Notes: This story arc should be only two chapters, including this one. I owe the idea for it to the reviewer ellioop (on AO3). I promise, there will be more family one-shots like those at the beginning of this fic. This one just needed to take place right after Subversion.
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Fourth Estate, Part I: Poisoned Quills
The juice glass that Tom was holding shattered, sending sharp fragments of glass and a spray of orange juice across the breakfast room. His glare was scarlet, his face white, and his mouth set in rigid lines. He seemed too angry even to speak.
Hermione discreetly waved her wand, sending the pieces of glass back together. She banished the repaired glass to the cabinet and cleaned up the sticky dots of juice, including those that spattered the cover of the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet. In a moving photograph, Abraxas Malfoy sneered as she spelled the stain away.
"I want to send a Howler to that inbred, cheating bastard," Tom snapped. "He knew—he knew everything that Karkaroff and Dolohov were up to, I am certain—and yet he dares to do this! I want to call him out. He knew, and I am going to tell him that I know all about his associations and he'd better watch out."
"Tom," Hermione said, "you cannot do that without evidence. He'd tattle to the press about it and no one would believe that sort of accusation unless you had proof."
He seethed, but seemed to accept her words.
"RIDDLES DEFEAT KILLERS IN EAST" blared the lead headline of the Prophet—but right below it was the subtitle, "Necessity of Their Personal Involvement Questioned." Tom had not given the newspaper any details about what had happened except that he, Hermione, and the teams of Aurors had found the rogue wizards who were behind the string of murders in the Eastern bloc. Even now, no one else knew that Wizarding Seclusion had been temporarily breached in Ukraine, and no one officially knew that the blood-purity movement had infiltrated the Russian magical resistance government for its own sinister purposes. Of course, people such as Florian Rosier—and very likely Abraxas Malfoy—did know about that.
It was therefore even more infuriating that, for some reason—very likely the associates that Malfoy apparently had on the Prophet's editorial board—the paper had given Malfoy an interview. The second most prominent headline read, "Malfoy: Riddle Endangered Wizarding Britain by Personally Fighting."
It did not get better. On the front page alone were these headlines:
Minister Reportedly Ordered Aurors To Fight Muggles in Russia for Unknown Reason
Mrs. Riddle, Aurors Mysteriously Silent About Mission in Ukraine
Isolationists Call for Inquiry into Misuse of Ministry Personnel
Riddles' Children Left with Friends while Parents Risked Their Lives
Tom was going to send letters to the Chief Auror and the leader of the Aurors who had fought with him in Russia, demanding that they find out if any of them had leaked the information to the newspaper about the battle with the Muggle KGB. The team had managed to subdue the Muggles without any casualties, neatly modifying their memories afterward. Tom was not sure if the leak had come from a careless Auror who had not meant to reveal anything, or if some source from within Malfoy's network had told the Prophet and claimed that it had come from an Auror.
The editorial page was no kinder:
Cuffe: Were Riddles Trying To Replicate 1945 Duel and Aftermath?
Editorial Board: Riddle Should Govern Wizarding Britain, Not Play Hero Abroad
Lovegood: Did Ministry, MACUSA Force Aurors To Perform a Secret Foreign Coup?
Black: Mrs. Riddle Has Told Witches To Put Themselves Above Their Families
The last piece was written by Druella Rosier Black. Hermione scowled as she looked at it again. She had long ago relegated Druella's petty sniping to the past, to childish Hogwarts schoolgirl behavior. She had never really thought that Druella could be capable of publicly attacking her.
.
Hermione Riddle has been a groundbreaking example for witches, it is often said—a new kind of Ministerial spouse, one with a grand career of her own and a brilliant mind, who is almost as involved with her partner's political agenda as he is himself. Such are the glowing statements, and it is certainly true that she is something new and different—but, alas, this is a case in which "different" is not good. Mrs. Riddle's mysterious trip to Eastern Europe, conducted while her husband was himself abroad, is a disgraceful dereliction of her duties as a mother. I also believe, from past knowledge of Mrs. Riddle, that she is a negative influence on her husband, provoking him to take the unnecessary risk of personally intervening in Russia. What self-respecting wizard would not feel obliged to save face if his wife behaved in such a bold manner? It is tantamount to a direct challenge to their masculinity.
