Hello my darlings, sorry it's been so long. Hope this goes somewhere to making up for my long absence. A surprise post, mainly because I wrote it an hour ago. Enjoy!

Chapter thirteen.

Ayla's moods in the days that followed Karen's letter were erratic at best. The twins were packed off to their grandparents' house, for quality time with the relatives they saw least. Marcus tried being there for his wife, but soon realised that being there involved being in the firing line of various objects that would often be thrown at his head. In their years together Ayla's aim had come on leaps and bounds, and, while he was loathe to admit it, Marcus's ability to dodge heavy, flying objects had declined somewhat. The first few days saw Ayla move from a frenetic, pottering about that signified she was once again thinking of the consequences of her silence, to screaming bloody murder at the post owl for arriving in mid-afternoon.

When Sarah had discovered her in one such screaming fit Ayla rationalised her behaviour by pointing out that she had resigned herself to waiting until tomorrow for some word from her son. The owl turning up at a time when she least expect was not only cruel but it was sloppy behaviour, and someone had to let the Hogwarts owls know that they were getting lax about their job. While she was able to wave away her abnormal behaviour as nothing more than a wish to stick to the norm, both Marcus and Sarah could see that Ayla was losing it, big time.

Marcus arrived home from practice one afternoon to find Ayla sitting quietly in the kitchen. There was no sign of harassed delivery owls, or broken crockery, which seemed like a good sign. With much protest from both his wife and his back, Marcus picked Ayla up. It seemed that his wife had lost her verve for inflicting physical damage to his head and upper body for she sat motionless in his arms, Marcus decided it was time to get things out in the open. He took her and sat her down in the safest place he knew, their bedroom.

"Please, just sit there. In the middle." he said, depositing her on their bed.

"Marcus I'm no-where near to being in the mood right now, so if you think you can change my mind you needn't bother trying because I will knock your bloody block off." Ayla had said, scooting her way back off the bed.

"Trust me love, nothing is further from my mind right now. I just want to talk. In a place where I know the hardest thing you can throw at me is a pillow. Then again you could suffocate me with one..."

"Why would I do that? You're such a drama queen!" Ayla's voice rose with the accusation. "I mean really as if I'm-"

"That's exactly it though love." he interrupted, putting a finger over her mouth. "Now, don't get upset, but I don't know if you've noticed you've become slightly irrational lately."

He jumped away from the bed as he finished talking, he knew that with his finger holding her mouth shut he was still in range for a good smack, and would far prefer she launched a pillow at him from a distance.

"I am not irrational! How dare you? What have I done? Nothing. Nothing Marcus, I'm acting like I always do and you call it irrational!"

"Ok, so who exactly are you trying to justify your 'normal' behaviour to? Me? The wardrobe? Or yourself. Ayla you know you're not right. You haven't been apart from the twins this long since they were born. You're unhealthly obsessed with cleaning this house from floor to ceiling, which isn't you. Where's the slob I fell in love with? Where'd she go?" he said looking at her, his eyes pleading with her to see sense.

"Oh so you don't love me anymore, that it is it? Fine! And I suppose you've brought me up here for one last-"

"ENOUGH! I love you, don't you ever dare doubt that. We played that game before remember? This isn't about me and my feelings, it's about you. You and this damn letter!"

He pulled the offending item from his pocket.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Shut up! You are not talking, I am talking. I've had enough Ayla. I love you, you're my wife but this craziness has got to stop. I'm not the enemy here, so I swear if you throw one more thing at me or my head I will walk out that door! The post owls are not the enemy either, so stop shouting at them or pretty soon you won't be getting any mail from Hogwarts because they'll all refuse to come here. And the twins are not the enemy, so first thing tomorrow we will be picking them up from your parents' house. Got it?"

"But I-"

"But nothing Ayla. I don't get what you think you're doing, whether you think this family is going to fall apart because of Oliver bloody Wood, so you'll just destroy it before anyone else gets the chance, or what. But whatever is going through your mind has to stop. Ok so Jake is probably going to find out that I'm not his real father, but I'm secure enough in the knowledge that I've done my best by him. I also trust him enough to realise that what we did was for the best. Because you're not the only one in this Ayla. As far as I'm concerned he's mine, always has been, always will be. I'm not saying he'll just go along with it from the off, he may well be a difficult git about it all. But I think he's allowed to be a bit angry and awkward about it all.

"And I understand that you're worried about what he'll say and do and what he'll be like round you. But you're his mother. He loves you. He'll know we did it for him, we'll make him see that."

Marcus stood and watched his wife silently know, he knew he'd run up quite a steam and hadn't really meant to shout at her. But if it worked, well it'd be worth it.

Ayla reached behind her a pulled a pillow from the pile, one of his. She took a deep breath, and hugged it to her.

"I'm..." she paused, trying to gain some kind of composure. "Sorry!" she howled.

It didn't work, with that one word the tears began to pour. She buried her head in the soft white of the pillow and began to sob. Marcus sighed as her body started to convulse with the tears. About bloody time too. He knew now that she'd get it all out. That the obsessive cleaning would stop, the rages would soon die down, and he'd get his wife back. She just needed to cry it all out. That's all she ever needed when she got like this, but no-one seemed to know it except him.

He crossed the room and pulled her shaking body to his.

"I know. I know. It's ok. You just let it out." he soothed.

"I just, I can't, I just..." her voice came muffled as she clung to him.

"I know, shhh now. Just relax."

"I'm sorry, so sorry."

"I know. Come on, who knows you best in the world? You don't need to say it love. I know ok?"

"But I've been such a cow!" she wailed.

"I'll get over it, and so will the owls. Eventually."

She laughed, raising her tear-stained face to his. She tried to smile, show him that she was over it all.

"I'm ok now." she said, nodding her head to convince him.

"Liar. You won't be ok until we talk this out and decide what to do. But you're not psycho anymore so that's one thing."

She hit him with the pillow, like he knew she would. Marcus rolled over and pulled her on top of him as she continued to rain down blows on his head.

"Ouch! Ok I was wrong the psycho's still alive and well! I surrender! Uncle, uncle!"

"I am not psycho." she said, letting up on the beating.

"Maybe just a little bit?" Marcus queried.

Ayla raised the pillow above her head.

"Hmm." she said thoughtfully. "Maybe just a little, tiny bit."

She rolled off of him, throwing the pillow on the floor. Ayla rested her head on Marcus's chest, wiping her tears away on his shirt.

"I'll agree to that. Now Mrs Flint, as the madness appears to have passed, you now need to do some thinking."

She curled into his armpit, hiding her face from him.

"I don't want to."

"You have to, come on. Come out of there."

Ayla pulled her head out once more and looked at her husband, her nose wrinkled slightly.

"Well I was expecting more of an argument than that!"

"You would have got one too, but your armpit stinks. Go have a shower for Merlin's sake!"

"And you'll have a think?"

"I'll have a think." she agreed.

"Good deal." Marcus said, pulling himself up from the bed. He started to whistle as he stripped on his way to the bathroom