Hermione is frustrated by Harrys comments about...
Tiny Way to Die
chapter 11
by
copier
· original author:
wannnaone
The day had reached a new low—or perhaps a new level of surreal. Hermione's words echoed in your head, her voice calm yet firm:
"If you're so bothered by my sweat, you can lick it off. Otherwise, you'll have to live with it."
You blinked, unsure if you'd heard her correctly. Surely, Hermione hadn’t just suggested… that.
"You can’t be serious," you muttered, your voice barely audible over the hum of conversation in the Great Hall.
Hermione didn’t even flinch. She reached for a piece of bread and buttered it with a calculated efficiency, as though she hadn’t just said something so absurd. "I’m perfectly serious, Harry," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "It’s biology. Sweating is normal, and you’re the one complaining about it."
You were at a loss for words. This wasn’t the Hermione you knew—the logical, bookish, slightly bossy friend who always had your back. This was a new side of her, one that felt... uncomfortably pragmatic.
"I’m not licking anything!" you hissed, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"Then stop squirming and complaining," she said, her tone clipped. "I’ve done everything I can to make sure you’re safe, Harry. You don’t realize how hard this is for me, too."
You gritted your teeth, trying to suppress the mix of frustration and humiliation boiling within you. The dampness clinging to your skin, the oppressive heat, and Hermione’s unflappable attitude were all pushing you to your limits.
"Hermione," you started, trying to keep your voice steady, "this… situation… isn’t exactly comfortable for me either. Maybe we can come up with a different solution tomorrow?"
She sighed, finally lowering her fork to look down at you with a raised brow. "And what solution do you propose, Harry? Carrying you in my bag? You could fall out. Leaving you in the dorms? You’d be vulnerable. This is the best option, and you know it."
Her logic was infuriatingly sound, as usual. You slumped in defeat, leaning back against her warm, damp skin as she resumed eating.
"Look, Harry," she said after a moment, her tone softening slightly. "I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s not forever. We’ll figure something out. In the meantime, try to focus on the positives. You’re safe, and no one suspects anything. Isn’t that what matters most?"
You sighed, reluctantly acknowledging her point. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the longer this arrangement continued, the more awkward and complicated things would become.
For now, though, you had no choice but to endure it. And as Hermione shifted slightly in her seat, you braced yourself for another long, uncomfortable evening in her care.
"If you're so bothered by my sweat, you can lick it off. Otherwise, you'll have to live with it."
You blinked, unsure if you'd heard her correctly. Surely, Hermione hadn’t just suggested… that.
"You can’t be serious," you muttered, your voice barely audible over the hum of conversation in the Great Hall.
Hermione didn’t even flinch. She reached for a piece of bread and buttered it with a calculated efficiency, as though she hadn’t just said something so absurd. "I’m perfectly serious, Harry," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "It’s biology. Sweating is normal, and you’re the one complaining about it."
You were at a loss for words. This wasn’t the Hermione you knew—the logical, bookish, slightly bossy friend who always had your back. This was a new side of her, one that felt... uncomfortably pragmatic.
"I’m not licking anything!" you hissed, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"Then stop squirming and complaining," she said, her tone clipped. "I’ve done everything I can to make sure you’re safe, Harry. You don’t realize how hard this is for me, too."
You gritted your teeth, trying to suppress the mix of frustration and humiliation boiling within you. The dampness clinging to your skin, the oppressive heat, and Hermione’s unflappable attitude were all pushing you to your limits.
"Hermione," you started, trying to keep your voice steady, "this… situation… isn’t exactly comfortable for me either. Maybe we can come up with a different solution tomorrow?"
She sighed, finally lowering her fork to look down at you with a raised brow. "And what solution do you propose, Harry? Carrying you in my bag? You could fall out. Leaving you in the dorms? You’d be vulnerable. This is the best option, and you know it."
Her logic was infuriatingly sound, as usual. You slumped in defeat, leaning back against her warm, damp skin as she resumed eating.
"Look, Harry," she said after a moment, her tone softening slightly. "I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s not forever. We’ll figure something out. In the meantime, try to focus on the positives. You’re safe, and no one suspects anything. Isn’t that what matters most?"
You sighed, reluctantly acknowledging her point. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the longer this arrangement continued, the more awkward and complicated things would become.
For now, though, you had no choice but to endure it. And as Hermione shifted slightly in her seat, you braced yourself for another long, uncomfortable evening in her care.
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June 1
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