Hide and Seek

Harry and Hermione and their children play a game of hide and seek. Part of the ‘Harmony at Home’ series, a collection of cute one-shots/shorts about Harry and Hermione Potter’s family life.


Hide and Seek – A Harmony One-Shot. Part of the Harmony at Home series

Harry and Hermione play hide and seek with their children

* * *

Harry and Hermione tip-toed into their bedroom, stopping at the foot of their king-sized bed. They were trying extra hard to be quiet, which was certainly easier for Harry, as it was Hermione’s turn to carry the baby. The sleeping infant huffed in his sleep, so much like his mother, and Hermione adjusted the little silk neck scarf she was wearing, so her son’s death grip in it was less likely to choke her.

Harry grinned at the picture before him. For on his bed, poking out from the end of the slate-grey quilt, which had obviously been pulled up too far, were two pairs of little feet. One pair had only managed to pull on one sock. Harry grinned fondly at the scene. Little Celesca was only six, and she’d not quite mastered the art of dressing herself properly yet. And her older sister, wiggling her perfectly besocked toes next to her, in their not-so-secret hiding place, was firm in her belief that such lessons had to be learned alone, as good training for later life.

Harry grinned at Hermione and they exchanged nods, ready to be begin. Mimi, their black-and-white kneazle kitten, circled their feet once, like a furry chequered flag marking the start of the game.

“Well, Mummy, I really don’t know,” Harry began dramatically. “But I really think that this time we might just have to accept it.”

“But I don’t want to,” Hermione replied, with equal drama. “I don’t want to believe we’ve lost our little girls! What will we tell the Longbottoms?”

Muffled giggles crept from beneath the thick quilt, quickly followed by a cross little shush from Sophie, was was older, wiser and a much better hider. Even if she did say so herself.

“But we’ve looked everywhere, Mummy,” Harry went on. “Our girls aren’t in their beds -“

“Or in the shed -” Hermione added.

“Or behind the curtains -“

“Or under the sofa -“

“Or even in the oven,” said Harry, thoughtfully. “Which is a pity, because I was quite looking forward to having Little Girl Toe Pie for my dinner. I had the gravy ready and everything.”

And ten little toes crept cautiously up towards the safety of the quilt hem.

“Well, Daddy, I suppose you must be right,” said Hermione, sighing in defeat. “We’ve lost our little girls.”

“Which is a shame,” Harry added, ruefully. “I was just starting to like them, too. And they were ever so pretty.”

“Don’t worry, we can make you some more,” said Hermione.

“But I don’t think I can wait that long for them to grow,” said Harry. “Maybe there’s a shop on Diagon Alley that sells them.”

“Yes, maybe,” said Hermione, encouragingly. “Maybe we can buy better children. Ones who are really good at playing Hide-And-Seek. That’s my favourite game. I don’t think I can stand to have little children who are rubbish at hiding, you know. Not when I’m the best hider ever.”

“And I was the youngest seeker in a  hundred years at Hogwarts,” Harry added. “And the best ever, too.”

There was a cross little huff from under the quilt.

“Did you hear that, Mummy?”

“Yes, Daddy I did. What do you think it was?”

“Shall I guess?” asked Harry.

There was a little giggle from the bed. “Yes, guess,” said a little six-year-old voice, quickly followed by a nine-year-old clicking her tongue in frustration next to it.

“Okay. Was it a meatball?” asked Harry.

Another little giggle. “No.”

“Was it a dump truck?”

“Nope.”

“Was it a hippogriff, laying eggs in my bed?” asked Harry, in deathly seriousness.

“Hippogriffs don’t lay eggs,” said Sophie bossily. “They give birth to foals and then keep them incubated for six months, in a nest made from their own feathers.”

Harry queried a look at Hermione, who nodded back with an impressed grin. If Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was being quoted, who was Harry Potter to argue with it?

“Well, I don’t know what is hiding in our bed, Mummy, but it’s certainly a very clever thing,” said Harry.

“You know, Daddy, things that can think for themselves, and are that clever, can be pretty dangerous,” said Hermione. “I think you should get your wand, just in case it jumps out and tries to eat us.”

“You’re right, Mummy,” said Harry seriously. “Do you think we can handle this ourselves, or should I call in some of the Aurors to take care of it?”

“I was thinking of going all the way to Hit Wizards.”

“Hit Wizards…for a meatball?”

The quilt flew up, and a cross little blonde head popped out from under it.

“Daddy…I am not a meatball!” Celesca complained, her expression furiously, adorably, cross.

“No, but you are found!” said Harry, jumping onto the bed. “And that means being tickled for a whole minute as punishment! And your sister will be next!”

Celesca screamed into a fit of giggles as Harry began his punishment. Little Sophie leapt up and ran to Hermione.

“Protect me, Mummy. Daddy’s going to tickle me to death!” Sophie begged, looking with eyes wide in horror at her sister, who she was sure was being murdered by tickles on the bed. “You’re on my side, aren’t you, Mummy?”

“I’m afraid not, sweetie,” said Hermione sadly. “You picked your sister over me, so…”

And with that Hermione, who had been hiding her wand in her infant son’s blankets, cast a silent tickling charm, which sent Sophie sprawling and curling and rolling around on the floor, giggling so much that tears streamed from her eyes and she accidentally wet herself. Which turned the whole mood of the house to one of uproar, as Sophie began to cry in a very different way.

“Hey, come on, it’s not so bad,” said Harry, scooping up his eldest girl in one arm and wandlessly cleaning her soiled clothes with the other. “There. All better.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” said Sophie, snuggling into his shoulder and sending a dagger-laden look at Hermione under Harry’s arm. “Mummy is so mean.”

“Mummy just doesn’t like to lose, sweetheart,” said Harry, grinning over at Hermione, who frowned back and made a face at him.

“It’s okay, Mummy, I still love you,” said Celesca, crossing to Hermione and wrapping around her leg in a deep hug.

“Well, that’s good,” said Hermione. “Because I was thinking, as it’s still raining too much to play outside, we might have a baking day. You know how nice it is to sit in the kitchen and watch the rain, while smelling the smell of baking cookies. I was thinking oatmeal and chocolate chip ones today. And I need a helper in my kitchen.”

“And I’m the best helper!” Celesca cried, holding up her hand by way of volunteering.

“You are not,” Sophie protested vehemently. “I’m the best helper. And even more so because oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies are my favourite, so I’ll help even better than normal! Tell her I’m the best helper, Mummy.”

“I have room in my kitchen for both my favourite helpers,” said Hermione, placatingly. Both her daughters seemed suitably pacified, though Sophie continued to scowl and pout and Celesca poked her tongue out at her in response.

“And just what am I supposed to do, while all three of my favourite girls are doing all this fabulous baking?” asked Harry, mockly affronted.

You can take your favourite boy…and change his nappy,” said Hermione, offering Harry his infant son. “It’s quite a smelly one, too.”

Harry huffed and accepted the sleeping baby, and the pungent aroma that came with him. He huffed again…he definitely should have offered to bake…

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