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The Droste Effect

Author's Note: Originally published on October 27, 2025

~*~

Like clockwork, there was a tapping at the window. 

Ron came down the stairs in a rush and pried open the creaky window, a blast of winter air filling the Burrow’s kitchen. The Hogwarts owl flew in with its usual haughty look and dropped an envelope in his hand, before gracefully circling around his head and heading into the grey November sky.

Ron took a glance down at the daily letter from Hermione, and his eyes widened. They’d created a legend of symbols to use on the outside of their letters to communicate anything urgent—Hermione’s idea, of course—even though they were charmed so only they could open them. She’d never used the ‘open in private’ symbol before, and she had put it in bright red ink on both sides.

He was curious, but he didn’t have time to inspect it further as his mother bustled into the kitchen. He tucked it in his robes, and sat at the table for breakfast, already running late to meet George at the shop.

He thought about the envelope throughout the day as he worked at the shop, the item burning a hole in his pocket. When he finally got home, he had to wait to open it in order to have dinner with his family. It wasn’t until all of that was finished that he was able to make his way into his room.

Shutting the door behind him, he fired out the usual protective and silencing spells that he’d grown used to using for privacy. He tossed the envelope on the bed, and shrugged out of his robes, before changing into his pajamas and brushing his teeth, the mint scent of the toothpaste reminding him of his girlfriend.

He lit a torch in his room and sat down on the edge of the bed, using a charm to open the envelope. He pulled the folded parchment out in the dim light, and scrambled to grab the items enclosed within that unexpectedly fell to the floor. He reached down and picked up a photo.

“Holy fucking shit!”

It was an overhead view of Hermione’s bed in the Gryffindor dorm. She was laying on her back, topless, her hair splayed out across her pillow. Her hand was in her knickers, moving furiously as she bucked her hips up. He looked closely and could read his name on her lips as her whole body shook with release. She smiled up at the camera and grabbed her wand, before the whole thing looped and started again.

His arousal was immediate, his cock hardening and pushing against the flannel material.

He watched her, captivated, as she came over and over again. His eyes roamed across her body, her perfect tits, her hair that he loved to breathe in, the movements of her fingers trapped under her underwear. He gripped himself through the cloth of his pajamas.

He felt the parchment next to his hand, and he had to tear his eyes away from the photo to read what she’d written to him.

“Dear Ron,” he read aloud. “I learned the charm that makes magical cameras work, so I thought I’d put it to good use. The instructions are below… perhaps you’d like to try it yourself? I hope you enjoy the gifts. Only a few weeks until I’m in your arms again. Missing you, your love, Hermione.”

He could picture the coy smile on her face as she wrote the note, glancing down at the neatly written charm steps on the rest of the parchment, before something struck him. She’d used the word gifts, plural, and he practically fell off the bed in search of the other thing that had fallen, hoping for another picture.

What he found was even better. Her purple knickers, the very same ones she’d worn in the photo, were now clutched in his hand. Not caring that he was a disgusting pervert, he shoved them in his face and breathed in deeply. Merlin, he missed her scent, and her taste.

His dick was throbbing in his pants, and he so badly wanted to pull it out and get off, but he remembered what she’d asked. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, and flipping the photo over since his eyes kept drifting to it, he made a plan of attack.

He followed the instructions she’d provided, nothing that the charm would only record the last thirty seconds before it was stopped. He tried the incantation and a shimmering, translucent white rectangle burst into the air from the tip of his wand, lighting up whatever direction it was pointing at.

Ron was able to maneuver it in space with his wand and place it wherever he wanted. When he stopped the spell, the white plane flashed and morphed into a photo, falling onto the ground.

“Wicked.”

He created some test shots to get the timing right, making silly faces and blowing kisses at the rectangle, imagining she was watching. He collected those finished images and threw them in a drawer. Little did he know that one of those photos, which Hermione would later find and declare adorable, would end up in a silver frame on her desk for decades to come.

Ron moved onto the next stage of his plan. Wanting to prove he was a quick study, he arranged the things on his bed, and decided on the best angle from which the photo could be taken. He settled on an overhead angle, much like she had, floating above his head and angled down to capture him from head to toe.

He stripped off his clothes and got comfortable, his toned, freckled body on full display as he lay back, like he had a thousand times before, thoughts of Hermione swirling in his head. His wand was next to him, so that he could end the spell as soon as possible when he was done and capture what he wanted her to see, since he’d only get one shot at it.

He took another deep breath of Hermione’s used knickers, his cock springing to attention from the dirty deed. The scent was faint, but reminded him of when he would push his long nose against the gusset of her undergarments, teasing her through the cloth before pulling it aside and licking her hungrily. The mewling sounds she’d make were forever memorized.

