The Potter brothers. (Hermione x Male reader)

Year 1.

The Potter brothers was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Their Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day. "Up! Get up! Now!"

Y/N woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again. "Up!" she screeched. Y/N heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door. "Are you two up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Y/N groaned.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing..." Dudley's birthday - how could he have forgotten? Y/N got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Y/N was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he and Harry slept.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held to gether with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose.

Y/N was similar to Harry, also shared clothes with Harry. He didn't like that, but he couldn't complain or he would be beaten.

The only thing Y/N liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he and Harry had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Y/N was turning over the bacon. "comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week. Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that the brothers needed a haircut. They must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way all over the place.

Y/N was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel- Y/N often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig. Many times when they were bored, they would make fun of him without being heard, since if he found out what they were doing they would probably take a beating.

Y/N put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."