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SIYE Time:6:04 on 19th March 2024
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Restless Heart Syndrome
By notadryeeye

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:All
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Mild Language, Sexual Situations
Rating: R
Reviews: 429
Summary: 17 Years have passed since the fall of Voldemort. Just as the world thinks it has finally started to heal and move on, some things thought long lost begin to awaken.
Hitcount: Story Total: 102987; Chapter Total: 5017





Author's Notes:
I so apologize for the large gap between updates! Life as we know it has been chaotic and busy...but I assure you, my muse has never waned--just the time to write! But I have this chapter for you and another one coming in a few days. And I assure you...the moment you've all been waiting for is close at hand :) Enjoy.




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“Anna?”

“Whit, it's me,” Anna breathed into the phone as she leaned against the wall and watched as people milled all about her.

“Anna, thank God,” Whitney replied, sounding thoroughly relieved to hear her sister's voice. “Are you guys back yet?”

“Yeah. Our flight was delayed last night so we've just landed. We're waiting for our bags and then we'll be home,” Anna responded as she spied Jackson standing near the baggage carousel, waiting with several other people as bags and luggage went around on the belt.

“I'm sorry, Anna,” Whitney apologized. “I tried to delay telling Dad for as long as I could...but he was really going round the bend worrying...”

“Whit, it's alright,” Anna reassured her sister. “I shouldn't have put you in the situation of having to lie for us. And you probably stopped Dad from calling the Prime Minister and getting the British Army involved to come get me...” Anna added.

“Yeah, we probably averted an international crisis,” Whitney added with a small chuckle, which made Anna smile into the phone.

“Are you guys ok?” Whitney asked after a second of silence between them.

“Yeah. We're fine,” Anna assured her.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Whitney asked quietly. Whitney didn't know exactly why they'd gone to the States, but Whitney had been filled in enough to cover for Anna.

“No,” Anna sighed truthfully.

“Are you coming straight home?” Whitney asked.

“Yeah. Why?” Anna asked as she watched Jackson reach out and grab one of their bags from the revolving belt.

“It's just--” Whitney hesitated. “I think Dad went over to Jackson's mum's house...I think that's where he is now...”

“Why is he there?” Anna asked nervously.

“He went to let his mum and the rest of his family when your flight might be in,” Whitney explained. “And I think perhaps to see if maybe you'd go there first before coming home to us.”

“His family knows?”

“Dad called them when he first found you gone,” Whitney explained. “His Mum got in touch with the people he was supposed to be camping with and...found he wasn't there. After I told Dad you'd gone to visit someone–they put two and two together and figured he was with you...”

“Oh man,” Anna breathed out exasperatedly.

“Apparently his uncles work in law enforcement and for the government and they were going crazy looking for you two,” Whitney added. “That's when I had to tell them all where you'd gone and that you were okay and would be back soon.”

“Great,” Anna sighed as Jackson grabbed the second bag from the conveyer and turned back towards her.

“I just wanted you to know that so if you headed to his house first you'd be prepared,” Whitney warned her. “Dad's still pretty upset.”

“I expected him to be,” Anna told her sister. “Well...we might as well get things with over with all at once...”

“You're going there first?”

“Yeah...” Anna replied as Jackson joined her, holding out her bag. “But I'm sure Dad and I will both be home sooner than later...”

--------------------------- ---------------------

Jackson's hand was sweaty and trembled slightly in her own as they walked up the driveway to his house. He'd purposely apparated them both to the edge of their property so that they'd have time to walk up to the house and get an idea of what they'd be walking into before they'd be forced to confront it. Anna had found the whole apparating business to have been rather unpleasant and even as they walked, she still couldn't shake the uncomfortable squeezing sensation she'd just experienced.

“You okay?” Jackson asked quietly as he peered down at her.

Anna nodded and squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“I'm sorry,” Jackson repeated for about the hundredth time since they'd left the coffee shop in New York. She wanted to tell him to stop saying those words because it wasn't completely his fault that they were in trouble. But she knew that it wouldn't keep him from saying them.

