dwell in hope

i am tired i want to go home and rest

[eastonks]

fabianprewctt​:

Of all the fucking people.

It seemed that the universe had a hell of a penchant for throwing rogue bludgers his way lately, but to put Ted in his path two days in a row (and was it still considered a suckerpunch the second time around? Surely he was supposed to have learnt something from yesterday’s encounter.) seemed cruel beyond measure. Not now. Not fucking now.

His breath caught at the back of his throat, guilty smile frozen in place as he hovered behind the door to the shed like it might shield him from Ted’s powers of perception and endless moral backbone. Except even a smile could be seen through now, all his powers of persuasion lost in the breath it took for Ted to inform him of his guilt before he’d even started his excuses.

Excuses had always been Gideon’s department.

“I’m not doing anything,” he lied, sniffing dismissively and turning in the doorway to better hide the shovels behind his back before levering the door further open and accusing, “You’re hiding from Molly.”

Because if in doubt, he could always depend on Ted’s innately Hufflepuffian need to never ever get himself into trouble without someone else to lead him into it. Molly had always made an excellent authority figure. “You know she’ll smell it from a mile off. Nose like a bloodhound our Molls.”

The comment was accompanied by a fond smile, as if nothing made him prouder, before he swung the door to the shed open in earnest, poised ever so carefully in its shadow. Betsy, dependable as ever, loped inside to sniff at his boots and Fabian tipped his head in invitation, as if Arthur’s treasure trove of bewildering obsessions was an inviting prospect. “You know, I think I saw your name on a few of these tools. Arthur’s always had sticky fingers.”

Entirely oblivious to the irony of the accusation, he hummed, rocking on his heels and nudged at Betsy with his knee in lieu of a free hand as she whined for attention. “Are you coming in or not? I’ve been looking for,” he hesitated for only a moment before offering, “Gnome bait. Molly’s been on at me about filling in the Gnome holes.”

Perfectly logical. He was almost proud of himself.

Ted was knocked for six, mouth frozen in silent confusion and offense before he pointed a finger in Fabian’s direction. He wasn’t the one sneaking about and looking conscience-stricken. Well, he was. Just not as much. “I quit. In ninety-eight. Don’t want to hear it from her, alright?” The sentence was finished with another drag, really highlighting Ted’s ironclad will when it came to kicking habits. He spared a worried glance to check out the house and not seeing a Molly in sight figured he was safe enough. “And if she asks, I’ll say I nicked it off you. You peer pressured me.” He wouldn’t. They both knew he’d be apologizing to his sister even if she didn’t have any intention of giving him a dressing-down for the terrible trait he had picked up again.

“You’re up to something. What is it?” It was odd to be on the other side of his best friend’s (or was it former best friend now?) plans. He had expected now that he and Fabian knew the other was still kicking about they would go back to the way things had been and that Ted would be let in on the ridiculous plan of the month or week. Even if they had left things so poorly. Even if they had left things really bloody poorly. Must have been wishful thinking on his part that he could live in the past instead of facing his present.

Crossing the threshold of Arthur’s shed wasn’t significant. He had been in this particular hidey-hole more times than he could count. The fact that the dog had no issue stepping inside, greeting the had-to-be-scheming ginger warmly, and that there couldn’t be any spells set for him to walk into should have pushed Ted to action but it didn’t. He stalled, shifting his weight and only just peering inside at the allure of lost tools and gadgets to the graveyard that was Arthur’s hobby shed. “Like what?” He had lent all matter of broken and fully-functional muggle things to Fabian’s brother-in-law over the years. The man had been instrumental in feeding Ted’s own curiosity over electronics and charms when he was younger. So why was he pausing to see what he hadn’t meant to give away forever?

Right. That face. The one that soon led to larkish capers that had landed one of them in a holding cell for the night more times than the other. “Gnome bait. You’re not going to chuck them?” Is that what the Weasley couple did now that there were no kids in the home to weed the garden? Surely they could put Fabian to work if they needed gnome removal services. “Arthur’s gonna part with them. Never thought I’d see the day. Suppose I almost didn’t.” Ted took a small step into the shed, leaving one foot still outside the doorway incase he did need to make a sudden escape. “You’re not going to pet the dog? Looks like he wants a bit of your time.”

[eastonks]

mollyeweasley​:

Molly was exhausted.

The past few weeks had been… emotional, to say in the least. Never in her wildest dreams had she pictured her younger brother returning from the dead ( let alone only one of them – even less believable than Fabian being resurrected was him existing without Gideon at his side, much like she never thought she’d see a world where Fred existed without George and George existed without Fred ), yet Fabian was now living in her home and utterly magicless. All of the Returned were, actually, and the effects of that lack-of-magic were being felt in missing owls and floo travel gone wrong. 

Molly warned her brother away from the floo, but she’d hardly be surprised if he went and used it anyway. 

Things were quiet for once, the house empty save for Arthur tinkering with something in the shed. What it was, she didn’t want to know, but it couldn’t be worse than that blasted flying car that their children stole nearly a decade prior ( and wasn’t that cheery thought enough to make her feel old? ). Molly usually hated a quiet home, but the stress of the Returned and general emotions that came with her family left her relaxing for once, knitting needles in hand and scarf halfway finished. She could just as easily do this with magic, but something about the repetitiveness of the activity was soothing, so she sat comfortably in her seat and let herself relax.

Well, until someone was tumbling out of her fireplace and getting soot everywhere. She immediately jumped out of her seat, grabbing her wand reflexively as she tried to see just who was coming into her home unannounced, but one look at the dust-covered man instantly had her wand lowering as she shuffled over to him. 

“Ted?” Molly asked, shock evident as she reached down to get him to his feet. “I – were you planning on a visit and Arthur just didn’t tell me, or is this a mishap? Not that I mind, of course. Are you alright?”

“Mishap.” He mumbled into the floor before pushing himself up and off the Weasley’s floor he was no doubt ruining. “Ended up seeing Ginny the same way about a week ago. Harpies. Congrats on that. It’s fantastic! You happen to know why the floo thinks I don’t see you all enough?” Ted got to his feet with her help, a sheepish smile of pure embarrassment on his face at the state of his arrival. “I’m sorry, Mols. You have a broom? I’ll clean it up for you.” His own wife liked a tidy house, too tidy if he had something to say about it, so Ted always assumed everyone else was the same way.

“Probably should have come to see you sooner if I’m honest. It’s been an, uh, interesting few weeks to say the least. Should have checked in. You doing alright with all of this going on?” He made a flippant hand gesture towards Molly, not yet ready to say the phrase all of this coming back from the dead. “Ran into Fab yesterday. Perce too. He’s looking good. Still at the ministry? If you have the time, I’d love to hear what the whole lot of them have gotten up to.” He’d also love to know how she’d made it through the past four years in one piece but that wasn’t right to ask just yet or maybe ever.  It was strange standing in the Burrow without Arthur or Andromeda around. Strange without all the noise he usually expected of the place. How had his own home manage to be louder than here? He never equated Molly’s home with peace and quiet but even with the household charms running in the background, and what had to be Arthur outside rummaging, it was rather nice. No worry over stepping on toys or small hands getting into where they shouldn’t. Or accidental magic, a near constant in childhood, ruining the home. 

