No Means to Use the Stove

Dealing with Pain

With mixed emotions, Molly Weasley watched her son eating his breakfast. Her eyes followed his hands as he cut sausages into small bits, gathered a pile of scrambled eggs on his fork, pierced a piece of sausage and lifted the load into his mouth. His hands were tanned and freckled, and there were old scars and still older burns on them. They were hands of an adult man, ones that had been used, strong and competent, and still she couldn't help viewing him as her little boy.

They were all adults, her children, but whenever they were suffering or in trouble, she found her motherly instincts exploding into action and she would do anything, anything to keep them out of harm's way. She had seen enough pain; she didn't want to see any of them being hurt ever again.

That was why she had been relieved when Charlie had come down the stairs this morning. He hadn't been joyful, like during these last weeks, no, but he had seemed composed and serene. He had smiled a little, bent down to kiss her on the cheek and whispered softly: "Thanks, mum," as he had placed the home-pensieve on the kitchen-counter. Molly was happy he had used the pensieve. People might think he was tough and strong, working with dragons and fighting in the war, but she knew her son better. Emotionally, he was anything but tough, and she hadn't been sure whether he would have coped with yet another painful memory.

She was relieved, and she was disappointed as well. A small corner in her mind cherished the ideal of romantic love, and as necessary as she felt the pensieve in this case, she had to admit that effectively dampening one's memories of the lost love wasn't very romantic. Furthermore, she really would have liked to see Charlie settle down, even with a Muggle. He was the only one of her children that still lived alone. She didn't want her children to be alone and unhappy; was there ever a mother that did? If only he would now find himself a nice witch. Silently in her mind, Molly promised herself she would do anything to help Charlie to find her, if only to repay him for the way she had been forced to hurt him when telling her opinions about marriages between Muggles and wizards.

She didn't take her gaze away from Charlie, but from the corner of her eye, she could see her other son and his wife. Hermione obviously didn't have mixed feelings about Charlie's desicion to use the pensieve and she wasn't very subtle about it. It evidently took all her self-control not to say aloud the thoughts that anybody could clearly see on her face. Hermione didn't like the idea of handling relationships with the aid of memory charms and pensieves. She had announced many times that it was too easy, that people--nevermind if they were wizards or Muggles--were to deal with their emotions, not to dispose them like something redundant and mildly irritating. Obliviating Muggles might have been the law, even if not a moral one, but using a pensive was only cowardice. In any other circumstances, Molly might have agreed with her. Charlie, however, was her son, her oldest living son, and he didn't need any more pain in his life.

That was why Molly rejoiced in her mind when Charlie swallowed last bits of his breakfast, rose, and announced that he was leaving for work. Her joy was cut short, though, when Hermione rose as well and declared that she was coming along.

"Our new office is in the same building as your head-quarters, so we'll be bumping into each others quite a lot, from now on."

Any other time, Molly would have been delighted. She loved it when her family spent time together and she was happy that all of them got along so well with each other. At the moment, though, she could see that Charlie wasn't looking forward to spending more time with Hermione. But he couldn't do anything and neither could Molly. She just watched as they Disapparated, together.

"Poor bugger," Ron sighed, "I don't know if it's more horrible not to use the pensieve and deal with the memories, or to use it and deal with Hermione."

* * *

Why did she have to come along? Charlie found himself repeating in his mind while preparing to Disapparate. Everything had gone fine. Mum hadn't said anything, Dad had left for work already, the others had returned to their homes the previous evening. But then, Ron and Hermione had come down. He had known it right away. He had seen Hermione was ready to launch into an opinionated lecture about him and his unacceptable behavior. He knew she still was. He really could do without it, today of all days. She didn't know everything, even if she thought so herself.

Another thing I could do without, he thought as the moment he Appararated in the hall of the building he worked, he saw two of his co-workers approaching. There was nothing wrong with them, really, today they just made him feel so...old.

"Welcome back, Charlie!" Dean Thomas greeted him, smiling broadly. "We thought you'd come back next week! How was your holiday?"

"Anna took one look of your family and ran, eh?" Lee Jordan punched him playfully on the arm.

Charlie winced. "Well, actually..."

"Out with it, mate! I bet Fred and George made her feel at home!" Lee chuckled.

"We broke up," Charlie stated abruptly.

"Ouch. Sorry, mate. Open mouth, insert foot, that's me," Lee grimaced apologetically.

