her-boyfriend’s cock in her mouth? Please?’

The corners of Hermione’s lips twitched in amusement, clearly satisfied by the begging from the arrogant berk. Instead of answering, she reached up and palmed his shaft, holding it so his plum-sized head was staring her directly in the eye.

‘This thing is simply grotesque.’

McLaggen hissed in a breath through gritted teeth and smiled. ‘You won’t be saying that later when I bury it in your almost-virgin pussy, Granger.’

Hermione’s head snapped back up to Cormac’s, her eyes narrowed, and it looked like she was about to release him when he groaned in disappointment. ‘Alright fine, if, if you let me fuck you like you know you want me to!’

Apparently pleased with his pseudo-grovelling, Hermione leaned forward and, without taking her eyes from his, licked Cormac’s hefty shaft from base-to-tip.

Oh sweet Merlin I can’t believe this is happening! So hot! She’s so fucking sexy!

The sick feeling in his gut had long since passed, now all Ron could think about was the sight of Hermione’s lips spread wide around the head of McLaggen’s cock as she took as much of it as she could manage.

It was so wrong. Hermione, his Hermione was a good girl. She was a proper lady, one who hadn’t even let him sleep with her until they’d been dating for half a year. That very same woman, the one who didn’t even much care for PDAs, was now on her knees sucking the biggest cock he’d ever seen.

For him!

You’re the best ‘Mione, the absolute best. I don’t deserve you.

He had to bite his fist to stop himself from groaning, forcibly rip his hand away from his cock to stop himself from cumming. This was, without the doubt, the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Then Hermione tried to take more of McLaggen’s gargantuan cock in her mouth.

Bloody hell!

‘That’s it Granger,’ McLaggen crowed, a disbelieving smile on his face as Hermione wiggled her head and tried to force more and more of his cock down her throat. ‘That’s it, take your time. You’ll get plenty of practice, no need to rush.’

Ron nearly gave himself away again. Hermione hadn’t managed to suck more than a third of his girthy member into her mouth, but the fact that she was even trying was so insanely hot that he couldn’t wait for McLaggen to fuck off so he could give his girl the shagging he so desperately desired.

Will she even feel me after McLaggen had his way with her?

Choking, Hermione pulled off Cormac’s cock with a gasp of air, a string of saliva connecting the tip and her lip as she coughed and cleared her throat.

‘Easy luv,’ McLaggen laughed, brushing a hand through her hair. ‘Take your time, I’ve got all day.’

Hermione glared up at him, but she still went back to his huge cock, taking just the head into her mouth and suckling on it as if it were a particularly delicious gobstopper - and speaking of gobstoppers, his girlfriend unbuttoned McLaggen’s trousers, dropping both them and his pants to the floor so she had access to his heavy bollocks, gently fondling them as she suckled on his knob.

‘Yessss,’ Cormac hissed in pleasure, his head tilting back and thudding against the stone wall as he revelled in Hermione’s blowjob, his hips gently sawing back and forth, but never getting more than his tip inside her mouth.

Ron couldn’t help feeling envious as he stared at McLaggen’s shaft. As thick around as Hermione’s wrist and what looked to be a foot long, he fantasised about how he could make his girl squeal if he was endowed like that.

You won’t have to fantasise about how she’d squeal for long…

Hermione wasn’t exactly the most experienced when it came to giving blowjobs, especially ones for cocks that big. She did her best however, and the effort alone was hot enough for Cormac and Ron both, one hand fondling his balls while the other stroked his shaft, her tongue prodding his sensitive glands and giving them a good licking.

Despite looking like he tried to hold back as long as possible, Cormac gasped, his orgasm clearly approaching.

‘Granger, I -’

Hermione didn’t even wait for him to finish, pulling off his knob and stroking his cock with both hands, the tip pointed at her face. The meaning of her pose was such a turn on, that it was enough for McLaggen to groan and start cumming all over Hermione’s face with long, drawn out groans and gasps.

Ron stared at his girlfriend in disbelief, her face painted with McLaggen’s discharge. She pulled her wand out from her sleeve and, pointing it at her own face, vanished the evidence of her misdeeds with a silent flick.

‘Granger,’ Cormac muttered almost reverently, his eyes still clouded with the effects of his orgasm, though the lust burning within was readily apparent. ‘That was -’

‘Why are you still here?’ His beautiful, amazing girlfriend sniped with a tilt of her head and a sneer. ‘Don’t push your luck, McLaggen. Leave, I’ll contact you if I ever take leave of my senses again and want to go further.’

McLaggen stared at her in disbelief for several seconds before taking the win and shrugging. ‘Whatever you say. See you soon, Granger.’

He made himself look presentable and, bending down to plant one final kiss on Hermione’s lips - his girlfriend turning her head away when he tried - he snorted in amusement and hurried away with a disbelieving shake of his head.

The door had barely closed behind him when Ron hurried out from his hiding spot and charged towards his impishly grinning girlfriend.

‘How was - eek!’

She didn’t even get to finish her question before he was all over her. Ron had all but collapsed atop her, his lips crashing into hers in a heated, passionate kiss and his free hand expertly tugging at her trousers, desperate to be inside her.

Hermione laughed. ‘Someone’s eager.’

‘You’re the sexiest woman alive,’ Ron whispered reverently, kissing her all over her face before resting his forehead against hers. ‘I love you so much for doing this, I know you think he’s a twat and it can’t have been easy -’

‘Oh, you bought that too, did you?’ Hermione asked with a cheeky grin, causing Ron to suck in a startled breath at her words. Seeing his look, her grin widened, ‘Cormac is an insufferable toad, but he’s fit and my God, did you see that cock?!’

Ron groaned, burying his face in the crook of Hermione’s neck as his girl laughed with delight.

‘Bloody hell,’ he whined when he realised something, causing Hermione’s smile to slip in confusion and worry.

‘What?’ she asked, apparently concerned he was having regrets. ‘What is it?’

‘I saw the way you were drooling over his muscles… I’m gonna have to spend more time in the gym now, aren’t I?!’

Her smile was back in full-force, her teeth biting her lower lip as she shrugged.

‘I mean, you don’t have to - so long as you’re fine with not being the sexiest man I’ve been with…’

She laughed as he started to tickle her in retribution, which quickly turned into a moan when he slipped inside her.

A fundamental shift in their relationship dynamic had taken place that day, but Ron couldn’t remember a time he’d felt closer to his naughty Vixen.