A/N : This story may contain some violence and sexual situations. If you are offended by such things then please take great care if you wish to continue on.
:::
Hermione Granger was insane. There was no doubt in any mind in the wizarding world, if that mind cared to think of it. However, despite this well established fact no seemed to mind that the barking mad witch ran around unchecked in London. For the wizarding world was quite use to madness and while Hermione had a respectable amount of lunacy it was not to point where anyone bothered trying to stop her. Then again, it had taken a ridiculously expansive amount of time for the magical public to recognize and vainly try to stop both Grinlewald and Voldemort, but, perhaps the reason that it had taken so long for the magical community to react may have to do with the fact that a good eighty percent were insane in one form or another. It was rather like trying to get the patients of a mental facility to recognize and treat the illness of their peers, but no matter. The inter workings of the magical world would not change the fact that Hermione Grange was insane. She was desperately, deliriously, brilliantly, superbly... out of her mind, and that's what brings us to the beginning of our tale.
All life has a certain vicissitude even when it seems at a complete standstill. What may seem like a endless pattern of the same day is in fact not a repartition but rather a slight, or some times large, variation of life. For many, finding the differences in these patterns is a simple matter and it gives them hope of change and meaning, but for others... For others, they can only see a stark repeating dullness. That every day begins and ends with the sun. That we raise, go about our day, only to sleep again. While that pattern might be comforting to some, to the heroine of this story this grind pulled heavily on her. She could not see the slight changes in the day. To Hermione it was the same; day after day, week after week. Their was no variety, no change, no hope. There are many possible reasons for this feeling of hers but the most prominent was in coma on the first floor of St. Mungo's in room 121.
Hermione's smile was brittle as she passed Maire in Reception. The pretty blonde sent Hermione a bright smile back, one that made Hermione grimace. Maire reminded her of what she could have been in life; a lover, a wife... a mother. Hermione brushed a hand down her lime green robes as she walked up to the first floor to do her rounds. There was no reason that she still couldn't be all those things, but Hermione wasn't sure if she wanted them or, at least, some of them. That is what she told herself, and later, Ron when the subject had risen. Now it seemed the moment had passed and Hermione was unsure if another opportunity would come her way. Hermione re-plastered her bitter grin as she reached room 100. Opening the door quietly Hermione set about her work with a bit more energy then usual in hopes that work would distract her from the thoughts of her failings. Her break up with Ron. The Mithridate that she could never brew right and the guilt about the man that lay like death in room 121. The man that was there, in part, because of her. The man who was deemed by everyone else in the magical community, a lost cause.
When Hermione reached room 121 her feeling of inadequacy had faded some what. However, as she entered the guilt returned in a rush. The room was an odd shape and minuscule in size. A single bed filled half the room and the light from the window was soft and peaceful. The room was the same as it had always been; filled with the soft sounds of breathing and a low hum of magic, but today. Today when Hermione came into this pleasant looking room she felt something rip inside her.
No one ever really knows what made Hermione do what she did. For she never spoke of it after the deed was done. Maybe because she didn't quite know why she did what she did herself. That didn't stop people coming up with ill guided ideas as to why. Why Hermione Grange would risk her life for someone that cared little for her. Many thought that it was the sight of his wound, a deep ugly purple, almost black, around the two punctures in his neck. Others say that she broke at the thought of losing his brilliant mind. Those closest to her scoffed at the latter two ideas. 'No,' they would say 'there is no reason. Hermione is just insane, absolutely and utterly insane.' That was perhaps the nearest to the truth but it matters little as to why. All that really matters is that she did.
That Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, did something shockingly stupid on that fine Monday morning.
She cast Legilimens on one Severus Snape.
Knowing that delving into the mind of a coma patient could, most likely would, kill her or at least rob her of any higher brain function. When she cast that one spell. Hermione Granger changed the course of her life forever, maybe even the course of magical history.
:::
A/N : Thank you all for taking time to read this fickle little fic. If you see any problems, misspellings, or grammatical errors please take time to tell me about them. I tend to have problems updating stories but hearing back about my writing good or bad helps me. So please, review if you can.