The usual disclaimer applies...

A/N... Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I can't believe I have more than 30 in just the first two chapters.

WARNING: This chapter has several mentions of suicide. I consider this a very adult topic, and that is one of the main reasons for the M rating of this story. Please abide by ff's rules and only read this if you are old enough in your country to do so. Thank you.

Chapter 2

Hermione sat in the small courtyard and tried to soak in as much fresh air as possible. Being a low security prisoner, she was allowed one hour a week outside. She tried to stay awake and enjoy being outside, but she was just so weak. She had now gone three days without eating, and she was hoping it wouldn't take long to succumb to illness. And hopefully it will progress quickly from illness to death. She had always thought that those who committed suicide were either being selfish or were cowards, but now she could understand that in some situations death was preferable to living. Now that she had death as an option, she preferred it to spending the next three years in Azkaban. With nothing to return to when I leave. She had almost dozed off when she heard footsteps approach her. She slowly opened her eyes and turned her gaze towards the inmate walking towards her.

"They won't let you starve to death. You'll only end up in the infirmary until you are well enough to go back to your cell. Eat," he reached his pale hand toward her, offering a small badly-bruised apple.

She looked at him and paled. He might still sound like her Professor, but his eyes were devoid of emotion...dead. Just like her own.

"How did-"

"How do you think?" He quirked an eyebrow at her. For a small moment, she noticed just a spark of life in his eyes, before he quickly schooled his expression back to ambivalent.

"Oh."

She was surprised when he sat down beside her, and even more surprised when he started to talk to her again.

"Why are you here, Miss Granger?" His voice was practically a hiss.

I will not cry, I will not cry. "I...I obliviated my parents and tampered with their memories."

"Surely the Ministry would have overlooked something like that in a time of war."

"Well...the Ministry probably would have overlooked it, but my parents pushed for charges to be filed."

"What?" He seemed genuinely shocked.

She was so weak that her voice was barely over a whisper. "They...they did not believe me when I told them their lives had been in danger; that I did it to protect them. They threw me out of their house after I restored their memories. When I went back to try to explain, they had me arrested for trespassing. I returned to London, and they filed charges with a barrister. The barrister then pressured the Ministry for my arrest for obliviating them."

"But they were in danger. Several Death Eaters went to your house to murder you and your parents."

She knew if she continued this conversation, she would break down. "I...I don't want to talk about this anymore. It is in the past...it is done. I can't change anything now. I am here for three years and," she paused for a moment, "I guess I have no other option other than to accept it."

"That is wrong...you should not be here," he hissed.

She was about to reply when she saw the guard approach her to return her to her cell. She took one last look at him as the guard led her back, then spoke softly, "Neither should you."

-ooOOoo-

Hermione had only been asleep about an hour when she heard banging on her cell door. "Wake up, you have a visitor."

"A visitor?" She was so tired and groggy that she thought she surely must have misheard the guard. She had not had a single night with more than four hours of sleep since she arrived at Azkaban. Nightmares plagued her every night, and she was sure that she had only been asleep at most an hour when the guard arrived.

"Yes. I will take you to the visiting area. Your hands and ankles will be bound until your visitation has ended. I will be watching you from an adjoining room, so don't attempt anything. You will be stunned if you attempt an escape or try to harm your visitor."

She felt the tingle of the spell, then was led out of her cell. She was still weak from barely eating the past week, and still exhausted from the lack of sleep. She didn't pay any attention to where the guard was taking her, and was surprised when she was taken to a room much nicer than her cell.

She was staring down at her bound hands when she heard the door open. She didn't look up until she heard a gasp.

"Miss Granger? Hermione?"

She slowly looked up and into the eyes of one of the few people that supported her during the trial. Minerva McGonagall had always supported her; first during her years as a student at Hogwarts, and then as a friend and fellow Order member at her trial. As nice as it was to see a friendly face, she had nothing left to give. Why even attempt a smile when there was nothing left...no chance at parole, no one to go back to...no hope. In fact, she wondered why she even came to see her.

"Hello Professor McGonagall," she spoke in a lifeless voice.

"Oh, Hermione," she reached towards Hermione's hands, only to be blocked by a magical barrier. She looked at her pale, complexion and sunken eyes, then tears started to come down the older woman's face. "How are you holding up, my dear?"

"I am fine," Hermione whispered. Her voice was flat.

"No you are not!" Minerva's brogue was more noticeable as she raised her voice. "You have lost at least a stone. Do they not feed you?"

"I eat all that I want to eat. They will not let me starve to death." Her voice had a little more emotion to it, then she added quietly, "I already tried."

Minerva gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, in shock at Hermione's revelation. "Please, please don't give up Hermione. Harry and I are trying to get you an appeal; there are many people outraged that you are here."

Hermione stared at Minerva momentarily, then began speaking louder. "Why should I have any hope, Minerva? The Wizengamot has only granted one re-trial in the last twenty years, and there is no such thing as parole from Azkaban. What do I have to go home to when I do leave here in three years? My parents have disowned me and would probably rather I be dead, and Ron broke up with me the moment I was arrested. I have no one and nothing to return to...so why should I not give up?"

Minerva pleaded with her, "You are young, Hermione. Three years is not that long in a witch or wizard's lifetime. You have people that care about you, and I'm sure that you could meet someone when you get out of here."

"And how many men would want to go out with a former convict? Marry a former convict?"

Hermione couldn't take any more of this. She knew that Minerva meant well, but all that she was doing was reminding Hermione of what kind of life she would have if she left this place in three years. All it made her think about was finding a way to not be here the next three years. Surely there were other options than starving herself to death.

"Guard...Guard, I am finished with my visitor. Can you please escort me back to my cell?"

"Hermione, please!" Minerva pleaded with her as the guard entered the room.

"Goodby, Minerva," Hermione whispered as she was escorted out of the room.

A/N...A little shorter than I was hoping for, but this is a good place to stop.

About the suicide mentioned in the story. I don't want lectures in the reviews about how depressing a story about suicide is. If it bothers you, please don't read any more. I know way more about this subject than I want to. I have had a very close family member commit suicide in the past few years. I am not condoning suicide in this story, but I do want to convey how someone could come to that decision.

I want you to see what state of mind Hermione is at the beginning of this story, because things do eventually look up. This chapter is about as rock-bottom as it gets...I promise, her state of mind does get better.