"I'm sorry as well, Charlie. From what you told, I thought you and Anna suited well together," Dean paused for a moment, "...but you never know. And it's harder with Muggles, you know."

"I guess," Charlie managed to mutter, but he would have liked to yell that he didn't know, that he hadn't dated anyone else for years. Dean meant well, though. He just didn't understand. During the eight months Charlie had worked with them in his team, Dean and Lee had dated more women than he ever had. It wasn't such a big deal for them, one break-up.

"Hey, Charlie?" It was Lee again. Couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? Apparently not: "If you broke up, then you had to Ob her, didn't you?"

"Yes," he answered through his teeth, hoping he would get the message. Dean seemed to.

"Oh. I'm really sorry, Charlie."

"Hey, it's not so bad!" Lee still didn't get it. "I wish the witches I dated wouldn't remember me! It would really have saved me from some pretty awkward situations! Which reminds me, have you heard the story about this bloke that dated a Muggle and had to Ob her, when it didn't work out? Well, this bloke, he didn't give up. I guess he was really ugly or otherwise desperate, but anyhow, he picked up that same Muggle girl again and again. And it never worked out! He had to Ob her so often he got his wand taken away for a while, in the end! Can you believe it? I mean, I could start trying to get it on with Muggle women by showing them some magic and then just Obbing them afterwards, but I would take a different bird every time, eh, get it?"

"Shut it!" Charlie had listened enough. He had tried not to listen, he had tried not to open his mouth, he had tried to understand it was only humor, but he couldn't anymore. "SHUT IT! DO YOU HEAR ME?! SHUT IT FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Lee stared at him dumbfounded and only now he seemed to realize what he had been blabbering. Embarrassed, he muttered something inaudible and fled the hall. Dean followed him after apologizing once more, looking a bit scared. Charlie trembled. He was suddenly exhausted and didn't know if he could take one step forward. He could feel everybody looking at him. Why hadn't he kept his mouth shut? Then he felt a hand on his arm and Hermione whispered something and started to walk him away from the hall. He let himself be led along the corridor into a small, tidy office. Hermione sat him down on a chair, shut the door behind them, cast a silencing and a sealing spells on the door and kneeled beside him. At first she didn't say anything.

"You didn't use the pensieve, did you?" she then said softly. It was more like a statement than a question.

That did it. He couldn't control his emotions any more. Uncontrollable sobs broke through and he didn't even try to stop them. His breath wheezed and his heart felt like crunching into a small, rapidly pounding knot. He didn't care who saw him crying. He wanted to cry, damn it! It felt like something had had a vehement hold of his every muscle and all of a sudden they were let loose. Tears were pouring down his face, and his nose was running a marathon.

"S-she a-agreed with you," he finally spoke, still sobbing and violently blowing his nose on the handkerchief Hermione had conjured. " S-she said pensieves were dangerous, that w-we would lose our humanity when u-using them carelessly. She said p-painful experiences taught us to be b-better people."

Slowly, his sobs weakened and he started to laugh, choking on his almost hysteric gaggles. Hermione conjured an other handkerchief and he grabbed it, waving it in the air, like a flag, still laughing.

"I asked if we were better people when in pain!" he shouted, jumped up from the chair and hit his fist in the mantelpiece, hard. He gasped in pain, hit anew, then looked at his bleeding hand and started to laugh again. "I don't feel any bloody better! Maybe bloody, but not better!"

Hermione watched him, almost frightened, until his laughter slowly weakened and he collapsed on the chair, trembling. Then she uncertainly placed her hand on his shoulder. She felt she should have said something, but for once, she really didn't know what to say. At last, Charlie looked at her and smiled weakly.

"Thanks. Sorry if I frightened you. I just...I don't even know what good it does if I remember, when she doesn't. Oh, Merlin, I shouldn't have done it! I don't even know for sure why she left!"

"Maybe..." she started, not really knowing how to continue, but she didn't have to, as Charlie interrupted her:

"Maybe I should do like the bloke in Lee's story? I don't think so. I had her. I lost her. I have no one to blame but myself. I can't start playing around with her or anybody else. She's not some toy." He wiped his bloody knuckles absentmindedly on the hem of his robes. "But I guess I could find out at least..." He went silent and rose abruptly from his chair.

"Find out what?" she asked.

"Do you know where I could find Seamus Finnigan nowadays?"