The day has come.

Gone with his secluded, bachelor lifestyle to an occasional ginger infestation and married life.

Gone with his sanity.

Severus never imagined that he would live with a woman, no less a widow with seven children, a granddaughter, and a step-grandson. No, no, his post-war plan was to live a quiet, muggle life under the pseudonym of Evan Prince, a modest and simple yoga instructor, and finally be done away with his double life. But marriage? It was never in the cards.

As a boy, Severus had ascribed to what he now thought of as a twisted and illogical worldview. He had combined fate, or rather what one rightfully deserved, with a mindset of victimhood. So he had seen himself as denied the legacy of the Prince family through his mother's mistakes, but thought of his own choices as being forced upon him. Granted, he had often been a victim - of his abusive father and neglectful mother, of the Marauders' bullying, of the Death Eaters' glamorous lies. But he had also been a victim of himself.

As an adult, Severus came to be a proponent of free will within the confines of environment. He was responsible for his own choices, as far as he could make them. But one had to remember that the universe often, to lack a better metaphor, bopped on one the nose at the oddest moment. And yet, shouldn't there be a sense of appropriateness about things? In the story of his life, marriage to Molly made about as much sense as Voldemort being redeemed through the virtue of glamorous hair care products.

Severus looked about his old apartment with a small, resigned sigh. He had never really been attached to places, except possibly the potions dungeons in Hogwarts, but this place had fit him. It looked strangely forlorn without his scant possessions in their proper places.

"Are you coming, Professor," asked one of the redheaded moving crew.

"How did this happen?" Severus wondered aloud. Well, he might as well bow to the inevitable. His life as he knew it was over. He followed Bill out the door with as much dignity and gravitas as he could muster. (He could muster quite a lot.)

"That is the question," Bill said in a nonchalant manner. Bill never had much issues with Severus back in school, like his younger siblings had. But ever since news of his mother and his former professor becoming an item, Bill had taken to introspection. "But, you do bring change to the family, which is something that the Weasleys needed."

"Not the change that we needed," snorted Ginny, who was passing her former professor and brother with a box of books.

"Ginny!"

Severus ignored and walked passed Bill as he admonished his little sister. Severus was far too used to the snide remarks and snorts directed at him from the younger Weasley children. Only Bill, Charlie, and Percy were at least somewhat tolerant of him.

For a supposedly empty nest, the Burrow sure had a lot of metaphorical eggs in it. It seemed that every time Severus was there, one or more often more than one Weasley child was also present (frequently guest starring Potter and Granger). They claimed to be making sure Molly wasn't lonely. For the oldest three, this was probably true. Severus strongly suspected the younger ones were keeping an eye on him.

The reluctant moving crew apparated with their load to the Burrow where Molly waited for them out front. The sight calmed Severus a little, reminding him that, as crazy as it was, they were making the right decision.

"Well, here you are," she said briskly but with a genuine smile. "I've just had them put everything in the living room and the kitchen. I imagine you'll want to sort everything out on your own."

"Thank you, Molly," Severus said, following her into the - their - house. "That was very thoughtful of - What do you think you're doing?"

Severus' voice lashed like a whip and was as cold as ice. The guilty parties started badly and backed away. Fred and Ron had been riffling through one of his boxes like they were at a rummage sale.

"Fred Weasley, Ronald Weasley," Molly yelled, her hands, in a flash, on her hips. She marched toward her sons. "Ronald's room. Now." Beet red, the two brothers scurried upstairs to Ron's old bedroom, as if forgetting they were two grown men each with their own separate living arrangements. Molly's arm went limped, her face softening at Severus, "Severus, dear, I apologize again for my boys' behavior."

"You scare me," Severus said, looking at Molly in a new light. "Where were you when I was teaching? I could've used you."

"Good, you better be," Molly said with a gleam in her eyes. "I was married and raising disrespectful boys. Honestly, Severus, I thought you knew that." Then Molly flicked her wand at the rifled boxes, restoring its contents back in neatly. "You may want to sort through your things before George gets any ideas." Color drained from Molly's face. "If you see George tell him I'll like to speak to him, meanwhile I have two other sons to deal with." With that, the woman departed upstairs.

Severus had set one requirement upon moving into the Burrow: the connected shed was to be converted into a potions lab. The first thing he did was cast a number of revealing spells on the place, to be sure it hadn't been hexed or otherwise booby-trapped by his resentful stepchildren. Nothing was revealed, and so he set to work unpacking boxes and arranging his tools and ingredients. Two hours later, jars lined the shelves and his cauldron was simmering over a fire he had lit. Finally Severus began to feel a little at home. He emerged from his new lab to the smells of cooking. Molly was in the kitchen making dinner.

"It'll be ready in fifteen minutes," she told him. "The children are all staying, since it's Friday night." Molly had officially named Friday night to be Family Dinner Night, and woe betide any Weasley who missed it.

