A/N: This is by far the darkest chapter of Absence, in my opinion.

On the other hand: I'm going to publish Absence at AO3 too, in a slightly cleaned-up version. Mostly, it's about grammar, but there are a few other changes (like logical inconsistencies). The most important change is in chapter 2, with a brand-new flashback on what happened before Hermione travelled back in time. If you're considering reading the story for the first time, or maybe do a re-read, I 'd recommend AO3. I'll do the clean-up here after I'm done on AO3.

Post-Absence: The Greater Good

He drove a hard bargain. Hermione sighed, but it was no use. She had agreed to this, and in return, he would implement her revised Beasts and Beings Rights Law, granting all magical creatures the right to vote. It would give real power to Werewolves, Mermaids, House-elves and goblins, as well as vampires and giants, making sure that their voices would be heard in the Wizengamot. Still, she had agreed to this. At least, this way, no one died.

The trouble was, she rather liked Emelinda Prince. The woman was nice, intelligent and had a warm heart. Not at all what a Minister's wife usually was like, in Hermione's opinion. And these last two years, she had seen several of them, as Voldemort's power plays made the Ministers come and go, like puppets on a string, with scandals, untimely deaths and strange illnesses following in his wake. And now, the puppeteer was gearing up to take the main stage himself.

The sugar spoon tinkled on the bone china, as the dark-haired witch across her sweetened her tea with three lumps of sugar and a goodly-sized splash of cream.

"Please don't tell my husband," the woman murmured, her black eyes glittering with amusement. "Whenever I've complained about my weight these last fifteen years after having Eileen, he just points out that I'm indulging far too often. I know he's right, but it's such a convenient excuse, don't you think? Oh well, I love my sugars."

Hermione smiled, though it felt strained, knowing that this woman was her former Potion's Master's maternal grandmother. Perhaps this wouldn't mean anything for his future. Maybe Eileen Prince, in a few years, would run off to marry a Muggle no matter what Hermione did today. Severus Snape's grandfather certainly hadn't been Minister of Magic in Hermione's world, but then again, together with her husband, she had broken the timeline so thoroughly, there was no longer any similarities. This world was, in a way, brand new.

The sunlight fell over the polished oaken floors of Riddle Manor, shining through the verdant trees swaying softly in the garden, making a dappled, leafy pattern of light and shadows. The drawing room looked resplendent and inviting, the green plush upholstery on the sofas and chairs giving richness and contrast to the deep, warm colour of the mahogany table.

"I won't tell," Hermione said with a small smile, before she wandlessly Stupefied the woman. The head of the plump, dark witch fell back on the sofa, lolling uncomfortably as Hermione set to work.

The agreed-upon Obliviate and the false memories she inserted, pained her. A happy woman, in a good relationship, would now believe her husband had abused her for years. Not only that, but also that he had received payment for corruption and blackmail, acting like a ruthless mobster. Clearly, such a man couldn't be Minister. Effectively, the woman's memories of her adult life would be transformed into something hideous. And in turn, her husband would be destroyed by those memories.

In the library across the hall, her husband was in the process of altering Augustus Prince's memories, even his whole personality, to fit the profile. He would now be corrupt, abusing his wife and his privileges as Minister. And soon, Voldemort would expose him.

Still, this way, no one died. And magical beasts and beings would now have more control of their own future. Two lifetimes of false memories, for the freedom and liberation of entire species.

Finishing up her work, Hermione woke up Emmelinda Prince. The expression in the woman's eyes were drastically altered. She was no longer happy and carefree, and shadows loomed in her brittle, polite smile.

Hermione sighed, sipping her excellent tea, before leaning forward. "Emmelinda, darling. You can trust me. Please, tell me what troubles you so?"

It was all for the Greater Good. But sometimes, she wished her husband weren't such a hard negotiator.