The Weasley Clock has been the fascination for many wizards - Albus Dumbledore being the biggest fan. The clock brought comfort to Molly and Arthur when their children went off to Hogwarts and then graduated. They could look up and see that their child was safe (and when Ginny's hand went to mortal peril, they were instantly at Hogwarts). But there were three times it brought Molly three kinds of pain: sorrow, a little humor, and bittersweetness.

Sorrow

The door closed with a small click at Molly's back. She stood for a time with her hand still on the knob, head bowed, alone in the shadowy house, in the silence. But then she raised her chin and took a few quick steps forward, half purposeful, half fluttering. She knew she didn't have long. The children would realize her absence before long. It might take them a while to figure out where she had gone, though. None of them would understand the desire to see this alone, to do this alone. Molly didn't completely understand herself.

It hung on the wall, the family clock. It had been a wedding present from her parents. She had been charmed by its burnished surface with words written in a wheel—garden, home, work, traveling. There had only been two slender silver hands then, each with a picture and a name—Arthur and Molly. But the magic upon it was so closely tied to their family that it had added its own hands as needed. She had never been able to catch it in the act. The first time had been when she was five months pregnant. She and Arthur had finally agreed on the name Bill, and the next morning she had been delighted to see a silver hand that bears William in calligraphy with a milky blank surface where the picture would be, pointing at "home." Over the years other hands had appeared—Charles, Percival, Fred, George, Ronald, Ginevra, and now Fleur. She had always wished a hand saying "Harry" would appear, but that had never been a real possibility. What would the clock say now?

She remembered the first time she entered her home. At the time it was The Burrow - her boyfriend's parents' home. She was a wide-eyed fifteen years old filled with dreams and goals. She wanted to teach her children and grow old with Arthur Weasley.

The house never became a home on her wedding night (Arthur's parents were older when they started a family, so with Arthur and Molly's forthcoming nuptials they retired to the coast of Wales and thus gifted their ancestral home to them). Nor did the house become a home when they, as fresh Hogwarts graduates, announced their engagement. The house became a home to Molly when she was fifteen, shaking with nerves at the idea of meeting Mrs. Weasley. The house became a home to Molly when Mrs. Weasley bustled out of the kitchen, wrapped her arms around the girlfriend of her firstborn, and said: "Call me Cedrella, dear!"

Now, Molly, at aged 48, stood in the dark kitchen unsure of when she willed her legs to move. She stood there, frozen, her eyes moving to and fro. Her bottom lip quivered, yet no tears came forth. Molly had not cried once in the past month since the war. Not in public or private. She knew she did not have to be strong for her children and it was not her maternal instinct kicking in, but the feeling that no tears could ever speak the worth of her dearly beloved husband.

Her eyes stopped roaming, settling on that old clock.

"Molly, home," she whispered, counting the number of hands. "Bill is home, Fleur is home," she breathed, somehow the clock knew that her kids have moved out. "Charlie, away. Percy, away. Fred, away," she drew out a breath, calming her nerves. Her younger children (and herself) were staying at Shell Cottage, "Ron, away. Ginny, away." Pursing her lips, she searched for the missing hand.

The words "mortal peril" possessed an ominous shadow, almost taunting Molly of the second time her Arthur's hand pointed to those words. But his hand was gone, it was nowhere to be seen on the clock. Did it disappear altogether?

Stepping further, again she was uncertain how she had the strength to do so, she rolled her foot on uneven ground. She fell to the floor, her eyes never leaving the clock.

"Arthur," Molly whispered to the clock or perhaps in grief, her hand feeling for the culprit of her fall. She felt something cold and slender.

Pulling it in front of her, she inspected the object. It was silver and simply adorned, on one end was the stilled face of Arthur Weasley grinning. On the body, in calligraphy, read: "Arthur Weasley." Molly tightened the clock hand in her fist and for the first time cried.