“I know,” she whispered, placating him and allowing Jackson to shoulder the blame–at least in his mind for the time being.

The rest of the walk up to the house was quiet, the only sound was the gravel of the drive crunching beneath their shoes. Their approach seemed to take forever and it wasn't until they'd rounded the final curve in the drive that the house finally came into view.

Anna could see her dad's car parked out in front and there were two tall figures standing on the front porch.

As they drew closer, Anna could make out one as her father. As Anna and Jackson approached, her Dad moved forward and down the steps towards them. The second figure was Jackson's Uncle Ron; his tall lanky figure and strikingly red hair were easily distinguishable.

Anna's dad continued moving down the steps. But instead of moving towards the couple, he slowly walked to the door of the passenger side of the car and held it open.

The gesture was obvious.

Reluctantly Anna released Jackson's hand as they approached the car, but he continued to walk with her.

“Dad--” Anna began, wanting to just explain straight away what they'd done. But he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Anna–get in the car,” her father said quietly. There wasn't any anger in her father's voice, but she could sense the seriousness of his tone.

She obeyed and moved to slide into the seat that was being offered,


-------------------------- ------------------------------

“Mr. Mitchell--” Jackson began as he watched Anna get into the car. “I just wanted you to kno--” he started to explain, but Anna's father raised his hand as a cue for Jackson to stop.

“Why don't you go inside, Jackson,” Mr. Mitchell suggested as he gestured towards the house. Jackson's Uncle Ron had apparently disappeared into the house to let his Mum know he was home. “You've got a lot of family in there worried about you,” Mr. Mitchell added quietly.

“I'm sorry,” Jackson apologized thickly as he met the older man's gaze. Mr. Mitchell nodded in recognition of his words.

“Anna and I are going to go home and talk about all this...” Mr. Mitchell explained as he opened the driver side door. “Maybe later–or tomorrow–Anna can give you a call and you two can talk,” he added kindly.

With that, Anna's dad slid into his seat and closed the door behind him. Jackson watched from near the foot of his own porch as the car rumbled to life and backed up to pull out down the driveway. He stood watching as the tail lights moved away and finally disappeared as they rounded the first bend.

Jackson stood there for a second, unable to muster the courage to enter the house. Although Mr. Mitchell's words had made him feel horrible for the worry he'd caused Anna's family, they'd been quiet and calm. He knew that the welcome home waiting for him inside what not be so reserved. His family was not quiet, especially when it came to reprimanding.

It was the squeak of the hinges on the screen door that drew Jackson's attention to the house. His Uncle Ron had returned and was holding the door open as if beckoning his nephew.

With a heavy heart full of trepidation and a twinge of fear of what awaited him, Jackson forced his feet to move from their spot. Slowly making his way up the porch stairs, Jackson walked towards his uncle and through the open door and into the entryway

Jackson could hear people talking in the kitchen and he wondered just how much of his extensive family was here and what forces they'd employed to look for him.

“Your Mum is in the living room,” he heard his Uncle Ron say quietly in his ear as Jackson had made to move to the kitchen. “It's best to get it over with straight away...”

Jackson nodded and then continued on down the hallway. He paused however a few feet from the doorway. Suddenly he couldn't find the courage to continue on.

“She's angry, Jackson,” Uncle Ron warned as he placed a large, worn hand on Jackson's shoulder. “Just remember though...she's your mum and she loves you–no matter what you've done,” he added quietly as he met Jackson's gaze.

Jackson nodded, but he was having a hard time reigning in his emotions. He suddenly felt like he was a little boy again, afraid to get scolded and to disappoint his family. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from betraying him as the feeling of fresh tears stung at the corners.

“It'll be alright,” his uncle reassured him, squeezing tightly with the hand that was still on Jackson's shoulder.

Knowing that it would do no good to delay the inevitable, Jackson moved forward away from his uncle's grip and stepped into the living room.

