In the Beginning of the End

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed here-in are patented property of J.K. Rowling (all glory to her name!), I merely play with her brain-babies.

Harry's green eyes never left her through the ceremony. In the two years that he, Ron, and Hermione had spent away from Hogwarts she had lost so much weight. Her hair burned fiery red, but her temper no longer matched. Even her sharp wit seemed dulled. True, it had been a long two years. There was no Dumbledore to give hope and reassurance, to beam and to twinkle, to mutter odd words like "Nitwit" and "Blubber". It was a darker world despite the noticeable failures of Voldemort. With each Horcrux that Harry defeated, his movements became more erratic and desperate. Only Nagini and the thin vestige of a soul that still resided in his cusp of a body remained.

Even that though, did not account for Ginny.

Hermione, sitting on Harry's right, noticed his vigil with a sad smile. The years had marked her too. Outwardly, she showed few signs of the preceding months. Her skin was tanned from their constant campouts making her thin smattering of freckles stand less vibrantly against her cheeks and nose. Her hair was as bushy as ever, but she had begun to style it differently. While having the added benefit of staying out of her way, the single French braid running down the length of her back set off her facial structure and displayed her dainty neck. Only thin scars from a Throttling Curse marred its complexion. She too had lost weight, though not to her friend's degree. It was mostly a toning of muscles; years in the library had not given her an especially fit physique.

But beyond the physical transformation, there was a new atmosphere about her. She was less centered on knowledge for knowledge's sake. Of course, she had insisted that she and the boys follow the seventh year syllabus so that in the future, they could take their exit exams and graduate as Ginny was now doing. When she had first informed them of their academic schedule, only those hopeful words, in the future, had prompted Harry to follow her directions. For Harry, it was comforting, in a small way, to know Hermione thought of the future. Lately, he had dreaded that word, fearing he would never live to see it. Maybe someday a few years from now, he would be sitting in a University, rolling his eyes at Hermione's color-coded notes and nudging Ron in the ribs. That thought had brought a grim smile to his face and Ron had teased him mercilessly about going soft. Hermione had teased him too, but her watering eyes had betrayed her.

With her recent (somewhat painful) withdrawal from books, she had become somewhat more observant. In her school years, Hermione had noted all the details of her surroundings, cataloguing them to her impressive memory. She had been too absorbed in the library though, to truly begin to interpret them. The occasional epiphany had come when details had fit into a textbook situation. Unfortunately, such elusive concepts as could not be accurately written down had stubbornly eluded her. In her first few months without the distraction of Hogwarts' library, she had been surprised by how little she knew about her two best friends.

Harry was dangerous. His moods swung from carefree to wrathful in seconds. When in the first week of their excursion, Pig had dropped a letter from Lupin into his cereal on accident, he had flown into a rage that lasted the better part of the morning. A simple charm had the letter fine in the flick of a wand, but that did not pacify the raging boy. Hermione watched his temper sadly and tried to remember when this change in personality had taken place. With a start, she realized it had been Sirius' death, almost three years ago. It had taken her two weeks and several covert trips to Muggle public libraries to come to a conclusion. He was suffering from depression. Maybe even Survivor's Guilt, but for that, Hermione could not figure out why. She had stopped trying though, and began to search for a way to help.

Her attempts at psycho- analysis fell terribly short though. More often than not, she simply enraged him further. Surprisingly, she learned how to calm him by watching Ron.

It seemed Ron too, was not the sweet bumbler, she had always thought him to be. He was much more astute than she had given him credit for. His gentle teasing was always well placed. He seemed to instinctively know when he could push Harry and when it was best to leave him be. Hermione envied the gentle way in which he could lure Harry out of the barriers he seemed to have raised. She had also realized that he liked her. His clumsiness was due to nerves; his obnoxious antics, an effort to get her attention. She did not know when she had stopped liking her red-headed companion. From as near as she could tell, her affections had petered out sometime around their fifth year. It was with a wistful sigh that Hermione put those thoughts aside. Perhaps, if she had noticed his attention earlier, they would be in a different situation, but then again, perhaps not. She valued their friendship and was content to let it stay as that.

Hermione, with her eyes absently trained onto Ginny, began to analyze her best (and only) girlfriend. She knew how much their sudden departure had affected her younger friend. At Dumbledore's funeral, Harry had broken up with her. Ginny and Percy were the only two Weasley's Hermione knew that were logical though. Put in her place, Ron would have thrown a fit, and wheedled his way back to Harry's side. Ginny though, respected Harry's concern for her safety. She had known it was probably wisest though, and had even talked to Hermione about it. She wasn't dumb though. Even though the break was for an admiral reason, her loss had been palpable. She missed him.

