A/N: Many thanks to RachaelLA26 for her beta work on this fic! She was with me through it all for months and I couldn't have done it without her.

Many thanks to guest reviewer Nicole for catching a rather large plot hole! I've fixed it in this updated chapter.

For everyone who has read up to this point, thank you for taking the time to read my humble offering. If you've reviewed, followed, favorited, thank you as well. Fanfiction is nothing without the fans. So thank you for being fans. I hope you've enjoyed the journey!

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Chapter 18: Power

July 2003

The Burrow

Ottery St Catchpole, Devonshire, England

Hermione sighed as she gazed at the graves in front of her. It was a rather larger cemetery than she had been expecting, but the Weasley family was one of the most ancient in the wizarding world and had lived on this land for a long time. The day was bordering on too hot, and the sun blazed down, making Hermione sweat in her work robes. She'd taken the afternoon off to do this. It had been long enough. It was time to begin healing from the past.

What a waste. Waste of life, waste of a child, waste of a witch. And as much as she wanted to blame Harry for all of it, she knew that she bore some of the blame as well. Her heart hurt at the thought, a pit in her chest that was lessening every day but Hermione was sure she would live with for the rest of her life. She could have done some things differently and maybe they wouldn't be here. Maybe even should have done some things differently, but she'd made her choices, the best ones that had been available to her at the time. Maybe even having made different choices they still would have ended up here. She wasn't one for attempting to predict the future after all. Hermione clenched her jaw, steeling herself as she looked at the newest headstone in the plot.

Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter

Baby Potter

Daughter, Sister, Wife, Mother

11 August 1981 - 3 June 2003

Fuck, seeing it writing like that made something twist inside her that hadn't when she'd attended the funeral a month ago. Tears welled up behind the sunglasses she wore and her throat closed. She and Ginny hadn't always been close, but they'd grown up together. They'd shared a lot of memories. Memories that were forever going to be tainted by the way she died.

Twisting her wand in a small arc, Hermione conjured a wreath to lay on Ginny's grave. Ginny and the baby she had been carrying. There were only two casualties of the battle in Diagon Alley a month ago and Ginny was one of them. Heartbreaking. At least, Hermione's heart was broken over the loss of Ginny. She wasn't sure Tom was as broken up about it as she was, but he had his own trauma to deal with. She knew he was struggling after losing Theo. If only Harry could see him now, perhaps he wouldn't be so quick to assume that Tom was Voldemort come back to life. He wasn't the psychopath she had feared a year ago. Nor was he the sociopath she had hoped for at the time if only to stave off the idea of psychopathy. No, Tom was fully human. He had feelings; feelings that could be hurt, deeply. He was also coldly logical, something Hermione had always appreciated about him. She just wished that Harry could have seen it as well.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered to Ginny. She didn't know what else to say. Ginny shouldn't have died, the baby she was carrying definitely shouldn't have died. And yet, Hermione blamed herself.

She moved a few feet to the left and placed another wreath at both Ron and Fred's gravestones. At least, Ginny had Fred and Ron to greet her in the afterlife. She could only hope that there was some comfort in that.

Hermione gazed at the ramshackle building that was the Burrow for a long moment. It was up a hill and almost not visible from her vantage. The Burrow used to bring comfort to Hermione. Just seeing it reminded her of her favorite wizarding family. Now it only brought sadness. Hermione closed her eyes and turned to the left Apparating out of Devonshire and into Bedfordshire.

The graveyard at Nott Park was quite a bit more gothic than the one at the Burrow. And unlike the Burrow, this one had only one grave that was newer than the last thirty years. Hermione's heart clenched as she spotted Theo's name.

Theodore Thoros Nott

Son, Friend, Compatriot

21 April 1980 - 3 June 2003

It hurt the same now as it had watching him fall at Tom's feet. She hadn't known Theo like she'd known Ginny, but Tom had. Theo had been the first person, after Hermione, to accept him back. She didn't pretend to know all of the ins and outs of their relationship, but she knew by his actions that Theo had loved Tom. Why else would he have sacrificed himself?

Tom had been inconsolable for almost two days after Theo's death. They'd had to push the funeral back until Tom felt he was able to attend without having a breakdown in front of the rest of his followers. Although, Hermione thought that his followers seeing him being a human could only be a good thing. Tom preferred to remain stoic when possible. The only people who had seen his weakness, as he termed it, were Hermione, Draco, Millie, and Pansy. Their group seemed less bright than it had been when Theo was alive. Hermione wondered if that wound would ever heal or if it would always feel as though they were missing someone. A malingering that Hermione both wished would never leave and hoped would heal as soon as possible.