His mum was standing with her back towards him, but she wasn't alone in the room. His granddad was sitting in the large recliner chair near the fireplace and Remus was standing next to him, leaning upon the side of the stone fireplace. Tonks was standing next to his mum and it seemed the two were talking quietly with each other.

It was Tonks who first noticed his arrival, her attention directed towards the doorway as she raised her head and caught his gaze. Before she could say anything though, it seemed that the rest of the people in the room had followed and were now aware that he had entered the room.

His mum seemed to turn in slow motion. Her arms were crossed over one another and held to her chest as if for protection or perhaps to keep them from lashing out. She looked very tired. There were bags under her eyes and her mouth was drawn into a thin line of frustration and anger.

Jackson stopped a few feet from the doorway, standing and waiting for the room to erupt.

But there was no yelling as his mum crossed the room in a few quick strides and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Jackson allowed her to cling tight to him and he returned the embrace by wrapping his arms around her. He could feel her shaking in his arms and as she buried her face in his shoulder, he could hear her sniff back her tears.

“It's ok, Mum,” he assured her.

“I'm fine,” he whispered to her. “Everything's okay now.”

But as he spoke those last words, he felt her stiffen and still against him and her arms slid from their embrace around him.

And then she pulled away from him and stood there searching his face with an unreadable expression on her own.

Jackson wanted to say something, to explain himself and tell them everything. But the way his mum was looking at him was unnerving.

“Mum, I--” he began quietly.

But before he could get anything else out, a hand came forward and slapped him across the left side of his face. The strike stung, causing his eyes to water and his whole head to snap reflexively away from the blow.

He heard those in the room say his mum's name in varying levels of shock and he heard the chair in which his granddad had been sitting creak as he stood up.

But Jackson did not move to defend himself or even react to the blow. He stood there with his head down and his face turned to the side–his whole body slumped in stunned shock and shame.

“Everything is not okay,” his mum said in a quiet yet deadly voice. Her voice shook as she spoke and he could hear the anger in her voice.

“Do you have any idea what you've done?” she continued. Jackson didn't dare look up, but he could picture the disgusted look on her face just by the sound of her voice.

“Do you know how many people you had worried and looking for you?” she asked.

Jackson swallowed heavily but did not answer; the sting from the slap still making the side of his face throb.

“Do you understand what you've put me through?” She asked exasperatedly. Jackson bowed his head further as he could hear the disappointment in her voice.

“Look at me,” she snapped at him.

Jackson hesitated and then slowly raised his face upward.

His mum was standing away from him now, her hands on her hips as she paced back and forth in frustration and anger.

“Do you realize how worried I've been–not knowing where they hell you are? Not knowing if something's happened to you?” she continued on; her voice raising with each question. “You had all of us up all night looking and searching for you and Anna.”

“I--” Jackson began stupidly, hoping that perhaps if he explained it might head her off before she got rolling.

“Shut up, Jackson. Don't–say a word,” she warned and Jackson swallowed the rest of his retort.

“Here I am–thinking that someone hurt you or took you or you were in some sort of accident--” his mother continued. “And then I come to find out that you lied to me.”

Her tone was accusing and laced with disappointment.

“You lied right to my face, Jackson,” she repeated.

Jackson nodded, not sure that he could find his voice enough to speak or if speaking was a smart idea at all.

“Well I'm glad you understand that bit,” his mum spat back sarcastically. “So could you explain to me why the hell you thought it was alright for you to take a little jaunt across the ocean? What in the world would possess you to fly to America, Jackson?”

“What the hell were you thinking?” she yelled when he didn't answer her last line of questioning.

She had told him to be quiet. Dare he speak now to explain himself?

“Well are you going to answer for yourself or just stand there and expect us all to figure it out?” his mum asked. “Because I've been trying, Jackson, and I haven't been able come up with one good or believable reason as to why you went there...”