Funny/Joy

By now, Molly was an old pro at weddings, having planned five of them, with number six soon to be in the works. She had by now married off four sons, and Ron would be proposing soon, but there was a special satisfaction to having seen her only daughter married. It had been a rather raucous wedding, granted, with Ginny's entire Quidditch team and leading a toast, and Harry's co-workers at the auror office apparently regarded it as an opportunity to heckle him mercilessly. Still, the vows had been said, Ginny had looked gorgeous and Harry handsome, the cake did not topple, and no fistfights had broken out (unlike at Fred's wedding). Bill had been the one to walk Ginny down the aisle, sparing Severus, Ginny, and Harry all embarrassment, but stepfather and stepdaughter had agreed to share the father-daughter dance (mostly because they knew Harry had been practicing the waltz to share with Molly). Now the happy couple was safely packed off on their honeymoon to Brazil (where they would be visiting Luna Lovegood). Molly got up early to enjoy her tea and the inner glow of a job well done. Soon, she thought placidly, there would be another grandchild on the way, or three, or four. Not at once, mind, but Molly was ambitious in her matriarchy of the Weasley Family if nothing else.

The sunlight was just creeping through the kitchen window. Molly set the tea to brew with a flick of her wand and turned toward the family clock. In anticipation of their expanding family, she had sent it in to be renovated. It had come back with a "cuckoo" function, where the relevant hands popped in and withdrew from the face. She and Severus were always present, as were her seven children, but their spouses and the grandchildren came and went, depending on who she asked about. "Show me the newest member of the family," she said. Had she not been dreaming about seeing Harry's name on this clock for years? Ever since getting to know him the summer after his first year, she had had fantasies of adopting him. Harry marrying Ginny was the next best thing. Indeed, during their dance, he had asked if he could call her Mum, "since it's for real now."

A slender silver hand popped out and rotated to "traveling." Molly frowned, as the plate at the end bore not a black-haired picture but a milky reflective surface. Usually, it produced the face without any trouble. She stepped closer and squinted. Her heart did an odd two-step in her chest.

The hand said, Edward.

"That's not right." Foolishly, she reached up to pull the clock's hand off. It stayed stubbornly put. Molly withdrew her hand, staring at the clock. "Where's Harry?" Another hand popped out, featuring a black-haired young man and the name "Harry," and spun to point to "abroad."

"But who's Edward?" Molly demanded of the clock. Unsurprisingly, it did not respond.

Molly sat down at the kitchen table with a thud. There was a new hand on her clock. There was a stranger in her family. Her mind began to race. There were only two possibilities. One was that one of the children had married without telling her. But that was absurd. The only unmarried ones were Ron and Charlie, and Ron was practically engaged to Hermione. Charlie couldn't be dating someone named Edward, could he? Secretly? But she had told him she loved him no matter who he fell in love with. She had said as much when he was seventeen, taking his lifelong lack of a girlfriend for a sign that he might like boys. He had brushed her off with the statement that dragons were much more interesting. Unless he had had a dozen too many firewhiskeys and accidentally married himself off to some drunk in a Romanian pub, the way Arthur's brother Bilius once had?

The other possibility, of course, was…

There were footsteps from upstairs.

"Severus," Molly called, "Severus!"

Wand ready, Severus answered the call with a glint in his eyes. Only two times he had held that same glint. The first was when he heard the news that Lily Evans Potter was murdered and the second was when Harry Potter called him a coward. If Molly, herself, was not in a panicked state she would've been thoroughly touched by Severus' protectiveness.

"What?"

"Look!"

His eyes followed Molly's trembling finger to the refurnished clock. Furrowing his brows, he turned back to his wife and asked in a slow, deliberate voice:

"What about it?"

"A new name!"

"Potter's name," Severus asked rhetorically, memories of the day before surfacing his mind. As if the clock read his mind, Harry in silver script appeared on the clock for "abroad." He nodded curtly, he and Ginny Weasley (now Potter, but Severus could not very well call two people "Potter") were honeymooning in Brazil.

"Edward, who is Edward," Molly repeated, drawing Severus' attention back to her. "Show me Edward."

Then, he saw it too. A hand popped up, Edward neatly written on the body and the ambiguous face became a little clearer (albeit still fuzzy) and depicted a black-haired boy.

"Who's Edward?"

"Really, Severus," Molly said, her hands on her hips. "That what I was saying." She took a deep breath. "Normally the clock acquires a new hand after marriage or when a couple decides on a name for the unborn child, I always felt like if the clock agrees it is providential. But now that I can make out a face... I don't know if..."