Still, Ginny had been strong. She knew that in a year she would graduate and be free to rekindle their affections. Until then, she would devote herself to her coursework and to Quidditch. She stubbornly refused to become one of those lovelorn girls who wasted away when their hearts were broken.

But then, Hermione and Ron had gone all noble on her and deserted her too. She had been effectively cut off from her closest friends. Even the occasional owl in Hermione's rushed scrawl had not been enough to bring her out of the hole she had dug for herself.

And with the height of activity from the Order, even her family seemed too busy to notice her. Ginny was alone, terribly alone.

Hermione stood as the crowd began to clap. Like in the Muggle world, caps (albeit these were pointed and lacked tassels) were thrown heartily into the air and chorus of whoops and cheers rose to a crescendo. The trio rushed forward to congratulate Ginny, but Molly had beaten them to it. Hermione and Ron joined the bone crushing hug, but Harry stood to the side, a small, sad smile betraying his distress.

He missed her. Possibly more than she missed him.

As layers of people, peeled away from the redhead, she caught his eye. Their heartrending, somewhat awkward, gaze silenced those around them. Neither noticed though, caught in a suspension that was all their own.

"Oi! What's that?" Ron's voice cut through the moment. Hermione was about to nudge him rudely in the ribs but she followed his finger to the Dark Forest. In it, forms swirled in the shadows. Their menacing forms swelling towards them. In moments they would be in the courtyard.

Headmaster McGonagall stepped from behind the podium where she had been standing, and raised her arms. Her robes rippled around her but nothing happened.

Suddenly, the floor beneath her trembled. A blue opalescent wall rose on the outskirts of the courtyard. Its rise was measured first in inches but its growth grew exponentially. Within seconds it stretched as far up as Hermione could see. As the graduates and their guests surged forward, Hermione slowly rotated on spot, her eyes upward. The blue wall stretched the length of the castle and encompassed the Great Lake. Beside her, Ron stifled an inappropriate laugh as the Death Eaters collided head on with the wall, sending them flying a few meters in the opposite direction. The wall must be invisible from the other side.

On the other side, several Death Eaters placed their hands timidly on the shimmering wall. Watching with curiosity, Hermione thought they must have looked like warped mimes from the other side. After the masked terrors had determined that yes, the wall did encompass the whole of the castle, or at least, most of it, they began hurling curse over hex at it.

A hand, placed lightly on her shoulder, scared Hermione out of her silent observance. "Didn't you hear McGonagall?" Ron whispered, as though his voice could carry over the 100 or so yards to where the Death Eaters paced.

Her blank look answered him.

"She's not sure how long the wards'll hold. She can't control them like Dumbledore could. She asked us to help make sure the students are safe." Hermione nodded and allowed Ron to take her hand and lead her to the castle entrance.

McGonagall and Harry stood by the door. Both looked at the mass of black cloak swirling outside the perimeter with grim faces. Ron and Hermione entered first, then Harry. McGonagall was the last to enter. As the doors closed and a series of no less than twenty- one locks slid into place, the headmaster stared at the wall. Hermione followed her gaze. A thin web of gold thread seemed to appear, crisscrossed over the stone bricks. Its light grew stronger until it seemed dazzling in the darkened foyer.

McGonagall raised her arms once more and brought her palms together. With this gesture, the web followed suit. Where it had once covered only the marble, it now swathed the master door and the windows that framed it and, Hermione suspected, every other nook and cranny of the school.

Hermione drew her gaze from the web of light and gave the headmaster an appraising look. She had always known that McGonagall was a powerful witch. It took a great amount of skill and concentration to become an Animagus. Yet she had not thought her capable of the display of wandless magic that she had just seen. Even Dumbledore would have been tired.

As though reading her mind, McGonagall said in a quiet voice unlike her own, "I'm merely activating them. They're Dumbledore's inventions. If he had been here the night he died," –her voice cracked- "he would have risen them himself."

Hermione nodded, the corners of her mouth dropping just a bit. They stood that way, paralyzed, each of them swallowed with their own personal thought of dread or death or worry. Drawing herself to her full height, McGonagall took a piece of tattered parchment from her inner pocket and handed it to her Hermione.

