Notes: Thank you so much for supporting this storyline with its rather controversial subject matter! It means a lot to me that you've been able to enjoy it.
Chapter Fifteen: Wizarding Renaissance, Part IV: The Most Important Thing
Tom stared at the documents in disbelief.
It has to be a forgery, he thought. She wouldn't do that. This is someone who pretended to be her. That thought was instantly checked by cold reality. The goblins of Gringotts had anti-fraud measures in place, and in any case, why would an impostor pretend to be Hermione specifically? The bank was not supposed to disclose any information about its accounts or the contents of vaults if the owners had privacy clauses in their contracts—as this did.
She did this. She took money from her organization and used it to buy votes against me. The disbelief in Tom transmuted into anger. How dare she go behind my back like this, while pretending to be oh-so-sympathetic to my troubles!
I should have known something was up. It's not like her to vocally object the way she did when I first brought up the plan and then turn almost silent for no apparent reason. The most she said against it after that was to suggest that I should "moderate" it. I should have known she was up to something.
He turned to the goblin, who was still blissfully Imperiused. "You will forget what I asked you in this meeting," he murmured hypnotically. "You will think I came here to discuss investments." He rose from the chair and stormed out of the side office, but not before stashing the incriminating file folder in his briefcase.
Letters streamed through the modern Floo system, and Hermione's offices buzzed with late-breaking news as people came in from lunch: the hardline Reformists on the Wizengamot had been appalled by the blood-purity dog whistles in Crouch's editorial and were reportedly in a closed-door meeting that very moment. Everyone believed that they were going to withdraw their support as a group. Since most employees of Advance supported Tom as Minister, there was much jubilation—and schadenfreude—at the news.
Hermione had taken herself away from the storm of gossip and the people returning from lunch. She had closed and locked her office door, convincing her staff that she was probably consulting with Tom and needed privacy for that reason, but in truth she was berating herself mentally. She had also developed a headache.
I failed, she thought miserably. I miscalculated and failed. I should have listened to Orion Black, of all people, in that very first meeting. He warned me that the alliance was fragile. I wish he'd just said that Crouch was a blood purist… but I can't blame him for this. All the signs were there.
I've wasted money—most of it very likely will not be returned—and even if the organization is rich, it was still a waste. At least I didn't spend all of it. I'll need to go to the bank and close the account at once. But what am I going to do now? It was really important to stop Tom from doing this—he has to be taught that there are lines he cannot cross without consequences—but how?
Maybe I shouldn't have taken his word at face value either, she thought. He was so sure that everyone who opposed him did so for stupid, personal reasons, but that's absolutely not true. Those two women didn't, at least. I probably could have persuaded some of these people to use leverage against him—to say that they'd vote for Crouch unless he changed this natalist plan. Some of them didn't care specifically about that, and it was obvious, but they would've thought that if he could be made to change his mind on one thing, perhaps they could apply that same pressure on other things they didn't like. Never mind for them that there probably wouldn't be enough opposition on anything else to make him budge. What would matter would be if they believed it on this one matter. That is the course I should have pursued, she concluded in despair.
Her headache had intensified. She took a brief sip of pain-relief potion and waited a minute for it to take effect. She had to be careful about potions now, because of the pregnancy. Even using Polyjuice to transform into a male could have been hazardous, and she was very glad that most of her Muggle doubles—and all of them in the three weeks prior to her discovery of the pregnancy—had been women.
Did he tamper with the contraceptive potion? she wondered again. She had not wanted to pursue the thought after it first occurred to her. She hoped, in a way, that she wouldn't find out and that eventually it would cease to trouble her, but she also suspected that the doubt would continue to gnaw at her. The idea that he would do that to her—probably, she thought grimly, to use her as a prop for his "happy three-child family" ideal, or else in anticipation of the "hypocrisy" attack—it infuriated her to think about. But then, why should I have been an exception? she thought bitterly.
