Hermione was on the third floor in Grimmauld Place. The hallway was quiet and dimly lit; it was either late in the evening or early hours of the morning. As she passed one of the smaller rooms she caught sight of a shock of red hair bent over a table of maps. She paused and tapped lightly on the door.
"Hey Mione," Ron said distractedly as he moved pieces across the maps and then scratched his head absentmindedly with the tip of his wand. His expression was tense.
"Got a minute?" she asked.
"Sure." He stuffed his wand into his back pocket and looked up at her. "Just reviewing what's been happening since I left. Lot of raids while we were away; you must have been busy."
He was giving her a penetrating look. Hermione dropped her eyes.
"I'm sure you see the strategy," she said quietly.
"Kingsley's using the horcruxes to keep Harry off the field," he said.
Hermione gave a short nod. "You understand why, don't you?"
Ron's expression hardened further as he shrugged and nodded.
"No good risking him in a skirmish when we need him for the final blow. Yeah. I get it. That doesn't mean I like it. And some of these-," he pulled a few scrolls over and glanced over them. "They're pretty much suicide missions. I hadn't realized how safe Kingsley has been playing it because of Harry. Seeing what he'll do when we're gone for a few weeks-"
He broke off as he stared angrily down at the reports. "What exactly were the casualty rates while we were gone?"
Hermione opened her mouth to answer and he cut her off.
"I don't need you to tell me. I can see the numbers right here. Fucking-fucking bloody unbelievable. If Kingsley were here I'd punch him."
His face was growing scarlet with rage.
"Ron, we can't afford to play it safe anymore," Hermione said her stomach knotting itself as she thought about how many people's eyes she'd drawn shut during the past several weeks and the new hospice safe house she'd helped Bill ward. "I don't think you realise how depleted our resources are. How many years do you think Harry's vault can feed an army? The hospital ward is running on fumes. Europe is getting locked under Tom's control. The only option we have left is to take risks. And we can't risk Harry."
Ron was silent. Hermione could see the muscles of his jaw working as he kept clenching and releasing it.
"We need to find the horcruxes," he finally said. Hermione let out a low, deep breath that she'd been anxiously holding and nodded.
"We do," she said. "Tom and Harry are the linchpins. Ideologically the Death Eaters are too diverse. It's Tom's power that keeps the army cohesive. If we can kill him, permanently, there should be enough infighting to give the Resistance the upper hand."
"I guess that's the one upside to Tom's delusions of immortality: he isn't bothering to groom a successor," Ron said woodenly as he looked over another mission report. Hermione could see her signature on the bottom; verifying the injured, calculating the losses in neat, impersonal numbers. "Although I don't doubt the Malfoys will think they're first in line now that Bellatrix is dead. Fucking psychopaths."
"You need to convince Harry that the horcruxes are the first priority," she said, staring at Ron intently. "Especially now, after Ginny. I'm worried he just wants to ignore them."
Ron expression grew strained.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
Hermione hesitantly drew closer.
