Chapter 6: the Supply Run
It was barely Six A.M. but that was always part of the plan; Get up early, pack the tent, get to the stores and back before they got too busy. Unlikely as it was the muggles would even notice them, it felt like the safe-bet.
They’d become practiced striking camp, and by 6:30 they had the tent down. In the dawn light he noticed he could see the pullup slightly bulging the seat of her jeans, but it was too late to change her into something more discreet. The tent was already nearly folded, and a minute later they were stuffing it into Hermione’s bag.
They disapparated, appearing beneath the bridge along the canal near a sleepy hamlet. They’d chosen it because they knew that right up on the main road were both a chemist and a grocer. Looking around themselves in the grey light Harry noticed that Hermione seemed fidgety in that specific way he was learning to recognize.
“Do you need the loo?” He asked, gesturing toward the public building down the tow-path from where they stood.
“No,” she said, not even hesitating. “I’ll be okay. Let’s just be quick?”
“Sure,” he said, trying not to sound as skeptical as he felt. “I’ve got the chemist, you get the food, alright?”
She shrugged and they made their way up. The only vehicle there was a rumbling bin lorry, and the bin men paid them no mind as they collected the morning’s rubbish. With a meaningful look they separated, Hermione crossing to go to the Grocers, and Harry walking down the footpath towards the Chemist.
It felt strange, especially after the potion, to be there. He’d long felt quite literally other-worldly in Muggle settings, but that day he felt not himself, and setting foot into the store underneath the bright fluorescence and music, he felt even more so.
There were two girls about his age stocking shelves, and a chemist. All of them looked to be from the same family, sisters putting in hours at Daddy’s store before school. They all glanced at him as he entered, but he was just another early morning customer, and they returned to their work.
He grabbed the basic stuff first; toilet paper, tooth paste, his body soap and face wash. But as he collected these things he could hear the sisters talking as they worked.
“I know,” the younger was saying. “It’s really scary right?”
“Absolutely,” the Older replied. “You can’t tell me that’s normal. First the hurricane then the murders. There’s a feeling the whole world is gone nutter, at least that’s what Maji says…”
‘Maji’ — ‘mother’ in Indian, Harry remembered; it was what the Patil twins called their mom.
“Yeah it feels like everyone’s lost the plot.”
Harry was absentmindedly filling his basket with things as he listened. His ears burned, and he imagined the horcrux around his neck burned as well. For the first time in days he felt it there, weighing on him. Distantly he felt his hands on automatic, no longer under his control.
“Speaking of lost the plot,” One of the girls said, and then she whispered something to the other.
“She did not! Really?”
“I swear, James’ got a snap on his disposable camera, you know that’ll be makin’ the rounds come monday,” the younger said.
“Oh my god. Poor girl,” the older sister didn’t sound compassionate at all, but before she continued she glanced up and saw Harry looking at them. “Can I help you?”
Harry scrambled, and glancing down at his now full basket and said: “I was just wondering do I pay up front or…?”
“Yeah,” the younger sister said, before the older one could insert more attitude into the conversation. “I got ya.”
He followed her towards the registers, and only now did he realize what he’d put in the basket. He froze at the end of the isle and when she saw him standing there she looked at him quizzically. He stared down at the objects, knowing the Potion’s influence had selected these things for him.
“No,” he said, his mouth dry. “No. I think I have everything.”
He set the basket down and she went to work scanning everything, and bagging it up. If she noticed his embarrassment she didn’t let on, and before long she was done and he had paid.
Hermione was a little longer (she had more items to get, even including the extras Harry had picked up), but she took far longer than he expected, and by the time she emerged from the store, the road was packed with morning commuters, and she looked positively knackered.
“What took so long?” he asked, but she looked like she wanted to scream.
“They were so sure the money was counterfeit,” she hissed as they walked together towards the bridge and the canal. It had started to rain, and was threatening to piss down at any second.
“I mean… isn’t it?” She shot him a look that instructed him to shut up.
“They tried their marker, and had the GM come and look at it,” she said. “I really needed to get out of there.” She said meaningfully, but then biting her lip she added: “I think the counter guy must have been sensitive to magic, because even when it tested good he was convinced it was a fake.”
“Wouldn’t he have been selected?” Harry asked.
“For Hogwarts? Maybe, but they’ve been known to get things wrong before,” She shrugged. Apparently over it.
As they passed the public building, Harry asked if she needed to go, but she pretended she didn’t hear him and adverted her gaze from the building. Again he considered being more pushy, but he decided against it, anxious himself to get out of town.
At the bridge, though, they had to wait. Apparently the Canal was a well-used spot for local joggers and dog owners. They barely had enough time to surreptitiously slip the bags one by one into Hermione’s bag of holding, and it wasn’t until the rain began to piss down that the foot traffic disappeared and they were able to do the same.
