The full moon of a quiet night in mid-March shone brightly through the uncurtained window of the Slytherin chambers. Severus was planning to soon acquire housing more befitting a married man, but something constantly interfered with his plans. He and Hermione had to huddle in the North Tower of Hogwarts, which Snape adapted for his personal needs immediately after the War. Minerva and the Castle itself were not too worried about the loss of such useless premises. And Severus, it seemed, was quite happy living in the Tower.
If anyone had thought to speculate about the unsociable nature of the graduates of the House of Snake, Snape would have laughed in their faces, not failing to make a sharp remark about purebred nonsense and ridiculous prejudices. Yes, there was some truth in such statements: Slytherins were rarely famous for their passion for public speaking or noisy companies, but by no means because of their love of solitude.
For years, dozens of years, their faculty was looked down upon, secretly done nasty things to, and openly despised. Children who grew up in damp and dark dungeons had to stick to their own kind - if not friends, but loyal allies who went through the same hatred common to all. The Trustees' Union was not overly concerned about the living conditions of the Slytherins. They rightly believed that the children of pureblood wizards were the concern of their parents.
The world rushed from one extreme to another, replacing one ideology with another and choosing a more pliable and ambitious leader. And the point was not at all that the aristocrats suddenly blindly believed in the absurdity of the ideas of the purity of blood, or rather, rather, not only in this. Of course, no dirt flowed through the veins of the Muggle-borns, and they were not the plague that suddenly hit the age-old foundations of the British nobles, but Voldemort was right in his extreme desire to stick to the ancients traditions.
Severus tossed aside the blanket, walked over to the window, and gazed down at the snow, silvery shining under the moon. On nights like this, he was always tormented by insomnia and memories of the past.
Any society, even the most progressive one, needed a leader, let alone old good Britain. Ironically or not, the purebloods feared anything new that the Muggle-born wizards happily carried with them. Yes, the novelty did not always mean something bad, and one could assume that in a dozen or two years the aristocracy would be able to realize the full breadth of views of the modern world, but they did not need this knowledge at all.
The wizarding world held on to its traditions with the despair of a drowning man, and every year the Muggle-borns tried more and more to get rid of these traditions.
Hogwarts and the Ministry were seriously considering electrifying their buildings. Although there was nothing wrong with the bulbs at first glance, one could understand the hidden threat if one looked closely. Electricity meant Muggle technology, computers, telephones, overly preoccupied parents, government interference, violation of the Statute of Secrecy, and other delights. Severus suddenly pictured clearly how the Potions lab had acquired gas burners and stainless pots and laughed.
As if they didn't have enough problems in their life!
Imagination drew vivid pictures of terrified parents, armed with the support of social services and police, storming the walls of Hogwarts in the year of the war with Voldemort. In the struggle between magic and technology, there were no right and wrong, the aristocracy fought for traditions, sought to preserve ancient rituals and trust in magic.
Muggle-borns huffed at such antiquity and narrow-mindedness. This was why the Wizarding World needed new leaders who could maneuver between the two worlds and explain common truths to those who still doubted. Leaders like Arthur Weasley, Kingsley, Black, himself, and Hermione. It would also be nice to include Harry Potter on this list, but he was too in love with magic to even think about exchanging it for the Muggle world. On the other hand, Lucius Malfoy was always happy to put his negotiating skills and persuasion into practice. This was why Snape spent so much time in the mansion on Grimmauld, trying to rebuild their ossified world.
Surprisingly, Black and Snape were suspiciously quick to build some kind of truce. Black managed to grow wiser and take on the role of a leader in his own family, as well as take a place in the Wizengamot. He managed to put together his broken family and burden them with responsibilities. Black continued to look for his brother in all corners of the globe, even resorted to the help of Muggle detectives, but this did not stop him from persuading Lucius and Andromeda to take up the affairs of the Board of Governors. Sirius entrusted Narcissa with the creation of a women's Alliance, consisting of the widows and daughters of war heroes. Draco and Lavender happily forged ties with Hogwarts alumni, persuading them to forget about past feuds and push forward new reforms together. Oddly enough, Neville and Luna enthusiastically joined them, followed by Augusta Longbottom, who, despite past losses, had not lost her business acumen and desire to be a leader. Xenophilius Lovegood served as the voice of the people, for it was difficult to argue with the press and journalists. Little by little, the world learned to see the light in the pitch darkness of ignorance.
