The Art of War

“All warfare is based on deception.”
Sun Tzu, The Art of War

"Granger. You're not getting your usual results," Kingsley said, glancing up from the papers he had strewn across a mobile desk in one of their safe houses.

Lanterns illuminated the room, spread throughout to make sure the room wasn't cast in shadows. His robes were more drab lately, not as vibrant and not nearly as well put together. The number of times all of them had mended their clothing was...impressive. How they had anything besides rags was a mix of dumb luck, donations, and theft. The longer the conflict raged, the harder it was to keep every inch.

Despite what those in power thought, the insurgency still received support from the Wizarding World. It was just a lot quieter. Dead drops that changed and moved. Small symbols were often left in plain sight. A secret code of symbols carved into discreet locations to show whether something was safe or not, their simple nature easily explained as the work of destructive youth. The entrance of a door, the side of a fence, a tree. Small, ignorable things that were easily overseen. The sound of a whistle or a raven's cry heralded when they were in danger or if a drop had been fulfilled.

Hermione sat before the desk, her hair still braided back from her face. Her blouse was a little ratty, and her hair started fraying from the plaits. The circles under her eyes kept getting deeper and darker while her body didn't seem to be getting any thinner, which was a small blessing.

"He's smart. Was the second smartest in our year," she murmured, one hand in her pocket and turning the mirror over and over again in her palm, making sure she was alert enough to tell if magic came through it. "I'll manage it. I'll take him down. He seems just as determined to take me down. Just as eager... I seem to be his job. Apparently, Ronald wasn't enough for You-Know-Who."

A soft hum of thoughtfulness came from the man as he looked down at the map they had, the intelligence that the brunette had been able to get.

So she pressed on. "I can handle it, Kingsley. Please. If he's this determined to finish his job... I can draw him out. I just have to find a way to knock him off his game. To...catch him off guard. I'll figure out how."

Kingsley seemed in thought, his gaze on the map as he planned his next move. Every inch mattered. Taking down the Dark Lord's lieutenant was a goal, but there were other means.

"Three weeks. You have three weeks." He rose to meet her gaze, gauging this new deadline on her features as though he could see through her past her defenses. Years as an Auror had given him a means of measuring a person. At least, he liked to think so. It had allowed him to excel as a member of magical law enforcement. When he'd risen so high, he had protected some of the most vulnerable of their government, and then his fall from fame.

Granger offered a small smile as she nodded. "Yes, sir. I can handle this in three weeks. He's already shown he's just as desperate to try and get his hands on me or Harry."

There were small bits of Intel they knew about his habits. What he got up to and when. Which meant she could use other means to attempt to take him out. Waiting for an opportunity like this one would take some time.

"Do I have authorization to do whatever is necessary?" She needed to know her methods wouldn't be questioned after the fact. "It should only take the resources I have myself," she added with a small smile. Moving to stand up, she glanced down at the map, her voice softer momentarily. "Harry doing alright?"

They didn't see each other often. Safety came first. If they were in the same place together for too long, it was almost like wolves coming after sheep with how much more aggressive the Death Eaters got. So...fleeting glimpses of her best mate. Nothing more.

"You know I'm not at liberty to discuss operatives and other safehouses." It wasn't personal. Just like he didn't answer others when they asked. He'd gotten used to one-sided conversations long before this turn in the war. There'd been a time when he'd been the one being kept in the dark.

With how unhinged and violent their opponents were, every sentence uttered, even in the safety of their wards, was a risk. One he couldn't take without properly considering every outcome. It wasn't personal, it was the nature of the beast. His features remained steel as he kept his gaze on her.

A sad smile curved her lips, showing just a glimpse of the more gentle schoolgirl she had been before the war had broken out. "...If you see him...tell him my usual message. Please." She murmured before she turned and left his office.

This safe house would do for a day or two while she figured out her next move. A few of their operatives were here, and she needed to check in on the names she did know. Lost in her thoughts, she nearly ran into Wood in the hall and actually chuckled.

"...You are far too silent when you move," she joked, brushing her hair back and out of her face.

Oliver Wood had aged well, and his years of Quidditch had afforded him a developed physique. His shoulders had broadened, and he'd gained muscles and definition. Even after his accident during a game that had been interrupted by the Dark Lord's finest, he still managed to hold his own.

"It's a life-saving skill," he responded in his heavy Irish lilt. "Fancy tah see you here, lass. Wondered when we'd cross paths again."

Tucking a few locks of hair back behind her ear, she offered a genuine smile, even if it wasn't as bright as it might have been before. "Good seeing you too, Oliver. Keeping well?"

Pleasantries always felt so odd, but they couldn't ask each other about their jobs unless they were on the same task force. The less they knew about what the other was doing, the better for everyone involved, especially when they found solace in brief captured moments.

"Aye," he nodded. "Wish I could chat, but I've got to meet the brass," he winked. "Catch up after? Perhaps a nightcap?"

That wink had her smile more at him, a slight spark of flirtation coming back. "Absolutely. You know where to find me," she offered, trailing her fingers down his arm before she went down the hall.

She'd need to get rations and more water and start to assemble her plan, which she'd considered based on her intel on Malfoy. There was much to do and so little time.