Jackson opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it when he realized what it was he was going to explain. How would she react when he told her the real reason why he'd hopped on that plane?

How could she possibly believe him?

“You won't understand,” Jackson said quietly.

“Well, you better make me understand,” she shot back; her voice raising to dangerous levels.

Jackson hesitated, not knowing what words would placate her or that she'd accept.

Then a thought occurred to him.

Under the intense scrutiny of his mother's gaze and his own nervousness, Jackson reached into his jeans pocket and produced the scrap of paper that he'd shown Anna about a few weeks ago and that had started this whole ordeal.

Slowly he held out his hand with the crumpled bit of paper in it for his mum to take.

She stared at his hand warily for a moment before sighing and reaching out to take it. Rolling her eyes, she unfurled the worn paper and looked down at the same photo that Jackson had been obsessing over the past few weeks.

Would she have the same reaction he had? Would she understand and perhaps share that same initial shock?

“What's this supposed to mean?” his mum asked dryly as she looked up at him in a tired, quizzical sort of way. “Am I supposed to know who this is?” she asked.

Part of Jackson was frustrated that she hadn't seen what he had when he looked at the picture. This would be a whole lot easier if she did.

“We wanted to find him–meet him,” Jackson explained.

“Why?”

“I–he looks like me...” Jackson added quietly. His mum looked back down at the picture and then back up at Jackson.

She shook her head.

“Please don't tell me you think--” she started, cutting off when she shook her head in disbelief again.

“There's just something about that picture–that man–that bothers me,” Jackson explained quickly. “I just thought--”

“You thought–what?” his mum asked with raised brows.

“He looks like Dad,” Jackson said simply and in a quiet voice. He wondered perhaps if she'd heard him.

“What?”

Several people in the room had replied in the same manner of shock at Jackson's admission.

“You've said it yourself--” Jackson continued. “They didn't find a body. So where's the proof that whatever happened that day killed him? What if something else happened; something that nobody thought of? Who's to say he's not ali--”

“Enough,” Ginny cut him off mid-sentence.

“But--”

“Just–stop,” his mum ordered, shaking her head again.

Jackson fell and remained silent.

“I–I don't know whether to scream at you--” his mum began, sighing heavily. “Or if I should laugh at you.”

With her last statement she let out the slightest hint of a laugh with her breath. Jackson however, let his head drop. He would much rather she scream at him.

“This is not only by far the stupidest thing you've ever done,” she continued. “But it's also the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

“I know,” Jackson admitted quietly. He knew these thoughts, the crazy obsessive thoughts he'd been having about this man were crazy. But he suddenly didn't like his mum calling him on it.

“Your father is dead,” she said firmly and finality. “He left both of us a long time ago. And I know you miss him and hate not having him here. But he's gone and nothing is going to change that.”

“I just thought--”

“Jackson, this is crazy,” his Mum said exasperatedly, holding out the picture. “I honestly don't know what to think.”

“Do you need help?” she asked, totally catching him off-guard with the question. “Is this something you need to talk to someone about? If that's the case–we can arrange for--”

“I'm not crazy,” Jackson yelled at her, stunning her into silence. Was she honestly insinuating what he thought? “I don't need to see a mind-healer or therapist or whatever it is you think I need.”

“I don't know why I did it–I don't understand it either–but it's over,” Jackson added loudly, his anger getting the best of him. “I'm back. I'm fine and we found out that it was just some crazy stupid idea like you said.”

“My dad's dead. I'm a nutter. End of story,” he finished loudly.

Silence followed Jackson's words and he couldn't bring himself to look at the stunned and confused faces that were now staring at him.

“Go to your room.”

“What?” Jackson automatically responded at the sound of the demand as he raised his head.

“I said go to your room, Jackson,” his mum ground out as she stared downward.

“I'm seventeen--” Jackson blurted stupidly. Knowing that the stupid childish argument would get him nowhere.

“You still live in my house, do you not?”

Jackson nodded angrily in admission.

