A/N: I do not own Harry Potter or any other character in this story. They belong to the wonderful mind of J. K. Rowling, bless her. :-)
This is my first story, but I have been reading Harry Potter fanfics for a while now. I have one more chapter written that I will post depending on the reviews I get. I'm not really sure where this story will be going. But please, hit that review button at the bottom and drop me a line, I'd love to hear what you think!



CHAPTER ONE

The Gryffindor common room was nearly deserted. Harry watched as Hermione, nearly buried under her Arithmancy books, scribbled in her tiny, meticulous handwriting on a long scroll of parchment, the letters glistening as they dried to form her homework.
Though he was long done with his star chart that Professor Trelawney had demanded, he stayed, pretending to still be working, enjoying sitting next to Hermione on the large, overstuffed red sofa.
Suddenly, Hermione shoved her papers to the floor in disgust. It's no use, my eyes can barely focus anymore; I've decided I'm done for the night! With that, she leaned her head into the nook of Harry's shoulder, settling herself comfortably against his side.
Harry felt a jolt of something - something nice- as her warm body pressed against his. Softly, he began to stroke her hair , pulling her face up to look at him. He studied every feature; he got lost in her brown eyes, and imagined kissing every freckle. His eyes drifted downward to her lips, and something came over him. He leaned in closer, and as her eyes widened in surprise, his lips found hers, and she.... bit his ear.
No, that couldn't be right. Harry sat up straight, and stared bewilderedly around the common room. Except he wasn't at Hogwarts at all. The gray walls of his room on Privet Drive stared blankly back at him, and a quiet hoot from the direction of his pillow focused his attention on Hedwig, his snowy owl, who had awakened him to proudly show off the mouse that she had caught.
Harry reached out to stroke her absentmindedly, and she fluttered onto his outstretched arm. He carried her over to her cage so that she could enjoy her catch out of his eyesight, thank you very much. He didn't particularly feel like watching her disembowel a rodent this soon before breakfast.
Harry then started downstairs. His Aunt Petunia accosted him as he passed by his old cupboard. Get breakfast started, now! The last thing I need right now is a hungry Dudley.
Getting out the frying pan, Harry pondered about his dream. What could it have meant? What interested him the most is what would have happened if he hadn't woken up...
Realizing that the eggs were going to burn, Harry turned off the flame and served the Dursleys their breakfast. He made up his mind to owl Hermione.

***

Dear Hermione,
How has your holiday been? Hedwig brought your birthday card last week, I was so happy to hear from you! Anyway, I was thinking about you this morning, and I decided to owl you and see what your plans were for going to London to get supplies. I am planning to find some whay to get there in two weeks, and then stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the last week before term starts -- I have had enough of the Dursleys, and the sooner I can get away from them, the better! I can't wait to see you at Diagon Alley.
Love,
Harry

Harry hesitated for a moment and looked over his letter. Love? He wrote Love?? He pulled out some of Hermione's previous letters to him; they were all signed, Much Love, All my love, or just simply with a heart and her name, if she was in a hurry.
Oh well, Harry thought, and seized the thick yellow parchment, rolling it a bit roughly, and Hedwig obediently allowed him to fasten it to her leg.
Have it there soon, okay girl? He stoked her feathers lovingly, and she hooted to reassure him that not only would it be there in record time, but she would nudge Hermione to write him a response, too. Hedwig seemed to notice how lonely Harry was getting.
As an afterthought, Harry took the letter and added a P.S.:
PS-- Call me on the telephone. It's getting kind of boring here, and you know what Uncle Vernon would do if your head suddenly appeared in their fireplace. As you're Muggle-born, I think it will work out better than when Ron tried to call.
Chuckling to himself, Harry remembered the chaos that had ensued when his wizard friend Ron had tried to call him on a Muggle telephone. He drew a little smiley face after the last sentence, and, realizing that Hermione didn't have his telephone number, added that too.
Hedwig was becoming impatient; He quickly retied the letter and she swooped off into the clear sky, on the way to Hermione's house.