Potters (Hermione x Male Reader)

Nightmares

Y/N brought a hand to his burning forehead and sat up in the bed he and Harry shared at the Dursleys. Sweat was running down his face and his breathing was erratic. Harry jolted awake with a gasp, clutching at his scar too.

"What happened to you?" Y/N asked.

"Bad dream. You?" Harry replied, cringing at the light coming into the room through the partially opened window.

"Same thing, what was yours about?"

"Voldemort... he was talking about you..."

"Same... thing..."

Y/N tried his best to recall his dream, but all that remained in his head were fragments of what he had saw and heard. A dark room. A snake. Wormtail. The cold, high voice of Lord Voldemort... he had killed someone, two people. What were their names? They had been plotting to kill him, but there was no mention of Harry... why not?

Harry jumped out of bed, and opened the curtains fully, looking down at the street. No one was to be seen, all the curtains were shut in every house Harry could see. It was a Saturday so Harry couldn't really blame them.

Y/N had walked over to his trunk and pulled out a book that Professor... ex-Professor Lupin had requested he looked through. It was all about the abilities a natural Legilimens would have, and how to hone those skills. He had practised it a lot over the summer holidays, but didn't have many willing participants. The Dursleys didn't seem to want Y/N to read their minds for some reason, leaving Harry to be the only participant/victim he could test his powers on. Y/N uncovered a lot of secrets that Harry would rather he didn't.

At the moment, Harry had his ear pressed against the door to their bedroom.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked.

"Listening..." Harry said.

"That much is obvious. What are you listening for?"

"Anything... the last time our scars burned, Voldemort was nearby..."

"I doubt he'll show up in the state he's in at the moment. And he's supposed to be hold up somewhere in Albania, according to Dumbledore."

"Well excuse me for being cautious!...sorry..."

"Look, the only threat nearby is if Dudley farts in his sleep, then we'll be in quarantine for four months."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head, removing the negative thoughts his mind was clouded with. Y/N flipped through the pages of his book as Harry fell back onto the bed, causing a loud snore to erupt from the next bedroom.

"We should probably tell someone about this..." Harry muttered. "About our scars, I mean."

"Anyone but Hermione. She's worried enough with us staying here... she's offered to take us to her house about a dozen times and its killed me everytime she's asked to say no." Y/N said, a guilty look showing on his face. Y/N had kept in touch with Hermione as much as he could, although the Dursleys would still flip out if they caught Hedwig leaving with a letter during any time between six in the morning and midnight. "I'm going to go out on a run, you can either join me or write a letter to someone, not Hermione though."

"I think I'll stay here, thanks. Be safe."

"Sure... and not Hermione, Harry... maybe Ron, I'm sure he'd try and call us on the fellytone again." Harry sniggered at this, remembering how angry Vernon had gotten when Ron had phoned them. They had been locked up in their room again because of it. Ron must've understood what he had done and hadn't called since.

Y/N silently crept to the bathroom to wash up and change, before grabbing Twig from the bedside table and climbing out of the window. Evading the flower beds, Y/N hopped the fence and started jogging around the neighbourhood. The wind rushed past his face, cooling down his still painful scar.