Let this first be established: Severus was not dying. Frankly, he would question the intellect of anyone who thought he was dying. He had, in simple terms, a cold. In more specific terms, he had a stabbing headache, a fever, aches in every muscle of his body, and intermittent nausea that made it difficult to eat anything more ambitious than gruel. Still, obviously not dying.

But from the way Molly carried on when she came over to see him, one would have thought he was on death's door.

He should have known better, in hindsight. She had owled asking why there was a substitute teacher in his yoga class (he had no intentions of giving up on teaching). He'd replied that he was "a tad under the weather." And here she was, whirling out of the fireplace with her arms full of bags and parcels and her "to war" face on.

"Hell -" his greeting was interrupted by a fit of chest-hurting coughs. Hurriedly, he grabbed a robe to cover himself as he wheezed from the sudden assertions. Being sick - and readying himself to stay home to fully recover - Severus had made no notion to change from bedwear and at the time of Molly's arrival was shirtless.

"What are you doing here," he asked, almost accusingly.

"Taking care of you," was her alarming response. Molly whipped out her wand and in a matter of moments had a fire going, set the tea kettle on to bowl, opened the windows (it was summer), closed the curtains (it was bright outside), and came to stand over Severus with her hands on her hips. "When did you last eat? What did you eat? It's nonsense to feed a cold and starve a fever. You need plenty of fluids either way."

"Keep away." Severus backed up. Molly's eyes widened in confusion and hurt, then narrowed in indignation. "I don't want you to catch it," he amended quickly. "What do you mean, you're taking care of me?" He had no experience with that sort of thing. His own mother had been very much hands-off. Illness or not, young Severus had been on his own. He'd grown used to it, so this uninvited invasion was nothing short of disturbing.

"Nonsense," Molly said, swatting her hand at him. She flicked her wand at a couple of kettles, which soon began whistling as the water boiled for soup. "You're forgetting I'm a mother and mothers don't get sick. One summer, before Bill went off to Hogwarts, Charlie got the mumblemumps then Bill, then Fred, then Arthur, and Ron. I sent George and Ginny to my mother's but I never got it. Still haven't."

"That doesn't logically follow," Severus grumbled.

"Sit down." An armchair marched in from the dingy sitting room with another flick of Molly's wand. Severus sank into it, unwilling to admit his energy had been giving out on him. "Your instinctive solution to anything less than perfect health seems to be to hole up like a bat in a cave. That's not conducive to recovery." Soon she was chopping up some carrots she had brought for a light chicken and vegetable broth. At Severus' mutinous muttering, she said firmly, "We're getting married in three months. You're going to have to get used to the idea of being taken care of."

"Is this what you do," Severus mumbled as Molly hummed seemingly to herself in the kitchen. "Might not be a wedding."

"I heard that," she called, unimpressed. "All right, Mr. Hairy Heart. Die alone."

"I am not dying!"

"Outlive me, and I'll believe you."

'Well, as I'm ten years younger than you, I mean to do just that," Severus said acidly. Truly, he snuffled. It was hard to do so acidly, but if anyone could manage it, it was Severus Tobias Snape.

"Women live ten years longer, on average, so really, our age difference is very sensible."

"At least, I'm not ten years older," Severus said cheekily, or it would've been cheeky if he had not sneeze four different times.

"No, you just sound like you're ninety. Here, hot lemon tea with extra honey. Don't argue." Molly thrust a steaming cup into his hands. "What do you even do for yourself when you're sick?"

"Stay alone," Severus grumbled, pushing the tea away.

"Not anymore, drink," Molly said, holding the mug out resembling a prison warden.

"I'm," he coughed hard, twitching violently as a shiver ran up his spine. "I'm all -" he sneezed. "I'm," he wheezed. Groaning, he finished, "only if you want me dead," he coughed, "I'm allergic to lemons."

"Why didn't you tell me that!" Molly threw up her arms. "I'm not going to kill you with chamomile, am I?" Without giving him a chance to respond, she set about rinsing the kettle and harping at him all the while. "These are the sorts of things we are going to have to share, Severus. All the little details you might not think to mention. Is there anything else you're allergic to? How do you take your coffee, if at all? Do you sleep on the left or right side of the bed? That sort of thing."

"I don't think about it," Severus said uncomfortably, feeling like a little kid who was just be scolded. Awkward feeling as it was his fiancée who was doing the scolding. He stood up, slowly as he heard his joints creak and ache. Using his furniture and then later the wall to stable himself.

With one resting on the counter next to the sink and his other on the small of Molly's back, he felt her tense.

"Sit down, Severus."

"No," he said, the word strangling itself as he choked down a cough. "You also have to make adjustments. I am not used to any of this. You can," he closed his eyes for what he was about to say, "help but keep to a minimum. I'm also learning too. And I'm allergic to lavender oil." He had discovered after a bad reaction to potion making, now whenever a recipe calls for it, he gears up with protective gloves. "I take tea. I don't know. I'm a professor. I sleep at my desk."

