`` a spoonful of sugar

The old adage might’ve been tired and overused, but there was some truth to it. People said a lot of things. In fact, people never seemed to stop speaking, even if it meant that they spoke before they fully thought through what they were going to say. It bothered Hestia, at times, even though she was just as guilty of it as the next person. Putting those words into actions, however… that was something that rarely happened. It seemed that fewer and fewer people put their thoughts and concerns into tangible action steps. They made plans, but never followed through. Hestia felt like a hypocrite, hating people for doing the very thing she did herself. She shrugged the thought off, knowing that the frustration was valid either way. “If only everyone could take that phrase and give it actual meaning. I feel like people hear it and say it, but we don’t really follow up by doing anything. I guess that’s sort of the point, though.” She smiled, returning the warm expression to her friend. “I’ll try that. Thank you.” “Isn’t that the most amazing feeling? Just knowing that there’s somewhere out there in the world who is everything that I want to be and more is good enough. But then to realize that she’s my own mother? I can’t explain it. It’s just… reassuring? But more than that, too.” Hestia beamed at Lily, happy to speak so highly of the woman she cared so much about. “It is exciting. I wouldn’t lie to you. It takes enough energy to lie to people who deserve to be lied to. Imagine how much it would take to lie to someone that you genuinely care about and are friends with.” Lily wasn’t a liar, and Hestia tried her best to only be one when it was absolutely necessary. She’d become a better liar over the past two years or so, especially when she was working at the Daily Prophet, though it wasn’t a skill that she enjoyed employing. “I have to get better at accepting compliments. Someone once told me we should talk about ourselves in the same way we talk about our friends, but it’s something I’m still getting used to, you know?” She paused, taking in her friend’s words. Grateful that the question hadn’t offended Lily, Hestia tried her best to think about Petunia and Vernon with an open mind. They were people with horrible thoughts and opinions of magic, but they were people that Lily cared deeply for. They were people. “Careful, Lily. I haven’t been called mature for a long time. You might be inflating my ego more than it can take.” She chuckled briefly, trying to still maintain a sense of seriousness for her friend’s sake. “It’s a shame he won’t get to know you. That they both won’t. Magic’s something neither of them understand, and it’s foreign and strange and unknown… so it makes sense that they’re scared of it. And sure, Petunia might be happy now, but is Vernon really what she wants? In the long term, I mean. Does she want a life with him?”

Sometimes it felt like people who offered their compassion and sympathy were doing so for their own personal gain – to learn information about Hestia’s personal life in order to feel better about their own. But Hestia knew better than to think of Lily that way. Lily didn’t seem to have a selfish bone in her body. It was almost unbelievable how easily she was able to put others before herself. She couldn’t help but wonder how the woman made sure that her own needs were met, too. Lily was so busy looking after everyone else in the world – who was taking care of her? “It better be. The last thing I need is for my mum to come around bragging about how I finally admitted that she’s my number one inspiration in life. – though I should remind her that I appreciate her more often. It’s a careful balance,” Hestia joked. She wasn’t sure of Lily’s relationship with her mother; she knew that her sister was a sore subject, though, so she didn’t want to turn the conversation onto Lily’s family if it didn’t need to be. “She really is. I can’t even argue with you about it. I mean, she has her moments, just like anyone, but… if I end up like her, I’ll be lucky. If she expected to have two children that listen, she’d be disappointed for a long time now. You’re probably right.” Hestia chuckled. “Are you trying to flatter me, Lily Evans? I didn’t know I made the list at all, much less that I’m high up on it. It’s an honor. Truly.” Something felt off about Lily’s smile. It wasn’t as bright, as energetic as it typically was. The war definitely had taken a toll on everyone; Hestia wondered how much of that burden Lily had kept in and how much she allowed herself to share with the people around her. “I don’t mean this in any sort of offensive way,” she began. “But who said being a freak was a bad thing? I mean, she’ll never quite understand what being you is like, and it isn’t a nice way to say that you’re different, but… it’s her right to have the perspective, I suppose. And there are worse things to be in this world than freakish.” It definitely wasn’t the best advice, but Hestia wanted to provide as much humor in her insight as possible. “People hate people for outrageous things. Big things, small things, everything in between. She might not even know why she feels the way she does, honestly. Maybe she’s working through it herself, and Venon gives her a justification that helps her not need one for herself.”

