Of A Teaspoon

"You're suspended, Potter. For a week."

Harry couldn't look up from his hands clenched into tight fists in his lap. He was afraid that if he looked up right now that he would say something he would regret.

He tried to take a few calming breaths but wondered if it didn't just sound like enraged gasping. He thought of Ginny telling him not to lose his temper and tried again, this time some of the red leaving his vision.

He glanced up, Athenahold looking at him with a frown, uncomfortable. St. James was looking down at the desk, his arms crossed over his chest.

"So you punish your employees for saving lives?" Not quite polite, not quite reasonable, but miles away from what his brain was screaming moments before.

Athenahold sighed, "We punish employees for ignoring orders and endangering teammates."

"Everyone is fine though. They could, and can, handle themselves, why…'

"They are fine despite you, not because of you, Harry." St. James spoke softly, meeting Harry's eyes for the first time since he was called in.

Harry had been looking at Athenahold this whole time, feeling defensive at her weary face. Now that he looked, he realized that St. James was the one who was furious, his voice a dangerous kind of quite. Harry felt a little thrown. St. James was never furious. "I...I just don't understand what...what you would have had me do…" Harry felt his anger bleeding away under St. James' fury. He felt like he was thirteen again in Remus' office as he called him out on his stupidity with the map.

"I know you don't, Harry. Because you are a trainee. That's why you were there to watch, to learn, to understand procedure in action. Not to disrupt procedure, doing whatever you want and endangering everyone around you!" St. James' voice increased in volume as he spoke, until his words echoed in Athenahold's office. He slammed a fist on the desk, turning away from Harry, his hands on his hips.

"I-I wasn't trying to...The procedure wasn't working, those people were in danger!" Harry's voice sounded more desperate than angry.

St. James turned sharply back around, his face livid. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, apparently overcome. Finally his words came out as a hiss, mean. "We all know that you are perfectly alright with dying."

"Excuse me?" Harry felt like he had been slapped across the face.

"John…" Athenahold warned, her head in her hands.

"No, it needs to be said. We all know that you'll die for your cause. We understand that you're a hero. But all of us aren't like that, we shouldn't be like that. When we become aurors we understand that there is danger, a big danger, and we accept that responsibility in order to protect society. But we don't make danger for ourselves, we don't do things recklessly. Do you understand? At the end of the day we want all of our aurors to come home alive and fully intact. We don't have procedure because we like red tape, we have it to save our lives, not to mention the lives of the civilians around us. When you went tearing off after those wizards you added to the chaos, you made it hard to tell who was who, and you made it impossible for us to perform spells that would affect an area because it might affect you."

"But they were using Cruciatus on that child…"

"It doesn't matter, Potter." Athenahold looked up, rubbing her face. "Let me rephrase, it does matter, it matters a lot. But we have teams and strategies that would ultimately be more effective against multiple dark wizards in a crowded place. It pains us too, to let a child be hurt like that, but when you chased after them, shooting spells, you not only gave away your position but those of your teammates. You not only gave away that information, but the information that aurors were already there. You broke formation, you enabled that scum to start running, and you shot spells into a crowd of people."

"What if one of the Killing Curses those wizards were throwing at you hit someone else instead?" St. James sighed, slumped against the wall, all the anger leaving him, making him look like an empty sail. Harry felt like a hand was closing around his throat, how dissapointed St. James looked.

"Take this week to think on what you've done. Try to really understand how badly you've actually fucked up. I want a paper, two thousand words, explaining all what you did and how all of it was wrong." St. James wouldn't even look at him anymore, instead he stared into the fire.

Anthenahold stood and moved towards the door. "Also, take this time to think about if this is the right fit for you. You fought long and hard on your own, we thank you for that, but perhaps you aren't made for teamwork? Perhaps after all the abuse by the Ministry, after all those years that adults failed you, maybe you are just too resistant to orders, to authority, to work as an auror? It isn't necessarily a bad thing, but not something we can condone." Athenahold held the door open and nodded her head out, telling Harry to leave. "Regardless, we expect to see you here next Monday at eight hundred sharp."

Harry stood to leave, walking through the door, and though he towered over Athenahold, even though he his frame filled the doorway, he still felt ten inches tall.