“Then, go,” she said quietly, the anger palpable in her tone.

This time she turned away from him as she spoke and Jackson knew she was done with the conversation.

“I think it's best if you just head up,” a voice whispered in his ear and the same comforting hand that had led him into the room returned to his shoulder. He found his Uncle Ron standing beside him again, looking down at him reassuringly.

Part of Jackson still wanted to argue and stay and explain himself, but he knew that, for the time being, whatever he had to say would fall on deaf ears. His Mum wanted nothing more of it.

So nodding begrudgingly, Jackson turned and departed–leaving behind in his wake a cloud of tense, stunned silence.

---------------------------- --------------

Ron watched as his nephew left the room, his shoulders slumped and his demeanor completely defeated.

These past 24 hours had been stressful to say the least. When Ginny had first frantically floo'd them to let them know she couldn't find Jackson, Ron's heart had sunk and all those fears he'd thought he'd managed well since the end of the war sprung up again. As much as he'd be reluctant to admit it out loud, Jackson wasn't just one of his nephews. He'd always held a special place in Ron's heart. He was his best mate's son and since the day that boy had been born, Ron had promised himself that he'd do anything for Jackson–just as Harry would.

Even though Ron hadn't been with the Aurors for a few years, he had immediately gotten in touch with his friends and contacts in the department. Although it wasn't an official search mission for the department, so as not to raise attention in the media and to others who might be interested, a few of Ron's buddies were enlisted to start the investigation and search.

Hours had gone by with no sign or indication as to where he or Anna had gone and they had all feared the worst. Ginny, who was usually so strong through anything, had broken down like Ron had only seen her do once before in his life. They'd all felt helpless and desperate and Ron hated feeling both.

When news had come from Anna's father that the two were safe and in America, the mood had changed from fear and worry, to relief. But after the initial fear had been lifted, the confusion had set in and they'd all begun to question why the hell they'd jetted halfway across the world without telling anyone.

What reason had they possibly had for pulling such a stunt and worrying so many people?

Ron's own anger or frustration with the situation had at least abated when he'd spotted Jackson coming up the driveway. His nephew was safe and that was really all that mattered to him.

So he'd been surprised at Ginny's reaction to her son's arrival back home. What had been deep-seated fear and angst had manifested itself as anger–and physical anger at that. Ron had never seen Ginny strike either of her boys before, so it had taken all his restraint not to yell at her or launch himself at her after she'd slapped Jackson.

But whatever shock he'd experienced over that, was soon overshadowed by the explanation Jackson had given them all about why they'd gone to the U.S.

“I don't get it,” Ginny sighed exasperatedly from the across the room, snapping Ron back to the present.

“I just–I can't--” Ginny began, shaking her head in still present disbelief. She held out the scrap of paper Jackson had given her and Tonks took it from her. Ginny turned away and covered her face with a hand, rubbing at her temples in frustration.

The room was awkwardly silent for a few moments again.

“You know–just glancing at the picture--” Tonks began hesitantly as she cocked her head to the side while surveying the photo. “I see where it could...could look like him.”

“Don't,” Ginny said tiredly, shaking her head. “You do realize how absolutely crazy that sounds to say?”

“Yeah,” Tonks admitted with a nod, handing the photo to Mr. Weasley, who took it and brought it closer to his face to survey through his spectacles.

“People look like other people. It happens,” Ginny said. “I don't know how many times over the years that I've seen someone on the street with black hair and green eyes and did a double take for a moment or two. But it's absolutely crazy to come up with what he did.”

“Yeah...it may be far-fetched,” Ron found himself saying aloud. “But I'm sure it doesn't help a kid when his mum's sitting there accusing him of being nuts and needing to see a mind-healer. You really didn't have to say those things to him,” Ron added, with a glare at his sister.

Ginny let out a huff of surprise and indignation at Ron's accusation.

“And what was I supposed to think was going on, Ron?” Ginny asked angrily. “You're telling me that this story–what he's telling us–is normal? Jackson has never done anything so irrational and has definitely not lied to me like this–ever. How can I not think something's up?”