"Edward may be born," Severus finished, paling at the thought of a baby in the family. He was just getting used to being a step-father and had not touched on the idea of grandfatherhood. He tended to avoid one-year-old Victoire; in fact, he had never once held Bill's daughter (and he's absolutely terrified of newborn Dominique!). "At least we know it's not Ginny's."

He had said it to be a joke, but Molly, an already panicked and typically protective mother, took it seriously.

"What if it is!" She exclaimed. "Oh my! I better floo to Ginny! They better not be pregnant or just had a child. There are ways for witches to hide pregnancies, you know. There was a girl during my school days, who hid an entire pregnancy under charms and enchantments. She ended putting the baby up for adoption." Molly said as she rifled through the drawers looking for her papers to travel abroad or at least a pen or paper.

"Accio Molly's wand," Severus uttered quite calmly, catching Molly's wand in one fluid motion.

"Severus, don't play around!"

"Molly, you cannot go to your daughter," Severus said. "They aren't hiding any pregnancies or children from you."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Potter could not pull it off," Severus said. "And I knew his father, I wasn't even friends with his mother, but I still knew when they were expecting Potter. His father made quite a spectacle of it."

"Harry might not be able to, but Ginny could!" Molly shot back. "This is Fred and George's sister we're talking about."

Severus frowned. "Point taken. Still, wait a moment while we think this through." He peered more closely at the picture in the hand. "This isn't a baby, and the head is too big to be anywhere close to say, eleven years. I'd guess whoever Edward is, he's about three. The good news is, no one's secretly eloped unless it's Victoire or Dominique."

"But black hair!" Molly exclaimed. "Who in the family has black hair?"

"Angelina," Severus said.

"Don't be absurd, we might not be able to see his face, but we can see he's too pale to be Angelina and George's."

Severus nearly made a sarcastic comment about her absurd certainty that Ginny had hidden a pregnancy for no reason but thought better of it. Molly might topple the clock on him in this mood. "Then Potter is the only candidate."

"But Ginny—"

"It doesn't have to be Ginny's child, Molly. Think about it. Three years ago was the climax of the war. Ginny wasn't in any position to hide a pregnancy then, though I admit then she would have at least had a good reason to. But isn't it quite in the realm of possibility that, while on his epic camping trip, Potter 'sought comfort' in someone else's arms?"

Molly gave a dramatic gasp, and her hands flew to her mouth. "Hermione!"

Not quite what Severus had been driving at, but still possible. He wasn't even sure he believed any of what he was saying, but at least it was logical. More importantly, it kept Molly from flooing off to Brazil straightaway. Not that he cared about the sanctity of Potter's honeymoon, but the fallout between the Weasley women would be so intense that it was better to head it off.

"Or some random tavern wench, no doubt," he said smoothly. "It makes sense. That would explain why Edward didn't appear on the clock until now—he wasn't family until Potter married Ginny."

Molly sagged back nearly against the wall in befuddled devastation. Suddenly her eyes blazed, and she rose to a metaphorical towering height. "Now see here, Severus Snape! Where do you get off dropping accusations like this? Harry is a good boy. He does not sleep around, and he does not keep secrets, certainly not of this magnitude. Just because you were bullied by his father doesn't give you a reason to badmouth him!"

Severus blinked at this unexpected attack. Molly was bristling as if he had called her ability to raise virtuous sons into question. Never mind that she had been throwing around wild theories about her own daughter a few minutes ago. "It was just a guess, Molly. I didn't mean—"

There was a new glint to Molly's eyes that alarmed him. "But there is one more black-haired member of this family, Severus. You."

"Me?" Severus echoed, disbelieving.

"Yes, you. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Severus blinked.

And he blinked again.

Once more, Severus blinked.

"Yes, I have a child," Severus said, the sarcasm layering thick on his words. Molly scowled. "No, Molly, we decided the child is approximately three years, he would've appeared on that blasted clock -"

"Don't insult my clock!"

" - back when we married months ago."

"You could've just found out," Molly bit back. "Need I remind you, a lot of your students had crushes on you."

"Foolish ones," Severus muttered. He would have never dated anyone, besides back then before Molly forced her way into his life, he was still sworn off dating and marriage to preserve his one-sided love affair with Lily. "But to entertain the idea of an illegitimate Snape, why did I not tell you?"