One thing was certain. It was time to close that vault. The gambit had failed. Hermione rose from her chair and steeled herself for the task.
By the end of the day, it was official: the radical wing of the Reformist faction had announced that it was withdrawing support from Caspar Crouch's apparent challenge to the Minister. Since the challenge had no hope with only part of the Isolationist faction backing it, that was the end. Reporters had gathered outside Merlin and Arthur's, where the meeting had taken place, waiting to hear from the politicians who had been closeted in one of the private rooms. The Wizengamot member who read the statement declared, in a wheezy voice, that—
"This is not an endorsement of all of Minister Riddle's policies, but a conclusion that Crouch's ties to, and sympathy for, the blood-purity movement rendered him an unacceptable choice to lead the British wizarding world. We hope to work productively to encourage Minister Riddle to pursue an agenda that helps both wizards and our Muggle neighbors."
Hermione gathered up her belongings and headed to the room where her children and a few of her employees' children played. They eagerly jumped up as their mother approached and clung to her. It brought a smile to her face despite all the tension and anxiety of the day. At least I actually do have a happy family, she thought, heading with them to the Apparition point. There is that.
She held their hands and Disapparated home, landing on the front doorstep. She opened the door and ushered them into the house. Tom was nowhere in sight, but perhaps he had not returned from work yet, she supposed.
That idea dissipated when the door to the family room opened. He emerged. A cold, insincere smile filled his face—a smile that sent chills down Hermione's back.
"Welcome home," he said, still bearing that icy smile. He gazed at Madeline and Virgil. "Would the two of you mind waiting in here for a bit?" He gestured at the family room. "There are snacks on the table for you. Your mother and I need to talk about something."
Hermione noticed for the first time that he was clutching a leather folder of papers as if it were a weapon. Her heart froze in her chest. He knows, she thought.
When they were settled in the room, he quietly closed the door and then turned to her, the smile gone. "We'll do this upstairs."
She tried to put on a front of calmness and curiosity. "What's this all about?" she asked.
He didn't answer until they reached the top of the staircase. "I think you know."
They walked down the hallway and into the master bedroom. Tom closed the door and flicked his wand at it, casting Muffliato. He turned to her, all traces of even false levity gone from his face, and threw the folder on the bed.
"Open it," he spat. "You must have a guess of what's in it, but open it for yourself."
Hermione edged toward the bed, her heart pounding. Gingerly she opened the folder. The documents from Gringotts stared her in the face.
"How did you get these?" she whispered.
"The bank can be compromised with a single curse. You, of all people, know that. Now what is the meaning of this?" He glared at her, breathing heavily. He seemed to be trying to keep his distance from her—whether because he found proximity to her intolerable at the moment, or because he was afraid of what might happen if they got too close to each other, she did not know.
Something snapped inside her. I am not going to let this happen. He started this with his law and by refusing to listen to me. I'm not going to stand here quietly and let him berate me.
"I think the meaning of it is perfectly clear," she spat. "You understand what those documents are. You know I had a problem with your law. I don't think it's that difficult to comprehend."
The light in his pupils flashed red—and stayed that color. "How could you do this to me—you?" he exploded. "How could you go behind my back—lie to me—pretend everything was normal, when all the while you were paying the Wizengamot to remove me from my seat!" He stormed about the bedroom, avoiding the space immediately around Hermione, before stopping and giving her another scarlet-tinged glare. "You really thought the law was so damned bad that I deserved to be deposed over it?"
"No, I didn't intend to let it get to that point."
"Oh, didn't you?" he scoffed. "The only thing that stopped it was when Crouch fired the proverbial curse at himself!"
"I had eight names remaining," Hermione snarled, advancing slightly toward him, "but after it turned ugly, I decided that it had gone too far."
"Well, I'm glad you got cold feet," he said snidely, "because it tells me that you didn't want to risk destroying our relationship." He met her eyes, which were glaring back at his. "So why did you do it?"
