harrys stomach growls
Tiny Way to Die
chapter 16
by
copier
· original author:
wannnaone
As you sat there, silently stewing in your growing frustration, your stomach betrayed you. The low, unmistakable growl echoed in the quiet of the common room, and you immediately froze, hoping Hermione hadn’t heard it.
No such luck.
She glanced down at you, one eyebrow arched, and an amused smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Hungry, are we?" she asked, her tone light but laced with that maddeningly condescending edge she’d adopted all day.
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get a word out, she wiggled her toes against your chest, her smirk widening into something resembling a grin.
"Well, there’s plenty of toe jam here to feed my little puppy who lived," she said, her tone completely serious.
Your eyes widened in disbelief. "Hermione!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of shock and indignation. "That’s disgusting!"
She tilted her head slightly, her expression unyielding. "Is it, though?" she asked matter-of-factly. "It’s perfectly harmless, Harry. And honestly, it would be a practical solution. If you’re hungry, why not make use of what’s readily available?"
You stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. She couldn’t be serious. But the look in her eyes told you otherwise—Hermione was absolutely serious.
"Hermione," you began, struggling to keep your voice steady, "this is... this is insane! I’m not going to—"
"Harry," she interrupted, her tone soft but firm, "you need to let go of your hang-ups. You’re going through something unprecedented, and you need to adapt. I’m here to help you, but you need to trust me. This is for your own good."
"For my own good?" you repeated incredulously. "You’re telling me to eat... toe jam?"
She sighed, as though you were the one being unreasonable. "Harry, you’re making this much harder than it needs to be. You’ve been complaining all day about being uncomfortable, about not adjusting to your new reality. This is just another step in the process. If you’re hungry, why not take advantage of what’s right here?"
You sat there, Hermione’s words hanging in the air, her toes wriggling idly against your chest as if daring you to take her up on her absurd suggestion. Your stomach growled again, louder this time, and you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
Hermione didn’t even look up from her book. “Well?” she said, her voice calm, almost bored. “If you’re really that hungry, Harry, you know what to do.”
You clenched your fists, staring up at her in disbelief. There was no way she was serious. This had to be some kind of bizarre test, one of Hermione’s twisted lessons in “adaptation” that she’d undoubtedly justify as being “for your own good.” But the look on her face—serene, focused, and completely unbothered—told you otherwise.
Your stomach growled again, a sharp reminder of your hunger. You sighed heavily, your pride battling against your body’s needs. Maybe just a taste, you thought reluctantly, just to prove to her how ridiculous this idea was.
With a mix of resignation and mortification, you leaned forward slightly, your face mere inches from her foot. Hermione finally glanced down at you, her expression unreadable, though her lips quirked slightly in what might have been amusement.
"Good boy," she murmured softly, her tone teasing but not unkind.
You scowled but said nothing, steeling yourself for what was arguably the most humiliating moment of your life. Closing your eyes, you hesitated for a moment longer before tentatively pressing your tongue to the arch of her foot, brushing against a faint trace of salty sweat. The taste was exactly what you’d expected—salty, slightly bitter, and wholly unpleasant—but it wasn’t as unbearable as you’d imagined.
Hermione watched you intently, her eyes glittering with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction. “See?” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “Not so bad, is it?”
You pulled back quickly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Hermione,” you said, your voice low and shaky, “this is insane.”
She shrugged lightly, her expression unyielding. “It’s practical, Harry. You’re the one who chose to try it. And honestly, it’s not the worst thing in the world, is it?”
You glared up at her, your frustration bubbling over. “You can’t seriously think this is normal.”
Hermione leaned forward slightly, her gaze soft but firm. “What’s normal doesn’t matter right now, Harry. What matters is that you adapt to your situation. You’re going through something unprecedented, and I’m doing my best to help you. You might not like my methods, but they’re effective.”