[eastonks]

threadbarelupin​:

where: Hog’s Head Tavern, Hogsmeade date: 17 august 2002 with: open

Places like the Leaky and the Three Broomsticks were best avoided on a weekend at this time of year, but Lupin was far beyond due an evening on his own. Since his Return, the man’s time had been nearly entirely consumed with fitting himself back into his son’s life. A task that was thankfully simple at times, but taxing at others, as it was for any parent. And like any parent the man was certainly due a small break.

Glass of Ogden’s in hand, Remus looked down at the amber liquid as he swirled it around his glass and contemplating the recent changes in his life. Things still weren’t easy, but his life had never been, and he was settling back into the routine of things. No longer felt like his every breath was enough to drag him back through veil from which he came. Everything had returned to the dull throbbing ache to which he had become accustomed.

Lost in thoughts of Ministry restrictions, muggle employment, and people with whom he should reconnect, Remus almost didn’t notice the person approaching his booth. When he looked up them, his eyes took a moment to focus back on the here and now, and he arched a brow. “All right then?”

He slid into the seat across from Remus after a cursory glance at the condition of the booths in this place. Ted didn’t think he’d been in Hog’s Head in nearly two decades. Not since he and his wife were safe to exist in the same public space without fear of retribution or his friends had found some kind appeal from Aberforth’s stories. The rundown dive was the perfect place to hide. Looks like that hadn’t changed. Had it always been this dirty? Absolutely but nostalgia and youthful ignorance had led him to forget just how grimey of a spot this was. Some place only the desperate would go. Well, the desperate or his son-in-law. 

“Can’t complain. Uh, no. I could I suppose but nothing you haven’t heard before.” He ran a finger against the tabletop, frowning when it came away just a bit too dirty for his liking. There had to be a special way Aberforth got the tables in these conditions. Even just lack of cleaning couldn’t achieve a tackiness like this. “Is it worth me asking if I can get you another one of those in the Three Broomsticks?” He ventured that venue wouldn’t have the right ambiance for whatever Remus was lost in thought about.

When he had walked in to try to buy a case or two of their best beer on tap, Ted hadn’t counted on seeing anyone he knew. Maybe the old hag in the corner, who played a mean game of Gobstones and seemed to be a staple of the place as much as Aberforth was, but not Remus. “You want to talk about whatever it is going on in that head of yours or should I make myself scare so you can finish your drink in peace?” He didn’t know much about how his son was adjusting to this life besides what he’d seen at home, too caught up in his own navigation of what you did after death, but if Ted looked past the comforts of their shared living situation he could sense there was something tense. He just didn’t know what it was. 

[eastonks]

fabianprewctt​:

Now that the dam had broken, tiny little fractures and fissures to let the grief pour through, the murky waters were rising and he could feel it, dark and somber and deep, threatening to swallow him up. How did you stem the tide when it rose so quickly? They’d had years to cope, to pack away their feelings and let the dust grow thick on old photo frames, but it was all still raw and new to him. His feelings emerged, struggling from air from the depths and screaming for acknowledgement and he sat in them, the epicentre of a disaster of onions and root vegetables and his oldest friend’s own grief that erupted around him.

Ted clung like an anchor or a liferaft to a ship that he hoped to carry to safety, but Fabian had never been the ship in his life, he’d always been the storm. And now there he was, raging in an empty sea with a man brandishing a liferope like it might grant him safe passage. His hand reached up to grip at the wrist of the arm that had snaked around him, part chokehold, part embrace, like it was trying to keep something broken together. 

He wanted to scream it, to break open the subdued cozy spaces of his sister’s home where they’d both faded into soft, dusty memories and demand it. What about his brother? What about justice? What about Gideon, who’s life had been cut short the same as his, who had breathed his last breaths in the same moments as Fabian had, who stood like a sentinel on the other side of that veil calling out and Fabian knew he could hear him. “The man,” he replied, voice rolling and rising like thunder, “There were five of them, Ted. Five people followed us that day. Five people trapped us in that alley where we couldn’t bloody escape and I—”

Knew better? Should have seen it? Had clocked the two people following them out of The Hogs Head and should have known they were walking into a trap? Should have taken the Floo? But then he’d never liked that much, had he? Never liked the soot in his hair. What a terrible joke. “Who should take ownership if not me? Gid isn’t here to bloody dispute it, is he?”

And this wasn’t Ted’s fault anymore than it was Gideon’s, anymore than it was any of their fault that the world had flipped on its head and started serving up the dead in bold new flavours. It just was. He’d never been good at leaving well enough alone. He wanted action. He wanted something that wasn’t sitting around the countryside waiting for his bones to find their way back into the ground again. He wanted — he wanted answers.

“It isn’t fair,” he agreed, resolutely in the way he couldn’t tell Molly, not when so many things lay at her feet already. “We didn’t choose this.”

But the world had never been fair, had it? 

“I need to know, Ted,” he replied, “I need to know what’s going on. If this is — if this is permanent. If this is real. How we got here and who or what is responsible. I can’t just sit back and let this happen to me like any of this is natural.”

(He’d never been good at leaving well enough alone.)

“I want to know why it was me and not him.”

He scrubbed at the back of his neck erratically with one arm, withdrawing from the awkward angles of a desperate hug and carefully packed the wreckage of his own breakdown back inside of him, piece by piece like if he rearranged them they might find a shape that resembled fine. Far down the cobblestone road he could see the door to Scrivenshaft’s open, a carefully ordered head of ginger stepping out and glancing up and down the road in minor panic. His breath shuddered as he inhaled, catching on something stuck in his throat, and his head turned to fix on Ted again. There was something odd about his expression now, like a decision had been made.

“I’m sorry,” he offered finally, his brain adrift in those fraught months before his death and their recurring fight, the distance between his life and this remaking of it. His conviction had always been the best and worst part of him. “That our fight went on for so long. I only ever wanted you and Andy and Dora,” he felt the flinch, “I wanted you to be safe and happy and to live without all of that bullshit hanging over your heads. I guess neither of us got what we wanted.”

If he did let go, Ted was sure it would be the last thing he did. His own ridiculous chuckles hadn't ceased, growing louder and harsher as he finished speaking and mixing with his own choked sobs. This was all just ridiculous. Fourteen years or so and his best friend was in one piece. In Hogsmeade of all places. God, the boy who had helped introduce him to the world he now felt entirely out of sorts in was real and tangible and hadn’t aged a fucking day. Because he died, Ted reminded himself. Just like you did. He could ignore the rough stone against his kneecaps and stretch of his back due to his own contorted position because Fabian Absolute Wanker Prewett was back and he had proof. 

Unless this was all some long extended fantasy. A result of too many potions poured down his throat by the healers of St. Mungo’s as his wife and child waited by his bedside in nineteen ninety eight. It would explain why a figment of his imagination was repeating all the words he couldn’t get past his lips to him. Ted just held on tighter, gripping Fabian with all his might to help convince himself that this was real. They were real. They were alive. Again.

So he ignored his friend’s words, despite the volume they were directed at him, hushing him softly and breezing over the realization that four men might walk free for what they did to two men (well, one and his brother) that Ted considered family. Until he couldn’t any longer. “They take the ownership. You didn’t-- didn’t ask for it!” The years had made his memory of the sharper parts of Fabian’s personality smooth. The stubbornness and self-righteousness that had led to his end in the first place. His friend’s inability to stop caring about what was right for one moment to give himself just an ounce of the compassion he gave others. “What’s not fair is you blaming yourself. And I know whatever I say isn’t going to change what’s in your head but try to listen for once, Fabian. Please. This is beyond us. This isn’t something you did. None of it.” Contradicting and most likely constricting his friend with the force of his grip, Ted relented to releasing him from his grip. He scrambled back to sit on the steps. “I don’t know. I...how in the world am I supposed to answer that? All I...it’s wrong. It’s wrong to be back here. And how do you expect to fig-” He cut himself off, gaze tearing away with a large huff. 