I am in a somewhat unique position of knowing Mrs. Riddle from her youth. In our seventh year, she came to Hogwarts, the cousin of Professor Albus Dumbledore, born to a Squib and a Muggle, kept out of school to avoid the appearance of favoritism but astonishingly well-taught. We shared the seventh year Slytherin dormitory, and it is there that I saw for myself the seeds of personal ambition in then-Hermione Green. Of course, Slytherin is the house of ambitious witches and wizards, but the future Mrs. Riddle—Hermione, as I knew her—had very unusual ambitions for a young Slytherin witch.
One of the first observations I made was that Hermione brought with her a collection of books all about Dark Magic, which she displayed prominently on her desk. I have reason to suspect that some of these books were not permitted within the walls of Hogwarts. (I cannot answer for whether Professor Dumbledore approved a special exception for her, or whether she concealed them from her cousin.) She put herself forward in class to a shocking degree, impressing the teachers—and apparently Riddle, who sadly, through no fault of his own, did not have the background or breeding to know to scorn such unladylike behavior. I also observed her hurrying into the Slytherin common room, Riddle trailing closely behind her, looking quite flustered….
.
"At this point," Tom snarled, "I'm almost accustomed to the attacks on me by that piece of thestral stall liner. Almost. But that hag went after you. She basically said that you seduced me into Dark magic—stupid twat; she has no idea—and that you whored yourself to me for power, and that is just—" He broke off, his eyes flashing in fury.
Hermione folded the newspaper and scowled at it. "I wonder if this is part of why Rosier's uncle disowned him. Druella must have already written this when she took the uncle's part in that."
"I'm sure that it's all orchestrated, and that Malfoy is the maestro. The question I have is whether the Blacks are part of it. I haven't had any trouble from them in years, since the Wizengamot vote to reinstate them failed, but perhaps if they think I am weak, they see this as an opportunity."
She looked away. She did not especially enjoy the thought of Tom retaliating on the Black family yet again, but if they were part of this clique, they had entered the fray themselves….
"I think I am going to ignore this drivel," she declared. "We all know that the Rosiers probably practice the Dark Arts, and the Blacks definitely do, so Druella's only real attacks on me are that I was vocal in class because I knew the answers, that I have public ambitions, and that I'm attracted to you—and none of those things are attacks at all. Her rubbish is unworthy of a formal response."
"As far as I'm concerned, practicing—let alone reading about—Dark magic isn't an attack either," Tom said slyly. "But I agree otherwise. Just ignore it. She was always jealous of you and I'm guessing she still is."
Hermione sighed. Druella's vicious, misogynistic editorial had upset and angered her, certainly, but what bothered her more were some of the other headlines.
"Riddles' Children Left with Friends while Parents Risked Their Lives." It was hard not to hear the accusations of Verochka Andropova playing in her memories once again as she skimmed the piece.
"Were Riddles Trying To Replicate 1945 Duel and Aftermath?" Perhaps, on some level, it was true, Hermione thought unhappily. The press was certainly sniping at Tom before they went, and his current political weakness was in part due to her own actions covertly trying to bribe the Wizengamot into giving him a scare.
Had she been wrong to go? Had this been her own "saving people moment" gone too far? Hermione had been determined—perhaps to the point of recklessness—to go because of the involvement of children in the picture. But had she been reckless about her own children? She had not seriously considered the possibility that she might die, but it had obviously been real. It was Tom's own analysis, in fact. And if the worst had happened, what then? Tom would have survived, technically, but what if something had happened to his body that had prevented him from reviving it? The children basically would have been orphaned. She and Tom had not actually designated a legal guardian in the case of their deaths (or apparent death, in his case), because Tom would not entertain the thought. The wizarding world believed Dumbledore was her legal next of kin. That was what would have happened, then. It wasn't terrible—but perhaps, Hermione thought with regret, they really shouldn't have risked it.