"I wanted to show you that you don't get to control everything just because you really want to! Sure, maybe you can keep your Wizengamot majority, but you, even you, will have opposition to some things you want to do. And it just might include me sometimes!"
He glared. "I knew you opposed this. You made that clear from the first time I told you about it. That does not explain why you went in secret to bribe Wizengamot members to vote against me—to vote to remove me from office! Even if you got cold feet at the last, that was still your plan."
"No, it wasn't. I never wanted to remove you from office."
"You poured gold into a secret account and used it to bribe Wizengamot members to support Crouch's bid. That was what you were trying to do."
"Consider this, Tom. If I had really wanted you removed, I could have revealed one of your secrets. Any one of them, really; pick a number," she snarled, watching his eyebrows narrow.
"Did you—were you the source for the Quibbler article too?" Angry betrayal dripped from his words at this question.
"Absolutely not. Your own mistreatment of your former minions is responsible for that," she snarled. "I wasn't talking about a secret that would be a ticket to Azkaban—but there was still, oh, the vote on the Black family, or your intention to let Grindelwald alone if he behaves. I could have… but I didn't. I didn't want to remove you, and I was never going to let it get to that point."
"Then what did you want?"
"I wanted to frighten you," she said. "I wanted you to back away from this plan."
"If there had been a vote, and I had won it, that would have been seen as a vote of approval for my agenda."
"I thought that maybe if you were nervous enough, you would back away before a vote."
Some of the rage in his eyes faded as he realized that she was telling the truth.
"I wanted to show you that sometimes you have to actually consider what other people want, instead of explaining to them why you 'have to' get what you want."
He shook his head in amazement, most of the raw anger gone now. "So you gave them gold to vote against me in the hopes that I would change my mind and nobody would actually get to vote. Is there anyone you didn't lie to? You kept this secret from me, you lied to the people you were bribing, and you took from your organization."
"I have control over the organization, including its treasury, thanks to your advice on that subject."
He smirked for a moment. "Well done, then. You know, Hermione, I have to admit to a certain degree of admiration for all of this, even though you were working against me."
She scowled at him.
"But that doesn't make it all right. If you want to do politics this way, I think that's great, and I don't care who else you lie to, but to me—to work against me—it's wrong."
Anger surged in her. "Oh, is that it? It's 'wrong'? Why is that?" She strode forward, closing the distance, and stabbed his chest with her index finger. "Is it because you're the man and I'm not supposed to question you?"
"I didn't—"
She cut him off and met his eyes with fury in her own. "Listen well, Tom. If that's what you think—if you think I'm supposed to smile quietly by you, whatever you do—you are very much mistaken. I have opinions of my own and I am not going to suppress them for you."
"I didn't say that you should. I value your opinions. That doesn't mean I always agree with them, but I want to hear them."
"Then what do you mean by 'it's wrong'?"
He hesitated for a moment, and then words burst from his mouth. "We're supposed to be together—always together! Even when we don't agree. We're not supposed to be working against each other. You've been angry with me, but never against me… but now, you went behind my back and tried to…." He trailed off, looking deeply troubled. "Hermione, if we didn't have any children, would you still stay here?"
"With me" was the unsaid part. It wasn't a challenge, and he didn't seem to be manipulating her. He sounded genuinely unsure and surprisingly vulnerable, and he never used a façade of vulnerability to manipulate people anymore. In spite of herself, Hermione found it touching.
"I would," she said.
The wild look in his eyes calmed a bit. "So all the nights recently—"
She flushed. "Were real. I wasn't faking that. In fact, every time, I questioned afterward what I was doing. Every single time. I wouldn't use intimacy to deceive you, Tom. I remember before our first time how you told me that I was the exception, the one person you would ever allow to do that. I've never regretted letting you be my one person, either. It's special to me too, and I wouldn't spit on that by using it to trick you."
The storminess in his gaze abated.
