Hermione's Problems

Christmas Eve

The first week of the Holidays was relatively uneventful. Hermione recieved regular owls from Harry and Ron and she always wrote back, telling them how much she missed the magical world and if they had found out anything new about Nicholas Flamel. But as usual, they hadn't. Hermione was also regularly wearing pull ups nappies, she didn't always need them but she often found herself having accidents and she had to admit, it made reading a lot easier not having to stop to use the bathroom. Hermione had sworn she had read the name Nicholas Flamel somewhere before, the answer was possibly even in one of the dozen library books she had taken out to read over the holidays.

Hermione was due to spend Christmas Eve until Boxing day with her Grandparents. Hermione's grandparents were not aware of the magical world and Hermione aimed to keep it that way, they were often confused by their television set so any trace of magic would possibly blow their minds completely.

On the morning of Christmas eve, Hermione woke up and began her usual routine of removing the previous nights pull up, wiping her netherregions with a baby wipe, applying powder and finally pulling up a fresh pair of Pull ups. Hermione then changed into her clothes for the day, a cute pink jumper she liked and a black tartan skirt. She then headed downstairs for breakfast.

"Full English?" Mr Granger asked.

"Uhh, yeah thanks." Hermione replied as she took her seat at the table.

A sense of calm tranquillity washed over Hermione as she arrived at her grandparents' quaint thatched cottage. Nestled amidst the rolling English countryside, the house was a picture of charm, surrounded by a vibrant display of blooming wildflowers and tall, whispering trees.

She was greeted by her grandparents, both warm and welcoming in their traditional attire. Her grandfather sported a well-worn tweed jacket and corduroy trousers, his eyes twinkling behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her grandmother, in a floral printed dress and cosy hand-knitted cardigan, enveloped Hermione in a loving embrace, her silver hair catching the light.

"Look at you, Hermione! Growing up so fast," her grandmother exclaimed, patting Hermione's cheek affectionately.

The house was filled with the intoxicating aroma of a delicious home-cooked meal. The dining table was set with the same china they used every year, the floral pattern and gold trim familiar and comforting. The twinkling fairy lights, strung up around the room, cast a warm and inviting glow

After settling into her childhood room, Hermione felt a sense of nostalgia wash over her. The familiar surroundings brought back memories of holidays spent with her grandparents, the cozy atmosphere filling her with a comforting sense of belonging.

As Hermione sat down at the table, the soft rustle of her pull-ups nappies was drowned out by the clattering of cutlery and the bubbling conversation. Her grandparents, engrossed in their discussion about the latest news, were none the wiser about her secret, and Hermione aimed to keep it that way.

Over dinner, Hermione, her grandparents, and her parents shared stories and laughter, the room echoing with merriment. Her father, Mr Granger, a man of few words, chimed in occasionally with a witty comment or a fond memory, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Mrs Granger, always the life of the party, regaled them with tales of her own childhood holidays, her voice full of warmth and nostalgia.

"Hermione, how's school?" her grandfather asked during a lull in the conversation.

"Saint Peters is fantastic," Hermione replied, her heart skipping a beat as she spun her well-rehearsed tale. "We're studying fascinating subjects this year. Latin and Medieval Literature, among others."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful, dear," her grandmother said, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Always the studious one, aren't you?"

The conversation flowed effortlessly around the table, the comfortable chatter creating a tapestry of shared memories and familial love. Hermione's secret remained safe, her pull-ups nappies hidden beneath her clothing, as invisible as the magical world she was part of.

As the evening wore on, Hermione, her grandparents, and her parents gathered in the living room. The soft glow of the fire bathed the room in a warm light, casting long shadows against the timber walls. The crackle of the burning logs was a soothing soundtrack, accompanying the hum of their shared stories and laughter.

They settled into the plush, well-worn sofas, each wrapped in a cosy blanket. Hermione, in her favoured spot next to the fireplace, was engrossed in a lively conversation about the latest book she was reading, a cleverly crafted story about the adventures of a group of students at a fictional boarding school.

As the conversation flowed, Hermione felt a familiar pressure in her lower abdomen. She needed to use the bathroom, desperately. With her grandparents' house devoid of the magical conveniences of Hogwarts, she knew she had two options - excuse herself and interrupt the flow of the conversation, or rely on the pull-up nappy she was wearing.

Choosing the latter option, Hermione subtly shifted her position on the sofa, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. She focused her attention on the fire, the flickering flames dancing in her eyes, as she discreetly pushed and relieved herself. The pull-up nappy, as always, provided a reliable and convenient solution, allowing her to remain engaged in the conversation without raising any suspicion. Hermione felt a warm solid mass fill under her pull ups, which were only designed for urine accidents. Hermione hoped that her latest accident wouldn't add any more bulkiness and she especially hoped no smells would arise.

Hermione felt embarrassed and a rush of adrenaline ran through her, she turned red. Hermione had never had a messy accident like this before, and she knew she could always uave used the bathroom like a big girl, but Hermione found convenience in her underwear and allowed for a certain sense of laziness.

The moment passed unnoticed, the conversation flowed, the pull-up nappy doing its job discreetly. Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her. She was grateful for her secret, giving her the freedom to enjoy these precious moments with her family without interruption. The soft rustle of the nappy under her clothes was drowned by the laughter and storytelling, as invisible as the magical world she was part of.

As the evening wound down, Hermione excused herself to get ready for bed. In the privacy of her room, she changed into a fresh pull-up nappy, carefully discarding the used one. The routine, though borne out of necessity, had become a comforting part of her life, a secret armour that provided her with a sense of security and independence.

As the night grew late, Hermione excused herself to get ready for bed. She slipped into her pajamas and reached for her bag, retrieving a small pack. Opening it, she removed a stack of colourful pull-up nappies. Hermione had discreetly packed them, knowing that she would certainly rely on them. And her bathroom usage could interrupt her reading and conversations with her grandparents.

With a sigh of relief, Hermione slipped into one of the nappies, appreciating the convenience it offered. She felt a sense of freedom, knowing that she could focus on her books without interruptions. It allowed her to fully immerse herself in her bedtime reading, pursuing the answers she sought about Nicholas Flamel and the magical world. As Hermione delved deeper into A History of Magic, she found herself drifting off to sleep.