"Stop acting like I'm the fool here, honestly, Severus, you were a spy in the war," Molly snapped, "and a bloody good one! You never just volunteer information!"

That struck a chord in Severus. He stood silently, looking at the second of the women that had ever loved. Even with the compliment, Severus felt like it was a slap to the face.

"Oh, Sev..." Molly trailed off, one hand to her lips when she realized what she had said. "I didn't mean that."

"No, you're right," Severus said. "I was a 'bloody good' spy, but you of all people, Molly, should know that I will never hide something... not from you." Then he wordlessly brushed past Molly to get his mug of tea.

Before he could depart and leaving the maybe-new grandmother (step-mother if Edward is truly a Snape) alone, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, clasped hands, dropped in with Ron - with a smugged grin - raising their hands together.

"Mum, Hermione said yes!"

Molly mustered up her best squeal of delight, though it was less enthusiastic than usual since a) Hermione had been practically a member of the family for seven-plus years, b) Ron was her seventh child to get engaged, and c) the identity of Edward was still a present mystery.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you! Hermione, give me a hug."

"Congratulations," Snape said curtly from his position by the clock.

Ron popped to his side, beaming. Basking in the glow of his success, he forgot his standing rule to maintain at least five feet of distance between himself and his stepfather.

"Thanks, Professor! We're thinking a September wedding, you know, a little untraditional, and that's the month we first met. Hermione's dead-set on going to Greece for the honeymoon."

Molly at last released Hermione, only to demand, "How many children are you planning to have?" She bounced back from the sinisterly unidentified newborn slash three-year-old on her family clock rather quickly.

"I don't know. We want to wait a few years for our careers. Maybe one?" Hermione shrugged.

"Four max. Two bare minimum," Ron said firmly.

"If you don't stop standing on my toes, Ronald Weasley, that number will be none."

"Sorry." Ron stepped away from Severus hurriedly. "It's just I noticed that Teddy's on the clock."

Hermione spoke into the thunderous silence. "Is he? Oh, Harry will be so pleased!"

"Teddy?" Molly echoed in a funny voice. "Teddy Lupin? But the hand says Edward."

"Course, Mum," Ron said as if this was obvious. "He's named after Tonks' dad, isn't he? Teddy for short."

"I thought Teddy was a nickname for Theodore."

"Nope, it's — Oh, look, his hair's gone blue again." Indeed, the milky image reformed with the face again indistinct but a very clear shock of turquoise.

Molly tried to share a sheepish look with Severus. He was not playing along. After all, she had been the one to freak out and try to storm Brazil, not him.

"Well, it's a good thing neither of us overreacted, isn't it, Molly," he said casually, taking a rather long drink from his tea.

Bittersweet

Severus and Molly did not have a honeymoon. It was something that was never discussed fully, but more as a silent agreement. They were older and war-torn – Molly's on her second marriage – and honeymoon sounded like something the young and in love would do. Instead, they decided to have a quiet week alone (Molly had firmly told the kids to not come in) in order to discover how to proceed with this new phase in their life.

The morning after their wedding, Severus was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. He opened the pantry to grab the salt and pepper, then stopped.

"I should probably make two," he told himself out loud, reminding himself that he was now a pair.

With that reminder, he grabbed two more slices of bread and grabbed the eggs from the pantry. He remembered Molly stating how she loved blackberry jam on toast and that her gran used to make her some when she was a little girl.

Severus stopped short. Staring at the ancestral clock, he moved forward and reached a hand out. He knew of the clock well. The clock was a well-known, envious artifact of the Weasley Family. Even Dumbledore was impressed by the magical object and on occasion would gush about how incredible and ingenious it is. His hand brushed against the silver hand, his thumb caressed the cursive 'S,' moving across the word as if he were a mere child learning how to read. His thumb now hovered over a photo of his own face, giving a small half-smile that looked so foreign to himself. A tear pricked his eye, he willed it to stay put. He was Severus Snape, a war veteran and double agent, Hogwarts' most feared professor. He does not cry. He doubled back, returned to his cooking, and once done left to tell his bride:

"I made breakfast. There's enough if you want some."

"Why, yes, thank you." Molly emerged in her dressing gown and set the tea kettle to steaming with a few practiced flicks of her wand.