She wiped a stray tear from her cheek as she conjured yet another wreath, placing it at Theo's headstone.

"Oh, Theo. He needs you," Hermione said. "He needed you more than I think he ever realized. More than he ever needed me."

Theo didn't answer of course. Hermione sighed. She had one more visit to make today. One she was dreading but knew she needed to make.

She stepped forward and pressed her trembling fingers against the cold marble that made up Theo's gravestone before stepping out of the graveyard and once more Apparating away.

When she landed, it was on the rocky shore on the North Sea. The boatman was waiting for her and indicated she should get in. She did and was instantly nauseous at the way the small boat rocked on the violent sea. Even in summer, this sea always seemed turbulent and grey.

Thankfully, the boatman used a bit of magic to get them across to the island quickly. Azkaban was foreboding and Hermione hated that she had to go here at all, but it was necessary. For her, and for him.

"Mrs Granger, welcome," the warden greeted her at the small dock. He helped her out of the boat and led her to the small door in the side of the sheer rock that was the prison.

"We've brought him down to one of the visiting rooms," the warden told her. "They are marginally warmer than the cells."

"Thank you," Hermione replied. She hoped she wouldn't be there long enough to get cold.

It had been a month since she'd seen him and he had a full beard, not being allowed access to a razor. He looked different than she'd ever seen him, scruffy she'd seen, but this was despondency. As much as she and Tom had lost, Harry had lost far more. He hadn't even put up a defense, just pleaded guilty to everything. Losing Ginny seemed to have broken him. It hurt Hermione to see him like this. They may have been enemies most recently, but they'd been friends for far longer.

The warden clanged the door shut behind her and Hermione approached the metal table Harry was chained to. She sat opposite him, but he wouldn't look at her.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said. And truly she was, she hated seeing her oldest friend like this. Chained to a table. Hermione's mind flashed back to the way Sirius had looked after he had escaped Azkaban and she never wanted Harry to go through that. Perhaps Azkaban ought to next be on her list of justices to improve upon.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked, his voice was hoarse and low. "I don't want to see you." He refused to look at her, keeping his gaze at the dull table between them.

"I'm still sorry." Hermione tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. She had shed her tears for the day. She didn't want to shed more now, for Harry, although she knew she would once she left. She didn't want Harry seeing her weak. They were enemies after all.

"It's not your fault, is it?" Harry asked, finally pinning her with his brilliant green eyes. They were dull and shiny with unshed tears. Her breath caught in her throat at the twisted anguish on his face. "It's my fault I'm here. It's my fault my wife and child are dead." His voice was cold, dead sounding. It made Hermione shiver.

"Not entirely," Hermione insisted. "Some of that fault lies with me. I could have made different choices, better choices." That time the tremor showed itself and she took a great gulping breath to try and calm her nerves.

Harry shook his head. "No, no, no!" He banged the table with his hands, punctuating what he was saying and it caused Hermione to jump in her chair. "It's my fault! I killed Nott! I killed Ginny! I led the Order, I shouldn't have… I should have just left it alone." His voice cracked and tears fell down his cheeks, but he didn't crumble in on himself.

"You should have left it alone," Hermione agreed, her voice stronger now. That at least she could agree to.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked again. Another tear slid down his cheek and Hermione longed to reach out and brush it aside, but she knew she couldn't. Not without the warden and every other guard in here bursting through the door.

"I have a proposition," Hermione said as gently as possible. She knew he wasn't going to agree to it now, but she hoped. It was the only thing that had gotten her through the last month, actually, her hope. Hope for the future of the wizarding world. Hope for Tom. Hope for Harry.

"I'm not interested." Harry's voice was flat, but his glare was sharp. She wasn't surprised. She didn't think he'd fold after a month. That was alright. She didn't really want him to fold after a month. The long game was what was important here.

"I'll be back then," Hermione said decisively. She would be too. She'd come back every other month or so until Harry was ready to listen to her proposition. She wouldn't let him wallow in his despair. As much as Harry had screwed up, he was still an important figure in the wizarding world. He had defeated Voldemort after all. It would be better for everyone if Harry could be redeemed and walking free once more. Hermione vowed to make that happen. Even if she had to begin coming here every week to browbeat him into acceptance she would.

