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Prologue
Twenty-three-year-old Hermione watched the news on that weekend night, trying to pass the time until Saturday Night Live. She sat on her couch in her apartment, eyes glazing over slightly, bored of listening to the casualties in Iraq, and the murders, and car accidents, and fatal-this, fatal-that. Why can't the news ever be good news, she thought. It's always the same. Obviously, I feel bad for those people in "critical condition" and those soldiers… but is all that the media can focus on? The pessimistic area of life? Daydreaming, or night-dreaming, whatever you wanted to call it, she thought of all the news she would cover if she were a reporter. She'd focus on all the homeless and hunger problems being solved; the de-tangling, if that were possible, of the political world; the people who were in critical condition coming out of their comas, and not going into them. She never thought she'd be one of those people reported on the news as in "critical condition." She never fathomed she'd be watched day and night for a single moving toe. She never figured that one day she'd be one of those people who come out of their comas, six years later, not knowing who she was, not knowing her past, and not knowing her future.
A/N: Okay, to me this sounds okay. But I wrote it like a year ago, and when I tried to continue, I had major writer's block. Maybe if I try to restart it now, I'll get some ideas. It wasn't originally a HP fanfic, either--the character was Traci, and she was, of course, American. If you think it sounds weird please tell me... cuz I know that I haven't really given any info on Hermione since graduation, and since it wasn't HP, I wasn't going to... lol basically the main idea is, if you want me to try and keep going, or if you have any constructive criticism or ideas, please tell me in a review!