Severus had just enough time to begin sorting out his things in the bedroom. Just as he opened the door, a horrible gagging sound exploded from someone's throat. George was inside holding a pair of Severus' underpants between thumb and forefinger, looking disgusted and horrified.

"Do you have a death wish," Severus growled.

George dropped the underpants. "I was just trying to help," he said quickly. "Putting your clothes in Dad's old drawers, see?" Indeed, many of Severus' things were visible in the open drawers of the dresser.

A much younger Severus would have given a reply overflowing with snark. And, he was going to, because it was the unable-to-keep-serious, running-to-be-the-next-Marauder George Weasley. He was so close to give a biting remark, when something donned on him. Severus did not like it when his stepchildren bring their late father into the conversation. It made him feel disgusted, torn about whether he pulled apart a perfectly, functional family. It made him feel out of bounds.

"I got it," Severus said, no evidence of snark in his voice, well maybe a smidge as 98% of Severus is made of pure snark. "Your mother was looking for you."

George scuffed his foot against the carpet. "Yeah." For a moment he stood in silence, and then sucked in a breath. "By the way. About... you know..." He gestured to the side of his head where he was conspicuously missing an ear. "Harry told me it was an accident, that you were trying to protect Lupin. With Fred and me turning your hair red at the wedding, I think we can call ourselves even. Are we okay?"

Severus paused, surprised at this display of sensitivity and tact from one of the Weasley twins. True, he had always thought of George as the slightly more reasonable twin, but he was really going out of his way to make peace. Maybe the toast he and Fred had given at the wedding ("Welcome to the family, Professor") had been meant in earnest.

"Yes, George," he said, deliberately not calling the young man Mr. Weasley. "If you can forgive the loss of your ear, I can forgive the rude things you've said and the pranks you've pulled over the years."

George's eyes widened. "I hadn't even thought about all that," he said with an embarrassed laugh. "Not in years. Fred and me - we were idiots."

Severus decided not to mention that their joke shop would make the next generation of teachers' lives a living hell. "Well, acceptance is the first step to recovery," he said crisply.

George's eyes widened yet again. Slowly he began to grin. "Was that a joke? That was a joke! Merlin, I never thought you had a sense of humor!"

Molly called upstairs that it was time for dinner, saving Severus from replying. "FOR THE LAST TIME, GET DOWN HERE!"

"Save yourself!" George cried and charged downstairs like a pack of rabid ferrets was on his heels. Severus followed more sedately. He stopped in the kitchen doorway. Chairs were crammed around the large dining room table. Twelve adults (counting all seven children, Molly, Severus, and Bill, Ron, and Ginny's significant others), one booster seat (for Teddy) and one highchair (for Victoire) would just fit if everyone watched their elbows. All of the chairs were filled except one: Arthur's old chair.

"I," Severus begun to say, but the noise of the twelve adults and two children overpowered him. He stepped back, his heel rammed into the doorframe. Biting back a swear, he stood still, unsure of what tactic to approach. He could imagine the horrors that the adult children will say once he sit in "Dad's old chair." The twins and Ron (although, Severus wasn't sure of George's reaction now) would scoff and Ginny will implement a sarcastic toast.

The Weasleys were still distracted, thanks to Teddy's talkative nature and Victoire spitting up. So Severus stared at the scene. Then an idea popped up. Bill, who had left to clean up his daughter, was sitting next to the dreaded vacant seat. Severus waited until Bill arrived back into the room.

"Bill, switch seats," he said in a low voice, grabbing the eldest son's forearm. "Don't ask questions."

Bill looked around, noticed what seat Severus was referring to, and complied silently.

Severus sat down, finding himself next to the toddler Victoire. She gurgled at him and pointed.

Severus found himself a black, silent island in the midst of the bright and happy dinner. The chatter flowed around him and over his head. He ate silently, feeling as isolated as he ever had at Hogwarts. This brought back all the misery of being separated from his only real friend by the width of the Great Hall, watching from afar as she laughed with her friends and wishing that he had been Sorted into Gryffindor.

This was worse, in a way, than any Hogwarts meal, even the Christmas feasts. Here he was an intruder. A soap bubble of a thought rose in Severus' mind, but he brutally popped it before it could even form into words. He wasn't going anywhere. He had given his word before all of these people to stick with Molly through thick and thin. Severus Snape may have been many things; but a coward, he was not.

He turned resolutely in Percy's direction. "I understand you've done some research on cauldron thickness. Have you seen any changing trends in the last few years?"

Percy looked at him blankly for a moment. "You're asking?"

"Yes," Severus said, puzzled and a little leery. Percy had always been a diligent, if uncreative, student and Severus had genuinely liked teaching him. Was he about to break out a twin-like wisecrack?

"Well, there's been an infusion of cheap tin models on the market. They all have thick bottoms to start with, but raise the temperature even a degree over 200, and they -"

Fred let out an almighty moan. "Cauldron bottoms again? Perce, no one wants to hear about that at dinner."