"Severus, you haven't been a professor for what, two, three years?" Molly began in the voice she probably used with two thirds of her children at great frequency. "You can't bluff or snarl your way out of this."

At that, Severus tried to stand, then was forced to change his mind. "Don't treat me like a child. I am not one of your sons."

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are."

Molly crossed her arms in annoyance. "Really, this is how Arthur and I-"

"Then it's no wonder what Fabian and Gideon always said." Severus regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but there was no taking it back. Molly's arms had dropped at the mention of her twin brothers, who had been in the Order and killed in the first war. "What did they say?"

Severus froze, willing himself to say something - anything at all! He did not know how Arthur lasted for so long. And here Severus had privately considered Arthur to be mild-mannered, now he feels just as mild as one Mr. Arthur Weasley once was.

"Nothing," Severus in a soft voice, stumbling back into the living room. "You're right... per usual."

"Don't you dare," Molly nearly growled. "You don't dangle my brothers' names like that and then pretend it didn't happen. That's what you always do, Severus."

Severus' temper didn't flare. He was far too much of a spy for that still. But he was sick, and Molly was the one living person he truly felt comfortable with. Maybe he just didn't have the energy to argue. "That you treated Arthur so much like a child, it was a wonder you wanted so many of your own."

Fabian and Gideon had often been joking, of course. They were much like their twin nephews in terms of sense of humor, if not rule-breaking chaos. They had often meant it with the sort of fond despair so many brothers employed in talking about their big sisters. Severus hoped Molly would take it that way.

She didn't. She stood very still, and when he risked a look at her face, every one of her freckles stood out clearly against her paled skin. "They always said that?"

"They said it," Severus mumbled, sinking into the couch. "Not often. I was exaggerating."

"How often?"

"Two, three times? I don't know. Mostly they bragged about their latest nephew, or... I'm sorry, Molly."

"I... I suppose I'll let you have your space," Molly said. She sounded like she was thinking of something else. Before Severus could offer a half-hearted protest, she was gone in a whirl of green flames.

The next day, Severus woke up feeling worse. He was congested, his sore was dry and scratchy, his stomach churning, and his skin was clammy and hot, but no beads of sweat were forming. He would have said that he felt like he was at death's door, if he had not actually once been at death's door. Instead he groaned and summoned water to his bedside wandlessly. He could still hear Molly's instructions about keeping his fluids up but felt much too weak (and terribly guilty to Severus' surprise) to call Molly up. He stayed in bed all day.

So, when Severus woke up the next day at 14:38. He went to his usual business, when sick, to summon water, a potion, and/or saltine crackers with wandless magic. When his magic failed, Severus grew worrisome and laid there on his bed, as if he were petrified, as he thought about how he could one, ask for forgiveness and two, will Molly forgive him before he dies?

When the fireplace roared in the next room, Severus's heart leapt. Part of him wanted to stagger out looking as pathetic as possible so Molly would forgive him more quickly. The vast majority of him was disgusted with this impulse, so he stayed right where he was. He might have been huddled on the sofa in a bathrobe with tissues stuffed into a wastebasket beside him, pale-faced and sweaty with a reddened nose and eyes, but he still had some dignity. At the sound of footsteps, he called in a croaking voice, "I want to apologize-"

"Too late. When a man's snogged your mum, he's marked himself for life." With this brutally cheery declaration, a red-haired young man stepped into the tiny living room. He was grinning like someone had just pounded a nail into his foot. The former professor and former student stared at one another for so long the moment lengthened into comical. "George," Severus said. "What are you doing here?"

"Fooled you!" the twin crowed. He reached for the side of his head where the hole was. He pulled at something, and an ear sprouted where none had been. "Invisibility earring." He held out an innocuous-looking golden stud. "We're working on making specific body parts invisible. Great for a laugh."

Severus coughed weakly into his handkerchief. "You still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here? And does your mother know you've pierced your ear?"

"What is it to you," Fred asked, still harboring a dislike for his former potion master's romantic relationship with his mother. "You look terrible."

"I could say the same," Severus returned rather waspishly. It was true; the twins' magenta work robes clashed hideously with their hair. "I repeat. What are you doing here, Mr. Weasley?"

"What do you mean," Fred said, looking down at his brightly hued robe. "It matches the decor of WWW. Although Ange does not like it. And, Mr. Weasley... I like that. Can you always call me that," he asked, obviously enjoying being evasive.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here."

"For someone sick and raspy, you sure do sound like regular old Snape," Fred said with a small chuckle. "Mum sent me. Said old Snapey is sick - my words, not hers. It's stuffy here. Do you mind?" Without another word or waiting for a response, the younger man took off his robe and draped it over his shoulder carelessly.