Sympathy. She’d received a decent amount of it in the past few days, though she wasn’t quite sure that she deserved it. She knew that she was risking her job by writing an article like the one she wrote. She knew that not everyone was going to be happy with what she had to say. And even though she certainly didn’t deserve to be fired for writing what she saw as the truth, she understood that the Daily Prophet had every right to let her go if she were costing them valuable readership that would be difficult to get back. But Lily’s sympathy was still welcomed. Hestia felt alone without it, and it was important to know that she still had a friend in the world – someone who had her back. “I appreciate it, Lily. Truly.” She gave her friend a small smile, as if to say ‘thank you for caring.’ “She may have been. Don’t tell her that I said this, but sometimes I think she might be the smartest woman that I’ve ever known.” Mrs. Jones had so much wisdom tucked away in her beautiful mind. Hestia felt lucky that she’d heard even some of the woman’s wise musings. “I really should listen to her more often. But, then again, where’s the fun in that?” Even though she was still quite young – she’d only graduated from Hogwarts a short time ago – Hestia felt that she’d grown up quite a bit since her school days. She had distanced herself from her rebellious tendencies, had learned from the experiences she had. Then again, with recent happenings in mind, maybe she hadn’t grown up quite that much after all. “So I’ll keep you company, then. Just tell me if I overstep or anything. But I’m happy to stick around if it wouldn’t bother you.” As much as Lily’s heart seemed to ache for Hestia in her current predicament, Hestia felt equally sorrowful when she thought about Lily and her relationship with her family. She couldn’t understand what it would be like to have people she cared so deeply for unable to fully comprehend what she was going through or the world that she was living in. It was even more difficult to imagine the people she loved not wanting to comprehend it. “If I can do anything, please, let me know. I’m sure it’s quite difficult keeping them in the dark. But maybe it is for the best that they don’t know everything.” The worst thing would be to put even more people in harm’s way just for the sake of transparency. The mention of Petunia and her husband made Hestia shudder. “I never understood that. How she could… write you off like that, even though you were both raised in the same household, both raised to be loving, caring people. Does she really think that you’re not the same person you were before you knew about magic?” Hestia sighed. “It isn’t silly. It’s… honest. A human reaction. And things will always happen around us, but we have to be in touch with what’s going on inside of us too.”

She wasn’t sure if things would ever truly be the same as they had once been – so much had changed since she was first blamed for the incident at the Prophet. Hestia wanted to believe that all of it was for the better. Even if it was painful to live through now, that pain could be for a better future. And even if she wasn’t certain of that fact, Hestia chose to try and believe it anyway, just to push herself into optimism, no matter how foreign a concept it seemed these days. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault that it went down the way that it did.” So many people wished that they could do something, that they could help in some way. But they couldn’t. It was over. In the past. Now all that they could do was move forward. “Doing what you can is always enough. You can’t do more than that, can you?” she asked, her tone almost playful. “There’s no good that can come from pushing yourself too hard and trying to be everything to everyone. You’re best doing a few things exceptionally well than doing an exceptional amount of things poorly. That’s what my mother used to say, anyway. She wasn’t really a multitasker.” At the offer to help, Hestia chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d be much help, honestly. I mean, I’m a decent baker, and potions and baking are really all about being exact. I just wouldn’t want to get in the way. But company… that happens to be something I know I can provide.” Hestia nodded as Lily spoke. She couldn’t imagine having a family that was so distant; she’d always been relatively close with her parents, and Gwenog was a life saver in more ways than one. She could never understand having such distaste for anyone she was related to in the way that Petunia seemed to have for her sister. “So they know? About the war?” It was something that Hestia hadn’t quite considered. How did Muggle born witches and wizards tell their families about such awful things? “But you still hold out hope, don’t you? That she’ll come around? I mean, she has to, doesn’t she? She’s your sister. Other than my parents, my sister’s really the only person I have… nearby, anyway.” Realizing that she was making this moment about herself, Hestia went quiet. “You don’t have to be okay, you know… it’s okay to be upset about this kind of stuff.”