Harry apparated to Godric's Hollow. He took one look at the small, bustling village and apparated away again.

He arrived at the park in Surrey that he spent so much time brooding in when he was younger and sat down on the swing. He remembered his frustration then, he remembered wanting to be taken seriously, wanting to be an adult. He wondered where that confidence came from. He made a terrible adult now, he can't imagine why he thought he was ready when he was fifteen. Harry felt his stomach clench and he stood back up abruptly.

He apparated to the Hogwarts gates, the familiar castle glittering in the distance. He wanted to see Ginny. He wanted her to slap him on the back of the head for being stupid. He wanted to feel her arms circle his waist, her chin on his chest, her words to turn from scolding to comforting. But looking up at the castle all he could see was it in ruins, smoldering. In the corner of his eye he kept seeing the Dark Mark above the astronomy tower. Swallowing thickly Harry left.

He arrived to the sharp scent of the sea, its dark waters spraying him, making marks on his glasses. Away he could see the dark rocks that use to house a part of Voldemort's soul. He wondered what happened to the inferi there. He wondered if any of the enhancements were still working. He recalled the feeling of panic as they rose from their waters. He had been useless. Shivering, Harry left.

He arrived at the zoo. It was closed and empty but still smelled just as strongly of animals. He made his way towards the reptile house, his feet as sure as if he had been there yesterday. It was even eerier at night, completely dark save the sun lamps in all the cages. He walked towards the large Boa constrictor, whose glittering eyes seemed to see him. Harry couldn't be sure, but it seemed to recognize him. He raised his triangular head and hissed, his tongue flicking in and out. But Harry couldn't understand.

He was in Diagonally. The crowd had thinned, most of the shoppes closing.

He was in the Forest of Dean, looking at a small, innocent looking pond.

He was outside the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, still somehow glaringly bright, even with all of its lights turned off.

He was outside Andy's house. He wanted her to be angry at him. He wanted her to take his side. He dreaded both.

He was at the Burrow. He walked through it's lawns toward the pond, the moon shining in ripples on it. Sighing, he sat down. He had apparated too many times in a row and felt nauseous, tired and dizzy. But he liked the image of Ron and Ginny playing there, learning to swim, undoubtedly splashing each other meanly, trying to get water up each other's noses. Even if he didn't have his own fond childhood memories, at least he could borrow theirs.

He had sat there in a tired stupor for some unknown time when he saw wand light out of the corner of his eye. He turned towards it, squinting, his wand in his hand.

"H-Harry!? Harry Potter, is that you?"

"Mrs. Weasley! I-I, uh, I must have surprised you. I imagine your wards...I'm sorry, I really wasn't thinking…"

Mrs. Weasley stopped before him, her face a dark silhouette against the light. She sighed and gestured with her wand towards the house. "Come on then, let's have a cuppa."

Harry trailed after her, almost too tired to feel guilty. Almost. "I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley. I must have woken you up. I...I've had a bad day and the pond just popped into my mind…"

A warm dim light filled the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley gestured towards the table where tea things were already out. "As you can see, you didn't wake me at all. I was already have some tea when you showed up. I hardly sleep…" Mrs. Weasley blinked blearily into her cup, tapping it with her wand to make it steam again.

"What happened today that made it so bad, my dear?" Even in the ruddy light she looked pale.

"You look exhausted, Mrs. Weasley. Perhaps you should get back to bed, it's gotten late."

"Just tell me what it is, Harry. I'd rather think of your problems than my own." Her voice was snappish. She sounded more like McGonagall than herself.

Harry frowned, feeling ill at ease. "I really don't think…"

Mrs. Weasley slammed her cup down. "I wish you all would stop walking on eggshells around me, I'm not made of glass."

"You look like you're made of glass." Harry didn't understand how they ended up hissing at each other, but he felt very unsettled.

Mrs. Weasley stood, her expression thunderous, but then she swayed, her colour fading further. Harry stood as well, moving over to her as she sat back down in a slump, her head hanging, her shoulders curved. Harry knelt next to her chair, peering at her face, expecting tears, but instead there was a small smile there.