Relocating was largely guess work and they apparated into a field that looked perfect until they turned around and realized they were face-to-face with a major highway. They decided to walk over a hill, but they rounded the hump only to find themselves in a fast-food chain parking lot.
It took two more jumps to find a suitable area, and another hour to find a spot flat enough for the tent, and a further hour to get it up. The spot they’d chosen was far more pleasant than the last one, it was sheltered from the wintery wind, by tall evergreens, and the tent rested on a mossy bed.
And as they headed into the tent Harry noticed Hermione’s butt again, the pullup much more evident as it sagged heavily against her jeans.
Chapter 7: the Enchantment
Hermione went to the kitchen to put away the food. Now Harry saw her mood, and her rush, as a distraction from the state of her Nappy. He stood there as she tried to look busy, and pondered for a moment.
“Hermione,” he said. “Do you need to go potty, love?”
She froze, and setting a carton of milk down in the fridge, she turned to him. She seemed to go over a number of options, in her head really fast.
“I uh, don’t have to,” she settled on the lie by omission, he noticed, but she was the smartest person he knew, and she quickly saw it wasn’t working. “I already did.”
“In the…,” he raised his eyebrows, as she stammered. She deflated, defeatedly. “In my nappy. Twice. At the store, and again while we were setting up the tent.”
“Hermione,” he started, but she cut him off.
“No, I just…It was easier this way. I hate public loos, even the ones at Hogwarts, I’d hold it until every one was gone to class or asleep,” she said. “Oh god Harry. Do you have any idea how humiliating all of this is?”
He hadn’t expected that last bit. They’d danced around it the whole time, not saying how any of it was making her feel, or how it was making him feel.
“I’m sorry Hermione,” he said, and he honestly meant it. He wanted to ask if she suspected the potion, if she understood that they were under the influence of something else. “Lets get you cleaned up?”
Surprisingly she seemed to relax, and she came right to him. He took her hand and led her to the rug. He had to move aside the board games first, but she laid down without him asking. He grabbed the bags from the chemist, and his wand, and brought them nearby. She glanced at them, but didn’t say a word.
He unbuttoned her jeans and wiggled them down her legs. The pullup was soaked — yellowed from the front to the back.
“I don’t think you need a punishment,” he said, as he retrieved some wipes he’d bought from the bag, and started to wipe her vagina. “But you should have been honest with me that you’d rather pee in your nappy…”
“I wouldn’t rather,” she started to say, but he cut her off.
“…So from now on we’ll just remove the choice.”
He hadn’t meant for it to be so dramatic, but he retrieved from the shopping bag a package of real baby nappies. Her eyes went wide as he pointed his wand at them.
“Engorgio permanus,” he said, and the whole packet ballooned in size.
“I don’t need…” she said, and her composure was almost gone.
“Stop it. I wasn’t asking Hermione.” He warned. She was watching as he pulled one out, but then her eyes squeezed shut as he unfolded it. Harry looked at the nappy, and noted how cute the little bears along the top were.
He pulled the soiled pullup out from under her, and wiped her butt cheeks, and her anus. But as he set her legs back down he noticed he still faintly smelled pee. He rolled up the pullup and put it in an empty bag, just to be sure, but still the smell lingered. He leaned in to her, placing his face just inches from her open legs, and sniffed. It was her that smelled, or, more precisely, her pubic hairs.
She opened her eyes as he sniffed, and tears welled in them.
“Please, no.” She said, but he shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Hermione. We have to.” He handed her the wand, and she took it. Her hands shaking, but after a second seemed to decide she had no choice.
“Cappilum Incisia,” she said, and a faint light emitted from his wand. The hairs receded into her and all at once her pubis was hairless, not even a hint of stubble remained. Just like her legs, probably a spell she was practiced with.
“Good girl,” he said, but she was looking away.
From the bag he found powder, and as he sprinkled it over her he felt her twitch. He rubbed it in lightly with the tips of his fingers, over her hips, and over the ends of her pubic bone, and down into the folds of her vagina. He felt her warm to his touch as he circled her clit, and she bit her thumb.
“Oh, Harry,” she cried. “Not now.” And of course he stopped immediately. He looked at her, her thumb between her lips.
“Hey,” he scolded jokingly. “none of that.” He produced a dummy, and popped it out of the package. She took it and looked at the foreign object like it were as insane as he was, but she did put it in her mouth. Testing it, suckling at the nipple.
As she made light sucking sounds, he finished up, and pulled the nappy up over her crotch, and taped it in place. The enlarged nappy was big enough that it went nearly to her belly button, and it puffed up thickly around her bum. As he checked the fit, she absently was playing with his wand.
Idly, she had enchanted the boats in battleship to start traveling around the board, and by the time he helped her roll over she was so entrenched in the game, he left her to it. Harry finished putting away the groceries, but it took him longer than it should have. He kept glancing over at her nappied bottom, it was cute. She was cute. But more importantly, it was a sign that she was his.
