Chapter Text
The Prime Minister of England strolled down the corridor of a nondescript London office building, reveling in his new-found importance. People here didn't give him the time of day, now they were stepping out aside to let him get past. They used to poke fun at him too; his looks, his weight, but not anymore. He was this era's Napoleon Bonaparte, Julius Caesar, Winston Churchill...
A modern Churchill. He liked that. He tried to convey that image as he strode into the packed war room.
"Well?" He rumbled.
A young man was standing by the telephone. "That was Japan." he said. "They've confirmed they're ready and waiting for our signal."
"Good."
"Are you sure everyone will follow through?" one man asked.
"They'll have to. There's no going back after what we're about to do." The prime minister laughed as the other two shared nervous glances. He was right, of course. Everyone had agreed he was right. Their attack would be merciless and absolute, but it was the only way to ensure the security of the nation. They all agreed this was a necessary evil.
But the glee he took in it was disturbing.
"Are the Apaches ready to go?"
"Yes. We're just waiting for the satellites to give us a visual."
"Good..."
He sank into a chair as they waited, thinking how there should almost be a button laid out before him: 'press to start the end of the world'. It would have been symbolic. So many lives under his fingertips.. He would have liked to feel the weight of that.
He was about to shake the very foundations of the world, attack what people thought was real, and literally rewrite history before their very eyes. He was going to achieve what others thought impossible. And all it took was a pair of Apache helicopters, some air-to-surface Hellfire missiles, and a boatload of C4.
"Satellites are in position, sir."
Leaning back in his chair, the Prime Minister smiled slowly, like a Cheshire cat. "Do it." he said.
Folding his hand over his large stomach, he admired his face in the black table's reflective surface.
Fat, but imposing. he thought. Fearsome. Yes.. Like Churchill.
~~~
"Like a fat, stupid baby." Hermione raged. "That's what he looks like, that's what he acts like. I can't believe he's doing this to our country. Twelve thousand people forced out their homes, and now he wants to suspend all international trade? How is that going help the economy?"
"We're wizards, Hermione. What does it matter?"
"It matters." she hissed at him across the table as she buttered one of their children's pieces of toast. Even now that glare of hers made him cringe and he quickly went to work finishing their packed lunches.
The kids were going to a muggle school. Primrose Fields Primary. He still remembered the first conversation they had about it. Hermione said she wanted to tour the wizard primary schools before making her decision about where they would go. Ron just blinked at her. "Wizard primary school?"
"Yes."
"They don't have them."
She blinked right back. "Well, what are we supposed to do then?"
"You could stay home and..." he'd started to say, but she'd whipped out another one of her special glares and he just swallowed hard and fell silent.
So the kids went to muggle school. No protest from him. And when his mother suggested that she could come and teach the children from home, he was forced -under the weight of that glare- to point out that there was nothing wrong with going to a muggle school for a few years and, in fact, some of the best and brightest witches in the world had done so. That softened her look a little. And, honestly, Ron had come around.
Besides the occasional mishap regarding unconscious magic, everything had gone smoothly. Rose was fantastically clever and quite popular at school, and Hugo was a better keeper than his father would ever be, albeit in this strange muggle sport called 'football'.
They both loved it there, to the point where he once overheard their youngest whispering to his sister, 'you know, I think I wouldn't mind it if I was a squib'. Which made Ron exceptionally nervous, but brought a tender smile to Hermione's face. And he had to admit, it was better than staying at home with your siblings all day.
They took the tube into work after dropping Hugo and Rose off at school, meeting Harry on their way to the elevators. He and Ron were stuck in the office today. Even the exhilarating life of an auror was occasionally bogged down by paperwork.
"Gosh it's loud in here." Ron complained as another roaring vibration rang through the main lobby of the Ministry Headquarters.
"They're building some kind of underground railroad nearby, apparently." Harry explained.
"Couldn't that be dangerous?"
Hermione shrugged her shoulders casually. "Kingsley already spoke to the Prime Minister about it and he assured him it wouldn't get to close."
"Oh~ first name basis, huh? Just how high up are you in the DMLE?" he teased.
She just smiled at him mysteriously and winked. "Never you mind. Now go on. You two are going to be late."
She pecked Ron on the cheek before he boarded the elevator. She was taking a different one down to the ninth Level, she said. The caged metal doors of the elevator had just started to creak shut when, unbeknownst to the people on-board, a man in a dark room said 'do it'.
The ground was gone. It was there and then it was gone. But the feeling of falling only lasted a few seconds.
Blackness enveloped him as gravity came back with a vengeance. And the last thing he heard, before everything went dark, was Hermione screaming his name.