Honeymoon. Snape grimaced as he mentally uttered this phrase and distorted it in every possible way. Of course, he was as far from romance as Lord Voldemort was from the church boys' choir, but this did not prevent him from carefully examining the uninhabited beach for dangerous spells and intruders.
He wanted to… Severus let out a noisy gasp, holding back the hysterical laugh that was breaking out: he wanted to please Hermione, have a nice evening with wine and dinner, to share a swim under the stars, and make love on the shore.
Snape turned to the cleansing charm he was applying on the sand, and, forgetting himself, chased after the sand pixies that occupied all the coastal stones. Annoying creatures. They were mostly harmless, but with the wrong exile and neglect of the Charm of Forgiveness, they could return with a thirst for vengeance. There was absolutely nothing dangerous about these flying bastards, but an interesting thought flashed in the subcortex, and Snape followed it, trying to find the answer that lay on the surface.
The Charm of Forgiveness. Older than the blood magic itself, this charm stood above all laws and rules, as a certain unshakable value. Severus didn't know for sure when and by whom the commandment of forgiveness was introduced, but something told him that Christianity was far from the main role here. Merlin the Great was also very far from the introduction of such a shaky and wise rule. Something so ancient played its role here that there was not even any mention of it left.
Why is it so important to forgive? Snape was well aware of all the religious dogmas that preached this truth. His father, Tobias Snape, was quite an honest Christian when he did not drink himself to death in the nearest bar. He even attended the church regularly, every Sunday, without fail taking little Severus with him and earnestly repenting of his sins. Even then, being hardly more than five years old, Severus knew that he had no desire to forgive his ever drunken father. This was the question he once asked his mother when she had hastily healed the bruises left by Tobias. Eileen then sighed and took her son in her arms:
"Holding grudges, son, is like drinking poison and hoping that it will poison someone else. I have no grudge against Tobias, he is doing his best. He accepted me when my family abandoned me when I had no place in any of the worlds, he accepted me."
"But he beats you, Mama!" little Severus cried, clenching his fists. Eileen arched an eyebrow and stroked his head.
"Do you think, Severus, I would study at Slytherin - the faculty for the most cunning and ambitious - if I didn't know how to stand up for myself without a wand? Most of the time, Tobias fights with my induced illusions, and then confesses his sins on Sundays."
Severus thought for a moment.
"Why don't we leave here then, Mom? Could we leave him with all his sins and go where no one would dare offend us?"
"And he would have died of self-loathing. No, Severus, the good must be remembered. If he hadn't helped me once when I ran away from home and my own family disowned me, I would have starved to death. I wouldn't have you."
"I don't understand, Mom," Severus muttered, frowning. Eileen laughed, using the tips of her fingers to smooth out the harsh crease on his forehead.
"How big you have become, my son, how very serious. One day you will understand."
He remembered the words of his mother and carried them through his whole life, but he could not agree with them. Until Hermione revealed to him a simple truth that turned his entire ossified world upside down.
Severus stood pensively by the sofa, piled high with books, freshly washed linen, and, to his surprise, a collection of multicolored socks that were his wife's guilty pleasure. He didn't mind. Snape was ready to turn the whole world upside down, if only she would stop being sad.
Hermione held up remarkably well after the loss of their baby. Sometimes he himself forgot that not later than three weeks ago she dangled on the brink of life and death, asked him to erase her memory, and vowed to take revenge on the enemies, she could barely come to her senses and get to them.
Severus spent days and nights on "war councils" with Sirius and Lucius, trying to unravel these interweaving intrigues of ill-wishers. So far, they have managed to find out little. Unlike Hermione. It seemed that the experience of the loss hardened her, forcing her to rise from the ashes like a phoenix. It was only now that Snape began to realize that his wife was a Gryffindor lioness who had to be reckoned with.
Hermione plunged headlong into ministerial affairs, seeking to win the Wizengamot over to her side and push as many laws as possible. Kingsley supported her in everything, which, of course, could not but cause the envy of ill-wishers. And then there was Lavender Brown — future Lady Malfoy — who was practicing healing at St. Mungo's, and she brought disturbing messages to the "war council". Muggle-born witches, who fell under the influence of the Marriage Law, were regularly observed by a certain Venus Creevey, a close relative of Colin and Denis Creevey, who did not survive the Battle of Hogwarts. So, after consulting this particular midwife, many witches started bleeding, similar to the one from which Hermione suffered. Someone definitely didn't want Muggle-born witches to give birth to heirs to their pureblood husbands.
Severus did not want to delve into this question yet: he was worried about the well-being of his own wife, and intrigues could wait. To solve the ministerial intricacies, he had Black, Lucius, Minerva, and other allies. Hermione played her part as the die-hard Gryffindor lioness, and most of the time she managed to fool everyone, including Severus. She worked, disappearing with Harry in the evenings and looking for the ancient spells in the library of Black's mansion. Sometimes Hermione got in touch with Narcissa, and in the Malfoy house, over a cup of tea, two women, who had lost too much of everything, had unhurried conversations, the meaning of which the men were not privy to. Narcissa still insisted that Hermione needed time to recover from the tragedy, and Severus - to restore his own magical reserve wasted on her salvation.
In the evenings, he returned to his chambers and fell asleep in an armchair, so that at dawn he would again take up the affairs of the Headmaster of Hogwarts and recall his espionage past. Hermione came home quietly, more often than not he did not hear her migrating from room to room, and just as quietly disappeared in the morning. Frankly, Severus thought that he should let her calmly recover, so he did not insist with unnecessary attention and stupid assurances that everything would be fine. She hardly needed his pity. Severus saw pity as a humiliating emotion.