As for Hermione, things weren't going as smoothly as Snape would have liked. Yes, she plunged into the world of reforms and laws with her usual zeal, she spent long hours in discussions with Kingsley and the newly formed Alliance, trying to help them better understand the views of the Muggle-borns. Hermione helped Minerva set up a new schedule and substituted Snape at Potions a lot of times. It seemed that even Narcissa's remark about the total misunderstanding of the ancient laws of magic by Muggleborns did not go unnoticed for Hermione. It might seem that nothing bothered her, but only Snape knew the truth: his wife, like himself, had the worst habit of hiding from problems behind work and pretending that nothing terrible had happened.
Madame Snape was not received with open arms at the Ministry. Hermione was openly despised for daring to meddle in the centuries-old foundations with her reforms!
Hermione confidently walked forward, ignoring the endless criticism and devastating articles that the notorious "Daily Prophet" fed the public with. She did not tolerate halftones, so she confidently set her sights on changing the world, and after that she swallowed angry tears, suffering at night in the Hogwarts kitchen.
There Severus found her on that full moon night, dusted with unexpected March snow. With his habitual gesture, he made her a cup of chamomile tea, spread her favorite apricot jam on a couple of croissants, and sat down opposite her, giving her a choice: to open up to him or continue to suffer in the twilight.
"You see, they sat their asses in the Ministry while I spilled blood to save their lives!" after some silence, Hermione exclaimed into the darkness, alarming the house elves who were cleaning up nearby.
"I could argue that you weren't forced to do this, but you'll throw a sugar bowl at me," Severus joked. "However, I am hardly better."
"See? I want the Ministry to stop pretending to be the smartest asses and listen to wise advice at least once in their sodding lives."
"To the wise advice of Sirius Black? Or Andromeda? Or perhaps yours?"
"To all of us at once. Enlighten me, why they are so holding on to their stupid laws?"
Snape got to his feet, walked over to the rocking chair by the hearth, sank into it, and beckoned his wife over to him. When she nestled comfortably in his lap, he spoke:
"They're afraid, Hermione. The Ministry is terrified of losing its influence, which has been hanging by the thread since the Battle. They are afraid of new views that Black and others like him confidently own. They are afraid of Kingsley, and the new Board of Governors. But most of all, dear, they are afraid of you.
"You cannot be serious?"
Snape shook his head, kissing his wife's temple.
"But I am. You embody everything that Voldemort has fought against, everything that the purebloods have blindly believed in for the past few hundred years. You managed to win and show them how wrong they were. In your attempts to prove them wrong, you make serious enemies for yourself. Foolish, and therefore dangerous."
"So, what would you have me do? Quit my job at the Ministry and go to work at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, wrapping her arms around Severus's neck.
"Hogwarts is a very good decision, I can see how you like to mess with these dunderheads whom I have the displeasure to call my students, but you will not give up so easily. You need a Slytherin strategy."
"And I just managed to be familiar with the best of them," Hermione cooed.
"Blatant flattery, but if you ask so…" Severus retorted, burying his nose in her hair, "take care of the children. Go to Narcissa to learn ancient magic and instill this knowledge in the younger generations, show them how important the values of the Wizarding world are, without forgetting to teach them not to be afraid of the information that the Muggle-borns carry. A couple of years will pass, and you will get a completely new generation of wizards who can maneuver between worlds with the same ease. Then you will defeat the Ministry. At the moment when they least expect it, reading by the leaves on the likelihood of the outcome of their own intrigues."
Hermione looked up at her husband with shining eyes.
"This is it, right? This is the plan that all the Hogwarts professors are working on about?"
Snape grunted in satisfaction.
"The school still considers me the second Headmaster, so my influence on the professors has not gone anywhere."
"You are the cunning, quirky, ingenious, and simply incredible man!" Hermione praised, reaching for a kiss. "And you are my husband," she added a little later.
This state of affairs more than suited Severus: he liked the busy Hermione Snape much more than the old Miss Granger, mired in despair and depression.