I want to know why it was me and not him. How dare he. How fucking dare. Some logical part of him knew it wasn’t out of spite or to throw his own insecurities in his face but hearing what he had been burying down wasn’t any better than pretending to be okay and well-adjusted. It was a harder thing to face than going through the motions of existing in a new world. Ted didn’t ask, just roughly palmed Fabian’s coat until he found the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, depositing the pack in his friend’s lap with a toss. The lighter came up next as he scrubbed his face with his free hand and promptly tossed that as well. “I don’t know. You don’t think I’ve been asking that question since I came back? I didn’t even know I d--died. I didn’t know she...Where are we going to get answers from? Because I can sure as hell tell you one thing, if that lot knew shit why in the world would they let us out? They don’t know how many of us are coming back because they definitely don’t have the space for us in there. They weren’t getting the answers they needed with us in holding so they let us out. Everyone’s just as fucking clueless as we are. And if they’re not? They’re not going to let us in the know. Not now. Not ever.” 

He took a long drag, looking out onto the street and catching sight of red hair that couldn’t be anyone else that one of Molly’s boys. “Your keeper’s on his way back.” But apparently Fabian wasn’t done pulling punches and Ted couldn’t help the broken hearted look on his face as he stopped waiting for (was it Percy?) the redhead down the road to notice them and the assortment of spilled produce surrounding them. “Don’t. Please. Just know we got to. We got a good few years in thanks to you. Or the cause. Whoever you want to attribute it to.” He took one drag. He took another, letting an exhale of smoke crowd around them before he could ask what had to be a seriously dumb question. “When did you even get back?”

[freshcravings]

[eastonks]

dromedaxtonks​:

*

They’d talked about running away together before. Each time they broached the subject, they were wrapped up in each other’s arms - dreaming about a future that they could have together. A future in which there would be no consequence. There didn’t have to be consequence when they were just fantasizing. Up until Andromeda had packed her trunk and made the decision, it had been just that. A fantasy. Now, it was real. She had ran away from her family home. An abusive one, but a family nonetheless. Her own bloodline. She’d run away pregnant with a muggleborn’s child. A muggleborn that she loved and would do anything to protect him from those who hated him. Up until now, with Ted comforting her, Andromeda had still thought it was a fantasy. However, with his reassurance, it was clear. Ted was her future. This baby was their future.

Andromeda had kept her distance from Ted at the beginning. However, it was difficult to not be charmed by the Hufflepuff boy with the warm brown eyes. He was kind to others. He was funny. He was smart. The first time that she closed the distance between them over their textbooks, she could sense his surprise. The pure awe that filled his eyes when she gave herself to him. When she told him that she loved him. Andromeda fell in love with him before she could help herself. It blindsided her and then sent her into the spiral of choosing between a man who could very well be her soulmate and her family. It wasn’t easy.

One step at a time. Ted made it sound simple. For a very brief second, his reassurances calmed everything that was racing through her mind. It was brief, though, and Andromeda went right back to worrying. His touched grounded her as much as it could and she found herself nodding or shaking her head at his questions. “No. They won’t know where I am. I don’t think that they know,” she managed to answer with a whisper, following Ted to sit on the edge of his bed. “I want this. I always have. I’m sorry that I couldn’t make the decision sooner.” That it took an unplanned pregnancy for her to make up her mind. Something that she should have done sooner.

Still, despite the reassurances, Andromeda still worried about the things that she couldn’t control. Her parents would be furious when they found out. They would find out. Her sisters would undoubtedly feel betrayed. She’d been raised her whole life to hate the man that she was in love with. To think that he was below her. Now, she was throwing it in their face by getting impregnated by one. They wouldn’t be safe and the worry could be seen in Andromeda’s eyes, no matter what reassurances were spoken. She needed to protect this child. She needed to protect Ted. From her own family, no less.

“It’s my fault as much as it is yours. We should have been more careful,” Andromeda murmured, her hands wrapped in Ted’s shirt as she held onto her boyfriend. The brunette leaned in to press her forehead to his, knowing that he was panicking just as much as she was, even if he wasn’t letting it show for her sake. She shook her head when he spoke about his parents. She didn’t want Ted to be kicked out of the place that he called home because of her. Because they were unable to stay away from each other and use the proper contraceptives. It was bound to happen sooner or later. This was just far sooner than either of them was prepared for. “No. I don’t want them to kick you out. It’s not your fault…completely,” she murmured, biting her tongue when she almost blurted that she should have gone elsewhere. Where would she have gone?

A thought occurred to Andromeda and she pondered it over her mind for a long moment, silent as she did so. It was stupid. It was rash and she rarely made rash decisions. But Ted wasn’t a rash decision, was he? He’d never been. She’d pondered him over for a length of time before she finally found the courage to kiss him. Before she finally was able to admit that she loved him. Catching his gaze, Andromeda whispered her thoughts, afraid that he’d tell her she was crazy if she spoke any louder. “What if…” She trailed off, her words getting stuck in her throat. “What if we get married? Do you want to get married?”

“Then you’re safe. We’re fine. We’re more than fine. Good, okay?” It’s not like her parents would be wondering down to his part of the country to come find her. At least, he hoped not. He’d write to McGonagall tomorrow or someone because they wouldn’t just let their student be killed for some pre-marital sex, would they? Highly unlikely. He hoped. He looked at Andromeda with hesitance, reminding himself that his own time for panic was not now and that the most important thing was making sure she was alright. His panic could come later, preferably by drinking himself sick and spilling all his fears and anxieties to Fabian over a pint before running into the nearest empty field and maybe just screaming to the heavens for a few minutes. God, his mom was going to kill him. He didn’t know how to parent. He didn’t want a child. Ted was still just a kid himself, barely of age without a single piece of knowledge on how you took care of a baby. Fab was an uncle already. Maybe he would know one thing or another.

“You don’t need to say you’re sorry about that. We just left school. We’re...you’re giving your whole world up for us. I didn’t expect that to be a decision you could just make right away, Dro.” Ted didn’t know if he was saying the right things at the current moment, babbling away in hopes that he would land on what would fix this. It’s what he counted on. “Kind of my fault. I’ll give you the completely part but can’t say I didn’t have hand in this. And Dromeda, they’re not going to kick me out.” They might. “I just. I have to tell them and they’re not going to be happy with me. It’s...they’re not going to blame or be cross with you. They love you. My mum is crazy about you. Pretty sure she’d adopt you if she got the chance.”  He didn’t know how she’d managed it since graduation. In a few short months, she’d won his parents over with no effort at all. They were friendly people, of course, but when it came to magical folk they always had a natural hesitance. It was another language barrier to overcome. One more culture to adjust to. They had embraced as much of it as they could when he had to buy his school supplies the first time around and Ted had spent his life translating for the two of them. He didn’t mind keeping it up some more. But his mother had a keen eye, not just a penchant for gossip, and she had spotted the way Andromeda was surprised by being welcomed into their home. Ted had mentioned a thing or two about his girlfriend’s situation not being exactly welcoming to people like him and there wasn’t more he was asked to say on the subject. 

