"The repopulation effort," she said, trying to breathe through the pain, "is a cover. It's a ruse. Voldemort doesn't care about the magical population. It's a piece of misdirection to keep the public preoccupied. He isn't waiting to enslave the muggles because he's concerned over wizarding demographics. He's doing it to buy himself time; he's entertaining the masses by making public spectacles of the pureblood families. First with the marriages and the miscarriages, and now, with surrogates. He didn't halt the war because he wants to, he did it because he has to."
Pain shot through Hermione's head and the room before her turned a horrifying shade of red as though there was blood streaming down and filling her vision. She gave an agonized cry started to fall forward. She forced herself to look up at Malfoy. He was moving toward her.
She forced her question out.
"He's dying. Isn't he?"
Chapter End Notes
Illustrations by Avendell, follow her on tumblr and instagram.
Voldemort by wvx_pic.
A combination of hunting clothes and combat gear by saharok_illustration.
"You've disappointed me, High Reeve," by saharok_illustration.
<p>Chapter 17</p>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.
