A/N: I hate author notes, but I feel obligated to thank all those who have sent reviews. I'm a bit stretched for time right now, as it's my first semester of college and my days are full of classes, work, homework, and various other obligations, such as church. Thank you for your patience. Kindly continue with your lovely reviews. They make the drudgery more bearable.
I have an outline through chapter 11, so I have a general idea of where this is going.
And a cookie goes to yapyap, the only one to appreciate the parallel of the first two chapters.
7th Movement
After escorting a somber Ginny back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione wandered slowly through the halls. She didn't have a destination in mind, per say, but she was unconsciously drawn to the room. Suddenly she stood before the tapestry.
The thick woven fabric reminded her of Fawkes, and it brought a sharp pain to her heart. She could never look at the phoenix without thinking of Harry. The last time they were together, before the final battle. The four of them, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, had been in the Great Hall, waiting for Snape to return with word. He had been called to a huge Death Eater meeting with Voldemort a few hours earlier. Using a spell largely developed by Hermione, assisted somewhat by Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, his return would open a portal straight into Voldemort's throne room, deep in heart of his fortress rumored to be near the northern coast of Scotland.
The hall was a flurry of activity. Witches and wizards of all ages chattered nervously, paced, or sat in anxious silence. The tension was heavier than Hagrid's rock cakes. And amid all the flutter, the battle plans, the curious stares pressing around the Boy-Who-Lived and his friends, the four of them found a corner in which to convene for a few minutes.
Harry sat with his back to the hubbub, superficially relaxed, but Hermione could sense the tension in his shoulders, against one of which she was currently leaning. Ginny pressed against his other side, and Ron sat facing him. They alternated between reminiscent conversation, and silent reflection.
Their anxiety was only betrayed by certain nervous habits. Harry was running his fingers through Ginny's hair, while she plucked at and fiddled with the sleeves of her fitted robes, a special design for the battle to allow freedom of movement and easy identification of allies on the field. At Harry's suggestion, Hermione had also added certain magical protections, woven deep into the fabric itself.
Ron was cracking his knuckles, pausing ever five minutes to bestow the same treatment to his neck or back.
Hermione seemed the most outwardly calm, except to those who knew her best. She was breathing deeply and slowly, her eyes shut except when she would contribute a remark to the conversation.
They talked about their memories of Hogwarts. The first flying lesson; fighting their way to the Sorcerer's Stone; the Chamber of Secrets; the gain and loss of Sirius; dementors and acromantulas, dragons and thestrals; the Tri-Wizard Tournament and forming the DA.
They never lingered on the subject of the Dark Lord himself, though he always had his hand involved in their trials and subsequent adventures.
They had once again lapsed into silence, when Snape finally burst through the door, Death Eater mask in hand and black robes billowing behind him. Caught in the morbid mood of the looming war, Hermione thought briefly that he looked exactly how she might have imagined an avenging angel, sweeping down bearing swift and harsh justice to the wicked.
That very thought would come back to her again later on the battle field itself. She had just incapacitated an unknown Death Eater, of middling rank, by the looks of his mask. Then in the swirling haze of dust and magic, she caught sight of him, dueling with Antonin Dolohov.
He had long since discarded his own white mask, not wanting to be mistaken by the Order for an enemy. His robes were tattered and blood-stained, and his lips set in a grim line. Hermione could feel, more than see, the aura of power surrounding him like a cocoon.
She only had a moment, but the image was frozen in her mind. She only had a moment, for then she heard a voice behind her.
"Remember me, mudblood?"
Pushing the memories down as she pushed aside the tapestry, Hermione entered her sanctuary.
Moments later, Professor Snape entered the other end of the corridor.