Could the Aurors have taken care of the problem themselves? In Ukraine… probably. It might have even ended better if she had not been present, Hermione thought with a pang—though Andropova might have baited anyone. In Russia… hard to say. Grindelwald manifestly could not have handled both Karkaroff and Dolohov himself, and he might not have even come if Tom hadn't been there. The traitors might have escaped without two master Dark wizards present to fight them, loath as Hermione was to admit it.
I meant to do good, Hermione thought, watching out of the corner of one eye as Tom left the room. Even if I thought, in the back of my mind, that Tom and I might benefit from this—though obviously we have not—that wasn't my primary motive, and I don't think it was his either. We wanted to protect wizards. I wanted to help children. I had the idea that I was going to find some missing children and successfully negotiate for their release. If I had heard of a specific danger to my life in getting involved, I wouldn't have gone. I meant well, so did Tom, and these awful headlines don't acknowledge that for either of us.
That afternoon, Tom and Hermione decided to take the children to Diagon Alley to take their minds off the whirlwind that was apparently going to hit on Monday morning. Two years ago, a wizarding restaurant had opened near Flourish and Blotts that had not been there in Hermione's teen years, whether because it had closed by then or had never opened in the first place in that timeline. In sharp contrast with the Leaky Cauldron, the Isle of Apples served uniformly good food. It was mid-range in price and formality, and it boasted a peaceful atmosphere, unlike the raucous and somewhat shifty Cauldron.
The Riddles were seated in a relatively secluded alcove of the restaurant, where they would not attract as much attention. The restaurant brought a baby seat for Cynthia, though her mother had prepared a bottle of her own milk. That was one thing Hermione was glad of, that the wizarding world did not relentlessly promote artificial baby formula to mothers. Madeline sat upright in her chair, primly reading the menu with lips pursed thoughtfully. It was deeply amusing to Hermione, but she would not laugh.
Virgil tugged at her sleeve. She glanced at him, eyebrows raised.
"Might I look?" he asked quietly.
He did not have a menu in front of him. Hermione set hers down. "I doubt you can read all the words, but you may certainly try! Do you want to order something different?"
He thought about it before shaking his head. "I just wanted to try to read it. Unless I could try a bite of your food?"
"You're welcome to."
They ordered their food shortly. As they were waiting for it to arrive, Hermione noticed that Tom was discreetly eyeing a woman who was seated at a small table by herself in the same quiet alcove, though on the other side. She too glanced at the witch. The woman was blonde and wore a soft-looking black woolen robe of the style that was very popular in winter, basically resembling a long overcoat but with a cut more similar to wizard's robes: fitted around the torso, flowing past the waist. Hermione wondered for a moment why this witch had not had her winter robe-coat taken by the wait staff. Then she noticed that the woman had a small, empty salad bowl in front of her—and a steaming flagon of some kind of toddy. Two empty cocktail glasses sat on the table already. Evidently, the witch had come here primarily to drink, but preferred not to do so at the bar in the center of the more public area of the restaurant. She looked very unhappy.
Hermione quickly looked away and raised an eyebrow at Tom. He shook his head at once, clearly not even wanting to whisper about the woman while she was still in the restaurant.
Their food arrived. As she had promised, Hermione allowed Virgil to try her meal. He took a single bite of her quail and held it in his mouth thoughtfully before deciding, apparently, that he liked the taste. Amused, Hermione continued with her food, listening to the children chatter about a supposed doxy infestation in a room in Rosier's home (Hermione was not sure she believed that, as the Rosiers did keep a house-elf) and occasionally feeding the baby. It was a pleasant interlude from politics and the ugliness that no doubt awaited them tomorrow.
A waiter presented the blonde witch with her bill. She paid it and quickly rose, slightly unsteady on her feet.
"Do you need assistance, Mrs. Malfoy?" the waiter asked discreetly—but not so quietly that Tom and Hermione missed it. Hermione gazed at him with wide eyes. He smiled back knowingly. Clearly he had recognized her.
"No thank you," Priscilla Malfoy said. "I am quite all right." She gave the waiter a false smile and limped out of the restaurant, not noticing the Riddles at all.
"If it's Malfoy behind all this," Tom mused that night, "I could mention the fact that his wife is a lush. Of course," he reflected, "that won't win me many friends. It's apparently just peachy for the press to attack you, because you have a career, but socialites and housewitches are off limits."
