Their ballroom was full to the brim. There were well over one hundred of them, closer to one hundred fifty, between children, foster children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, spouses of children (and one grandchild), and significant others of their oldest granddaughters. Albus and Minerva were here as well as a few other former and current staff members like Madam Pomfrey because Severus would never forget the care she gave to him as a student and later as a professor.

Even if she hadn't had to this go around, and didn't remember ever having to do it in the first place.

For once their ballroom was being used for what it was supposed to be. Dinner was just for family and invited friends, but the tables would be cleared and Severus expected hundreds to turn out.

Hundreds showing up to congratulate them on fifty years of marriage. People celebrating something that he had done. With this witch.

Because of this witch.

She hadn't had a formal wedding. They'd been rather busy with children to do anything for their twenty-fifth. So, he was determined to mark fifty years with some fanfare. She deserved it.

And then some.

As per tradition of the past forty-nine years, bouquets of ranunculus could be found throughout the house and as the centerpiece for their table. He'd never given her roses. There'd been a reason for that. He found roses entirely too … common, and there was absolutely nothing common about his wife or their marriage.

"I have one gift that can be opened in the presence of everyone," he said, met with a chuckle by their children.

He used his wand to have the tall and wide boxed gift sat in front of her spot at the table.

"Erik," she said.

They'd promised no gifts, instead planning to go on both an Alaskan and Hawaiian cruise together over the upcoming summer and Christmas holidays. They talked of renewing their vows, the muggle way, on one of the cruises.

"Open it," he coached.

"Fine," she said and she gasped once she did.

It was an exquisite crystal vase.

As exceptionally crafted as it was, it wasn't the actual gift.

Contained within the vase were a dozen roses made from gold (Albus had helped him with this task), each in varying stages of the blooming process. The tip of each rose was charmed to appear red. A spell he'd have to renew now and again. Engraved in the vase was the word "Begrudgingly", their initials, and the date of their marriage.

"It only took you fifty years to finally give me roses," she said with a wink so he knew she was teasing him.

"Good things come to those who wait," he drawled.

The children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren had all gone, or were upstairs sleeping. The guests had long ago left and Severus imagined their elves were busy putting the ballroom back to the way it usually was. Albus and Severus were in his study enjoying a cigar and a good glass of bourbon. (Albus enjoyed when Severus shared muggle things with him.) Minerva, Poppy, Pomona, Rolanda, the former Hogwarts healer Laranda, and Hermione were in the game room embattled in a game of Scrabble. On a legitimate Scrabble board, of course. No one had ever seen the other one.

While Laranda and Hermione were the oldest, the six women got along pretty splendidly. Severus for his part had no real friends. Albus. Filius. But he really hadn't met anyone along the way that he'd bonded with.

He realized over the years that the friendship he'd forged with Lucius Malfoy was not one he cared to repeat so he'd never approached any of Lucius' ancestors. It had not been built on the right thing.

He endeavoured years ago to be, and do, better.

He'd get together occasionally with their childrens' fathers-in-law. Some evenings when Hermione was running late or doing something away from their rooms or Hogwarts, he'd sit with Argus Filch for a while. Hagrid wasn't out of the question for him to pop in and visit once in a while, too.

He never found himself or felt lacking, though. His life was quite full. He was making a difference in students' lives. He had a good family.

Hell, it seemed he'd contributed to saving a soul and the wizarding world. He liked to think being a bit of a loner was a decent trade off for that.

He kept busy doing his own thing and he was quite all right with that.

In bed, later that night.

"I thought you'd forgotten your sneaky ways."

"Oh?"

"Yes. How you managed to surprise me…"

"It's far less than you deserve for fifty years with me."

She snuggled against him as she was wont to do and he was very familiar with by now.

"You make it sound like a prison sentence, Erik."

He sighed, kissing the top of her head.

"No, I am just more than aware of sacrifices…"

The modern day comforts that she was accustomed to in 1996 that she gave up weren't even forefront on his mind anymore. Her career. Of course, there was nothing saying she'd have a career if Voldemort won.

Voldemort.

It had been a long time since he'd thought of that name. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought of his oldest son as anything other than that.

His son. Thomas Magnus Prins.

A son, as with all of his children, he thought he'd done a more than just suitably capable job of raising. With the help, guidance, and example of this witch.

"This right here," she said, kissing his chest as she slid her arm around him. "Is more than worth anything, Erik."

"Sex? Really?" He knew that wasn't what she meant.

"Well, yes. That's not what I meant, though. Closeness. Acceptance. Security. You gave me all of that."

"Only because you did it first."

She kissed his chest again. He wondered if it was odd fifty years later that they still slept in very little. Less than very little unless a child was staying with them and the need to be discreet was expected. He hoped to never find out. He liked the closeness they'd forged. Immensely.

"You were truly surprised?"

"I was. I assumed we would do something, but not that …"

"Yes. Well, I figured it was about time the Prins home had a ball."

She gave a soft hum.

"It was nice," she said.

"It was." He and the children had ensured it was tasteful and not overdone or pretentious.

"Thank you," she whispered a bit later. He'd presumed she'd drifted off to sleep. She always fell asleep best to the sound of his heart. It took him until Charlotte to put it together and realize that's why she preferred sleeping to his left.

"Our hundredth will be much quieter."

She gave a soft laugh.

"One hundred years of putting up with you, I should get a parade."

"I'll work on it," he said, kissing the top of her head once more.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com