Disclaimer: Characters and other recognizable things from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: This is a direct sequel to one of my previous fics, "Fallen Lioness" (completed in 2007). It could probably stand alone beyond the first couple paragraphs, so it isn't a big deal if you haven't read it.

Summary: Minerva faces a long, difficult recovery after a brush with death. [Spoiler Alert for "Fallen Lioness"] Following a suicide attempt, the physical consequences prove to be much less of a challenge to surmount than her emotional healing. With Albus now at her side, will he help make the journey easier? ADMM, though their romantic relationship is not the focus. Possible trigger warning for depression and mention of suicide.

Not Alone

Chapter 1: After a Long Night

"All right, don't overexert yourself now," Madam Pomfrey scolded her patient and visitor, despite smiling lopsidedly at the both of them.

Minerva McGonagall's eyes shot wide open as her long-time friend, Albus Dumbledore, sprang his face off of hers. For a moment, she was transported to a blissful fantasyland where she felt no pain and bore no worries.

Slowly, the physically crippling aches returned. Minerva's head throbbed, her throat felt like it had been scathed by some corrosive substance, and, worst of all, her stomach felt like it had been ripped out and replaced the wrong way. Just what kind of damage did she do to her body by overdosing on a potion?

"Thank Merlin you're all right. You had a close call there, Minerva," Madam Pomfrey said solemnly. "So many things could have happened to you… Fortunately, your body knew it had taken too much."

Minerva realized that was why her stomach hurt so badly; it reflexively rid itself of as much of the potion as possible.

"You are severely weakened at this point, and I fear your immune system is a bit compromised at this point. You eventually seemed to stop responding to my spells that are designed to work with your natural defenses. I want to keep you here for a few days, at least."

Minerva nodded. She was in no position to argue. Albus would back up Poppy's decision, and she didn't know how to deal with this pain anyway. She grimaced involuntarily, and the mediwitch knowingly understood what was wrong.

"I imagine you're feeling pretty sick to your stomach right now," she said, and the patient affirmed the statement. "It's going to take a while for it to recover fully. Not only did it go through some serious overexertion, but the ingredients of the potion undoubtedly did a number on it."

"How long?"

Poppy thought for a moment.

"Well… you should feel normal again within one or two months, but it could take three or four for the damage to heal completely."

That was much longer than she expected. She certainly hoped that she wouldn't feel this badly for the whole of two months.

"How can we ensure the speediest recovery?" Albus asked. He had taken to stroking Minerva's dark locks, which had long since fallen out of her customary bun. Clearly, he wanted her to suffer for the least amount of time possible.

"Rest—a lot of rest."

"I believe you," Minerva said. Even the simplest tasks like breathing or keeping her eyes open—things she was supposed to be able to do automatically—seemed a challenge.

"I mean it. I don't want you working for at least a week, probably two. And I want you on bed rest even after I release you. No marking essays, no patrolling the corridors, and—I know you'll hate this one, Albus—not even attending staff meetings. You need to regain your strength.

"As you've probably deduced, you won't be able to eat normally for a while. The nausea and the abdominal pain especially—that will linger. I'll have you on a light, bland diet for the next few weeks. Now, you can take meals in the Great Hall if you'd like; we can arrange for the house elves to prepare special options for you. Of course, you are more than welcome to eat here or in your personal quarters.

"Last but not least, your body is fighting to repair itself. You will be more susceptible to contagious diseases, so be extra careful if you notice anyone around you is ill. If you think you've caught something, please see me immediately. I can't emphasize that point enough. If you get sick, that could set back your whole recovery, and I don't want that to happen. Magical overdoses are hell, plain and simple. There's nothing I can do to heal you faster. I'm sorry. I really wish I could. But all I can do is ask you to take care of yourself and to allow others to help you."

Minerva nodded, absorbing everything that Poppy told her. She felt completely awful, and it sounded like she'd remain miserable for weeks or even months. A long road lay ahead of her. Why hadn't she just died? Her life might be more of a hell than it had been a day ago.

"I will be here to help you through everything, my love." At least there was Albus. Finally, he would be there for it all. She tried to think positively. She had been given a second chance at life, right? The least she could do was try not to fuck it up.