He let out a groan as he brought the knickers down to his hard penis, wrapping them around the shaft as he began stroking himself. With his other hand, he lifted up the photo she’d sent, and his cock throbbed at seeing her touching herself.

What was she imagining while she was getting herself off? Was it his tongue buried deep inside of her? His cock pumping in and out of her as they both hit their peaks? Perhaps it was when she sucked him off, something she seemed to enjoy greatly.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he moved his hand up and down his massive erection, the feeling of the cloth only adding to the sensation, knowing his love had come while wearing it. He cupped his tight balls and ran up to the large head, swiping at the bead of precum he found there.

The latter half of the summer had been one of exploration, and they were both intrepid in their desires. They’d fucked and sucked and experimented, learning each others bodies and wants. He dick was like steel as he wanked, remembering. Only a few weeks until he would have her again; self-pleasure would have to suffice until then.

His hand was wrapped tightly around his dick, thinking of Hermione. He stared at the picture in his hand, at the movement of her fingers in her knickers. He found the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock, just below the head, that sent scores of pleasure down his shaft and to his heavy balls.

“Fuck, Hermione,” he moaned, his movements increasing in speed, his legs restless. He looked at the photo, at the look of ecstasy on her face, his name dancing off her lips, memories of her breathy voice from when he was deep inside her, her warmth enveloping him.

His body started to tense, getting close as he ached for her, his hands and fingers vigorously stroking and rubbing his significant girth as he furiously masturbated. He could feel the familiar sensation rising through him, and he quickly threw her knickers onto his abdomen.

The photo dropped to his side, still visible as his eyes closed and an electric charge ran through him.

“Oh fuck, Hermione!”

He lifted his hips slightly, his hand pumping ropes of thick cum from the head of his cock, the fluid landing silently on her used underwear.

He reached for his wand and ended the spell, the photo dropping down next to his face as his chest rose and fell in an attempt to regain his composure. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at the image he’d produced. 

It was odd, seeing himself like that, but he was sure Hermione would enjoy it. Ron could see the picture of herself next to him, and his cock looked huge as he stroked it and shot his load. His mouth forming her name was visible, a way to show her she was never far from his thoughts. 

He took a deep breath before applying a drying charm to the spunk-soaked underwear, purposely leaving white stains on the dark cloth, and cleaning himself up. Finally getting up, he got dressed again, before grabbing some parchment and writing a response to her, making sure to include the photo of himself, as well as returning her knickers, and marking the envelope with the symbol for ‘open in private’.

The next few weeks turned into a naughty game of cat and mouse (though in Ron’s head, it was a game of “pussy and cock”) as they teased each other over the distance separating them. 

Hermione had responded to his letter with a much more graphic shot. She’d placed the charm angled up on the bed between her open legs, her knees up. The purple knickers were hooked around one of her ankles, as she pumped three fingers in and out of her glistening cunt, the picture of him jacking off sitting on her chest so that both she and the charm could see it.

Ron countered with a zoomed in, side profile shot of his cock in hand, her picture held parallel to it as the background. He stroked hard and sprayed a big load all over himself, imagining he was doing the same into her pussy.

This continued on for the next few weeks as they exchanged letters and explicit photos, ramping up their anticipation for a reunion, when they could use more than just their hands.

Hermione even got more artistic, sending a photo of just her face—his last photo on the pillow next to her to maintain the continuity—screwed up in delicious agony as she reached orgasm, whimpering his name. 

That one in particular drove Ron wild, and his follow up depicted him standing next to his bed, her face photo on the bedspread as he hunched over it, jerking his cock until he shot strands of his spunk on her beautiful face. Of course, he’d charmed the photo to ensure it wouldn’t get damaged. 

As the day of her arrival approached, Ron sent her a final photo with a note stating that he wouldn’t come again, until it was with her. He wanted to be ready to give her a good fucking.

Hermione’s return at Christmas was a whirlwind. Having enthusiastically greeted Ron at the platform, the two of them, along with Harry and Ginny made their way to the Burrow.

Ron and Hermione used the excuse of getting her settled to drag her trunk up to his room, before shutting and magically protecting his room from intrusion.

“Oh love!”

She immediately jumped into his arms and locked her legs around his narrow hips. He pinned her against the back of his door and grabbed handfuls of her arse to keep her hoisted up.

They snogged fiercely, pouring out how much they missed each other in a battle of tongues and clashing teeth, tugging on kiss-swollen lips.

Ron turned and carried her to the bed, putting her down gently but keeping his weight on her, pressing himself between her legs. They moaned and rolled around, dry humping and tearing at each other’s clothes.