Hermione shot him a disapproving look. "She might have a reason to want to drink. Malfoy did cheat on her, and the entire wizarding public knows it. You would do better to attack him, if you can get something else concrete about him."
"I know."
"Or perhaps you should just tell the press what was happening in the East," she suggested. "No one outside the security team knows that Seclusion was violated, and no one outside the security team—or, I suppose, the conspiracy itself—knows what was happening in St. Petersburg."
Tom instantly dismissed that. "It's classified information, and it would start a panic if I released it. People would be terrified of the fact that the resistance governments could not stop these rogue wizards on their own. It would remind them of the war against Grindelwald—and frankly, we're very fortunate that no one mentioned his name in association with this. Perhaps it's because everyone heard about wizards being killed rather than Muggles. It shouldn't happen now that I've given a statement that the murderers were found and killed in combat. Anyway, if I said that the Russian leader himself and his second were betraying their population? And that a Muggle-born witch in Ukraine had purposely breached Seclusion?" He smiled darkly. "People would panic over how vulnerable they actually are—how easy it would be for magic to be exposed."
"It's not exactly a secret that Seclusion is fragile."
"People don't like to think about it, though."
The next day.
Cameras snapped and flashed in Tom's face. He stood behind the podium, glowering at the assembled reporters. Hermione stood next to him, blinking from the lights.
"Minister!" called one reporter. "What, exactly, is the story with this allegation that the Aurors were used to fight Muggles?"
Tom stared at the reporter. "While searching for the killers, we encountered a group of armed Muggles that sought to impede us. The Aurors didn't harm them."
"To impede you? Were they part of the Muggle state?"
"Next question," Tom said loudly over the reporter's question, but everyone still heard it. Tom pointed at another reporter balefully.
The journalist stared out with a defiant look. "My question concerns Mrs. Riddle. Why, exactly, was she put in charge of a detachment of Aurors? She isn't even a Ministry employee."
"Of course my wife doesn't work for me!" Tom snapped, unable to keep the malice out of his voice. Next to him, Hermione closed her eyes momentarily, then quickly opened them again. "She is, however, a member of my security team. And since the Aurors report directly to me, I have the authority to direct them to follow her."
The members of the press were eagerly transcribing this. Hermione had the sudden impression of a pool of hungry sharks.
"But why—"
"Next question."
"Why was she in charge of the Ukraine operation?" the reporter insisted, talking over the din surrounding her. "This concern about your family—why risk orphaning your children?"
Tom glared at her. "You overstep yourself to speculate about my wife dying," he snarled, barely repressing himself from taking out his wand and blasting the reporter with a curse.
Another journalist chimed in. "It's a fair question, Minister, if crassly phrased. Why needlessly go into danger yourselves, either of you?"
"We were given incomplete information," he said tightly. "The Ukrainian magical authorities did not tell my wife that the person kidnapping children was also killing their parents with magic until she was there."
That was a brazen lie of omission, Hermione thought. They indeed had not known whether the murders were magical, but they had definitely known there were killings. Several of the journalists raised their eyebrows at it as well. "Are you implying that they led her into a trap?" one asked.
"I am certainly not, but they wouldn't tell us anything until she was physically there, demanding to know."
Hermione could see the headline in her mind's eye already: Minister Blames Allies!
"Then why send her?" the reporter persisted.
Seeing that this was rapidly going downhill, Hermione moved forward to the podium. "My husband exaggerates… slightly," she said, trying to sound conciliatory. "We were told that there were disappearances in Kyiv. I went, with Aurors protecting me, to try to help the Ukrainian government locate the missing children. That's what we believed the situation was."
"That's right," Tom said harshly. "I gave the Aurors firm instructions not to let her duel anyone without support, but it happened anyway."
There was a collective gasp. "You're blaming the Aurors?" someone asked amid a din of voices, but Tom did not choose to acknowledge that. He glared murderously at the reporter who had just peppered them with questions and pointed at another one. "Next question."
