AN: Don't own, you know the deal.

Imperio

Innocent, Beautiful, Intelligent, Naïve Imperio…

It's not like she was prone to absentmindedness, which is why she probably couldn't distinguish the symptoms and it wasn't the first time she had heard voices in her head telling her to do something, everyone has a voice of reason, don't they?

She stalked her prey like a cat to a mouse. She knew his every move before he made it, she knew his face as if she had seen it a thousand times before, she swore she even knew what he was thinking- but how could she? They had never met; she didn't even know his name. Her eyes glowed with lust, her muscles tensed, her mind was a drug and she was unquestionably addicted.

What does it feel like when everything you know gets warped, disfigured, transformed, altered and distorted into something so unrecognisable that you think it's normal?

She could have sworn that on some primal level she sensed that something was not right, but that couldn't compare to the overwhelming feeling that this was exactly as it should be and what she was about to do was absolutely necessary. So much so that if she didn't do it and soon she felt she would surely burst. She checked to see if the coast was clear, took two deep breaths and smiled inwardly, realizing that she was completely and utterly happy at this moment.

If she was so capable at mastering the hardest of tasks, why then had she failed so miserably where he had not? Why, in the end, was the one thing she had never been able to succeed at so crucial? Is this what it feels like, to lose your own mind?

He didn't even realize that she was there until the very last minute; her triumph excited her beyond anything else. She was perfect as she plunged the knife into his chest, before he even had a chance to wipe the surprised smile from his face. He was dieing before her very eyes and her mind was screaming at her- you are perfect in every way; this is the best day of your life. She wishes she could do it all again because it felt better than anything she could ever have comprehended.

She cant remember; was it at that moment, when he choked out his last breath and his beautiful eyes leaked tears of pain and he looked at her as if he knew her, was that when it hit her? Or was it when she held his dead body to her chest and realized that she had no right to cry, no right to breathe while he didn't. Is that when she noticed that she had just shred her own world to pieces?

And the dawning comprehension that she had just killed her best friend made her violently sick. She clasped his head of messy black hair to her chest and wondered whether it disturbed her more that he was dead; that she had killed him, that she had wanted to at the time or that she wishes she could go back to that euphoric state of mind, back when she was about to do something liberating and maybe even, erotic?

He had once said to her, "You will be the death of me" and oh how his words came back to haunt her. A thousand times in a single minute they could haunt her if she tried and it wasn't as if she wasn't trying. They told her that it wasn't her fault that she had been forced to do it, she wasn't of sane mind at the time but their words were like a shard of ice forcing it's way a little further into her innards, freezing her internal organs just a little more each time they tried to comfort her. Did they really expect she would feel better with a few words and a pat on the back when she could see the resentment in their eyes, when she knew that her actions may ultimately have cost all of them their lives. The wizarding world cried for Harry Potter but she could not, would not; should not?

And another voice inside her head was telling her to do something, take that knife and do it all again and you will feel the same way you felt when you did it to him. But she knows that it would be too easy. She should face the ultimate punishment, living without him with the knowledge that she had killed the hero of her world, the pillar of strength and affection she had come to rely on as he had relied on her, before she stabbed him through the heart. Living would be penance enough for being too weak.

And the world plunged into darkness, lives were lost, things happened around her and she didn't even notice. They say that the killing curse is the ultimate weapon that the cruciatus is the ultimate pain, but Hermione knows the truth. Occasionally she wonders, someday will she bother to correct them?

"You will be the death of me Hermione," he said and they both laughed because too much study never killed anyone.

…Imperio?

A.N: ummmm... review? please?