Hermione stood and looked down at Harry one final time. "I am sorry," she said. "Ginny will be sorely missed by everyone who knew her."

She turned and walked out of the meeting room. His sob as the door shut almost broke her heart, but she didn't show it. She couldn't show it. A small part of her wanted to turn back around and wrap her arms around him to comfort him as she would have done when they were children. But they weren't children anymore. They were adults where their decisions and choices had real consequences. Consequences Harry was going to have to live with. Consequences she was going to have to live with.

August 2003

Ministry of Magic

London, England

"Final voting for Chief Warlock has been completed," the Chief Warlock announced. His voice was smug, but Tom wasn't worried. He'd worked every faction in the Wizengamot. Tom was confident. It had taken him two long months to reach this point. "We'll be counting the votes and announcing them accordingly."

Tom sighed and leaned back in his chair as the Chief Warlock and his aides counted votes. His eyes caught Theo's empty chair across the chamber and he frowned. Theo didn't have an heir and the closest relative to the Nott family was Draco. They'd have to election off his seat. Tom began mentally flipping through his followers to see who had the best chances to win that sort of popular election.

"Alright, Tom?" Draco asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Of course," Tom nodded sharply. Draco may have seen him at his weakest, mourning Theo's death, but Draco was not Theo. Tom wasn't sure there would ever be someone who could step into Theo's shoes in his life. That thought made him unaccountably sad. He clenched his jaw as his throat worked to close. Even two months after Theo's death, he was still affected. This had never happened to him before and he wasn't entirely sure he understood it.

"Attention," the Chief Warlock announced. His lips were pursed as if he were sucking on a lemon and Tom didn't even have to listen to the rest to know the result of the vote. "Attention, the votes have been counted. Please welcome your new Chief Warlock Tom Granger!"

The Chief Warlock and the new Interim Minister both looked displeased, but the rest of the Wizengamot stood offering Tom a thundering applause. He too, stood, accepting their praise with a small smirk and a wave. The Wizengamot was now almost entirely made up of people in Tom and Hermione's generation. There was still an older faction, but Tom wasn't worried about them. They didn't have a quorum and had no way of gaining quorum while Tom was in charge. Let them die in their seats. He didn't want people assuming it was a complete coup. This lent some plausibility to his plans. He wondered how long he should serve as Chief Warlock before making a bid for Minister? Did the Interim Minister realize Tom was gunning for his seat? He hoped so.

The Interim Minister made a great show of congratulating Tom and wishing him well in his new role, but his handshake was too tight, too hard for Tom to know he truly accepted him. That was alright. The Interim Minister wouldn't be around forever. Tom accepted the congratulations with thanks. Then proceeded to suggest to the Interim Minister that someone had to fill the Head Auror position. Especially, since it was unlikely Potter would be getting out of Azkaban anytime soon. He had hemmed and hawed, but it hadn't taken him long to appoint Dawlish as the Head Auror.

Tom thought it was hilarious that the Interim Minister had assumed Dawlish was his choice and not Tom's. Dawlish had been attending Tom's meetings since the third or fourth one. He was a long time associate of Tom's. And exactly who Tom wanted leading the Aurors. It was time for Tom to begin leading the world he was born to lead.

Not long after Tom was elected Chief Warlock, Hermione received her first promotion in the DMLE. She rose through the ranks rather quickly—quicker than Tom had hoped for if he was honest with himself—and a year after her placement in that department she was the deputy head. Two years after that and she was head of the DMLE, which is exactly where Tom wanted her. He'd been waiting for that promotion to go through before he made his bid for Minister for Magic. He couldn't be seen promoting his own wife, after all, could he?

Almost four years to the day after the disaster that was the Battle of Diagon Alley and Tom was elected Minister for Magic. Hermione was by his side as he gave his inaugural speech. She stood proudly as he told all of the wizarding world his plans for enhancing their society. Hermione had slowly been enacting his plans through the DMLE and now, finally, as Minister, he would be able to do everything he'd always wanted. Draco had succeeded him as Chief Warlock and Tom's power was secured. Now, he had everything at his fingertips and Tom had never been more satisfied or happier with his life.

With Hermione by his side, he was ready to rule the world