"I don't want to leave you, and I swear, I did not want you out of a job. I wouldn't have let that happen. I realized I'd probably need to pull back when that Quibbler article hit the stands, and I did it as soon as Crouch revealed where his sympathies truly lay. But you want to control everything—that's what this Renaissance Plan is about, controlling the wizarding world—and I just want you to stop it! This is too far, Tom!"
He sucked in his breath impatiently, the tender moment lost. "Hermione, you're a rational, logical person. I have explained why it's necessary to promote births—"
"But you're not 'promoting' them; you're forcing them!"
"No, I'm not. I'm not turning the Ministry into a matchmaker—the Reformists want to, but they're idiots—but if people do pair off, I want the wizarding world to get something out of it. We're going to dwindle to nothing if the culture doesn't change—"
"Tom, did you tamper with my potion?" She blurted the question out before she really intended to, but once it was out, she did not regret asking it.
He looked guilty for a moment, then defiance and smugness overspread his face.
"I knew it. You wanted to make sure that nobody could call you a hypocrite, since you hadn't done anything but replace the two of us—"
He gripped her waist tightly. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. Every child we have should be a permanent addition. I don't intend for any of us to be 'replaced.'"
A snarl escaped Hermione's mouth involuntarily. "I know damn well what you 'intend,' and I know you're trying to prime the children to see it your way—"
His fingers dug into her waist. "The children? The children wouldn't exist if I hadn't made the Horcrux!" he raged. "One of us would have died in 1945! Whoever survived would have nothing! No family! None of this! Is that what you'd prefer?"
That idea made her heart twist. "Of course I don't want that!" she exclaimed. "It's complicated—"
"No, it's not! You agree that the ends can sometimes justify the means, and they obviously do for that, so stop—just stop."
Hermione's eyes fluttered shut. It was an uncomfortable admission, but he was right about her thoughts for that. But it wasn't the real topic of their argument. "My point is, you tampered with the potion—and you know I'll love this baby, but I'm sure you think that's a justification for your means too. You controlled what happened to my body, just like the other women this law will force to become pregnant."
"I've told you, this is about couples. It's about people who want to pair off and shag. They should take that decision seriously."
"Is that what you thought when we were in seventh year?"
"Yes, I took it extremely seriously—and so did you."
"So you would've been all right with it if I'd become pregnant?"
Tom stared back hard. "Yes, I would have."
"Bollocks," she spat nastily.
"Oh no it isn't. I would have married you as soon as we finished school—which, oh right, is what happened. I knew I wanted you." He frowned. "Hermione, why do you want to enable people who trivialize things that should be important? I know you aren't like that. Is this how people think in the time you grew up? That even if you yourself take it seriously, nobody really needs to, and so you're probably a bit of a prude?"
Hermione glared. "This isn't about me, and you are not going to make it about me. I know you understand the concept of sex for pleasure or love. When we first started to, I brewed that potion, and you…." She trailed off, remembering. He had not tried to stop her from making it, but she recalled that he had not been enthusiastic about it. Maybe he hadn't lied just now. He had been a virgin—not because he had been saving it, as she had been, but because he had regarded sexuality with contempt until he met her. Even afterward, he had regarded couples with contempt unless they had the same ideas about sex that he—or possibly she—did, and he probably thought that even now. It would explain a lot. "Even if you wanted it, you knew it would've been a bad idea," she finally said, somewhat defeatedly.
He rolled his eyes. "I could add another exception for couples who are still in school, if you like. I think it undermines the Plan's intent for there to be too many exceptions, but I suppose they do need to finish their studies."
"You're missing the point."
"No," he said sharply, "I am not missing your point. I simply disagree with your point. I think it's more important for there to be population growth in our world."
"Then why allow women to get the potion if they've been raped?" Hermione shot back.