Most of Severus's sarcasm left him at that. So, Molly didn't want to speak to him, but she couldn't bear to leave him uncoddled. Or she had decided to punish him using the son who objected to him most. "So not touch anything," he coughed.

Fred gave a flourishing bow and set about brewing coffee (not tea) with a few flicks of his wand. Then he threw himself bodily into the over-stuffed armchair opposite Severus. Severus waited to see if the abused furniture would collapse. It didn't. Barely.

The silence drew out as they studied one another. The scent of brewing coffee, delicious to most, despised by Severus, filled the house. "You can call it off, you know," Fred said suddenly. "Mum would get over it."

"I beg your pardon?" Severus asked tonelessly.

Fred shrugged. For once he seemed more awkward than brashly hostile, almost embarrassed. "I mean, it's pretty obvious this is a mistake. Mum's lonely...and I guess you must be, too. Ugh, never thought I'd be saying something so human about a greasy dungeon-bat."

"What is a mistake," Severus said, although he knew what Fred meant. He knew what all of the Weasley children really thought. But he wanted to hear it said out loud.

"Well, uh, you know..."

"No, I don't," Severus bluffed.

"Do to," Fred argued.

"Do not," Severus said, too feverish to come up with a more adult response, so he stuck with more childish antics.

Do to," Fred said, sitting up with a glint in his eyes. He had never imagined, or dreamt, of getting into this kind of argument with his least favorite schoolteacher.

"D -" ACHOO! ACHOO! ACHOO! Poor Severus lurched back and forth as sneezes shot out, grabbing a box of tissues Severus soiled tens and hundreds of tissues.

"Ugh, ew," Fred made a face and then brightened. "SNEASLEY! You're all sneasley!"

If ever there was a reason to make Severus consider calling it off, it would be that. "Oh, so Molly told you," he said as casually as he could into his tissue.

"Told me what?"

"That we're planning on changing the family surname. A compromise over Snape and Weasley seemed fairest."

Abject horror crossed Fred's face. "I'm taking my wife's surname."

"You don't have a wife, or even a girlfriend, as far as I'm aware."

"Doesn't matter. I'm finding a girl, and I'm marrying her, and I'm taking her name," Fred vowed fervently. Then he paused. "You just made a joke. A not-horrible-to-Gryffindors joke."

"I am drugged to the gills on Pepper-up potion," Severus returned acidly, followed by a sneeze. "To which I regrettably have built up a tolerance. Do you have anything useful to contribute? If not, you can go on your merry way. I'll tell Molly you were very helpful and attentive."

"No, I'd put everything in the kitchen already," Fred said, his voice still small and in slight awe that he witnessed a rare joke from Severus. "I'm just going to go now. But you are not changing the Weasley name. Never."

The older, sick wizard closed his eyes, reclining back into his propped-up pillows. "Tell you what, Mr. Weasley. If your mother doesn't come into the room within the next five minutes, I won't."

"Deal," Fred laughed. "You're not half-bad, Snape." Then a couple seconds later. "No! NO! You knew!"

Still with his eyes closed, Severus hid an amused grin. "Mr. Weasley, I don't know what you're talking about."

"I knew you will come around, Fred," came the thrilled voice of Molly as she threw her arms around her fourth son.

Fred had the grace to acquiesce and even hug his mother back, but his face kept twitching. "This was a trap! This was a trap?"

"Well, not pre-planned, certainly," Molly said. She pulled back and patted his cheek. "But yes."

"I thought you had a huge fight!"

"We had an argument," Molly said primly, "but we are two adults who know how to handle conflict constructively."

"Wow, Mum." Fred considered her as if he had never seen her before. "That's devious. I never would have expected it of you."

"Which side of the family do you kept your pranking skills from?"

"Yeah... I'm gonna go now. And I still don't like your boyfriend, by the way. Still against this whole thing. Completely one hundred percent dead-set against any of it." Still prattling on, he was gone in a whirl of flames.

The two adults stood chuckling for a few moments until Severus began to cough again. Then Molly made some more tea and sat beside him. "All right, Severus. I'm done nursing my wounds. I hope you're ready to talk."

"I am."

And so, they did talk, talked for about an hour. The talk had some solemn moments, some laughter, and some tears (mainly from Molly).

After coming to an agreement of boundaries, Molly asked, "Severus, what did Fred mean by it was a trap?"

He blinked. Then he smiled broadly.

"Have you told your children you're keeping your surname?"

"I didn't realize I needed to," Molly answered. She was under the assumption that since she as been "Molly Weasley" for over thirty years - over half of her life - it was no doubt she would keep the Weasley name. Not to mention she did still love Arthur. "Why?"

"Just that we're compromising our names, Fred came up with it," Severus said nonchalantly.

Molly laughed, "To what?"

"Sneasley."

"I don't like it," Molly said, sobering up. "I think it should be Snolly."