“What’s got you thinking?” He wasn’t expecting a lot of chatter from Dromeda but a response of anything would have been nice. “What if what?” She had that look about her, thinking too much for Ted to feel comfortable letting her turn over whatever it was that preoccupied her. “Yes.” Unhesitant and a bit too loud for their quiet conversation, Ted had spoken up right away. “Yes, I want to. I mean, what? Is that...Are you sure that’s what you want? Because you know how I feel about you and if you have any doubts about that, you tell me and I’ll make it crystal clear, yeah? That’s...yes. Are you just saying that because of...the, well...” His tone lowered, eyes darting to her stomach for a moment. “The baby.”

[eastonks]

dromedaxtonks​:

*

In the beginning of their relationship, Andromeda quickly picked up on the ways that she could distract Ted to get out of talking about her emotions. She’d kiss him until it led elsewhere. She’d find something to say that would change the subject. It had worked for a while until he realized what she was doing. After that, the fights started. Ted only wanting to know what was going on in her head and Andromeda unable to give it to him. Eventually, she broke out of her shell. Telling him how she felt was easier. It wasn’t tedious. 

She kissed him now because she didn’t want to talk about how she felt. She didn’t want to think about just how heartbroken she’d been for years. Andromeda gripped Ted’s shirt in her hands, kissing him as he placed her on the counter. If she distracted him, perhaps they wouldn’t have to talk about the elephant that was very clearly in the kitchen with them. No matter how quiet it seemed to be. 

When her husband pulled away, her expression was unreadable. She knew that she’d been caught for what she was trying to do. Pushing herself off the counter, Andromeda turned her back to Ted, returning to the rest of the dishes in the sink. “I’m not doing anything, Ted,” she murmured lowly, clearing her throat to hide the tremble that accompanied her words.

⌖

“Dro.” He complained softly, taking a step back to let her go. The moment was broken, perhaps just for a few minutes or more likely for the entire night. He couldn’t just let this keeping happening. He loved being back by her side but he was tired of existing like everything was just dandy. Ted was still weary from his day, a floo incident and being locked in Arthur’s bloody shed. Their home still wasn’t right, wasn’t the same. The familiar rhythm and pattern of their life wasn’t coming naturally to him anymore. 

“How long have you been bottling it up?” He questioned, not discouraged by her reaction to being called out. There weren’t many things Ted Tonks was sure of anymore. Not since he’d come back but he was sure he knew his wife. He still had to know her better than he knew anyone else. She was his best friend, his partner. The patterns of her behavior hadn’t changed in the time he had been gone. Doing the dishes by hand meant something significant to them. To her. The ritual of washing was significant when she could start them up with a flick of her wand. 

He wrapped his arms around her once more, his chin resting on her shoulder as his lips lingered near her ear. “We don’t have to talk about anything tonight but do me the favor of not lying to me, yeah? I’m just worried about you.” He sighed, stepping back from her once more and gestured to the drying rack. “Do you still want to dance or do you want me to dry these for you?”

[eastonks]

purkiss​:

     Doris had put the most minimal of effort into the track she’d sent in for the WWW’s approval; as soon as she’d figured out the best way to make herself sound remotely like she’d any rhythm at all, she’d sent it in. Truthfully, she’d simply expected that Ted would have played it for her as a favor - he’d seemed so genuine, almost as if he’d actually wanted to share her sage advice and knowledge with his listeners. She’d listened to his hour on the air religiously for months afterwards, convinced that he might change his mind and she’d eventually hear herself - in broken poetry - condemning Gringotts for keeping blast-ended skrewts locked up in various vaults for protection of material possessions. 

     “Haven’t brought yourself to listen in and hear who replaced your hour, have you? Can’t say it’s as good as what you put on, but I can’t speak to the years I missed of it.”

     Doris couldn’t help but imagine that Ted must have passed quite a bit after she did - that, or the war had put many years on the man. Poor bloke must have had it rough. Being locked up after stumbling through the Veil didn’t do much good for the aging process, either. “You enjoy your stay at the Ministry?” Her nose wrinkled. “Wouldn’t be able to say I enjoyed mine, though they did provide room service.” If you could call having a table of magically appearing food for everyone in the room room service.

     “Lockheart?” she questioned, arching a brow. “Didn’t peg you as the type to enjoy his work, Tonks. But even I have to admit, would love to read about another one of Lockheart’s encounters with a troll, or maybe an evening in a hippogriff nest. Think they still sell his stuff? Would ask one of the employees but…” she gestured about to the nearly empty room. Doris would never have anticipated the reason for the absence of staff could have been because of her. “Given the situation here, might have to take you up on that offer. Probably would take less time to walk to your place at this point.”

“No radio on the road? That’s a shame. They got some kid to take it over. Got very anti-muggle in the last few months I was there. Guess I just didn’t really fit their bill.” Or maybe it had been the government being overthrown. The Death Eaters taking over every inch of the media. Who could say? Ted’s grip on the bookshelf he had been leaning on slipped and he struggled for a moment to right himself. “You were in there? You came back too?” It added up, in a sad way that made Ted suddenly aware of the space he was taking up in the aisle. Cognizant of the clamminess his palms had as he looked at Doris with acknowledgement of the strange kinship they now shared. She hadn’t age a bit. He should have realized sooner but the witches in his life seemed to have unlocked the secret to eternal youth and his days had been spent filled up with ghosts of his past. It was only too easy to forget. 

“It was better than my last few months. Warmer for sure.” He chuckled, gaze falling for a moment in disbelief of how casual she was about the whole thing. Charity had been too. Seemingly well-adjusted or at least able to pretend to be. “Room service, towel, free clothes. Could have been much worse. They had to a lot to gain from keeping us happy.” Any thoughts of Ted’s on the utter shite storm that was the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Mysteries and the entirety of bureaucratic and order were easily tucked away for another time at the mention of Lockhart. “Why not? The man’s a genius. Or was. There’s word he’s getting better by the day if he’s not already out.” His wife was suspiciously tight lipped when it came to Lockhart, that healer patient confidentiality, but he knew what that meant. Something was happening. With all the bad in the world everyone could do with a little cheering up and wouldn’t a book by that man just do it?” He looked as she motioned, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Like I said, command of the room. You should apply here. If we could, that is. You got a few hours? Or days?”

[eastonks]

amoswdiggory​:

i’ll come running to see you again location: the diggory residence, ottery st. catchpole, devon when: 19th august 2002 with: ted tonks @eastonks

Things in the Diggory household were begin to settle into some semblance of normality. Not that things could ever be normal in their world now, what with the dead returning to world of the living with the steadiness of a leaking tap. Cedric was… quieter than Amos remembered, but he just put that down to the shock of the past few weeks. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for the boy. Amos could only hope that he and Bea would be able to help Cedric through this adjustment period.

Hearing the floo roar to life, his brow furrowed. They hadn’t been expecting anyone to stop by. Closing that day’s copy of the Daily Prophet, Amos folded it up and dropped on the side table next to his armchair. He had recalled reading in the paper about the issues the floo network had developed with the Returned, spitting them out in random fireplaces. Hell, it had even happened to Cedric once or twice now. This is what it had to be. Rising from the chair, he watched with some trepidation as the green flames faded away to reveal the mystery house guest.