"I expect you to keep me informed." Her manner was brisk once more as she swept out of the entryway, leaving Hermione staring somewhat dumbly after her. She stared down at the ratty piece of parchment. It took her a slow second to place it as the Marauder's Map. Unwilling to break the static moment, she glanced at her friends faces. Ron looked terrified; Harry, resigned.

"This is it, mates." Harry intoned dully, his green eyes peaking from beneath his mop of unruly hair. "You can still turn back."

It was a ritual. Whenever it got dangerous, he would ask that question. Whenever he would ask that question, Hermione and Ron would invent some outrageous reason to stay with him. In a strange way it was almost comforting, grounding.

Ron shrugged affably, "I'm pregnant, bub. You've knocked me up and now you've got to stick with the consequences. We Weasleys don't believe in single motherhood." His smile was genuine as he rubbed his make-believe belly.

A small smile cracked Harry's face. "And you?"

Ron elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't chase her off, mate! We'll need her color-coded notes for University." Silently, Hermione applauded his subtle mention of the future. It would bolster Harry's spirits.

Picking up her part, Hermione grinned wickedly. "You stole my line, Ronald." -she always called him Ronald when she was irked, even in jest-"Although, now that you mention it, you and Harry would make a magnificent couple. Should I begin picking out a wedding planner and some silk nighties?"

Laughing at Ron's scarlet ears (for he had an unpleasant visual of Harry in green lingerie), she assumed a thoughtful pose.

"Well, I suppose I should stick with you so that when this is over, I can resume my loverly role as a mistress."

Ron expertly picked up the cue. "To whom?"

"Lucius Malfoy, of course. He has so many quaint nicknames for me. My favorites are filth and mudblood." She batted her eyelashes and raised her shoulders in a coy expression. Harry laughed out loud at the preposterous notion. Ron made retching noises as he, in due turn, silently applauded Hermione: even a short, tense laugh from Harry was a hard thing to draw lately. A subtle reminder of blood ties, the main cause for the war, was a nice touch.

With the ritual complete, the moment was over. The impending battle weighed heavily on their shoulders.

This can't be happening. Hermione argued pathetically. Not now. Not yet. She cast a sad look at her friends. A small tear slid from beneath her eyelid. Harry took a hesitant step towards her. An epiphany hit him like a bludger to the gut, this battle was different than the others. In the last two years they had encountered Voldemort, fought Death Eaters, dismantled Inferi, escaped Dementors, solved riddles, and destroyed Horcruxes. But all of that had been on their ground. They had known the risks, had planned for every contingency. But this? This was new ground. He might never see his friends alive again even if he survived. Harry had always considered his own death but never that of his friends. The thought twisted his gut.

Taking another, firmer step towards her, he encircled her in a tight hug. Ron hugged her too. Taking a deep breath, Harry briefly hesitated, "You guys know that you're… well, you're my family." Hermione looked up at him, startled. She laid her head on his shoulder, and repeated the sentiment.

"You're my best friends. I love you both." Her tears fell in earnest now. She gave them a quick squeeze and released them. Swiping an impatient palm across her cheeks, she brandished her finger at them. "You two be safe! Especially you, Ron. You still have my copy of Unfortunate Unadversus. I want that back!"

With that they parted ways. Harry went to the headmaster's room, in search of Gyffindor's Sword; Ron began to patrol the first and second floor in search of lost younger students per McGonagall's order. Hermione stood, transfixed for just a moment longer. Shaking herself, she began a mental list of things that had to be done, making a mental catalogue organized by priority and proximity. Turning, she forged into the belly of the castle.

It was chaos. The wards around the school were raised, but the swarming masses of Death Eaters would eventually break through them and gain entry to the seemingly impregnable castle. And everyone knew it. Students rushed to and fro. The older students began to organize; the younger, to hide. Voices of various professors, amplified, echoed through the halls, giving instructions in tight, controlled voices. Owls zoomed through the halls. Some carried messages. Others were simply excited by the palpable tension. The picture frames were alive. Various portraits ran the length of the building carrying messages and attempting to comfort. The ghosts floated through the walls. All were silent. Even Peeves kept his tongue. You had to hand it to Hogwarts – it mobilized quickly.

Hermione was scared. Very scared.

A/N: So? What do you think? I think it will eventually merge into Formalities Long Forgotten. Sorry if it starts slow, it'll get good, I promise! I just wasn't happy with that (FLF) script, so expect many changes. I, however, shall expect reviews. They make me write faster, they really do!!! P

- 3 Cari