A/N: Hello everyone. This is my first fanfiction, so be nice. However, reviews and constructive criticism are welcomed. This is a little thing I wrote in my many minutes of constant boredom. I shared with my AMAZEBALLS beta/editor Star, who loved it and insisted I continue. Since then, I have constructed this into a feels-destroying, heart-wrenching story which I am positive you will enjoy. So please check out my amazing editor Starlight Angel 12 (who is also my super annoying sister) and my other sister Tuesday101. Also check out my friend Whiterosewriter (her fanfics are amazing btw).

Disclaimer: This website is titled for a reason. The definition of fanfiction, according to Wikipedia is: a broadly-defined fan labor term for stories about characters or settings written by fans of the original work, rather than by the original creator. So, if you cant understand the strange language of Wikipedia, it means I DON'T OWN ANYTHING YOU RECOGNIZE FROM HARRY POTTER OR TMI. But you probably figured that out already.

Ok, I'm gonna stop blabbing, and if you've read this far I love you. Let the story commence!


Chapter One: The Dream

͛ Harry ͛
Harry woke with a start. Colours swam in front of his eyes, but his vision returned after blinking repeatedly. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and hastily threw them on, throwing off his covers restlessly. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he sighed. He'd had the dream again. Lately, the dream had been a nightly occurrence, always haunting him. It was always the same. When Harry slipped into the dream, the first thing he saw was a tangle of fiery red hair. There was a girl, standing quite far away, her back turned towards him. She was petite and very short, about five feet, wearing jeans and a green sweater. At first, he thought she might have been Ginny. But then, the girl swung her head over her shoulder, and Harry saw her face. Each of her features were tiny and delicate, her eyes a beautiful gray-green. Her complexion was fair, her cheeks lightly dusted with freckles. She was beautiful, there was no doubt in Harry's mind about that.
Hundreds of images would flash by after that; horrible creatures getting decapitated, dancing in a crowded club, the girl laughing with her friends. Harry would just stand there, helpless, and watch intently, desperately trying to learn as much as he could about the girl. The final image that Harry saw was the girl standing in a beautiful garden. She turned towards Harry, her red hair spilling down her shoulders in curly locks. She smiled at him, a blinding smile, and then turned away. Harry was confused, and then the world spun three hundred degrees, and he could see perfectly: the girl had turned away from him and was now in the arms of a tall, blonde haired boy, who was smiling maliciously. Harry felt his heart shatter into a million pieces just before he woke up.
Now, Harry felt that pain in his chest, that familiar throbbing, aching that always came after he saw the girl so happily in the boy's arms. He guessed that the boy was about his age, though he looked older, with strange scars all over his body. Harry knew a lot about scars. The girl might have been fifteen or sixteen, but she looked much younger.
Harry didn't care. The hollow feeling in his stomach and the ache in his heart was rapidly replaced by an intense hatred. Hatred for the blonde boy, for holding the girl and gloating triumphantly, for the dreams, for making him fall apart like this; but, mostly, for himself, for feeling such strong emotion for people that weren't real.
But they were real.
He knew it, somehow. These people weren't figments of his imagination; they existed, somewhere, whether it be in the past, the present, or in the deep subconscious of Harry's mind. But these people, Harry knew, were as real as Ron snoring away in the bunk above him.
Something else had been bothering him about the dream. He knew that the girl was a muggle, but he couldn't help but feel as if there was something else there, underlying the obvious lack of magic, that made Harry wonder if she truly was a muggle. She definitely wasn't a wizard, but... She wasn't exactly normal. The thought made Harry's head hurt.
Replaying the dream in his head, a thought occurred to him, slamming him full force. He realized that he loved her. Over the past weeks, he'd known her through the dreams and now, he was in love with her. The idea scared Harry; he was in love with a girl who was either on the other side of the earth or unreal. But he couldn't shake that feeling in his heart. This was unlike anything he'd ever felt for anybody; not Cho or Hermione or even Ginny. This was true love, and though it sounded corny, Harry knew it was true. He loved her. Saying it over and over in his head, adrenaline coursed through his bones. He was in love. Harry Potter was in love! He chuckled at his own childishness. But he was frightened, incredibly frightened, at the thought that he'd never meet her, never touch her hand. That blonde boy could touch her hand and hold her close, but Harry never could.
He needed to know her. He truly believed that she existed, he just needed to find her.
He put all his concentration into focusing on that girl, focusing until something popped into his head.
And it did. A name out of nowhere. A name, unfamiliar and perfect, that could only be the name of the girl he loved.

A/N: MUHAHAHA! Read, review, recommend! Reviews=Love