She nibbled on his ear as his hard cock pressed against her once again. “Those photos were so hot, Ron. I touched myself so many times watching them.”

He suckled on her neck, drawing out a moan. “You were a dirty girl, sending that first one. You saw what it did to me. I fucking missed you so much, Hermione.”

She grabbed his hair, seeking his lips again. He could taste salty tears sliding onto his lips as emotion overcame her and he pulled back. She hugged him tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck and he held her. She pulled back and wiped her cheeks. “I missed you, too. I need you, so badly.”

“You have me, love.”

She kissed him hard again, and their bodies moulded to each other, seeking out the relief they both so desperately craved.

“Did you bring the photos?” Ron asked as he unbuttoned her top.

She nodded. “In my trunk. Safe, of course.”

“Get ‘em, please. I need to show you something.”

“Now?”

“Trust me, you’ll like it.”

He let her up, and he took the opportunity to remove his clothing, leaving him in his boxers. He was clearly happy to see her. She turned with a handful of photos, her shirt half-hanging off her, but stopped to eye him up and down.

“Hand them to me.”

She managed to pull her sight away from his glorious body and give him the photos, before stripping her own clothes off.

“I learned a new spell as well.”

He produced his own stack of photos from his desk and added them to hers, before aiming his wand at the combined pile. They flew out of his hand and enlarged, forming a wall-sized grid in mid-air between his door and the foot of his bed, imitating a giant telly. 

Like a historical record of filth, the images played in front of them, loops of them getting off to one another. Her fingers rubbing her clit, his hand wanking his hard cock. Since they’d included the previous photo every time, each contained an infinite mirror of masturbation. The Droste effect, Hermione had called it in one of her letters.

The visual information was overwhelming, so Ron recited another spell, slowing down the frames, so everything was in super slow motion, adding to the sensuality on display.

Hermione stared in awe at this display of them getting off. She zeroed in on one of her favourites, when Ron had blasted a load all over the photo of her face.

She turned to him, a shiver of arousal lighting her body and dampening her pussy, overcoming her with lust. She walked up to him and brazenly pulled his boxers down his legs, his large cock sticking out and ready. “You need to fuck me right now.”

Ron threw his pillows to the foot of his bed, piling them up, before grabbing Hermione effortlessly and throwing her onto the bed as well, causing her to let out a squeal. “Get on your hands and knees. I want us to watch while I take you hard.”

She positioned herself as instructed, using the pillows for support under her elbows so she could view the pornographic display before her. She wiggled her behind at him, adding a bit more enticement.

The mattress sank as Ron positioned himself behind her. She spread her knees further apart on his quilt, opening herself up to him. She reached underneath and pushed her lips apart as she felt him pressing against her, easing himself in after their time apart.

“Ohhhhh, Ron!” Hermione cried out as he slowly filled her, his hard thick cock stretching her out.

He reached the hilt, his balls slapping against her heated skin. “Yes, Hermione. This is where I fucking belong.”

She nodded, as his hands gripped her hips strongly, starting to push in and out. Fucking her. She stared ahead, spotting the moments, remembering the need for him she’d felt when she took the photos. Nothing could compare to actually having him.

“You feel so good, love. Fuck, look at us. Look at how gorgeous you are when you touch yourself, Hermione.”

The images flashing in front of them, plus the absence, only served to fuel their desires quickly.

Hermione was whimpering, chanting his name, already feeling the heat coiling deep inside as he began railing her, the bed squeaking with each thrust.

“Harder, Ron. Fuck, keep going.”

He increased his efforts as he pounded her. Seeing her in front of him, coming over and over again was especially intense when he was fully sheathed inside her.

Hermione was in heaven, watching him shoot load after load, knowing he’d soon be doing the same to her. That thought suddenly triggered an explosion deep inside her as she came hard around his cock.

“Fuuuuuuck, Ron.”

“HERMIONE!”

The unexpected tightness pulled him to the brink as well, as he cried out, pumping load after load of his semen inside her pussy. He collapsed onto her, like a ginger weighted blanket, and they relished the closeness, their combined juices creating a wet patch on his bed, not that they cared in the moment.

They rested together, eventually twisting so that Hermione was cradled in his arms.

“I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you, Ron.”

A sudden knock interrupted them, though they knew they were safe with their protective charms in place.

Harry’s voice rang out. “If you two are done, erm… getting settled… your Mum is serving lunch, and I’d suggest you come down before she goes looking for you two.” They could hear his exaggerated footsteps as he retreated down the stairs.

“Harry said come.” Ron whispered into Hermione’s ear and started giggling like a schoolboy.

She elbowed him in the ribs, but then saw his smiling face and burst out laughing, pulling his arm tighter around herself and letting out a sigh.

“This is perfect.”