“Ted, is that you?” His eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight of his former penpal, a smile spreading on his face. “What you brings you here? Is it the floo playing up again. Come, come, have a seat. Bea’s in the garden at the moment. The Apple trees are ready to harvest a little earlier than we had expected so she’s started on that. Can I get you a drink? Slice of cake? Really, it’s great to see you! I’d heard you were back, I would have got in contact sooner, but what with Cedric… it’s all been a bit hectic here.”

Ted did his best to brush himself off a respectful distance to the fireplace. He had enough of dirtying other people’s homes with rubbish from the fireplace. It seemed not one day could go by where he successfully made a floo trip. Is this what his life was now? Bumbling into people’s homes on his way to his destination. He hadn’t gotten yelled at for his sudden appearances yet but he was sure it was due any day now.  Thankfully the Diggory home was his intended destination. It had just taken him four goes to get here. Amos hadn’t changed at all. Not in the slightest. Still willing to open his home to anyone who stumbled in. He opened his mouth to respond, to confirm it was indeed him dallying by the mantle, but shut it as Amos continued on. Figuring it was best to just nod along, Ted took the open seat next to the older man. His fingertips tapping a steady beat against his thighs. He ignored the talk of apple trees and cake, though he knew it would be a great slice, to stare aimlessly at the wall instead of Amos. Ted had set out today with an intention, not to happily go along with catching up like he wasn’t missing four years of his life. “I’m fine. Really. Don’t go troubling yourself for me. Well, the floo isn’t playing up.” He stopped his fidgeting to pull a letter out of his pocket and hold it out to the other man. “I wanted to mail this but you know how owls have been with...those of us who have come back.” He had written the letter late one night, thinking back on his first visit to this home. It was a mess of words. A stream of consciousness spilled onto the page in an effort to just write something and now Ted was regretting ever showing up. At least he wouldn’t have to voice to Amos what was plaguing him at the moment.

[eastonks]

dromedaxtonks​:

*

Andromeda didn’t care much about the groceries that Ted hadn’t brought home. There were a couple of things in the house. They’d survive at least another two days. She was used to doing the grocery shopping now, anyways. The brunette wrinkled her nose at her husband, unable to keep a smile from falling onto her lips. "Whatever would give you that impression?” She teased him. The two of them had never truly left the stage of two teenagers sneaking around. They were more open with their affection now - of course - but they’d never been quite able to keep their hands to themselves. Dora had scolded them a number of times over the years.

They danced in the kitchen and if she focused hard enough, Andromeda could pretend like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t been gone for four years. Like their daughter wasn’t still gone. The words that Ted mumbled against her temple stirred Andromeda from her thoughts. It shot a momentary panic through her veins. There were things that she’d kept bottled up for years now. Ted had been the only one she talked to without any sort of filter upon her emotions. When she lost that, she started to keep everything close to her chest again.

Andromeda didn’t reply to her husband’s question or his words after. Instead, she pressed her lips to his in an attempt to distract him. Pulling him closer, she deepened the kiss as they continued to sway. It had always worked before. She didn’t gather that it might not work now.

⌖

He fell into her kiss, grinning as he did. Stopping their swaying to walk his wife back against the kitchen counters. There were so many questions Ted had about the circumstances of his return. What was wrong with the owls and the floo? Where was his magic? Why was he lucky enough to now? He hadn’t been a hero nor a member of the Order. He had just been a scared man trying to keep the three people he cared about safe and not stick his neck out for someone else’s war. Surely there were people who deserved this more. People who fought for everyone, not just their loved ones. At the moment, with his wife kissing him like no time at all had passed, Ted was willing to accept that the reason he had stepped through the veil was to make Andromeda happy. 

Being with Dromeda again was a gift. He’d be a fool to not appreciate every moment with her. The first day home had been hard, the hardest day he thought he’d have, but the following morning had led him to lying in bed and briefly forgetting everything of the past week. Happy to lie there half away on a real mattress as the sunlight flooded into their bedroom. This was his favorite part of the day. It took nearly a quarter of an hour before Ted remembered the night before, tipped off by Andromeda’s alarm and the non-stop chattering of their grandchild from the hallway. The Unspeakable in his kitchen. The case of his apparent death. It hadn’t been a nightmare.

But he didn’t have to think on that now. Pulling away for a second to grip Dromeda’s waist a little tighter, he dared a squeeze her arse before lifting her onto the counter. His lips were on hers in an instance, falling easily back into the rhythm of their relationship and their small life here. Everything was how it should be just for a moment but only one. His wife really hadn’t changed. He chuckled against her lips as his brain caught up to the fast one that had nearly worked on him. 

With a heavy reluctance, he pulled away from her. "You're doing it again.” His hands settling on her thighs as he stared at her with amusement as the weight of their lives settled back down on his shoulders. “You can just say you don't want to talk about it. I can wait until you're ready, Dro." He couldn’t. They both knew that but he’d try.

[eastonks]

firebloomcd​:

Ginny was glad to be home. Training in the summer meant there was less mud, but it was also almost too hot to breathe sometimes. It was these sorts of days that made her glad to live alone. No jostling with her brothers as to who got to shower first, no-one banging on the bathroom door to tell her to hurry up, no-one to wake her up from the nap she fell into almost immediately after changing into comfy clothes. At least that was the plan, scuppered by the noise of her fireplace whooshing into life which woke her. She wasn’t expecting anyone to be coming through the floo, so it was with a certain amount of trepidation that she made her way down the stairs.

Whoever, or whatever, she had been expecting to see, it hadn’t been Ted Tonks. It was a relief at least, and she pocketed her wand, her voice cheery as she spoke.

“I think you got lost, Uncle Ted.” She moved into the room proper, taking in the dust and debris which had covered her rug. Perhaps she was getting more like her mother as she was getting older, the urge to clean it was strangely strong. “Unless you meant to come and visit, which would be lovely. I’d appreciate warning next time though.” It was clear Ginny was teasing, heading over to the bookshelf where she kept her floo powder.

“Do you want something to drink? Tea?”

A collection of knickknacks and not one thing of floo powder. Who didn’t keep it by their fireplace? Uncle Ted. Oh. With a rueful grin, Ted stopped his rummaging and slowly turned around. “Ginny! What are you doing here? Sorry about the, well, mess.” He gestured to the floor where he had brought what seemed like half the floo network in with him. “Would clean up after myself but word on the street is magic has gotten a little more complicated in the past few weeks. Got very lost. I’m sorry about that.” 

Despite what he suspected was fireplace grime covering him, Ted closed the distance and pulled Ginny into a hug. “Now what’s all this about the Harpies? When did that start? Not that I’m surprised, your dad always went on about your school games.” Letting go of her and giving her shoulder a tight squeeze, he glanced around the room. Properly taking it in now that his first concern wasn’t getting to Hogsmeade as fast as possible. Slowly the faces in the pictures, the books on the shelves, and everything else in the room formed a picture. “Is this your place? We’re not close to Hogsmeade are we?” He’d have thought she was still living at home but she was a few years out of Hogwarts now if she was playing on the Harpies. Or reserve on the Harpies? Something with the Harpies. 

“Tea would great. Unless I’m interrupting something. Don’t feel too bad about shoving me back in there if you’re busy.”

