Okay Fine! You win
Tiny Way to Die
chapter 24
by
copier
· original author:
wannnaone
He couldn't believe he had agreed to this. He had fought against this—adamantly—but Hermione had been as relentless as ever. And now here he was, tiny, naked, trapped in a glass bowl as his best friend squatted over him like this was the most normal thing in the world.
“Hermione, this is insane,” he tried one last time, his voice squeaky in the enclosed space.
“It’s practical,” Hermione corrected, peering down at him with a look of mild amusement. “And besides, you agreed, remember?”
“I agreed under duress!” Harry snapped, throwing his hands up. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re about to piss on me, Hermione!”
Hermione sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes as if he was the unreasonable one here. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Harry. It’s just a little urine. You do want to get rid of that awful smell, don’t you?”
Harry groaned, rubbing his temples. “I don’t want to do this at all.”
“Well, too late now,” Hermione hummed as she adjusted her position, steadying herself over the bowl. “And besides, urine is actually sterile when it leaves the body. If anything, I’m doing you a favor.”
Harry gritted his teeth, staring up at her in a mix of disbelief and absolute mortification. “I swear to Merlin, Hermione, if you ever tell anyone about this—”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Hermione giggled. “This is just between us.”
Her words did little to comfort him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he heard her take a deep breath. The last thing he needed was the mental image of her looming over him like some kind of goddess of hygiene-related humiliation.
As the first few drops hit the bowl with a soft plink, and Harry immediately regretted every life decision that had brought him to this moment.
The warmth quickly spread, and despite himself, he felt his muscles tense as the liquid pooled into a bath, swirling around him. The scent was sharp—strong—but Hermione hadn’t been wrong. The acrid bite of ammonia cut through the thick, musky stench that had clung to his skin all morning.
“See?” Hermione said, her voice smug. “Told you this would work.”
Harry groaned, dunking his head underwater as if that would make this situation any less mortifying.
He was never going to live this down. Even if no one else ever knew, he would always know.
"You should probably give it a gargle and have a drink Harry, who knows what might have gotten in your mouth as you were travelling through me!" Hermione remarked.
Harry's head shot up from under the water, sputtering as he wiped his face. "Gargle?! Are you mental, Hermione? That’s where I draw the line!”
Hermione looked down at him, completely unphased, her hands resting confidently on her hips. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Harry. It’s perfectly safe. Do you want to get that smell out of your mouth, or not?”
“I can’t even smell my own breath!” Harry snapped, glaring up at her. “And even if I could, this is not the solution!”
“It’s the most effective solution,” Hermione countered smoothly. “And you did ask for my help, didn’t you? Now, be a good boy and gargle.”
Harry’s jaw dropped, utterly speechless. He wanted to yell, to protest, but Hermione’s no-nonsense expression told him it would be a waste of breath. She had clearly made up her mind.
“I’m never going to forgive you for this,” he grumbled, glaring up at her as he hesitantly scooped up a handful of the now warm, yellow-tinted water. He pinched his nose, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous this was, before lifting the water to his mouth.
“Atta boy,” Hermione said with a grin. “Think of it as… a bonding experience.”
Harry shot her a murderous glare, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he reluctantly swished the liquid around in his mouth. The sharp, acrid taste was worse than he’d imagined, and he fought the urge to gag. After a few excruciating moments, he spit it back into the bowl, coughing violently.
“Happy now?” he croaked, glaring at her through watery eyes.
Hermione clapped her hands together, beaming. “Very! You’re being so brave, Harry. Really, I’m proud of you.”
Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Hermione said cheerfully. “But at least you’ll smell fresh and clean! Now have a big drink for me."
Harry stared up at Hermione with a look of sheer defiance. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Hermione knelt down beside the bowl, her expression as calm and patient as a teacher explaining something to a stubborn first-year. “Harry, we’ve come this far. You already gargled. What’s the harm in taking a little sip? It’ll flush out anything lingering, and you’ll feel so much better.”
“You’re insane!” Harry barked, his tiny fists pounding on the edge of the bowl. “Hermione, this is—this is—”
“Efficient?” Hermione offered, tilting her head.
“Disgusting!” Harry retorted, his face flushed with indignation. “I can’t believe you even—”
“Harry,” Hermione interrupted, her tone soft but firm. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I? Do you trust me or not?”
That question again. Harry’s frustration faltered as he stared at her. He hated that it worked every time. The logical part of his mind screamed at him to resist, to point out that she’d gone completely off the deep end. But another part—the part that remembered all the times Hermione had saved his life, patched him up, and led him through chaos—kept him quiet.
“Fine,” he muttered, crossing his arms and glaring up at her. “But only because I want this to be over.”
Hermione’s face lit up with a triumphant smile as she conjured a smaller glass and dipped it into the bowl. Lifting it out, she handed it to Harry with the same solemnity as if she were offering him the Goblet of Fire.
Harry wrinkled his nose, staring at the yellow-tinted liquid sloshing in the glass. He held it up hesitantly, pausing as Hermione gave him an encouraging nod.
“Well, bottoms up, I guess,” he grumbled before pinching his nose and downing the contents in one swift gulp.
The taste hit him immediately—sharp, acrid, and thoroughly unpleasant. He gagged, coughing violently as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Merlin’s beard, Hermione! That was horrible!”
“But effective,” Hermione said with a satisfied nod. “And now you’re properly cleansed, inside and out.”
Harry glared up at her, his tiny body trembling with indignation. “I’ll tell you this much: if anyone asks how I got rid of the smell, I’m lying through my teeth.”
Hermione chuckled softly, standing up and dusting off her hands. “Oh, Harry. You’ll thank me one day.”