She could remember every bit of it clearly. Being called in for questioning, sitting down at the table across from stern-faced men, knowing that whatever she said, it wouldn’t be taken seriously unless she could prove that she was telling the truth beyond a reasonable doubt. But as awful as that had been, she made it out alive, and in one piece, and that was more than enough to be grateful for. “Of course there’s going to be something else out there for me. But I doubt it’ll come my way any time soon. There’s too much chaos, and there aren’t many other writing jobs that’d be willing to hire me after I was brought in for questioning and fired at my last position. It’s not easy to stay hopeful when you know the next thing that’ll come your way might be months from now at the earliest.” She took a deep breath. No matter how difficult things were for her, Hestia had to know that there were people who were far worse off than she was. People were losing their lives, which was far more than simply their jobs. All things considered, she’d gotten off relatively easily. “It’s worth a lot. Thank you,” she mused. “And know that you have the same support from me.” She gave her friend a quick reassuring smile before listening as Lily continued to speak. “That’s… incredible. I’m sure if anyone can find something useful, it’d be you. Potions have always been your specialty, haven’t they?” So Lily was working at the hospital, too. Hestia had been told that she should take up a job there, maybe working a shift or two to help make ends meet. But even when she was at her lowest, Hestia wanted to do something that would make her happy. She just couldn’t see herself doing that kind of work, no matter how rewarding other people might’ve found it. “Is it? I haven’t really stopped by recently, even though I should. Maybe I can bring you something during one of your shifts – coffee, a sandwhich?” But it was the next sentence that made Hestia pause, stunned into silence by Lily’s confession. “A – a year…” She thought about her own sister and couldn’t help but think how different life would be if the Jones siblings weren’t as close as they were. “And you didn’t know? Oh, Lily, I can’t imagine…Are you… okay?”

Being deserving of something was so far removed from Hestia’s view of herself. She stopped believing that she deserved any kind of job when she couldn’t find one directly after graduating Hogwarts. She stopped believing that she was deserving of keeping a job when she struggled to keep hers at the Daily Prophet. At this point, she just wanted something to keep herself busy and to pay her rent. Anything more than that would be a blessing, but not something that she necessarily deserved. In an ideal world, perhaps she could say differently. Here and now, though… not so much. “We all deserve a healthy work environment. But those are few and far between, even at the best of times. I can’t ask for too much – I’m happy just to pay my rent, these days.” She knew that she would always have a place to stay with the Tonks family or with the Order. But she was growing tired on depending on the kindness of others. “Of course I’d do the same for you. And Ted. And Dora. It’s what friends are for.” Her smile didn’t falter – for once she was just happy to tell the truth and let Andromeda know just how much she cared. “Children are like that, aren’t they? Just happy to greet a new day and find out where it’ll take them. She’s still too young to understand any kind of hatred. – I’ll just have to come and visit, then. Just tell me when, and I’ll bring over something for dinner. We can just eat together, talk. Be normal. It’s been a while since we’ve even tried that, hasn’t it?”

Losing her job was more than a blow to her wallet. It was a blow to her self-esteem, to her reputation, to everything that she had going for her. It had taken months of hard work, interviews, and letter writing to get a position at the Daily Prophet. And then, in one day, after the publication of a single article that people deemed scandalous (though it was more of a revelation of truth than a scandal, in her own opinion, anyway), she had lost it all. But still, Hestia knew that she could’ve lost far more than just her job. And for that, she was lucky. “I don’t know if I have another ‘something fantastic’ in me. I keep trying to be positive, and I keep telling myself that there are more opportunities out there and that there’s a chance for me to do something more with my life and that all of this happened for a greater good, but…” She shrugged. Being overly pessimistic didn’t come naturally to Hestia, who wanted to see the good in most people and situations. But it was getting more and more difficult by the day to do so, and she was becoming exhausted because of it. “I wasn’t happy there. So there’s that. At least now I can do something that means something. I just… that means I have to find that something. I wish I could’ve at least left on my own terms.” It was something that never would’ve happened – Hestia would’ve stayed in her job no matter how miserable she became, even if she wasn’t ready to admit that to herself. “Busy with what?” she asked. Somehow it was always easier to invest in someone else’s life than to talk about her own. “I want to hear all about it, whatever it is. Must be pretty intense if it can keep your mind off of all of… everything else.”