That evening, Hermione sent him a Patronus with a message that she would have dinner with Narcissa, then drop by Black's, in a word, he didn't have to wait for her and he might to bed as he pleased. Snape shrugged and stood in front of the couch. He left their matrimonial bedroom for Hermione, he felt it would be the right decision. And it seemed to him simply blasphemous to impose his own presence on her. After all, who but his enemies were to blame for the loss of their child?
Severus made the bed and lay down on the cool sheets so that he could begin his usual midnight prowl up to the ceiling and fall asleep at dawn, being tired of fighting fatigue. It was quiet in the chambers, the rain rustled outside the window, birds began to wake up. He didn't hear Hermione come back. The depleted magical reserve was affecting his ability to sense her movements. Snape closed his eyes wearily and was about to bury his face in the pillow to torture himself for several more hours before dawn when a disgruntled whisper brought him out of painful half-oblivion.
"Move, you're heavy!"
And the next second the blanket was thrown aside, and his wife, without preamble, lay down on top of him, burying her nose in his neck and muttering angrily:
"What do you think you are doing: sleeping on the couch? I have been waiting for you, and you disgracefully deserted from the bedroom and left me alone."
Snape sat up, trying to look into her eyes in the darkness.
"Hermione, I know very well what you've been through, I thought it would be a wise thing to let you take your time..."
She angrily slammed her fist against his chest before spreading out on top of him again.
"Not only do I feel bad and scared, but you also lost a child, I saw then, in the Mirror of Erised, how much you dream of a family. And now, with these conspirators who only dream of stabbing us in the back, with my bleeding, with everything else," Hermione made a vague hand gesture between them, "I don't know how long it will take us before we can even try to conceive a baby once more. And instead of calmly talking to each other, we dispersed to different rooms."
They reached for their wands at the same time, doubling the sofa in a spontaneous Transfiguration spell, but Hermione never moved from her place on her husband's chest, and Severus, resigning himself to the inevitable, hugged her tightly around the waist.
"We're idiots, aren't we?" He whispered into the crown of her head. "I thought you would not forgive me."
Hermione murmured her displeasure inquiringly.
"I swore during the e marriage ritual that my magic will always and under any circumstances be able to protect you, and what is the result? I didn't keep my oath," Severus continued his explanation in a low voice. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and finally lifted herself enough to look into his eyes.
"Severus, I think it's time for you to let go of your damned sense of duty, which you nailed to yourself, and understand that not all things in the world depend on your responsibility and nobility. You are not to blame, just as I am not to blame, but we both feel bad. And instead of supporting each other, we suffer alone."
"Will you forgive me?" Severus asked in a whisper, brushing her hair away from her face. Hermione put a finger to his lips and smiled with trembling lips.
"If only you will forgive yourself."
And now Snape was carefully examining the deserted beach, rekindling a bonfire at the very edge of the water and gathering the herbs necessary for the ritual. The Charm of Forgiveness... Hermione had informed him the night before, when they were enjoying the mutual warmth and a glass of red wine, that it was time to let go of their Edelweiss and try having a child again. In the end, that was the reason why they came to Greece and arranged for themselves an impromptu honeymoon: to let go of the past and try to reconcile with themselves.
It was necessary to light a fire when the moon was already hidden behind the horizon to make way for the sun, and the stars would still slowly burn out in the sky. Mother and father should give red wine to the flame, as a symbol of their blood, lilac, and poppy, as symbols of death and rebirth, and by joining their magic, the parents should create a flower and give it to water. They must send their Edelweiss on a journey to new shores, albeit figuratively, but say goodbye to his soul, which visited them for such a short time.
Hermione stood behind Severus, clutching the herbs to her chest. She wore a long white shirt with embroidery on the hem: a silly ritual attire required for many of the old rituals. Snape wanted to turn to her and take her into his arms, to wipe her fears, to promise that they would succeed, that they could defeat all enemies, that they could start from scratch. His wife seemed so fragile to him: behind her firm determination, behind the flames that throbbed in her veins, there was a vulnerability, a yearning for tenderness and warmth.
Hermione walked around Snape and stretched out her hands towards the fire - sparks escaping from the flames almost burned her fingers. Her husband's magic reached out to her, healing the incipient burns and guiding her further through the ceremony. Flame and fog: their elements. Her fierceness and his calmness. Her despair and his painful tenderness. Her anger and his protection.
Hermione threw her hand forward, and a dainty white flower bloomed on it, the flower that could become their future son. Her scream broke the silence, turned into a whisper, ended with a sob and her firm parting words:
"Travel safe, our son. Forgive us."
"For we forgive ourselves. Travel safe, Florian Severus Snape, our unblown flower," Snape's firm voice rang out, and the edelweiss in Hermione's palm soared skyward to dissolve among the dim flicker to become a new star.
Hermione extinguished the fire with a movement of her hand, scattering the magical herbs in the wind, and turning around, she stepped into her husband's embrace. He only had to pick her up in his arms. Now she needed his tenderness like never before. Hermione was ready to look into the future, but without his inner strength she could no longer cope, she could not go a new path without him, now she knew it.
Severus carried her away from the beach to love her in the silence of their house, to the singing of the waves, to the glitter of fading stars, to her breaking whisper:
"I love you, Severus."