“He's not crazy,” Ron said shaking his head, his voice testy and angry. “There's nothing wrong with him. So just knock it off.”

“Fine then,” Ginny sighed. “Then why doesn't he get it?”

Ron shrugged, not exactly sure of what Ginny meant.

“Why doesn't he understand how dangerous it is for him out there?” Ginny continued. “How can he not know--?”

But before she could say anymore, Ron cut her off. He understood what she was getting at and wasn't about to let her get out of it this time.

“What do you mean--'How can he not know'?” Ron bellowed back. “Of course he doesn't understand the danger. You refuse to tell him.”

Ginny closed her eyes and shook her head. Ron knew he'd struck a nerve.

“I am not discussing this again,” Ginny said tiredly. “We've had this conversation about a million times and I haven't changed my mind, Ron.”

“And I've told you a million times that the line your taking with all this has always been completely ridiculous,” Ron snapped back angrily. “Jackson's not stupid. He's going to figure something's up one day.”

“Just drop it,” Ginny contested.

“What are you going to do once he starts Auror training or becomes a full-fledged Auror himself, Ginny?” Ron asked, pressing the conversation onward. “You don't think he won't notice the case files with his name all over them? He's going to ask questions eventually. You can't hide this from him forever. And when he does figure it out–I'm pretty sure he's not going to be happy.”

Ginny looked away angrily, but said nothing to defend herself or refute her brother.

“I know you want to protect him...but keeping stuff from him isn't right,” Ron continued. “He's not a kid and things like this prove that he can't go around oblivious anymore...it's too dangerous for him not to know. What if something had happened this time? How would you feel if he was totally unprepared for it...?”

Ginny shook her head and rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

“Fine!” she yelled at Ron, throwing her arms up in the air in concession. “You can go upstairs and tell him, Ron. You can march right on up there and let your nephew know that since the moment he was born he's had rogue Death Eaters and the like after him, threatening to kidnap and kill him because they want revenge on Harry. ”

“You can have that job, Ron,” Ginny said bitterly. “Because I, for one, don't want to be the one responsible for scaring the hell out of him. And if that makes me a horrible mother for wanting to protect my son and his happiness–then I guess I'll just have to learn to live with myself.”

“Ginny–I'm not calling you a bad mother,” Ron shot back. “It's just–if he were my son–I'd want him to know that there are threats and things out there.”

“He's not your son, Ron,” Ginny said shaking her head.

Ron nodded, but said nothing in response.

“Don't you remember what it was like for him?” Ginny said quietly, her voice thicker with emotion. Ron looked up, his gaze quizzical. “Don't you remember what it did to Harry?” she asked Ron tiredly.

“Of course I do,” Ron replied softly.

“He had to deal with the pressure and the danger all the time,” Ginny continued on. “There was always someone after him or something for him to do–it was so much of a burden.”

“I don't know what he ever told you,” Ginny said to her brother. “But I remember we stayed up late one night near the end–just talking–and he told me how he felt afraid...all the time. To everyone else, he was supposed to be brave and in control–but he never felt that way.”

“He was scared and tired,” Ginny continued. “It all just weighed so much on him...”

“I don't want that for our son,” Ginny said quietly.

“Jackson isn't Harry,” Ron replied gently. “It's not the same.”

“I know,” Ginny agreed. “It's not the same at all. Harry was fighting in a war–he was answering the call of the prophesy and what was needed of him. Jackson has never had any choice in all of this–he's threatened and burdened just because of his name.”

“All the fighting, all the fear was supposed to have ended,” Ginny added. “I want that same peace for my son. I'm sure he'll find out some day–and I wouldn't be so sure that he hasn't suspected something already. But when that time comes...I'll deal with him being angry with me. But for now...I'm just going to leave it be...” she trailed off turning away from her brother as she did so.