Severus was a consummate performer. He had deceived Voldemort to his face for years and all of Voldemort's followers for years more. Despite the vouching of their general, the Order of the Phoenix had doubted his intentions. He could fool anyone except Dumbledore.

Yet Molly took one good look at his face and paused. "Severus, what's wrong?"

So much for that. He would have to get used to being read so well. He really didn't know how Molly did it. Maybe it came from having been married for so many years that she knew how to pick up on her partner's moods. Maybe it came from being the mother of seven children, where guessing what went on behind façades became instinctive.

Or maybe, Severus admitted to himself, he was overcomplicating things. Again. Would it be so hard for him to admit that Molly read him well? Just the previous day at their wedding, he had reflected that they were getting married because they understood one another. In simple terms, that meant that Molly understood him. And that was not an easy thing for him. His life had often depended on not being understood. More to the point, he had taken some form of pride or comfort in being the outcast. Alone in infamy and all that.

"I feel like an imbecile." He gestured toward the clock.

Molly stepped closer to examine the hand. "This is a good picture," she said approvingly. "I do wish you would smile more —"

"Usually a man says that to a woman," Severus said dryly, "and is reviled for it."

"I wish you would smile more because then I would know you're happy," Molly clarified, turning to him with a strange look on her face. "Did you not know this hand would appear, Severus?"

"Yes," Severus lied, before truthfully saying – with a coat of sarcasm, "No. I didn't know the clock grows hands. All my clocks just tell time."

"Okay," Molly said calmly. "So, you were startled by it. That's fine. But that isn't all, and don't you pretend it is."

"Since when... do I pretend?"

"Since when do you not, Evan Prince," Molly crossed her arms. She fixed him with a look that was shrewd and understanding. The shrewd part Severus could handle, but the understanding, as he had thought previously, bothered him more than he cared to admit. "I am going to tell you what I think, Severus. I'm not sure you want to hear it, but as your wife I feel I have to say it."

Having been a bachelor and single for most of his adult life, Severus was unaccustomed to marriage and thus the correct ways to proceed unscathed.

But he knew one thing for certain.

"It appears I don't have a choice."

"You have a choice as far as how I say this, and how you respond to it. But I won't beat around the bush." Molly shrugged. "You're used to being alone. To being lonely. It unnerves you to have a physical sign that you belong somewhere, with someone. We love our familiar miseries, as my grandmother used to say because they feel safer than fresh happiness."

He was at a loss of words. However, he was not going to bow down to Molly, the Slytherin part of him was not going to admit defeat. After all, Severus reasoned to himself, he had not always been alone. He had his potions, his lab, and friends... of sort.

"Alone," Severus echoed at a pause. "I lived alone, yes, but I was never alone. I had people... friends."

"Name one," Molly said. "Excepting, of course, Dumbledore, the Order, and death eaters, all of whom you had to spend time with while spying. Name one person you sought out on your rare holidays. Someone you told your strange dreams from the night before or drank more than is proper with." Whoever said Gryffindors couldn't be brutal?

"Lily."

"Except for Harry's mum!"

Severus opened his mouth, then closed it. Molly, with her arms crossed, stared expectantly at Severus with a raised eyebrow. There had not been anyone, not really. Being in the muggle world for two years made talking about his strange dreams and nightmares with someone who will understand difficult. However, there was one person that Severus had been a bit more comfortable and found the person's company to be quite enjoyable.

"There's been one," Severus said slowly. "A good friend."

"Really?" Molly brightened, her stern composure lessening. "Who? Were they at our wedding?" She should know better; the only people Severus had invited had been Order members.

"No, just a muggle," Severus said dismissively, stirring a sugar cube into his morning tea.

"Just a muggle?" Molly echoed. "I don't like hearing you talk like that, Severus. One of our daughters-in-law is 'just' a muggle, you know."

Severus sighed, stifling an exasperated groan.

"He's a muggle. How else do I tell about him?"

"Try starting with his name."

"I don't mention his name, it's our agreement," Severus said, feeling feverish that he ended up sitting down. "I called him Major... was going to be Junior but he's older so he suggested Senior or Major." He glanced up at Molly, still feeling like someone cast a dizzy spell on him. He supposed it was embarrassment or nerves. "Can we forget about Major and just say you're right that I am a sad, lonely miserable man who doesn't know how to feel belong? Then move on?"