They were children. By all accounts, Hestia was still a child – though she had her own job and lived on her own, she still felt lost and malleable and like she still had most of her growing to do. But even if she thought that way, that didn’t change the fact that Xeno was right. Things were different now. Any semblance of childhood innocence had been stripped away months ago, perhaps even before the war had even began. “Do you believe in that? A ‘greater good,’ I mean? I know that we need something to fight for, but… are we kidding ourselves into thinking we’re being the heroes when the work we’re doing isn’t anywhere close to enough?” She hadn’t meant to become philosophical so quickly. “Sorry.” As they leaned in to offer some advice, Hestia felt her chest tighten. Bias would always exist. That was a given. But why was the bias towards basic human rights considered to be a bad thing? If journalism wasn’t changing hearts and minds, what was the point in it existing to begin with? “Logically I know that,” she started, letting the rest of the sentence fall away. “It’s easy to say something is the rest of the world’s fault. But at what point does it become my fault for not doing anything to change it?” She always had been quick to blame herself, and the impending doom of this situation was no different. “You’re flattering me again. I’m just saying what needs to get said. That doesn’t make me important. Just the message.” Unlike Gilderoy, Hestia didn’t want her own name out there. As long as people were reading, as long as they were caring, she would be happy enough. On some level, she had to be. She laughed as he gestured along with his comment. “Got it. Well, I’d love to read more of your stuff. Maybe we can co-author a piece sometime. Share our audiences – if the Prophet allows it, of course.”

The comment came from a place of love, which Hestia had to appreciate. Of all the people in her life who had been supportive, Andromeda was the one person who put her words into action, who truly tried to help her out when she was in her time of need. A simple ‘thank you’ would never suffice, and as such, Hestia wasn’t sure if she could ever truly repay Andromeda for the kindness that she’d provided. “I miss the steady paycheck, but that’s about it. You’re right, though. It wasn’t anywhere close to a healthy work environment.” She laughed, finishing paying for her coffee before turning back to her friend. “And I know I’ll never have to create something entirely on my own. You’ve been beyond wonderful through all of this, and I know that I wouldn’t have made it to this point without you.” Her smile remained steady. “For now I might have to, but I won’t in the long run. I promise. How is she, by the way? Bubbly and outgoing as always? I’ll have to stop by and say hello. I’ve been too preoccupied lately, and I miss her. All of you, actually. The whole Tonks family.”

“Were things ever that much simpler?” Hestia asked. She wasn’t trying to be obstinate – she truly couldn’t think of a time when things were ‘simpler,’ whether in the Muggle world or the Wizarding one. “Maybe we were more innocent before. Maybe we didn’t know to think so deeply about everything that the adults were worrying about. We were kids, after all.” Some people, Hestia knew, would still consider her a child. She had only just graduated from Hogwarts a short while ago. But the time that passed between then and now seemed like a decade at the very least in her mind. “Maybe the busyness and the pain is part of growing up, and we’re only just now realizing it. Isn’t it just horrible?” The statement may have been a touch dramatic. But all the same, it felt true. And if there was anything that Hestia could rely on these days, her feelings seemed like the right place to start. Their comments only made her blush more. She felt like the article had the potential to be something big. But whether or not it would be was another story entirely. “It’s just about the war. The dangers of not taking sides – you know, that kind of thing. It’s a necessary article, and of course I’d like to say the writing’s good. But I’m a bit biased, aren’t I?” She laughed at their comments about their own article. “Doxy populations – I think I read that one! I found a few copies of it floating around, which may have been your doing, too. It was impressive.” She didn’t know if she shared the same passion for mythical beasts and their well-being, but if Xeno was passionate about it, she supposed it was good for them to pursue such things. “Or maybe they’re tired of hearing me complain about everything good I write being left on the cutting room floor. But I hope you’re right. I hope it’s good, and I hope it’s necessary.” She wouldn’t have written it if she thought otherwise. But all of her thoughts meant nothing if someone else didn’t agree. Someone other than the Order. Someone outside of her personal sphere of influence. She wanted people to care about the war as deeply as she did, to see the hypocrisy they were surrounded by, and she wanted them to do something about it. Hopefully this article would spark just that. “At a minimum. You’re a gifted writer, Xen. I’ll be lucky if I can write half as well as you can.” Their disapproval for Gilderoy was apparent… and for once, Hestia couldn’t be mad about it. Gilderoy had ridden the fence for too long. He was part of the problem, if not a strong perpetuator of it. Still, she didn’t want to think too much about the shortcomings of someone who had once been so important to her. “You’re… you’re right. I didn’t know you were such a motivational speaker. Since when have you been so wise?”