You shook your head, feeling a mix of anger, embarrassment, and confusion. As Hermione returned to her book, her toes wriggling lazily once more, you couldn’t help but wonder how far she was willing to take this—and how much more of it you could endure.
No such luck.
She glanced down at you, one eyebrow arched, and an amused smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Hungry, are we?" she asked, her tone light but laced with that maddeningly condescending edge she’d adopted all day.
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get a word out, she wiggled her toes against your chest, her smirk widening into something resembling a grin.
"Well, there’s plenty of toe jam here to feed my little puppy who lived," she said, her tone completely serious.
Your eyes widened in disbelief. "Hermione!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of shock and indignation. "That’s disgusting!"
She tilted her head slightly, her expression unyielding. "Is it, though?" she asked matter-of-factly. "It’s perfectly harmless, Harry. And honestly, it would be a practical solution. If you’re hungry, why not make use of what’s readily available?"
You stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. She couldn’t be serious. But the look in her eyes told you otherwise—Hermione was absolutely serious.
"Hermione," you began, struggling to keep your voice steady, "this is... this is insane! I’m not going to—"
"Harry," she interrupted, her tone soft but firm, "you need to let go of your hang-ups. You’re going through something unprecedented, and you need to adapt. I’m here to help you, but you need to trust me. This is for your own good."
"For my own good?" you repeated incredulously. "You’re telling me to eat... toe jam?"
She sighed, as though you were the one being unreasonable. "Harry, you’re making this much harder than it needs to be. You’ve been complaining all day about being uncomfortable, about not adjusting to your new reality. This is just another step in the process. If you’re hungry, why not take advantage of what’s right here?"
You sat there, Hermione’s words hanging in the air, her toes wriggling idly against your chest as if daring you to take her up on her absurd suggestion. Your stomach growled again, louder this time, and you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
Hermione didn’t even look up from her book. “Well?” she said, her voice calm, almost bored. “If you’re really that hungry, Harry, you know what to do.”
You clenched your fists, staring up at her in disbelief. There was no way she was serious. This had to be some kind of bizarre test, one of Hermione’s twisted lessons in “adaptation” that she’d undoubtedly justify as being “for your own good.” But the look on her face—serene, focused, and completely unbothered—told you otherwise.
Your stomach growled again, a sharp reminder of your hunger. You sighed heavily, your pride battling against your body’s needs. Maybe just a taste, you thought reluctantly, just to prove to her how ridiculous this idea was.
With a mix of resignation and mortification, you leaned forward slightly, your face mere inches from her foot. Hermione finally glanced down at you, her expression unreadable, though her lips quirked slightly in what might have been amusement.
"Good boy," she murmured softly, her tone teasing but not unkind.
You scowled but said nothing, steeling yourself for what was arguably the most humiliating moment of your life. Closing your eyes, you hesitated for a moment longer before tentatively pressing your tongue to the arch of her foot, brushing against a faint trace of salty sweat. The taste was exactly what you’d expected—salty, slightly bitter, and wholly unpleasant—but it wasn’t as unbearable as you’d imagined.
Hermione watched you intently, her eyes glittering with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction. “See?” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “Not so bad, is it?”
You pulled back quickly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Hermione,” you said, your voice low and shaky, “this is insane.”
She shrugged lightly, her expression unyielding. “It’s practical, Harry. You’re the one who chose to try it. And honestly, it’s not the worst thing in the world, is it?”
You glared up at her, your frustration bubbling over. “You can’t seriously think this is normal.”
Hermione leaned forward slightly, her gaze soft but firm. “What’s normal doesn’t matter right now, Harry. What matters is that you adapt to your situation. You’re going through something unprecedented, and I’m doing my best to help you. You might not like my methods, but they’re effective.”
You shook your head, feeling a mix of anger, embarrassment, and confusion. As Hermione returned to her book, her toes wriggling lazily once more, you couldn’t help but wonder how far she was willing to take this—and how much more of it you could endure.
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June 1
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