Unfortunately for them, this fellow was not about to let the subject go. "Minister, the thing is, this is all very unusual. Your wife says that she believed 'the situation' meant missing children, but that it was more. I think it's fair to ask just what was happening abroad."
There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the pool of journalists. Hermione met his eyes, trying to will him to tell the full story, so that these people would properly appreciate why it was a matter for the head of government himself.
"In St. Petersburg, a pair of wizards were murdering other wizards of whom they disapproved," Tom said coldly. "It had created an atmosphere of fear and distrust. In Ukraine, a witch was abducting children she believed to be at risk of being killed."
"But we in the press all believed that the killings were happening across the Eastern bloc."
"They were. The murderers in question had a… large theatre of operations."
"But why did that warrant your personal involvement—and that of Mrs. Riddle?" the man persisted. "It's a terrible thing, and we're all glad it's sorted out, but—"
Please just explain it, Hermione thought, trying to meet Tom's eyes so that he might read her thought.
He did not. "The situation had undermined the stability of the magical resistance governments in the view of their constituencies. They needed allied support. Next question."
A smirking young reporter stepped up. "This investigation into misuse of Ministry resources that the Isolationist faction has proposed."
"Correction," Tom interrupted. Hermione did not want to look, but she feared that his eyes were currently gleaming red. His voice was cryogenically cold with suppressed rage. "The entire Isolationist faction does not support such a thing. It is a scheme of Abraxas Malfoy."
"Well," the reporter smirked, "Mr. Malfoy has not proposed it himself. It is the suggestion of Faustus Yaxley."
"Don't insult my intelligence. Malfoy is the leader of the Isolationist faction."
The reporter chuckled, evidently pleased at the reaction he was getting from the Minister. "But if it should begin… will you cooperate?"
Tom's jaw twitched. He waited a moment before speaking, a moment that hung over the room like a curse on the way to its target.
"There has been no misuse of Ministry resources," Tom bit off. "I invoked Section Six of the Magical Security Act, declaring a state of emergency. I was fully within my rights to send the Aurors and members of my security team to the East, as well as to go myself. If the rest of the Wizengamot approves an inquiry, it will find that to be the case."
"Minister, we understand why you kept national secrets during the emergency," another reporter called out, "but now that it's over…."
"No further questions. The conference is concluded." Tom grabbed Hermione's hand and stormed away from the podium, through a side door, and into a warren of private corridors that ultimately led to his office.
He collapsed at his Ministerial desk, folding his arms over the desktop and laying his head down. Even though Hermione was exasperated with him for allowing that to get so out of control, and visibly losing his cool in front of the entire assembled wizarding press, she still felt terrible for him. He knew it had gone badly too.
"Tom," she said, edging over to the desk. She put a hand on top of his dark head.
He lifted his head and gazed up at her, eyes wounded and actually rather frightened. He knows this might cost him his seat, she realized with a swoop. She moved to sit on the desktop, but he took her around the waist and pulled her into his lap instead.
Why didn't you just tell them the truth? she wanted to ask him—but now was not the time. He had brewed up a storm, and they both knew it was going to hit with the force of a hurricane.
He "defeats" Grindelwald in a staged performance, after colluding with Grindelwald for months, and that launches his career. He arranges for the release of Grindelwald, and that vaults him into the Minister's office. He goes to Russia to defeat a very real threat, and it might end up costing him everything. The twisted irony—and unfairness—of it stung in Hermione's throat as they embraced silently.
The headlines were every bit as bad as Hermione had feared.
In Disastrous Press Conference, Minister Blames Allies, Aurors for His Decisions
Malfoy: I Did Not Call for Inquiry; Minister Is "Obsessed"
Poll: Broad Consensus That Mrs. Riddle Should Have Stayed; 35 Percent Entertain Quibbler's Coup Theory
Editorial: Minister Riddle Should Come Clean About Whatever He Is Hiding
Hermione tried to shield the children from this as well as she could. She was briefly tempted to take a leave of absence and stay at home with them, instead of bringing them into the playroom where they might hear other children saying distressing things, but the memory of Druella Black's editorial banished that idea from her mind. She would hold her head up high, go to her office, and head her organization.
Besides, if Tom did get voted out of office, she would need to have an alternative vocation for him in the immediate near term.