He stared at her. "Because contrary to what you think, I don't want to 'control women.' If victims couldn't get the potion, it would allow men to impregnate women without the women having any say in it. That's not what I want to happen. This is supposed to encourage families." His features twisted. "For God's sake, I have a daughter—possibly two—and you. I know that witches can be just as powerful as wizards. I'm not an ignorant Muggle."
Everything comes back to that with him, she thought. Her anger was slowly settling, though sadness was replacing it. They really were not going to see eye to eye on this, she realized. He saw an existential threat to the wizarding world, and in his mind that justified his policy. He really did think it was the only way to save magic in the human race.
"There was once a time when witches and wizards cared more about building up and passing on their great heritage, their knowledge, their talents…."
"Hearth and home?" she said. "The little ones gathered by the fire in the stone cottage as their magical parents instruct them in ancient secrets? Tom, I thought you were more of a realist than that. We're never going back to that."
"I didn't say that," he said quietly. "That's your imagination. I also, as you know, like a bit more… grandeur… than that image suggests… like the school, or the Ministry. Or our own house."
She met his eyes for as long as she could, but he could out-stare her easily.
"So many of us think like Muggles now," he said. "So much talent wasted on inventing joke items, 'miracle' potions that never are, stupidly charmed gadgets, and ever-faster brooms, advertised in trashy magazines in a pathetic imitation of Muggle consumers. And none of it lasts. None of it matters. And I think it's making us not take lots of other things seriously either. We're more focused on that rubbish than our own future—our literal survival, and our survival as a distinct people who are different from Muggles." He paused, taking a breath and thinking about how to word his statement. "We can't shut out everything from Muggle society… I understand that… but some things, we should try not to imitate, and their superficiality is the biggest one. It's not just about population growth. It's also a way of sending the message that some things matter… that some things are not superficial; some things are important and are supposed to last. That kind of relationship… and wizarding culture."
Hermione sank into the bed and put her head in her hands. Her thoughts were whirling, focused on two overarching ideas.
Tom was clearly always going to have an immense draw to the concepts of wizarding pride and wizarding culture. It was an immutable part of him, apparently. At least this time it didn't take the form of bigotry against other wizards for their ancestry, but some manifestation of it was always going to be present. Perhaps he wasn't enamored of the romanticized medieval wizarding home, but he did want to produce a twentieth-century wizarding world of high culture, magical advances, and strong family… in opposition to the developing consumerism of Muggles.
—Which was the other main thought in Hermione's head. She did disapprove of shallow relationships. She didn't like mass consumerism. She did want more culture and true magical advancement among wizards. She did agree that there was a lot of magical talent wasted on gimmicks and jokes, and she always had. It had, in fact, been a source of contention between her and the younger Weasleys in her original time….
Hermione realized that she had spent almost twice as many years with Tom as she had with her old friends.
Her hands still covering her eyes, she felt the mattress shift as he sat down near her. He was not directly next to her, but he was on the bed. She uncovered her eyes and glanced briefly at him, but could not remain focused on him for long.
"I agree with your end goals," she finally said. "I want the same things you want."
Out of the corner of her left eye, she saw him relax minutely.
"But this particular method… I can't support it. I can't support taking away the means for witches to avoid pregnancies. And I'm not even convinced that it'll work. It might just create a lot of unhappy families. You seem to be under the impression that there are all these people in shallow relationships shagging carelessly, and that this would make them take it seriously. But some couples simply don't want children, and they take their relationship very seriously."
He exhaled in exasperation. "They can give them to the adoption system," he said very slowly, clenching his teeth.
"You don't understand. They don't want children, but if they did have them, they wouldn't want to give them up."
"Then that's what the law is supposed to do."
"Then this isn't just about making people 'take relationships seriously,' is it?" she retorted. "You think you know better than they do about what people should do with their lives. You think you can shove them into a life they didn't want and they'll decide they like it after all. What would you think if someone tried to… to make you work in a joke shop, because they thought it was best for society for whatever reason, and they also thought that you'd learn to like it eventually? You shouldn't force parenthood on people who don't want it."