I do," Severus said. All eyes turned to him. "It's a valid concern with financial and medical repercussions. I can't tell you the number of times I've lost a potion because of shoddy workmanship. Some of them were vital potions, including Polyjuice for Order of the Phoenix missions and Wolfsbane for Remus Lupin." Everyone was silent now, and Percy's spine was growing straighter and straighter with every word. "Then there's the safety issue, Severus continued. "I've seen students confined to the hospital wing for weeks because a dangerous potion melted through a thin cauldron bottom. I've known professional potioneers permanently injured because of subpar cauldrons. Hours, days, or even weeks or months of work; expensive ingredients; magical and medical innovations; the potion brewer's safety-all of these things depend on sound equipment. Percy's work ensures that."

For ten good solid minutes, the dinner table was unusually quiet, parring the gurgling of Victoire and Teddy babbling to himself, until Hermione broke the silence.

"That actually is brilliant," Hermione said with bright eyes. Severus stared at her with a bemused expression. Although, he he often wished that Hermione would just be quiet and let another student answer a question; he had to admit it was refreshing to have an eager student willing to learn. And, at this particular moment, he find Hermione's eagerness appreciated.

"Don' ja' 'courage," Ron said with a mouth full of food. He cleared his throat, repeating his garbled words. "Don't encourage them, Hermione!"

"I'm not! It is very important," Hermione scowled, her brows furrowing as the gears in head turned. Her eyes shot toward Severus'. "Could it also be a combination between weak cauldron bottoms and the chemical properties of the ingredients? Some chemicals reacting badly to rising temperatures?"

Severus pointed at Hermione, a smile curled on his lips. "Yes. You have no idea how long I try to get a grant for just that theory." His smile fell. "They keep me turning me down. Turns out that Quidditch uniforms have a higher priority than potions safety."

"That's terrible!"

Severus nodded in silent agreement, as the rest of the Weasleys and Harry stared back and forth at Hermione and Severus. Even Percy, who was just prideful at his own works, was bewildered at the shared feeling that Hermione and Professor had together. Severus leaned back in his chair, thinking of what else to say and how it had always bothered him to keep getting turned away because the Quidditch teams needed uniforms or the pitch needed to be tended.

"I know I'm just a DMLE intern," Hermione said suddenly. "But I think I know someone who can help with grant writing!"

Severus was surprised, but only for a moment. "Thank you, Miss Gra - Hermione, but any grant request with my name attached to it is going to go straight into the rubbish bin these days."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true!" Hermione said quickly, looking uncomfortable. "You're brilliant at potions."

"It has nothing to do with talent." Everyone was sharing those uncomfortable looks now. "There's no need to tiptoe around it," Severus said. "I'm well aware what the papers say about me, and that they reflect public opinion." And that several of you repeat them at length, he thought, but didn't feel the need to add.

"Well," Percy volunteered, less bombastically than usual. "What if I cosign for the grant? I might not be a big name at the Ministry -" Fred clutched at his chest, miming a heart attack at this self-awareness. George shoved him out of his chair. "- But with my work on cauldron bottom standardization adding weight to it, it's much more likely to be accepted."

"That's true," Hermione gushed. "Inside work is always favored."

"If I signed you on as a researcher," Percy continued, gaining steam now, "it wouldn't have to be official until after the grant was approved. Then you would be given a byline, and people might see that you're turning over a new leaf."

That particular leaf had been turned about eighteen years ago, but Severus didn't feel the need to beat a dead hippogriff.

"I'll pass," Severus said. "My research days have long since passed."

"But you still have ideas," exclaimed Hermione. "You clearly haven't forgotten it! It must still mean something to you!"

Besides Bill, who was sitting next to Severus, he heard Molly mused in agreement. Severus shook his head again, "No, I'm - what?" He gave a quizzical look at his stepfamily, before glancing down at his pointed finger. He curled the offending finger in his fist. "I am done." He was about to say how he didn't care what people thought, but figured it would added more fuel for his stepfamily. Instead, he directed the next part of the conversation to Percy and Hermione. "But if you are interested, I could always gift my notes anonymously."

Percy actually looked disappointed. "Only if you have a potioneer to recommend. Neither of us has the talent for a project like this."

"I can talk to a few old students," Severus agreed.

He spent the rest of the meal theorizing with Hermione and Percy on the interactions between different magical ingredients, heat, and cauldron thickness. Around them other conversations were picked, about Quidditch, Victoire and Teddy, and other mundanities. It was surprisingly pleasant.

That evening, after the children all left, Severus continued unpacking and organizing. Molly surprised him by coming up behind him and wrapping both arms around him. "Thank you."

Severus tensed, before relaxing. He was still getting used to public display of affection. "You're... welcome...?"

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Molly laughed to herself. "Thank you for trying, even when some of them aren't yet, or at least aren't trying hard enough. For reaching out to Percy, especially; he's always been the odd one out, and it hasn't been easy on him. I think you marrying into the family will do him the most good, after me of course."

Severus turned around, embracing Molly into a hug. "Not after me first."