"No, we cannot," Molly said reverting back to the firm composure. "You know the names of all my friends. I want to know something about your only apparent friend. Trust me, Severus, I would be delighted to be wrong about that," she pointed at the clock, "being the first sign of family or friendship you've had in your adult life. But until I hear something that convinces me, I'm forced to believe otherwise." Which meant she would either pity him or coddle him. Or, worse, both.

"You want to know everything," Severus asked, straightening himself up in his seat. "Everything in the past 2 years?"

"Try for a concise summary, if that's possible. Really, anyone can tell you aren't used to this."

Severus rose an eyebrow. "You? You want a concise summary? The woman who practically got Potter to go into detail over his proposal. Very well, if you insist." He said seething. The logical part of him knew he should not be this unreasonable, but his emotion – and pride – was tapped.

"The war ended, Potter started calling me the bravest man and a hero, so I went to the muggle world," Severus said, making quotations marks with his fingers at Harry's words. "I was alone for a few months, say... six, seven months?"

"Go on." Molly did not like to dwell on that time. It had been very dark for her as well, having been newly widowed.

"Went to a pub every night, just to drink," Severus continued. "One night an old muggle veteran stopped me from having a drink, I was about to obliviate him." He trailed off with a soft chuckle as if remembering an inside joke. "He chatted, asked questions. I just nodded. He asked if I was a veteran. Turned out he was muggle World War II veteran and was an English spy."

"He had some stories. He got me back up on my feet, told me I needed to get out." Severus blinked, his face now stony as he swallowed dry.

"Does he know you're a wizard?" Molly asked. "And do you still see him? Because he sounds wonderful, Severus. It's not many older men who would bother to help out a younger man like that, let alone a complete stranger. A standoffish stranger, if you were your usual self around him."

"Last time we talked, I told him," Severus responded.

Molly tensed slightly at this breach of the Statute of Secrecy, and the use of the past tense. "And?"

Severus drew in a breath and for some time did not do anything. Then he exhaled. Wordlessly, he stood up, towering over his wife, and held out his hand.

"Take."

Molly did, with a speed that both startled Severus and heartened him.

Without hesitation, Severus apparated Molly and himself away. They arrived at an apple orchard, underneath a tree with pearly white blossoms. He looked over at Molly.

"Right, here," he said, shrugging off his cloak and lightly draped it around Molly's shoulders.

Molly looked about uncertainly. "Where are we?"

"At Senior's," Severus said as if he was merely stating the weather. "He always expected I was a wizard or something of that nature."

"Are you actually taking me to meet your friend?" Molly asked, torn between incredulity and delight. "Which way is the house?"

He did not speak for a time. It felt like an eternity for Molly. "I am. I need to tell you something first."

Molly sensed he was hiding something. "Yes?" A pause. "You're not going to drag this out like you did when I first recognized you, are you?"

"I did not," Severus mumbled, then raised his voice. "He was sick and never got better. After he... he... Afterwards, I just taught, went home, and slept until three weeks or later a rather frustrating red-haired woman, who could admirably make the dark lord tremble in fear, showed up in my class and would not leave me alone. I try to stay away, because I had just lost a good friend. I was okay with being alone. I was used to it. That is why… I… was surprised to see my hand on the clock. I never expected to have a family…" Then he dropped Molly's hand and gestured to the other side of the tree, turning his head slightly.

Molly's eyes stung with tears. So often in the past year, it felt as if death sneaked up and ambushed her. It was everywhere, flavoring every good thing with a taint of decay. She had been so happy a moment ago, thinking Severus had a friend she would get to meet. Thinking Severus had a friend, period. With a stuffy breath through her nose, she stepped around the tree to be greeted by a white marble tombstone, topped by a slender cross, with thin stylized writing:

Major James Porter Jr.

1925-2000

Go with God.

It was well-cared for. As she watched, a plant sprouted and budded on his grave: a spray of red chrysanthemums. Severus stowed his wand away.

"His favorite. That was one of the things I liked about him. He wasn't embarrassed to not fit some mold of manliness, unlike many men in his generation."

Molly pointed to the name. "Severus, is this..."

Severus' lips twitched. "That's how I first met him, doing a double-take when someone called his name. It took me four meetings to stop twitching. A complete coincidence, I assure you."