“Thank you all again for coming over and helping look for him,” Ginny added quietly after a few moments of quiet. “You should all go home–get some rest and be with your families.”

Ron watched as his sister turned away from them all and leave the room through the doorway that Jackson had exited a few minutes before.

Silence, once again, prevailed in her wake and Ron looked around to gauge the reaction of the three others in the room.

“I think I'm going to go get your Mum and we'll be heading home,” Ron's father said as he sighed out loud and moved from beside the chair. “We've all had a long day,” he added as he passed by Ron and patted his youngest son's shoulder gently before leaving the room.

With his Dad gone, Ron was left alone with Remus and Tonks. Ron turned towards the two, catching Tonks's eyes as he did so. She shook her head in disbelief and gave him a look that clearly said, 'Wow, what a crazy effing day.'

Ron nodded back in recognition and then his eyes fell on Remus, who was still standing beside the fireplace, the scrap of paper that Jackson had produced held fast in his right hand as Remus stared down at it.

He seemed not to have noticed Ginny or Arthur's departure or Ron and his own wife's attention on him now. He was focused on the paper in his hand, his face fixed in an odd and unreadable expression. Ron was just about to ask him what was up when Tonks spoke.

“We should get out of here too, old man. Let the kids know what's going on,” she said as she moved over towards her husband. Remus didn't respond.

“Remus,” she repeated a bit louder when he did not look at her words. She moved beside him and placed an arm around his waist. It was only at her touch that Remus seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in. He looked down slowly at her as if seeing her after first awakening. He looked almost surprised to find his wife beside him.

“Hmmm?” he murmured quietly in question.

“I said, I think it's time we head home,” Tonks repeated with an amused smile. “And judging by your slow reaction time...I think you're long overdue for some rest,” she added.

“Yeah...I guess so,” Remus replied with a sigh. But there was no returned sense of playfulness in his voice.

He let out another heavy sigh as he folded up the scrap of paper once and placed it in an inside pocket of his robes and out of sight.

“We'll be seeing you and the fam Sunday for Orelia's birthday dinner?” Tonks asked Ron as she and Remus made to leave.

“Of course, the kids have been going on about it all week,” Ron replied with a smile. “4 o'clock, right?” Ron questioned, even though he knew Hermione would know the answer anyway.

“Unless you wanna drop the kiddos off earlier...” Tonks responded with a grin.

“Are you that big of a glutton for punishment?” Ron teased, knowing full well the trouble his kids could get into, especially with Tonks as the supervisory figure.

“Come now, the Granger-Weasley bunch are always the life of the party. I wouldn't mind having the whole lot anytime,” Tonks responded.

“Life of the party, eh? I was thinking more along the lines of the comic relief and usual source of distraction for parties,” Ron said with a grin of his own. “Especially Reed and Ethan–” Ron added with the sigh of a knowing father. His 14 year old twin boys were a handful on their own.

“I swear sometimes those two could be Fred or George's,” Tonks teased.

“I keep trying to pawn them off as–but the wife won't let me,” Ron laughed. “She keeps letting them back home.”

“Let's just hope they don't influence the other two too much,” Tonks added through her laughter.

“Pax is safe for now, I think...” Ron replied, referring to their 8 year old son Paxton who was so much like Hermione, it was scary. “But I'm afraid to say that Scarlett's already been corrupted,” Ron said of his 5 year old daughter.

“Hermione's brains and the twin's chaotic curiosity,” Tonks sighed sympathetically. “Lethal combination in a little girl I'm afraid.”

“I'm doomed,” Ron acknowledged with a nod lightheartedly.

“Well...we'll see you and the brood Sunday then,” Tonks offered in goodbye as she held tight to Remus's arm, who himself looked ready to leave.

“Bye then,” Ron replied. “See you Remus,” he added with a nod towards the older man. Remus didn't speak, but returned the nod.

“See ya,” Tonks added one last time as the pair head from the room arm in arm, leaving Ron in the quiet of the living room.
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