Severus stood on the porch of their small rented house, located on the very edge of the village, away from prying eyes and talkative neighbors, and squinted at the sun lazily creeping over the horizon. This bright red hot star was very much like his wife, still peacefully sniffing in the bedroom: if there was an opportunity to forget about the essentials and sleep until noon, Hermione happily used it.
For the past three days, it was just a wild rain, completely atypical for Gardenos - a settlement located in the south-west of the island of Corfu, however, with the good fortune of Severus it was quite likely that he and Hermione flew to Greece right in the midst of the rainy season, and it did not matter that in Greece they had never heard of any rainy seasons at all.
However, Snape was always not averse to remembering his native Britain and meditating on a rainy suspension, sitting on the porch and sipping Ouzo - the national alcoholic drink of sunny and noisy Greece. Hermione was tired of the cold to gnashing teeth, so she was terribly indignant for the first day, and at the end of the second, she seriously threw her things into her bag and told him that they were going to look for a wild beach and swim in the rain. Severus didn't mind.
As soon as the Hogwarts school year was over, and the martyrs of science passed the OWLs and NEWTs, Hermione insisted that both she and Severus needed a change of scenery. At first, Snape rightly believed that his wife was again treating depression with her favorite method: hiding behind work. However, the cautious Legillimency, which he carefully applied to her after her resolution, showed him that in the chain: denial-anger-bargaining-depression-acceptance Hermione crossed out the first four points and immediately jumped into the fifth.
Severus knew that the miracle had not happened, and his wife did not suddenly become the Master of Occlumency, but he admittedly expected to see her inner world plunged into despair, although the surrounding reality proved him otherwise.
When Hermione swore by her own magic that she would definitely take revenge on the conspirators responsible for the death of their child, hardly anyone expected that she would arrange a showdown right in the corridors of the Ministry, barely waiting for the completion of the vote for improving the living conditions of Hogwarts.
Severus shook his head, remembering the colorful account of Lucius Malfoy, who, of course, was present at every meeting.
"You won't believe it, cher ami! Your wife was incomparable! And that is why I specially invited myself to visit you in order to inform you about this."
"I'm all ears," Snape chuckled; he knew without Lucius's enthusiasm what his wife was capable of in anger. From the very beginning, he tried to prove to the entire teaching staff, and later to the familiar Ministers from the Wizengamot, that his bibliophile wife was, in fact, a rather dangerous opponent. She knew how to skillfully look for loopholes in the rules and commit crimes without breaking anything. Hermione managed to brew the most complicated potion and did so on the floor in the school toilet. She twisted his Slytherins around her finger. She helped escape a dangerous criminal. She strengthened international ties, making a bunch of friends among the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, and to this day she was in correspondence with half of them. Snape remembered well how, during the Horcrux Hunt, Hermione told everyone that Victor and his friends were ready to come to the rescue, as soon as they needed them to. And Fleur Delacour offered political asylum to all those seeking protection in the Veela community in France. Not every Muggle-born had managed to win over the Sentient Races to their side.
Her recent speech at the Ministry was also connected with them. Hermione has been working on implementing changes to the laws for several months now, and with the active support of Remus Lupin. Before Lupin and Hagrid entered Hogwarts, none of the children of werewolves, vampires, or giants had been able to educate their offspring in the British Lands. By hook or by crook, they tried to transport their children to France, where Beauxbatons successfully worked with Veela, elves, and goblins. To Ireland, where there was a large faerie and druid community. To Durmstrang, where werewolves and vampires have always been renowned for their fighting skills and, surprisingly, healing abilities. However, possessing a heightened sense of smell of werewolves and the ability to recognize any disease by a drop of blood, which the vampires possessed, they managed to achieve certain success in the field of Potions-making and in healing.
It was this information that Hermione tried to convey to the Ministry, which was stunned by such insolence. Britain had not yet recovered from the past ideological struggle, supported by caste inequality; when Hermione already started trying to impose a new worldview in which everyone was equal in the face of magic and everyone had the right to education. Nonsense. Too daring ideas.