He frowned. "I… might be persuaded to add an exception for couples like that."
Hermione pounced. "I'm going to hold you to that."
"They'd have to be married couples, though. And involved in something else that would better our people… magical research, fine arts, or something."
She scowled. She did not think couples should have to justify themselves to the Ministry in such a way, but she also knew quite well that Tom was unlikely to compromise any further.
"And if they changed their minds and did have a child, they wouldn't be eligible for an exemption anymore. I… could do that," he said thoughtfully. "There aren't that many wizarding couples who deliberately have no children. The problem is couples who only have one. They do want to be parents, so I'm not 'shoving them into a life they didn't want.' They just need to have more."
He wasn't going to drop this idea, Hermione realized. He was really determined to do this. Still… that was at least some sort of concession. She resolved to hold him to his word. She wished he would concede more, but she also understood that political compromises tended to satisfy no one a hundred percent. It was something, anyway. This would be a natural announcement for him to make following the collapse of Crouch's almost-successful bid.
"Look, you saw the population charts. Unlike Crouch, you understand the numbers and where they lead. What do you suggest?" he asked.
"I don't know. You're trying to change how people think. That's not easy."
He smirked and drew closer to her, moving next to her. "It's actually extremely easy. A single spell, starts with an 'I'… though maybe not for a whole population."
She scowled disapprovingly at his notion of humor, but she did not protest as he reached out to touch her.
"I'm still not going to offer unreserved support," she said as she fell into his embrace.
"And I will duly consider your ideas, as long as you don't try to remove me from my office again." His right hand dropped to her belly, and his eyes darkened.
Hermione grumbled in irritation, but she was responding to his touch already. She met his eyes with hers. "Then you had better not use me as a prop. My objections are principled, not personal, and I don't mind having another baby—though I wish you hadn't tricked me into it—but you'd better not use this."
"I know. I didn't do it for a crass reason like that. Our family is special."
He was pulling her close, his other arm reaching around her back. Her feelings were a whirl right now—relief that the argument had not been any worse, relief that he had finally conceded on something, exasperation that he had still not conceded as much as she would have liked. The tight coil of anxiety of the past month and a half was finally dissipating. She had never intended him to know about this, but for some reason she was relieved that he did. It really hadn't felt right to have major secrets from him. She was also proud of him for not lashing out violently and for actually hearing her out.
She hadn't accomplished everything she had hoped, but she had learned one thing beyond a doubt: She really did mean just as much to him as he always said she did. He might have coldly put her aside, never to trust her again, but instead he had been worried—legitimately fearful—that she didn't really want him.
She returned the embrace, burying her head in his neck. Suddenly she wanted him very much—and from the looks of it, he wanted her as well. She eased his jacket off his shoulders, prompting a momentary look of surprise from him—but a smirk of pleasure quickly replaced it. He removed one hand from her body to untie his necktie, keeping that smirk on his face the whole time. She returned it and, with a sudden surge of confidence, pushed him backward on the pillows.
"Well that's unusual," he murmured as she straddled him. She shimmied out of her own suit top and regarded him with a continued smirk.
"Did you really think I was going to let you take charge—this time, of all times?"
He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers as she unzipped her skirt. "It's what you deserve."
She tossed the skirt aside. "That's too bad for you, then."
His hands found her waist, now devoid of any clothing except her satiny knickers. Those quickly came off as well, followed at once by the remaining articles of clothing that he wore. She straddled him again. He put his hands on her waist again, the warm, dry texture of his fingertips a sharp and delicious contrast with her soft skin, just as she began to mount him.
He ground against her as she sank onto him, letting out a groan. "We needed this," he managed to get out.
She was breathing heavily already, the intensity and suddenness of the moment quickly sending her towards her peak. "We did," she gasped. "Much better way to end a fight than—duels."
His fingers dug into her waist as he bucked into her. "You are mine and I'm glad you never questioned that."
She panted. "And you are mine."