"Ah, Harry, I've loved you since you looked up at me with those green eyes of yours and asked how to get on the platform. And now here you are, watching me become undone like a real son." She took a deep breath and looked at him, her eyes softer, her expression more herself. She put her hand on his cheek. "And like a real mother, I'd love to hear about your day. I want to give you advice that you'll ignore at first and then consider later. I want to go to sleep with it on my mind."

Harry nodded, feeling a little lost. "If you want to talk to me, I insist that we do so on the couch."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her eyes filling with tears that she blinked away. Harry helped her up and walked her to the living room, the tea set floating in behind them.

Harry placed a blanket over Mrs. Weasley's lap and sat across from her. Her colour seemed a little better again. "So, what's happened?"

Harry took a deep breath and fought the urge to run. He told Mrs. Weasley everything about his suspension. She listened, completely silent, occasionally sipping tea.

"And so, I don't know. I don't think I was completely wrong, but...I...I don't think I was right, either."

"Oh Harry, it does sound like you made a mess of things."

Harry's head snapped up from his tea. He swallowed thickly. "Yeah…"

"You don't need to beat yourself up for it, you know." Mrs. Weasley laid further down on the couch, her upper body leaning against the arm. "After a time, shame and guilt turn into a self serving thing. It becomes about how you feel bad, how sorry you are, rather than what you can to do makeup for whatever you've done, how to fix it. So rather than focusing on how you feel bad, or becoming defensive, you should write that paper, really think it through. Then when you go in next Monday, apologize, say you'll do better, then do better. No reason to play it over and over again in your head, or torture yourself, or anything like that." Mrs. Weasley voice became softer as she spoke. She slid further down, turning to her side.

Harry considered her. He'd never seen Mrs. Weasley like this, tired and grumpy and somehow still so maternal. Vulnerable. "So I'm not suppose to trust my judgement anymore, I'm just supposed to follow orders?"

She smiled at him, rolling her eyes a little. "Don't be such a teenager, Harry. Take a lesson from the criticism, and learn to consider their judgment as well as your own. Your confidence will be shaken for a while, but you'll figure it out. It's called maturing."

Harry snorted, grinning as he watched Mrs. Weasley's eyes slide closed. He stood and pulled the blanket higher, grabbing another and throwing that over her too. He leaned closer and whispered, "Good night, Mrs. Weasley."

As he was walking away, he felt her hand in his, stopping him gently. "You'd better call me Molly from now on, I think." She patted his hand and rolled over. Harry left The Burrow with a small smile, Mrs. Weasley's, Molly's, gentle snoring following him out the door.

Harry crumpled another piece of paper and threw it into the already over flowing bin. He leaned back in his chair, cracking his back. Virgil landed on the arm of his chair, hooting softly. "This is surprisingly difficult, you know?"

Virgil moved to Harry's shoulder, rubbing his fluffy head against Harry's face. "You're the best Virgil, really."

Virgil hooted again, moving closer, clicking his beak against Harry's glasses. Harry grinned, turning his face more into Virgil's fluffy chest.

"Should I leave you two alone?" Hermione looked half amused, half disgusted in the doorway.

Harry moved his face more into Virgil's feathers. "Would you?"

Hermione scoffed, sitting down on the couch with a groan, her bag landing with a thump against the floor.

"I hadn't realized it was already six. Time sure does fly by when you're failing to write essays about how bad of an auror you are."

"Really? Because writing essays about the different sub-laws of human transfiguration goes by very, very slowly."

Harry sat down next to her, grinning. "Hermione? Hermione Granger disparaging school work? Who are you and where did you get the Polyjuice from?"

Hermione glared at him as Ron entered the room, half his hair purple. Hermione and Harry started laughing as Ron sat down on the chair opposite of them. "Oh shove it. And don't ask." Harry and Hermione started laughing louder.

Ron moved Hermione's bag with his foot, grimacing as it only moved an inch. "Why on earth haven't you put a lightening charm on this?"

Hermione groaned, rubbing her shoulders. "I have put one on it."

It was Ron and Harry's turn to laugh.

"Oh, laugh at your teacher, will you?"