Medea Umbridge, who was on the Board of Governors along with Malfoy, did not hesitate to express her objections to Hermione's reforms in a shrill voice. Finally, advising her to attend to the conception of the Heir.
"I wanted I advise you, my dear, to pay attention to your own health: Muggle-borns have never been famous for foresight, and even more so in alliance with the former Death Eaters. This spouse of yours is famous for his bad reputation, are you sure that you do not want to look for a more worthy candidate, say, among the Sentient races? I remember that Fenrir Greyback expressed a remarkable interest in your person, both during the War and after it. Oh yes, Fenrir needs healthy offsprings, to which he will be able to pass on his wolf genes. And with your blood, my dear, even after the Cruciatus..."
Medea did not have time to finish. As none of the Ministers had time to intervene: a white flash of Sectumsempra cut Umbridge's tongue, and two seconds later her forehead was adorned with an ornate inscription in Latin of the most offensive nature.
"They say that the Healers of St. Mungo still have not been able to remove this inscription from her forehead, well, at least, the tongue was grown in place."
"Not a big loss," Severus shook his head. Hermione had certainly shown everyone her solidarity with him with those two spells, but it was hardly worth opposing Umbridge in this way.
However, after this daring trick in the Ministry, the Law on the Education of Sentient Races, nevertheless, was passed. The annoying nuances remained: the type of funding, psychological assistance, academic subjects, cultural adaptation. But this was already a victory. Severus' eternal paranoia did not allow him to fully rejoice for his wife: he was expecting a blow on the sly. Therefore, he unconditionally accepted her offer to go on vacation.
They needed time. Time to think it over. Time to make some timid plans for the future. Time to stop and take a look at the world around them. Time to breathe in deeply. Time to watch the sunrise. Time forget about intrigue and mortal danger.
Hermione padded onto the porch and hugged Severus from behind, pressing her cheek to the shoulder blades.
"Do you remember, during that crazy Hunt for Horcruxes, during the War and despair, you always insisted that the dawn would come and forced us to look at the stars?"
Severus snorted inaudibly.
"What should I have told you? That we would lose? That you would just freeze in this forest if I did not manage to return alive from the next meeting of the Death Eaters, and Minerva, simply, would not be able to deal with the Carrows and the corrupted Ministry without my help?"
"You calmed yourself, instilling in us the notorious: "everything will be fine."
Severus nodded.
"There, in the woods, when we were sitting by the fire and making plans, I also learned to believe with all of you. And look at the stars."
"And also, you promised me to show me how the fig tree bloomed."
"Of course, what else could instill optimism in the Insufferable Know-it-all, if not the stories about the Forbidden Fruit? Do you know that in some cultures it is the fig tree, and not the apple tree, that is considered the Forbidden Fruit, and its fruits - bestowing secret knowledge?"
"So, when are we going to look for these wonderful trees?"
"You got up so early for this?"
"No, I woke up, and haven't found you there. I felt uneasy."
Severus turned around and hugged his wife.
Who knew, perhaps this unexpected vacation would help him figure out where three points out of five stages of accepting the grief in Hermione's behavior have gone. He knew that she sometimes had nightmares, even though she tried to get rid of them by playing sports, practicing yoga, and meditation. And he himself woke her several times in the middle of the night, when scenes from the past made him wake up in a cold sweat. And no Occlumency and yoga would help here. They needed time. And the absence of mental anguish.
On this dawn morning, he did not want to worry and wait for a blow. To suspect in every acquaintance a mortal enemy. To count losses. To know that some new conspiracy was hanging over them like a sword of Damocles, and Hermione, with her progressive ideas, just stood in someone's throat. Snape wanted to leave politics to Black, intrigue to Lucius, and take the right to live for himself. To eat figs. To make love to his wife. To swim in the warm waters of the Ionian Sea. To sip ouzo. To savor moussaka and plakops. To admire the sunsets. To meet the sunrises.
And gaze at the stars.