This is sort of a combination of the previous HP shorts I've posted; I've even blatantly ripped off a paragraph or two. I plan to make this into a fairly long story so I hope you like it.

Obviously, I don't own Harry Potter, etc., etc.

Prelude to a Dream

By Biel

Chapter 1

Hermione is dreaming. She knows she's dreaming because she's had this same dream countless times. She knows she's dreaming because this could never happen in real life.

He's here, handsome as always, touching her… kissing her. And he's smiling that smile of his, whispering words into her hair, and she feels so blissfully happy she ignores what she knows will come next.

When she woke up moments later Hermione Granger couldn't help looking around to make sure she was really alone. It was stupid- she knew her room would be empty, just like always, but the dreams felt so real.

She sighed and looked at her alarm clock. Not even six in the morning. She'd always been an early riser, but this was getting ridiculous. Hermione didn't think even her grandmother woke up this early.

She knew from experience that she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. Oh well. Maybe this way she could get some extra studying in. She had a huge pile of summer homework left, but she'd been finding it more and more difficult to concentrate. She found herself staring of into space or feeling too restless to study. It was only June and she was already counting the days until she could get out of this house. Hermione got out of bed to get ready for another long, boring summer day.

Parvati Patil really hated her father. She hated her mother too, but Mrs. Patil was usually too zonked out on sleeping potions to bother her.

Most nights, if she felt like eating, Parvati ate alone in her room. (The floo-enabled fireplace had Warlock Wendell's Pizza on speed-dial.) Tonight her father had insisted that she eat with him- though he hadn't bothered to get his wife awake long enough to join them. Mr. Patil had conjured up some spaghetti and for some reason they were using the special silverware Parvati and Padma had picked out together for their parents' anniversary. Right now, Parvati was more interested in twisting her sharp fork into the plastic tablecloth than eating.

"Ahem," Mr. Patil cleared his throat. "Your mother and I have given a lot of thought to what you asked us-" Parvati snorted "-and we've decided that it would be best for you to return to Hogwarts this year." She said nothing, only dug her fork in deeper- she could feel it making deep gouges in the wooden tabletop.

"You don't look very happy about this," Mr. Patil remarked, faint traces of his accent still audible. "It's for the best."

Parvati didn't answer. She knew he couldn't understand how she felt, how she wasn't sure she would be able to handle the noises and the crowds, the sympathetic faces.

Soon after, Mr. Patil cleared his plate with a swipe of his wand and left the house, while Parvati remained at the table, digging deeper and deeper until the tines were bent. She sat at the table all night, but she never heard him come back.

Two months later, Hermione sat on the Hogwarts Express with Harry and Ron. It had been a difficult summer, her head full of dark and depressing thoughts that had surprised her in their ferocity. The only time she'd been able to find a reprieve from them was when she was studying, but even books had lost their power to hold her for long. She'd hoped she feel more like herself after she went to the Burrow, but she'd spent most of the visit staring at the ceiling in Ginny's bedroom.

Hermione glanced at Harry. He looked tired and slightly pale. She'd heard from Ron that he, too, was having trouble sleeping. She kept expecting Harry to explode, to shout and rant at them like he had after Cedric had died, but this pain ran deeper than that. It buried itself in your bones, a constant reminder in everything you did. Ron was more worried than Hermione. Shouting Harry he could deal with, but this Harry, this keeping-his-feelings-bottled-up-inside Harry, he wasn't so sure about.

"How about a game of Exploding Snap to pass the time?" Ron suggested. Thank God for Ron. As of now, he was the only one keeping their friendship together. Harry was so focused on taking revenge on Voldemort, and Hermione- well, Hermione was having trouble focusing on anything.

Several hours later, the stampeding of feet in the train corridor announced their arrival at Hogwarts. Hermione rose from her seat with a sigh, wondering how she was going to make it through the year.

It was the whispering Parvati had dreaded the most. It followed her everywhere, the susurration of those gossiping voices never silent. The train ride had been torture. When Hannah Abbott had stopped Parvati to say how sorry she was, Parvati came close to hexing her in the middle of the crowded train corridor before she got a hold of herself and locked herself in a stall in the girls' restroom. As it was, her snide reply still managed to bring poor Hannah to tears.

By the time they reached Hogwarts and Parvati reluctantly joined the queue to the castle, people were whispering more than ever, but no one else made any attempts to comfort her. Apparently word had spread.

She was having trouble studying. Yesterday for the first time she could remember, a teacher had asked Hermione a question she didn't know the answer to. And to be honest, she didn't really care. She felt that she ought to be more upset about this, she realized something was wrong, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She was supposed to be studying the new charm Professor Flitwick had taught them earlier today, but instead she closed the chapter of the book that explained the theory behind the Square-Dancing Charm and stuffed it in her bag. At least I know it better than Harry and Ron.

"You're leaving?" Ron looked up from Defense Against the Dark Arts essay on chimaeras. "You finished Flitwick's homework already?"

"Er, yes, so I think I'll be going to bed now. I'll help you go over your essay tomorrow, Ron."

"Yeah, thanks," Ron murmured, focused on his work again.

"Night," Harry said, intent on his own essay.

Hermione opened the door to her dorm hoping for some time alone, but Parvati was already in there, fiddling with a hairbrush. She'd never gotten along well with her roommates in the best of times. Parvati never glanced up, so Hermione didn't bother with a greeting. She pulled the curtains closed around her bed and climbed under her covers. She knew she ought to practice Flitwick's charm a little more, but her head was pounding. Lately the only time she'd been able to feel at peace was when she was sleeping.

"Are you going to sleep already?" Parvati's voice startled Hermione just as she was drifting off.

Hermione shook her head to clear away the images that had already stated forming in her mind. "I'm pretty tired, so yeah." Her watch read a little past 8pm.

"Must be nice," Parvati muttered before she left the room and Hermione fell back into oblivion before she could wonder what the other girl meant.

So what do you think? Are the alternating viewpoints too choppy? I'll try to come out with an update soon. Suggestions please!