[eastonks]

fabianprewctt​:

It had taken dubious excuses of needing fresh air to get away from Molly’s watchful eyes that morning, the sleepless itch of his tired eyes and frazzled demeanour not remotely convincing after being deposited back onto the Weasley’s doorstep by an Unspeakable in the early hours of the morning. Molly was worried and he hated to worry her, to be another pull on her heartstrings when she had so many to contend with, but Fabian knew that this was something he needed to do.

The owl to Doris had disappeared much earlier and Fabian had disappeared into the countryside after it, the dog from the village who’d chosen his companionship those few weeks back bounding happily through the grasses and underbrush alongside him. He knew Molly was still biting her tongue over the matter, chewing over how to best divest him of his new companion, but of all the many worries he was causing her lately, he supposed that a dog was among the lowest on her list of priorities. He quietly suspected that Molly may have developed a soft spot for Betsy deep underneath her dismay over the situation.

Now, however, he’d circled back from his walk, entering through the back of the garden to creep into Arthur’s shed and assigning Betsy the task of guarding the shed, well aware that Betsy had few inclinations for doing anything that she hadn’t first thought of herself. It was as he found himself rummaging through the contents of Arthur’s shed in search of the tools of the day that he heard it, freezing in the clinking and clattering of his search to listen. 

“Hello there,” a voice, a familiar voice piped up from outside. He could hear the rustle of Betsy’s scampering paws through the weeds behind the shed and he frowned, wondering if it would be easiest to just sneak off while Ted (and what was Ted even doing here anyway? Popping up again in his path with that keen ability to see right through him) was preoccupied with Betsy. But he hadn’t uncovered the shovels yet.

His nose wrinkled and he shifted forward, more cautiously now, pushing aside a mud-encrusted hoe and no fewer than four rakes, each in a different state of wear, before — there. Carefully navigating around the towering pile of boxes in his path he leaned across the bench to unearth the handle of the shovel, leaning precariously amidst a group of them, and seized it.

With a clatter, everything around it collapsed in a calamity of noise, clanking and cluttering and boxes falling and Fabian cursing as he yanked his shovel free and tried to avoid breathing in the tremendous dustcloud that erupted within the shed. Damn Arthur. Damn Arthur and his hoarding tendencies and his yard sales and flea markets and eye for a good bargain. Damn him for buying five of everything because you never knew when one of your kids would come along to nick one of them from his shed. Fabian stumbled back from the disaster zone that had become of the garden tools .. corner of the shed, holding onto his prized shovel like it might slip away from him and adding it to the one he’d already found.

Perhaps Ted hadn’t noticed and he could still just sneak out —

Pushing the shed doors open cautiously (to an ominous and unhelpful creak) he held the shovels behind his back and stuck his head cautiously out the door into the sunlight, managing to look remarkably conspicuous as his eyes widened and he let out an uneasy laugh and an avoidant, “Oh. Hey — hi. Ted. What are you doing here?”

If he had to put a type of dog to the Weasleys, Ted would have said ‘Lassie’. Something rough and tumble that came up to your knee. He didn’t know much about dogs. Creatures, sure. Took a class on that a million years ago but dogs weren’t really covered by Kettleburn’s curriculum. The tiny thing in front him looked more at home in a Diagon Alley window than the vast fields full of who-knows-what that surrounded the Burrow. Didn’t he get lost in the house under a pile of knitting? 

With the hand not bringing the stashed cigarette to his lips, Ted reached out to pet the rather friendly pup. “What are you doing all the way back here? Looking to bum one?” For the first time in days, it felt like his smile was finally reaching his eyes. Maybe the Ministry could learn a thing or two about animal therapy from the muggles if it worked like this. Doing any kind of therapy, whether for the Returned or the workers themselves, would be an improvement. If the dog’s ears hadn’t perked up at the clattering and clanging coming from the shed next to them, Ted still would have noticed it. The sudden noise had him landing on his arse with a quiet groan and glaring at the shed as if it was the structure’s fault he was sitting on branches and twigs now. Well, it was it’s fault. Just what he needed bruises on both his front and back after the day’s earlier crashing into Mols’ sitting room.

Was that cursing? Ted had thought with the amount of collectables Arthur had stuffed away things fell in there all the time. There were towers tall enough in there to rival charity shops. He shot a conspiratorial look to the dog, who seemed curious enough despite the disturbance, and sighed. “You’re right. Let’s go check it out.” 

Slowly Ted rose to his feet and brushed himself off, managing to get most of the debris off of his pants before he followed his small new friend around the corner to go investigate. Would Arthur and Molly mind if he borrowed the dog for a few hours? Pet sitting. Surely they’d need a pet sitter, right? For a date night? You can’t have a date night while worrying about what your pet was getting up to.

In the midst of his musings, the door to the shed opened slowly. Really slowly. Terribly suspiciously slowly. With one last drag the cigarette was stowed behind his back once again and, not thinking any action through, Ted choked on the smoke at the sight of Fabian’s put on innocent expression. He had known it wasn’t Molly in there, for Merlin’s sakes, Ted’s thoughts had gone to the twins George first then Ginny and then down the line of Weasley children in order of trouble to well behaved (Charlie only coming in last due to being out of the country).  But catching Fabian at the scene of the crime was a surprise. And it was a crime, wasn’t it?

Stumbling back and, really losing any amount of leverage he had at discovering an obviously guilty party, Ted tried his best to look accusatory in Fabian’s direction in the midst of his coughing fit. It was the look of false innocence that had tipped him off. He knew that look. He’d seen it time and time again on more than just his best friend’s face. Guilty as ever. It always meant trouble. “Whatever you’re doing with whatever you’re hiding is a bad idea and you know it.”

[eastonks]

asphodelmori​:

August 7th, 2002 Ted Tonks c/o Dean Thomas @eastonks

Dear Ted,

I know it has been a long, long time. Longer for you than for me, even. You’ll probably say I don’t have to apologize for that, but I could have done better staying in touch after I left school, at least. If not the rest of it.  Oh well. Time for doing better, isn’t it?

I saw your name in the Prophet when you came back. I’m sorry I missed you in holding, but I promise you it’s better to not have so many people in there. I hope you’re getting settled in well. It’s —

It’s weird as hell. I don’t have any advice to give you, I don’t even know what I’m doing myself. They have me living with Harry, you know, and I should by happy about that. He’s my son! I love him! But …

My son was a baby. And now he isn’t. And he doesn’t need me, not in that ‘he’s an adult who doesn’t need parenting’ way, but he’s had other people to mother him.

This is a mess. Maybe I should tear up this letter and rewrite it all. But a long time ago, you said I could trust you. Tell you anything. And to not let those insecurities keep me from reaching out to you for help. So, I guess. I need my old mentor back. A little guidance. I’ve missed you.

Things were supposed to be easier when we didn’t have to worry about being hexed in the hallways for being muggleborn. What happened to that?

I hope you’re doing as well as possible. Apparently you’re not staying with Andromeda? Why? Have you been able to meet Teddy? He’s a lot like his namesake.

Love, Lily

15th of August,  2002 Lily Potter c/o Harry Potter Lily,

Sorry for my delay in writing back. Looks like I got this letter a week too late. Owls hate us. Floo hate us. I’m not looking forward to what’s next. If you want to get one back to me without a week between try addressing it to Andromeda. Crazy to say but I might see her more often than I see Dean.