The light in his eyes gleamed, but white rather than red. He regarded her for a moment, almost frozen in time. A ghost of a smirk formed on his face—
—And then he flipped her over. He began to move aggressively in her, almost jerkily, forcing her against the mattress. For a few seconds she relaxed, not fighting him, because it was the most familiar position and she was always so turned on by his assertiveness—but then she gripped his narrow waist and, with a forceful movement that made his eyes widen in surprise, rolled him on his back again.
In the next moment, she felt him come. He collapsed on his back, his eyes still wide and staring at her in awe, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Seeing him like that, with his dark head half-buried in pillows of Slytherin green and grey, and knowing that she had done it to him, was at that moment the most erotic thing she could imagine. She rode him a couple more times before feeling her own release, then rested on top of him. He flopped an arm over her.
"That really was a much better way to end an argument," he murmured after a bit, moving his arm to let her get up.
She flashed him a smile as they began to put their clothes back on.
The next day.
Hermione perused the headlines of the Daily Prophet.
MASS REVOLT: Allies Abandon Crouch After "Blood Purity Dog Whistle" Editorial
Malfoy Fined for Breach of Wizarding Secrecy in Extramarital Affair!
Opinion: Since Crouch Collapse Was Self-Inflicted, Riddle Still Vulnerable
Opinion: Riddle Should Reach Out to Reformists Who Binned Crouch
Allegations about Riddle Re-Ignite Debate about Legitimacy of Dark Arts
Against all odds, Tom had learned some valuable lessons about politics in this debacle, she thought. Perhaps it was because she was the messenger rather than someone whom, when all was said and done, he really didn't respect as an equal. Perhaps no one else would have been able to persuade him to make a major concession in any signature law of his. He was going to announce the revised form of it today, in his first (and probably last, she admitted wryly to herself) outreach to the fickle radical Reformists.
To her surprise, Crouch had not resigned his position, and he had declared that he would not do so. That was not uncommon as an initial assertion made by a politician who had suffered a major defeat, but he really didn't seem inclined to step down. Maybe that's why he never openly declared in the first place, she thought cynically. He must realize that between the scandalous allegations about him, and this failed campaign—official or not—he won't be considered seriously again, at least not for many years. Only one part of one faction would support him now, and that's just not enough anymore.
Hermione regarded the calendar with a measured look. It wouldn't be too many years before the Muggles would develop reliable medications for birth control. Although she realized that it would do little but provide an easy target for Tom's regulators if she openly imported them into the wizarding world, it would be next to impossible for the Ministry to stop individual witches from obtaining it once it became widely available in the Muggle world.
And with our better awareness of the Muggle world compared to how things could have gone, they will learn, she thought, and those who are determined to get it will.
Hermione thought again about the population analysis of the wizarding world. It was grim, and there was no avoiding that. But even though he didn't think education about the problem would be enough to solve it, there's one good thing that he's done. He has brought our long-term future to the forefront of policy discussion. People do know now. And they just might prove him wrong.
She hoped so.
End Notes: That concludes "Wizarding Renaissance." Their argument ended up being a lot less harsh than I'd originally intended. I just don't really want to write them having vicious fights again.
Yes, I strongly believe that in politics, sometimes you have to hold your nose and accept a compromise that you don't love, because cutting off your nose to spite your face will not get you anything but a hole in your head. You don't have to agree with me, but I hope you can still enjoy it as a story even if you think this compromise goes too far.
Next up, wizarding problems in the Cold War. Tom and Hermione are not at odds for the next storyline. I may not post it immediately; there may be a one-shot of some sort, but it's coming soon.
Something Nice: I've designed Hermione and Tom's house in an open-source 3D design program. If you'd like to take a look, here are screencaps of 3D renderings of various rooms in it, as well as images of the floor plans (remove spaces from the link and turn DOT into a period): betagyre-penname DOT tumblr DOT com /post/151042595909/riddle-house