“Not bloody likely,” Harry muttered under his breath, sinking back into the bowl with a groan. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel clean again—physically or emotionally.
“Hermione, this is insane,” he tried one last time, his voice squeaky in the enclosed space.
“It’s practical,” Hermione corrected, peering down at him with a look of mild amusement. “And besides, you agreed, remember?”
“I agreed under duress!” Harry snapped, throwing his hands up. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re about to piss on me, Hermione!”
Hermione sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes as if he was the unreasonable one here. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Harry. It’s just a little urine. You do want to get rid of that awful smell, don’t you?”
Harry groaned, rubbing his temples. “I don’t want to do this at all.”
“Well, too late now,” Hermione hummed as she adjusted her position, steadying herself over the bowl. “And besides, urine is actually sterile when it leaves the body. If anything, I’m doing you a favor.”
Harry gritted his teeth, staring up at her in a mix of disbelief and absolute mortification. “I swear to Merlin, Hermione, if you ever tell anyone about this—”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Hermione giggled. “This is just between us.”
Her words did little to comfort him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he heard her take a deep breath. The last thing he needed was the mental image of her looming over him like some kind of goddess of hygiene-related humiliation.
As the first few drops hit the bowl with a soft plink, and Harry immediately regretted every life decision that had brought him to this moment.
The warmth quickly spread, and despite himself, he felt his muscles tense as the liquid pooled into a bath, swirling around him. The scent was sharp—strong—but Hermione hadn’t been wrong. The acrid bite of ammonia cut through the thick, musky stench that had clung to his skin all morning.
“See?” Hermione said, her voice smug. “Told you this would work.”
Harry groaned, dunking his head underwater as if that would make this situation any less mortifying.
He was never going to live this down. Even if no one else ever knew, he would always know.
"You should probably give it a gargle and have a drink Harry, who knows what might have gotten in your mouth as you were travelling through me!" Hermione remarked.
Harry's head shot up from under the water, sputtering as he wiped his face. "Gargle?! Are you mental, Hermione? That’s where I draw the line!”
Hermione looked down at him, completely unphased, her hands resting confidently on her hips. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Harry. It’s perfectly safe. Do you want to get that smell out of your mouth, or not?”
“I can’t even smell my own breath!” Harry snapped, glaring up at her. “And even if I could, this is not the solution!”
“It’s the most effective solution,” Hermione countered smoothly. “And you did ask for my help, didn’t you? Now, be a good boy and gargle.”
Harry’s jaw dropped, utterly speechless. He wanted to yell, to protest, but Hermione’s no-nonsense expression told him it would be a waste of breath. She had clearly made up her mind.
“I’m never going to forgive you for this,” he grumbled, glaring up at her as he hesitantly scooped up a handful of the now warm, yellow-tinted water. He pinched his nose, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous this was, before lifting the water to his mouth.
“Atta boy,” Hermione said with a grin. “Think of it as… a bonding experience.”
Harry shot her a murderous glare, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he reluctantly swished the liquid around in his mouth. The sharp, acrid taste was worse than he’d imagined, and he fought the urge to gag. After a few excruciating moments, he spit it back into the bowl, coughing violently.
“Happy now?” he croaked, glaring at her through watery eyes.
Hermione clapped her hands together, beaming. “Very! You’re being so brave, Harry. Really, I’m proud of you.”
Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Hermione said cheerfully. “But at least you’ll smell fresh and clean! Now have a big drink for me."
Harry stared up at Hermione with a look of sheer defiance. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Hermione knelt down beside the bowl, her expression as calm and patient as a teacher explaining something to a stubborn first-year. “Harry, we’ve come this far. You already gargled. What’s the harm in taking a little sip? It’ll flush out anything lingering, and you’ll feel so much better.”
“You’re insane!” Harry barked, his tiny fists pounding on the edge of the bowl. “Hermione, this is—this is—”
“Efficient?” Hermione offered, tilting her head.
“Disgusting!” Harry retorted, his face flushed with indignation. “I can’t believe you even—”
“Harry,” Hermione interrupted, her tone soft but firm. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I? Do you trust me or not?”
That question again. Harry’s frustration faltered as he stared at her. He hated that it worked every time. The logical part of his mind screamed at him to resist, to point out that she’d gone completely off the deep end. But another part—the part that remembered all the times Hermione had saved his life, patched him up, and led him through chaos—kept him quiet.
“Fine,” he muttered, crossing his arms and glaring up at her. “But only because I want this to be over.”
Hermione’s face lit up with a triumphant smile as she conjured a smaller glass and dipped it into the bowl. Lifting it out, she handed it to Harry with the same solemnity as if she were offering him the Goblet of Fire.
Harry wrinkled his nose, staring at the yellow-tinted liquid sloshing in the glass. He held it up hesitantly, pausing as Hermione gave him an encouraging nod.
“Well, bottoms up, I guess,” he grumbled before pinching his nose and downing the contents in one swift gulp.
The taste hit him immediately—sharp, acrid, and thoroughly unpleasant. He gagged, coughing violently as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Merlin’s beard, Hermione! That was horrible!”
“But effective,” Hermione said with a satisfied nod. “And now you’re properly cleansed, inside and out.”
Harry glared up at her, his tiny body trembling with indignation. “I’ll tell you this much: if anyone asks how I got rid of the smell, I’m lying through my teeth.”
Hermione chuckled softly, standing up and dusting off her hands. “Oh, Harry. You’ll thank me one day.”
“Not bloody likely,” Harry muttered under his breath, sinking back into the bowl with a groan. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel clean again—physically or emotionally.
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June 1
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