Listen here, favourite penpal, (Don’t tell Amos I called you that.) I won’t say you don’t have to apologize if you don’t say sorry for things out your control. Sound good? I can’t say I did a great job at writing after I graduated. You get married. You have a kid. Life has a way of keeping us busy. Feels like second life kind of does too. I’m just glad to be hearing from you. I’m glad you’re back? I’m glad I get to write to you again.

Wasn’t too lonely. Benjy showed up. Your old pal, and my son-in-law (He tell you about that yet?), Remus was there to greet me. Could have been much worse considering. Lily, I meant it then and I mean it now. I’m here to listen. I just might be in the same boat as you this time. My guidance on this is completely non-existent. If we’re being honest? We should. Let’s be honest. I didn’t come back to my kid. I came back to entirely new baby, who it seems like you’ve met so Remus told you then? Guess it makes this whole catch up a lot easier. 

I’ve been taking it one day at a time and I think that’s all we can do right now. It’s not easy and before I came back we were in the middle of the second war. I’m not sure how much I can believe this in peace we’re in now. But, it’s what we got. I’m not saying I’m not grateful for coming back. And I know I really can’t imagine how it is for you. I was only gone for four years and everything’s different. Bit like the Twilight Zone.

Here’s what I can tell you now at least. You can leave your house. You can walk around. Buy a hat. Buy a wig. I don’t care what you do. Go into muggle London if you have to. I think the only thing keeping me sane is going out. I don’t know if it’ll help you but it’s the only advice I have to give. 

As far as Harry goes, I can tell you he’s a good kid. Only met him once but my kid knew him pretty well. I think, if you’re willing to hear it, give Harry some time. He’s had a life full of expectations challenges the unexpected. And we’re the unexpected, right? Give it time is by far the shittiest piece of advice to hear, I know, but it works. Maybe your place right now isn’t as his mother but that doesn’t mean it’ll always be like this. Maybe right now you just need to be family. You know how to do that. You were always good at turning friends into family and I really doubt that’s changed.  I’m not staying with Andromeda. I’m staying with Dean. I think he was in Harry’s year? One returned per household apparently. Even though I owned half this house. But, like I said, a letter might get to me quicker if you address it to her. If you like him, you would have loved Dora. Been spending most of my days around him. He’s a handful. Makes me feel older than I am. I’m too young to be someone’s grandfather, right?

I’m sorry if anything I wrote here is out of line and I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. I’ll say it again. We’ve crossed over into the Twilight Zone, Evans. Tell me, has it gotten any better in the week since you’ve written this?

Your now very old mentor, Ted

[eastonks]

cokeworthprince​:

A muscle near his mouth twitched at hearing ‘Unspeakable Bell’. He didn’t like to think too much about her and what she had seen. Well the things. His things. And Snape supposed he couldn’t really make a case for having fallen and just so happening to accidentally swing his mug into Prewett’s head hard enough to smash it. Still, it tracked that the ministry would be unfair, and in any case, after his…meeting with Regulus he’d at least had occasional use of a mug.  “perhaps they relaxed the policy after Prewett left.” Because it had definitely been Prewett to start the fight. Over mere insults.

Severus’ head twitched in a short shake of dismissal. “I would hope that my name appears infrequently enough for it to be easy to miss.” It was a statement at odds with what most expected from Slytherins, but Snape had long realised that a place in the history books was less important than making sure the right people got to write those books. 

Cold black eyes watched Ted fidget for a moment. He understood the nervousness. And when the question came back at him, he answered slowly, just as he would have if lying to the Dark Lord. “I was also raised in a religious family. I couldn’t say if I believe or not. I was christened.” He nodded to the church, “Your parents didn’t remind you that Witchcraft was a sin?” Devilry. Your mother’might be one of Satan’s whores but by god I won’t let any son of mine be damned. He could remember his father’s outbursts when he’d been foolish enough, uncontrolled enough to let magic happen in the house. But he had been damned after all, hadn’t he? 

There was that last name again. Haunting him. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one doing the haunting? He wasn’t a ghost so maybe not. Ted’s gaze fell towards the city down the hill from the church and he worried his lip through his teeth, asking nothing about Snape’s time in holding with an unnamed Prewett. Sheepishly, Ted shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve seen it.” He had a few times, leading up to May of ninety-eight. The exact place he closed the paper or recently released memoir and turned his interest towards figuring out what he missed in entertainment over the years. His only other source for catching up on the past was his mother who, knew nothing of this world but, had more than enough to fill him in on about Pinochet’s arrest or Lagos’ election or what cousin of his had gotten married. The prospect of making up four years was harrowing enough when you didn’t pile another world on top of it. 

The tapping foot stilled as they gained more distance from the small chapel. He wasn’t going to wait around for the next service but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t come back next week, right? His mother encouraged him too still, saying as always that magic only showed up because he had God in his life. “They took it as a gift from the man upstairs. Not the first time they were hearing of magic. Culturally, I mean. I don’t know how truthful any of their stories were but. No. They didn’t. Yours did?” Jesus, his folks had embraced magic wholeheartedly. Thought it was a blessing until, well, ninety-eight. “I kept the war from them. Thought everything was good here so they didn’t have a bad word to say. You didn’t have someone from school visit you when you got your letter?”

[eastonks]

ofwhatsleft​:

The last few weeks leading up to the start of the school year always caused last minute shoppers of all ages and temperaments to wander into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Luckily, for George, a visit in to his shop was usually after the dull necessities of school books and robes had been purchased and when students dipped away for an escape, just like he had done. And every time he saw kids eyeing the display of fireworks and gazing, awe-struck at the whirs and buzzes that flew above them, George was filled with immense pride. Things would never be perfect–he wasn’t meant to run things this way, but things were falling back in to place once again, and that in itself felt like a tiny victory. That, and George finally got that haircut his mother had been badgering him about.

Which, he supposed was why now was as good a time as ever to throw a wrench in things and bring people back from the dead. He still hadn’t gotten used to knowing exactly how to respond to seeing a Returned ding the bell in the entrance way of his shop.

Luckily, seeing Ted Tonks again felt like seeing an old friend, and he seemed more than pleased to pick things up right where they left off. Minus his quintessential facial hair. He might have a miniature partner-in-crime on his hands.

George had to bite his lip to keep from bursting out laughing at the sight of Ted without his mustache. If only you could see this, Freddie, I bet you wouldn’t believe it. “Mr. Tonks,” George called widening his arms as he greeted the much older man with a cheeky grin.

He knew Ted’s comment on the size of the crowd in the store was meant as nothing more than a light jab, their feigned arguments going back to the day the twins (accidentally) destroyed a statue of Mary that was a gift from Ted’s mother in their teens. They put it back together with no problems, so he wasn’t sure why Ted was still so upset. The after effect of her high-pitched singing only gave it character. But something about the comment in regards to the years that almost never were–the reason he asked for help in the first place–it felt below the belt. And two could play at that game.

“I love it. The youngest you’ve looked in about four years,” a confidence coming with the words that felt almost unnatural without a second to fill in the blanks. Still, he coated the words as best he could with a mimicking condescension as sweet as honey. “A bit busy, as you noted, but I suppose I can make some time.” He brandished a sign from the corner that read Register Closed and placed it on the counter, followed by another sign that read No Refunds or Exchanges. Just in case.