When he finally finished up, he saw that she’d completely magic’d the game. The ships now rolled on a stormy sea, and their canons shot over the top of the backboard at each other, tiny shells sent sprays of water into the air.
“Wanna play?” She asked, her words slurred by the dummy in her mouth.
“Sure.” He sat down opposite her. The game wasn’t that much fun when the ships could move around, but it was fun playing with ships all the same. They had a mind of their own and kept wandering off, or firing missles out of turn. There were bugs too, such as when Hermione’s submarine instead of descending down into the depths floated up into the air, and she had to jump up to catch it.
Soon she tired of the game and they moved on to Snakes and Ladders. Hermione’s usual magical genius was in rare from, as though inspired by the playfulness of it all, and before long she had the game sprawling across the whole tent. Snakes rattled and hissed through the air and they were climbing up the ladders themselves. There was no spinner, just a race to the roof. The snakes would scoop them up in their spoon like noses if they got too-close and they’d slide down scaly backs .
Hermione won the game by reaching the top first and it dissolved beneath them, and set them down lightly on the floor. Harry on his feet, and Hermione on her thickly padded bottom.
“Look what I got you!” He said, and pulled from the chemist bags a coloring book and crayons. She smiled wide around her dummy, and went to right to them. Looking at her nappy, he couldn’t tell if she’d wet, but he didn’t want to disturb her as she went through the book, trying to choose which Lion King character she’d color first.
He knelt down behind her, and slipped his finger into the leg band of her nappy. She froze. But then slowly, deliberately, went back to flipping the pages.
She was dry still, but he wondered how long that would last.
It was around lunch time, and he cooked for her. They were limited with what options they had — they had limited room in the tiny enchanted icebox, so they had a bit of milk, some cheeses, and some sandwich things to work with. He thanked the potion for controlling his hands at the shop, as he filled a baby bottle with milk, and cut up a sandwich into little squares for her.
“Lunch time!” he announced, and she looked up from her coloring as though she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. She came to the table and he pulled out a chair for her to sit at. She sat down and stared at the cutup food, and the baby bottle for a long few seconds.
“Thank you,” she said, but she just looked down on her plate. Harry went to the stuff he bought and retrieved the last item in the bottom of the bag: a bib. He engorgio’d it and hooked it up around her neck. She blushed but again, she didn’t argue, she just sat there, as if taking in the sights.
“Do you need me to feed you?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m not hungry.”
“Sure you are,” he said. “Eat baby. Now.” Tentatively she took one of the tiny squares of sandwich and popped it in her mouth. Harry ate his own sandwich and watched her.
Despite not being hungry, she managed to eat the last of it, but she’d not touched the bottle once.
“All done?” he asked.
“All done!” she announced proudly, and a little too enthusiastically. She stood up and seemed to want to return to coloring, but she hesitated, and turned to him. “Harry… I… I need to have a pee.”
“That’s what your nappy is for, sweety,” he said simply, clearing her plate. She was watching him wide-eyed, apparently deciding if she wanted to fight it, and as had become the new normal, choosing the very un-Hermione-like choice of not fighting. “Here, you need to finish your bottle.”
He saw with it on the arm chair, and held his arms open for her. Awkwardly she came over and sat ever so slowly, setting her padded bum down on Harry’s lap; the whole time she stared at the bottle like a blast-ended-skrewt. A volatile thing that might explode in her face.
But he wrapped her arms around her, and supported by the arm chair and him she relaxed. He gave her a little bit, as her breathing slowed and she stared up at him, her face becoming peaceful.
“We need to talk about what’s going on,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” he answered, but somehow he knew the potion was wearing off. This was the last of it. “Bottle first?”
Reluctantly she agreed, and he placed the nipple between her waiting lips. Tentatively she put her mouth over it, and suckled lightly. He had one arm hooked under he legs, and that hand rested on the seat of her nappy, the other hand held the back of her head, and he played with her hair.
Before long she was drinking from the bottle, the whole time her eyes were locked on him. That same look of peacefulness as earlier on her face.
About half way through the bottle though, something changed. The sucking sounds became intermittent, and her breathing increased, and before long she stopped drinking entirely. He felt her body tense as he held her, and for a moment her eyes became distant, but then they snapped.
She held eye contact as her cheeks went pink, and tears welled in them. Harry was confused for a second until he felt heat on his arm around her bottom, spreading out across the nappy, and he realized he could hear the faintest distant hiss.
As the sound faded, she seemed to exchange a look, with him. It said: “I did it. Now its your problem.”
She went back to suckling the bottle, and by the time there was just a little bit left she had fallen asleep cradled in his arms. Her still-warm and wet nappy sagging against his arm, the baby bottle still in her mouth.