Meanwhile, Tom had a different set of thoughts about the unfolding disaster. He would not let this take down his brilliant career—not when he had been Minister for barely a year and a half! He had too much to do yet, and none of these useless people deserved to succeed him. Over a third of the public believed Lovegood's ridiculous assertion that he had used the Aurors to displace a foreign leader he merely disliked! That proved that many, many people were far too stupid to deserve any power to influence politics. Still… the press conference had not gone well. He recognized that fact. Perhaps, he thought, he should have put his foot down and insisted that someone else go to Ukraine instead of Hermione, since a lot of this seemed to be over her involvement and the assumption that she had no business being involved in international security as the "mere" spouse of the Minister.
This is all orchestrated by Malfoy, Tom thought in his home office that evening, a bottle of firewhisky beside the cutout photograph of Malfoy that he was ritually stabbing and hexing as stress relief. All of it. He knew about the Russians, and this is an elaborate revenge ploy for our foiling them. He is the one having the press go after Hermione—brilliant, successful, brave, a powerful witch, and a good mother. Such a contrast with his boozer of a wife and his Muggle mistress.
There were brief moments when he was thoroughly sick of presenting himself as just another Minister for Magic, and instead rather wished he could simply kill his enemies and declare himself the deathless Lord of the Wizarding Nation. He knew Hermione would not like him saying that; that fantasy was too similar to her old timeline. And it wasn't that Tom wished he had taken that path now, but he and his family were superior to those who took advantage of their freedom to torment him, especially those pathetic Daily Prophet flacks who probably did not even know what they were aiding and abetting….
An idea suddenly occurred to Tom, and a dark smile spread across his handsome face.
Hermione stared at Tom in dismay. What was wrong with him these days? He was barely rational since they had returned from the Eastern bloc and the press started shooting at them. He was instead lashing out almost like… she hated to think it, but almost like Voldemort.
"Tom," she said slowly, making sure to keep her voice calm and measured, "this is a really bad idea. Remember seventh year and the Propaganda Restriction Act? We were opposed to it."
He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she didn't let him. She had long ago suspected that he had not been sincerely in favor of freedom of the press during that fracas, but had opposed Septimus Weasley's bill because he wanted certain ideas in print, and also because she was definitely against the bill on principle and he wanted her on his side. But now, she had an additional argument, one of pragmatism rather than principle.
"The Wizengamot absolutely will not approve a proposal to limit the press's right to criticize the Ministry during states of emergency—and if you call for it right now, with all this going on, there will be blowback against you."
He stared back at her, fury in his eyes—but not fury at her.
She took a deep breath. "In fact, if you call for this, that could be the impetus for the Wizengamot to remove you. There wouldn't even have to be a 'campaign' like there was with Crouch. They could just appoint someone else."
The anger in his visage changed to desperation, helplessness, and a degree of despair.
She moved toward him and placed a hand on his arm. "Tom, please, don't do it."
He swallowed. "I don't know what else to do. Malfoy has stacked the editorial board."
"It's not that I don't believe you, but… you can prove that?"
"I can't prove that he did it, no, but I've looked into the members. Except for bloody Cuffe, who's just a trend-chaser, they're all cronies of Malfoy, the Yaxleys, the Crabbes, Arcturus Black… that crowd."
"Arcturus Black is involved again?"
Tom hesitated. "I don't know. Cygnus seems to be. But Rosier tells me that Arcturus's son, Orion, is probably not."
"Interesting." Hermione recalled her incognito discussion with Orion Black while soliciting his support for Caspar Crouch. He had said he was not an enemy of Tom's. Perhaps it was true.
She focused on the rest of Tom's information. "I concede that it'll be very difficult to prove that Malfoy is the puppetmaster, but there is a lot of circumstantial evidence for it with a board like that. What you need to do, instead of calling for the press to be restricted, is to position yourself as its champion."
Tom thought about that for a moment. "I… see what you mean. Name names on the board of the Daily Prophet, and imply that they are the ones limiting the freedom of the press by pressuring the reporters to write articles favorable to their political agenda."
"Or have other people do it," Hermione advised. "You yourself shouldn't."
