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Severus Snape walked down the uneven stairs at The Burrow stealthily, none of the ease and silence having faded since his spy days. Reaching the ground floor, he looked around before noting the emptiness of space before the fireplace. Moving away from the kitchen, he made his way over and began to pace.

The rough carpet beneath his bare feet was not the same as the cool stones that lined the hallways at home, but it would have to do.

Running his long fingers over the back of the whimpering bundle in his arms in an attempt to sooth her, he released a sigh.

It had not been his idea to come here – for the Christmas celebrations no less – but his wife had been remarkably persistent and unable to come up with a good enough excuse, and refusing to be apart from his young family over the festive season, he'd given in.

He'd begrudgingly noted that Ali had enjoyed playing with the great number of children belonging to the various Weasleys in attendance, and Del had done, well, what he always did: sleep, feed, poop and repeat, but he refused to admit that he was enjoying himself.

His happy daughter of the day had somehow morphed into a whiny toddler during the night. Nothing seemed to be wrong, but she was refusing to sleep. He knew that this called for some mileage to be clocked, and so he'd slipped from the small bedroom that his family was sharing.

Looking down at the small form in his arms, he lifted his hand to her head, running his fingers over the thin black hair, murmuring soothing words, still pacing. He kept one ear open as he spoke softly. It would not do for anyone to catch him.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs – a woman, he deduced – Severus Snape held his daughter tight to his chest as he turned and Molly Weasley came into sight, decked out in a garish combination of a pink fluffy robe and bright orange slippers – neither complimenting the red hair of hers that currently resembled a birds nest.

He'd wondered when she would be coming down.

'Oh Severus, it's you,' said the surprised woman when her beady eyes settled upon him. 'Everything okay?' she asked, noting that he was not alone.

'Everything's fine Molly,' he responded without any expression.

'Mm, I thought I heard something down here,' chattered the red haired woman merrily. 'But never mind,' she continued, pulling her robe tighter around her. 'Good night Severus. Good night little one.'

'Molly,' he nodded in farewell, relaxing his grip slightly.

When the last footstep was heard at the top of the stairs, he turned slightly to the left as he pressed his lips to the head of his dozing daughter. Face remaining downward, he spoke with a quiet authority. 'I suggest that you move out. Now.'

The sheepish and slightly fearful faces of Harry Potter and a trio of redheads filed quickly past him from the kitchen, some hands still laden with the remnants of their midnight feast as all mumbled their apologies and profuse thanks with varying degrees of sincerity.

He ignored them.

Several minutes later, with troublemakers out of eyesight and earshot and Allinorah now asleep, Snape began his own trek up the stairs. Moving past the several doors of different shapes and sizes that adorned the hallway, he found his.

Hermione awoke as he stepped into the room. 'Everything okay?' she asked sleepily.

He snorted softly as he placed his firstborn in the cot, covering her with a blanket. Returning to bed, he spoke grumpily as she wrapped herself around him. 'Your goodness is rubbing off on me far too much, madam wife.'