Same as before, even easier now
Tiny Way to Die
chapter 20
by
copier
· original author:
wannnaone
As Hermione finished getting ready for the day, she picked you up delicately, holding you in her hand as she considered the best way to transport you to class. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, glancing at her bag, her robes, and you in turn.
"You know," she said after a moment, her tone light and pragmatic, "I think the waistband of my panties worked quite well yesterday. And now that you’re even smaller, it’s probably the safest and easiest option."
"Hermione," you said hesitantly, your voice squeaking slightly as you processed what she was suggesting, "are you sure about this? I mean, there has to be another way."
She gave you a reassuring smile, her calm demeanor unshaken. "Harry, you’ll be perfectly secure there. You won’t fall, you’ll stay hidden, and it’s practical. Trust me."
You sighed, knowing there was little point in arguing. Hermione always thought things through, even if her methods were sometimes unorthodox.
With that, she carefully tucked you into the waistband of her panties, settling your tiny form snugly against her lower abdomen. The warmth and softness of her skin surrounded you, and you tried to stay as still as possible, hoping to avoid making the situation more awkward than it already was.
"There we go," Hermione said, adjusting her robes and giving a satisfied nod. "Perfectly secure."
At first, everything seemed fine. The snugness of the waistband kept you in place, and the fabric shielded you from view. But as Hermione began walking, you quickly realized there was another problem—her pubic hair.
The coarse, bushy strands tangled around your limbs almost immediately, trapping you in place with surprising efficiency. You wriggled, trying to free yourself, but the more you moved, the worse it became. The hair seemed to coil around you, anchoring you firmly against her skin.
"Hermione!" you tried to call out, your voice muffled by the fabric and your position.
She didn’t hear you—or if she did, she assumed you were simply shifting to get comfortable. "Don’t wriggle too much, Harry," she said absently as she walked down the corridor. "You’re perfectly safe. Just relax."
You groaned in frustration, your movements only serving to entangle you further. Each step Hermione took jostled you slightly, pressing you deeper into the warm, humid space. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment.
By the time she reached the Great Hall for breakfast, you were utterly trapped, the strands of her hair wrapped tightly around you like a living net. Hermione, however, seemed completely oblivious, chatting cheerfully with Ginny and Ron as she took her seat at the Gryffindor table.
"Everything okay, Hermione?" Ginny asked, glancing at her.
"Perfect," Hermione replied with a smile, reaching for a slice of toast. "Harry’s all sorted for the day."
You, meanwhile, were doing everything in your power to keep calm, praying that she’d notice your predicament before things got any worse. But as Hermione started eating, her movements causing subtle shifts that only tightened your bonds, you couldn’t help but feel that this was going to be another long, humiliating day.
"You know," she said after a moment, her tone light and pragmatic, "I think the waistband of my panties worked quite well yesterday. And now that you’re even smaller, it’s probably the safest and easiest option."
"Hermione," you said hesitantly, your voice squeaking slightly as you processed what she was suggesting, "are you sure about this? I mean, there has to be another way."
She gave you a reassuring smile, her calm demeanor unshaken. "Harry, you’ll be perfectly secure there. You won’t fall, you’ll stay hidden, and it’s practical. Trust me."
You sighed, knowing there was little point in arguing. Hermione always thought things through, even if her methods were sometimes unorthodox.
With that, she carefully tucked you into the waistband of her panties, settling your tiny form snugly against her lower abdomen. The warmth and softness of her skin surrounded you, and you tried to stay as still as possible, hoping to avoid making the situation more awkward than it already was.
"There we go," Hermione said, adjusting her robes and giving a satisfied nod. "Perfectly secure."
At first, everything seemed fine. The snugness of the waistband kept you in place, and the fabric shielded you from view. But as Hermione began walking, you quickly realized there was another problem—her pubic hair.
The coarse, bushy strands tangled around your limbs almost immediately, trapping you in place with surprising efficiency. You wriggled, trying to free yourself, but the more you moved, the worse it became. The hair seemed to coil around you, anchoring you firmly against her skin.
"Hermione!" you tried to call out, your voice muffled by the fabric and your position.
She didn’t hear you—or if she did, she assumed you were simply shifting to get comfortable. "Don’t wriggle too much, Harry," she said absently as she walked down the corridor. "You’re perfectly safe. Just relax."
You groaned in frustration, your movements only serving to entangle you further. Each step Hermione took jostled you slightly, pressing you deeper into the warm, humid space. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment.
By the time she reached the Great Hall for breakfast, you were utterly trapped, the strands of her hair wrapped tightly around you like a living net. Hermione, however, seemed completely oblivious, chatting cheerfully with Ginny and Ron as she took her seat at the Gryffindor table.
"Everything okay, Hermione?" Ginny asked, glancing at her.
"Perfect," Hermione replied with a smile, reaching for a slice of toast. "Harry’s all sorted for the day."
You, meanwhile, were doing everything in your power to keep calm, praying that she’d notice your predicament before things got any worse. But as Hermione started eating, her movements causing subtle shifts that only tightened your bonds, you couldn’t help but feel that this was going to be another long, humiliating day.
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June 1
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