“Mr. Tonks.” He repeated, his disappointed expression leaving him for a moment for one of exasperation. Nearly leaning on the counter before he remembered the box in his hands and straightened up instead. Couldn’t show that to Georgie before the time was right. The damn box was the whole reason he had come anyway. “Should I even ask you to call me something else or should I start calling you Mr. Weasley?”

“Is it?” From anyone else, a comment like that would a punch in the gut but from one half of the terrible terrors it almost got a laugh from him. Almost. “Didn’t know you’ve seen me in the past four years. Feels like something you’d have to ask my permission for but however you spend your free time is none of my business.”

There was no way George should be able to run this place on his own, not with the size of it or the crowd. He knew how easily tiny hands pilfered stock. Must be a hell of an anti-theft charm on the inventory. And Ted, never one to leave good enough alone, had to ask. “What kind of charms you got on this stuff? Stealing’s got to be a real problem.” But there was something else he wanted to know. Who the hell was helping George with all of this? It had been to someone. He hadn’t had a clue how the twins had managed it the first time on their own. Always suspected there was an extra set of hands somewhere in the back.

Soon, Ted realized that George wasn’t going anywhere. The signs had been placed and his eyes locked to one in particular before he looked up to meet the younger man’s gaze. “You have an office or...?” Needed two of those signs, huh? So he wasn’t the only unsatisfied customer.

[eastonks]

dromedaxtonks​:

*

The grief that Andromeda had felt after the end of the war threatened to swallow her whole at times. She’d lost everything. Her husband, her daughter. It was Teddy that gave her a reason to wake up every morning and forge on. Even on the days she didn’t want to, she knew that he needed her. That didn’t mean that it was easy. It was far from easy. In fact, Andromeda had began to tuck her emotions away like she’d been taught when she was growing up. She began to ignore the feelings that had threatened to overwhelm her. She threw herself into raising her grandson. She threw herself into her work when she was able to make it in. Anything but focusing upon the never-ending grief. 

The last thing that she expected was to see her husband’s face again. It was bittersweet. She’d missed the man more than anything. However, she also knew how weird it had to be for him. Four years had passed and he had no recollection. To him, the war had been just yesterday. Nymphadora had been alive the last that he knew. She had no doubts that the incoming weeks would be difficult. However, she knew that she needed to make things as easy as possible for him. If that meant pushing away her emotions for a little while longer, she could do it. 

His question didn’t surprise her. She was sure there were a lot of people wondering how she’d made it when she lost everything. Andromeda was resilient. Even if she wouldn’t admit it. “I had to, Ted,” she murmured softly, “For Teddy.” Their grandchild relied on her. For everything. She’d been his only caregiver for years. Even if she wanted to give up, she couldn’t. 

“Me too,” she whispered, biting back the tears that threatened to start falling again. She’d wished for her husband and their daughter more times than she could count. Andromeda leaned into Ted’s touch, the magnetic pull still between them after all of these years. A tear ran down her cheek when Ted commented on the elephant in the room. The person that was missing. There was a hope inside her chest, but Andromeda didn’t want to comment upon it and inevitably have it crushed, so she didn’t. Instead, she murmured, “I wish she was.” 

⌖

“It’s not right.” He stated, hand letting go of her to wipe away her tears as quickly as they came. Never mind his own. It was the sentence he’d been unable to voice while in holding, not wanting to put his own struggle with returning on anyone else. Ted had it lucky out of most. He had a home to go back to, to visit, and a family waiting for him. Everyone lost something in the war. Some more than others. If the only reason he was back was to fix some of that loss that Andromeda had received, he’d take it. She didn’t deserve to be alone. She’d never played a part in the suffering and loss that engulfed their world. She had removed herself from it purposefully. After years of loss, Ted thought he knew what to do with the different emotions grief brought up. He had been through times where every day they learned another one of their friends had passed. Their were times when saying goodbye after a night of drinks and gathering together might be the last time you got to say it. He knew that fear had passed but he was still on guard, waiting for the news that this wasn’t permanent or this chance wasn’t real. A week in holding and less than an hour with his wife didn’t make that feeling fade away, it only made him want to keep her closer and protect their life that much more. 

Ted stole a kiss from her, lingering for a long moment before he pulled away. It was a miracle he was able to even do this after such a long time. “He’s...you did a good job.” There were no signs that she had besides the never-ending piles of toys surrounding them but she had been beyond great with Dora. It wasn’t so hard to believe she’d do a great job with Teddy. Especially without him there undermining her the whole time. 

“She still could. There’s people coming back every day. She could be next.” Ted tried his best to sound optimistic but the words felt purely hollow. He could see on his wife’s face that she wasn’t willing to hear this train of thought and the false hope was beginning to make Ted feel sick. “And...and if she doesn’t, we’ll...Let me help around here. You shouldn’t do it all on your own, Dro.”

[eastonks]

ofceridwen​:

jokers to the right location: floo port, ministry of magic atrium when: 8th august 2002 with: ted tonks @eastonks

Charity swore softly, blinking as the green marble tile of the ministry atrium came into focus as the green flames died down. “This isn’t the Leaky Cauldron.” She grumbled, dusting the floo powder from her shoulders. Just where she wanted to be…. at the source of such frustration for the Returned. Well, at least she wasn’t super far off from where she wanted to go, nor had she ended up in the home of some poor, unsuspecting wix. On second thoughts that may have actually been preferable to being at the ministry. The last thing she needed was to be spotted by an Unspeakable. 

Hearing the roar of the floo, she stumbled forward quickly before she ended up flattened by whoever was coming through behind her. “Hey, careful when you come out-” She began as she turned to face the newcomer, rapidly stopping at the sight of a somewhat familiar face. “It’s not Wednesday, is it?” If Charity was completely honest with herself, time didn’t hold much meaning these days, nor was she always certain of the date. She assumed that was just something that happened when you became a card carrying member of the unemployed undead. It wasn’t as if she had responsibilities that needed her to keep track of things.

“Fabian’s mate! Ted, right?” She smiled at him, brushing her hair back from her shoulders. “Did the floo spit you out somewhere random, too? I was trying to get to Diagon Alley.” It seemed as if Flourish and Blotts would have to wait for now. Shame, that. Charity had been rather quite looking forward to picking up some copies of Gilderoy Lockhart’s books - she was in need of a good laugh. 

“Thursday.” He choked out, mouth exhaling a small bit of ash and dust as he stumbled from the fireplace and onto the Ministry tiles. The floo should be the one choking, not him. It was just a damn fireplace but it was now his greatest enemy. Ted looked up at the woman speaking to him, an identifier he hadn’t heard in years coming from her. “Uh, yeah. You knew Fabian?” He pointed to her shirt, a smile coming across his face as recognition set in and confusion over how the hell he ended up in the Ministry didn’t seem to matter anymore. “Depeche Mode! You know, I never had a guest on as good as you. They all wanted to play Stryper or Poison. No taste.” 

He looked around, distracted by their surroundings for only a moment before shrugging at her words. “It happened to you too? Was trying to get to Dogweed and Deathcap. You think they’re summoning us for something?” He wouldn’t put that past them. Not even an owl their way. Speaking of which, “You’ve been getting any owls lately? I feel like I’ve never gotten less mail in my damn life. Or, well, second life. Whatever it is that we’re calling it I haven’t gotten a letter since I’ve been back.” It could always mean no one had been writing him.