He winced, clearly preferring to personally settle scores, but did not argue the point. "And maybe I should talk to Slughorn. He is still on good terms with Cuffe, last I heard."
"There you go," she urged. "You need people like Cuffe and the other reporters, the ones who aren't owned by Malfoy. They may not be your friends, but they can be your temporary allies."
He managed a forced smile, but it was also a concession that she was right, and she knew it. Her face softened, and she walked toward him to embrace him.
The next day.
"Well," Tom remarked, "this is unexpected." He set down the newspaper with a smirk.
"I've already confirmed that Orion and Cygnus are at odds," Vincent Rosier said. His facial expression seemed to be alternating between smug triumph and pained discomfort. Hermione and Tom supposed that they could see why he would be torn about a rift in another ancient pureblood family.
The morning edition of that day's Daily Prophet lay spread across the table where they were having a quick brunch. On the editorial page, at the very top, was an eloquent piece by Orion Black: "Stay the Course: Riddle's Policies Have Been Good for Wizarding Britain."
The editorial was a defense of Tom's domestic and foreign program. Predictably, Black had not lavished his strongest praise on the policy of granting Squib rights to the families of Muggle-borns. However, he did approve of the fostering and adoption program, the law permitting the Ministry to make magic-hating families friendly to the magical children in their care, and—especially—the Wizarding Renaissance. Orion was very firm in his stance that more wizarding children were better, and he had reserved his most glowing language for that policy.
This time, it was Hermione who was forcing a grimace on her face. Her own words from the previous day replayed in her memory: You need people like that. They may not be your friends, but they can be your temporary allies. Tom caught her eye and smirked briefly, just for her. Bloody Legilimens, she thought, but with affection.
Tom folded the newspaper. "I suppose I should reach out to him," he said, the idea sounding foreign to his own mind. "The timing of this cannot be coincidental."
"It's not," Rosier confirmed. "He doesn't like one bit what Druella wrote. He thinks it was petty and trashy… not to mention hypocritical. And I'm not sure what this is about… but I don't think he wants Malfoy for Minister either."
"That's interesting," Hermione mused. "Why not? Do you know?" She tried to remember what Sirius had told her from the other timeline. Weren't his parents in support of Death Eater ideas even though they had not been in the organization themselves? Of course, there was a third faction now….
"I have had some crossover support from avowed Isolationists," Tom remarked. "They don't identify with us Nationalists, and they don't agree with everything I do, but they really are more committed to the Statute of Secrecy than they are to excluding everyone who isn't a pureblood. They may not want half-bloods and Squib descendants to be treated the same as purebloods, but they recognize that hostile or exploitative Muggles are the true threat and that no witch or wizard should be left to their tender mercies." He frowned contemplatively. "I wouldn't have thought it until now, but Orion may have become one of those."
Rosier considered what Tom had said. "Yes, that could be it."
Hermione swallowed her dislike for the Wizarding Renaissance policy once more. "So—reach out to Black. Reach out to Cuffe. Involve Slughorn. Get people talking about Malfoy's influence over the Daily Prophet." She narrowed her eyes at Tom. "And I know you don't want to hear this, but you need to make another statement—or speech—or something about what happened in the East."
He grimaced, knowing what was coming.
"You need to do it, and you need to be Ministerial about it, and you need to explain what the threat that we defeated actually was. Even with Black's support, even if we call out the Prophet board, this will not stop unless you do."
End Notes: The bit about Malfoy's wife is not a loose thread. There is another shoe to drop.
On an unrelated note, I've made a slight edit to chapter 11 (Tom proposes modifying the views of magic-haters with children) to include a detail from Fantastic Beasts. I didn't take anything out; I just added a quick reference to Obscurials. I am not going to edit this story or Choosing Grey if anything in film canon about Grindelwald's agenda conflicts with my AU, though so far this AU has a stunning degree of accord. I just wanted to include that one concept because it works so well.
And WHOA. When I first had my idea of how to bring the character back to relevance after Tom arranges his escape, a part of me thought that it was, although satisfying (it gives him the chance to atone through deeds), maybe a little implausible for him to run a government under a fake identity. Er. WELL.