Ron and Harry glanced at each other, grinning. "Have you met us?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, reaching into her bag, sounding like she was carrying a movable library in there by the sounds of books falling over. "Here it is. Let's practice this. Fascinating how all of us need to learn this, isn't it?"

"Just sparking," Ron muttered, frowning as Hermione unrolled four feet of parchment.

Four hours later Harry was making tea, rubbing his cramped hand, Hermione and Ron bickering behind him.

"It's because you swish too much to the left, Ronald. Honestly, why can't you learn to take direction?"

"Why do you always have to make that face when you give directions?"

"What face?"

"That face! Like you've smelled something bad and need to stick your nose up to get away from it."

"I do not!"

"You're doing it right now!"

Harry put the tea down with a sigh. "It's lavender and chamomile, as it's getting a little late for anything with caffeine."

Hermione and Ron stared up at him, their mouths hanging open, before breaking out into peals of laughter. "Wh-What are you, an o-old w-woman?"

"Just drink it, would you? It tastes good. We should probably practice at least another hour…"

Still giggling, Hermione and Ron took sips. "Fine, it is good. But still. When you said that, I just pictured you in a frilly apron…"

Harry flicked his wand at Ron, making the tea cup tip up, spilling the tea down his chin. "Oi!"

Hermione grinned at Ron before sighing. "I don't really feel like doing another hour right now."

"Maybe you two could stay the night? We could practice in the morning before you two have to go? You can choose whatever rooms you like. Ginny prefers the green one whenever she says over though, so maybe not that one, I think it has some of her stuff in it."

Harry took a sip of tea, glancing up at the sudden quiet. Ron's face was turning steadily redder, Hermione was looking at Ron with growing apprehension. "Think this through, Ron, she stays in a separate room…"

"Stays over a lot, does she?" Ron's voice was surprisingly reasonable for how red his face was.

Harry nodded. He sighed, putting his cup down. "You're surprised? You know that Ginny and I are dating?"

"It...It just didn't occur to me...I mean, over at The Burrow and at Hogwarts you two always had other people around, but here…"

Hermione added honey to her tea, making a show of stirring it in and sipping it. "Good tea, really. Very tasty. Good idea Harry."

Ron and Harry ignored her, staring at each other. Ron swallowed a few times, apparently gathering the courage to ask, "Have you two...Are you two, you know?"

Harry looked at Ron for a long moment, frowning. He nodded once. Ron stood up, then sat back down, then glanced at Hermione. "You knew?"

Hermione looked over at him, her eyes wide over the rim of her tea cup.

Ron groaned, then ran a hand through his hair, then stood up again, then made a strange growling, choking noise, then sat back down again. He seemed to be having some sort of stroke. "Ron, you know I love her very much, right?"

Ron nodded, then shook his head, then groaned again, putting his head in his hands, his voice muffled. "I don't know why I asked a question I didn't want to know the answer to, really."

Hermione and Harry exchanged quick glances across the table, worried.

Suddenly Ron snapped his head up, "Hermione and I are sleeping together." Hermione spat her tea out in a fine mist, her face instantly bright red.

"Ron!" They said at the same time, horrified.

Ron shrugged. "There, now we can be all uncomfortable together."

Hermione hit Ron on the shoulder once, then twice. "Ronald Weasley, I ought to… I ought to… That wasn't just your personal information to give you giant prat!"

Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Why did this conversation even happen?"

Ron rapped his knuckles on the table. Hermione and Harry looked up at him, their faces still red but Ron's surprisingly calm. "You said that you love Hermione like a sister, right?"

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, Hermione looking slightly taken aback. "Yeah, I do."

Hermione beamed at him. "Ah, I love you, too, Harry."

Ron shot her a sharp look, which Hermione ignored, still looking a little moved. "Point is, Ginny is my sister, and Hermione is like yours, right? So we'll make a pact. If one of us hurts one of our sisters, then the other one will have every right to kick his arse."

Hermione opened her mouth, agast. "Of all the barbaric...I should rather think that if Ginny or I were hurt, we would kick your arses first…"

"Deal." Harry and Ron shook hands over the table, while Hermione rolled her eyes, her arms crossed over her chest, but a small smile on her lips.