Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Note: This was written pre-HBP, and stems from an alternate sixth year.

Prologue

There was no light in the Hospital Wing's Survivors Ward after hours. She hated the darkness, and the deep quiet that came with it. The ringing in her ears did little to comfort her, and the noise of her heart pounding in her chest only added to her fear. She needed though, to concentrate on some sound; the silence was driving her mad. She felt so weak, but nineteen months in prison tended to render most people helpless.

Hermione Granger, smartest witch in school, greatest mind in fifty years, had been sent to Azkaban Prison for the murder of Ginevra Weasley. Via one of the most dangerous poisons created, she had, for all accounts, taken the life of her best female friend. There was no evidence, there was no body, and there was no trial. With men like Severus Snape around, and the word of a Mudblood meaning nothing to ministry officials, she hadn't had a chance to be kept out of jail. Her friends hadn't believed in her, her parents hadn't trusted her, and now she was alone.

Why would they believe her? She was the one who had last seen the girl. She was the suspicious one, and she was the one who had the most to gain from giving away the secrets of the Order. Hadn't she always wanted power, to show the pureblood society that she was more than just a Mudblood? Voldemort could give her the recognition that she deserved. There was nothing unusual about a muggle-born witch trying to prove her worth. And, as Professor Snape had pointed out, "The knowledge that could be gained as a student of the Dark Arts is tempting for someone in her position."

As the main suspect of the murder, she had been kept prisoner in the dungeons at Hogwarts. Although he hadn't been able to touch her, Argus Filch had been most pleased to keep her informed of what was happening top-side. Her wand had been snapped in front of hundreds of people, and with the Headmaster's steel like eyes looking down on her, she had been formally expelled from Hogwarts. Back then, there could have been no worse humiliation. It had been so hard seeing the faces of her family and friends when they came to look at her. All of the jeers, and taunts of the wizarding society hadn't fazed her at all, but the people who knew her most had made her feel like the monster she was made out to be.

They had asked her only one question really. Why? Why had she done it? Why would she take the life of one of her best friends? What would drive her to do something so unlike her? Hermione had asked them the same question. Why was it so easy for them to believe that she would kill anyone? If you think it was so unlike me, why am I here? She hadn't gotten her answers, and she hadn't given any.

No one had believed that she was innocent. It made her think, when she was feeling particularly deserted, that no one had trusted her even before all of this happened. It would explain why her friends were acting strangely around her. And the fact that she, the know-it-all, didn't seem to know what was going on at Hogwarts. She had noticed-of course she had-the shadow hanging over Harry's head two years ago. A secret that Ron had known, and she hadn't. She'd chalked it up as hormones then, but in her moments of insecurity she wasn't sure.

Soon after she had been accused, the minister of magic himself had come to pass judgment on her. Since it was his last year as minister, he wanted another feather in his cap in hopes that he might be re-elected. She was convicted, and sentenced to life alone underneath the jail, where she had to fight with rats, roaches, and the occasional reptile for what small amount of food she was given per week. She had had everything taken away from her, and been branded as a traitor to the wizarding world.

And now, nearly two years later, the truth had been let out and the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, had acquitted Hermione of all charges. Ginny Weasley's body had been found. Alive, well, and at the side of an escaped Lucius Malfoy. She had given Voldemort everything she knew about the Order, and Harry for the favor of the being that was once Tom Riddle. Believing that there was some redeeming quality inside of him, she had given him the benefit of the doubt. It had cost her her sanity, and Hermione her life.

After everything that had happened, Hermione couldn't feel pity for the youngest Weasley child. She had been responsible for Hermione's incarceration, and if she could have, Hermione would have spent the rest of her days driving the girl insane. She didn't think it fair that while she had been sent to Azkaban under false charges and kept isolated from everyone else in darkness, Ginny-who had really killed-got herself a white room where her family could visit her whenever they wanted.

Hermione had been a monster; Ginny was just misunderstood.

Everything she had been working toward, all of her efforts had been for nothing. She would never get to finish her schooling, never become a potions mistress like she'd wanted. She had nothing, and no one. She wouldn't be able to do anything but think what if. What if things had been different? What if she hadn't been sent to Azkaban? What if things had gone on like normal, and she had continued with her life as it should have been? What if just one person had trusted her? That thought had kept her sane in her moments of desperation.

Underneath the fortress where nightmares were made, Hermione had spent countless hours thinking of what her life would have been like if someone, anyone would have believed in her.

Now, sitting in the stiff hospital bed in the dark, Hermione shivered underneath her thin coverings. She really hated the dark.

Not my best work admittedly, but should I keep going with this?