"And Minerva—" The mediwitch bit her slightly trembling lip. "There's—there's more to your recovery, of course… and it's not really my specialty—I mean, I deal with fixing bodies—broken bones and the common cold and—not really with—with—well… I can get a psychological Healer from St. Mungo's if you want, but you have to want it. But I promise you I will do my damn best, Minerva. I care about you, you know?" Poppy was suddenly overcome with emotion, and she threw her arms around her patient, whom she had known since she started working at Hogwarts.

Minerva didn't know what to say. Should she apologize? She didn't mean to hurt her or anyone else. Honestly, she didn't think anybody would care much. She'd be one less person to deal with, and she was a lot to deal with lately. Now she saw this display from Poppy, and even Albus had cried. She couldn't help feeling guilty. What could she do? Tell her that she'll be fine? Hard to convince someone of that if she wasn't quite sure of it herself.

"Poppy, shh… it'll be all right." She tried anyway. "You don't need to find someone from St. Mungo's." Somehow, she found herself in the consoling position.

Madam Pomfrey pulled back.

"Okay… okay. If you're sure. But if you change your mind—let me know. And remember, if there's anything you need…"

"Anything at all…" Dumbledore added, reaching out to grasp her hand.

Minerva nodded weakly. She wanted to tell them that she knew, that she would let them know how they could help. The truth was she didn't know what she needed or if she would even keep the promise in the long run.

"Really, Minerva, I'll do anything for you." He seemed to choke out those words as the tears leaked out of his glistening blue eyes again. He struggled to hold back and muffle the sobs that began to wrack his body. The most powerful wizard in the world—the bravest, most brilliant man anyone knew—could not handle this.

The mediwitch ushered Albus away so as not to upset Minerva. She was exhausted. She had no idea how long she had been out, but still she felt like she could sleep for days. She looked around for some indicator of the time, but there weren't even windows in the room.

Poppy returned after a few minutes. She had a phial of an orange potion with her.

"I'm guessing you don't feel up for eating right now?"

The thought nauseated Minerva. She wasn't sure she had the strength even to lift a fork, or to chew, or to swallow, so she shook her head.

"When was the last time you ate? And I mean really ate—Albus is… well, he told me you're not always eating as much as you should..."

"I—I had a little at lunch," Minerva said in a small voice, confessing that she had used a Vanishing Spell on most of her dinner. It wasn't that she was avoiding food, but her appetite had been nonexistent at times. Sometimes, it was just too much effort.

Poppy approached the bed and held up a potion.

"Drink this. It's a nutrient potion," she said. "I know it doesn't taste very good, but…" She gave an apologetic look.

"I need it. I know."

Minerva struggled to sit up in preparation to take the potion. She gratefully accepted Poppy's help, wincing in pain from the motion.

"All right. Let me have it."

Poppy pressed the phial to Minerva's thin lips, and, realizing how awful the thick liquid tasted, she downed it like a shot to get it over with before her gag reflex could take over. Swallowing it was a nightmare.

She didn't want to get sick. She hated being sick. Her stomach wasn't too thrilled about receiving the potion, though, and she took several deep breaths, hoping to gain control.

Bloody hell, is everything going to be like this for the next two months? Fighting to keep the simplest things down?

"Okay?" Poppy asked cautiously after a minute or two.

"Y-yeah," Minerva said uncertainly, sliding back down under the covers, swearing under her breath the whole time. "What time is it, anyway?"

"A little past three in the afternoon."

Wow. She had been out for about sixteen hours, at least. She wasn't sure how long she had been awake. An hour or two, she guessed.

"Albus cancelled your classes for today."

It's Monday. Right.

"We haven't told the rest of the school anything yet. Just, well, Albus told Filius you're sick when he asked him to play the Headmaster role today."

Minerva nodded.

"He hasn't left the Hospital Wing at all, you know," Poppy said. "Wouldn't leave. Stayed up all night. Fire-called Filius this morning from my office and ran back to his chair outside your room."

She believed her. Albus had suddenly looked much older—dark circles under his eyes and a drained look due to stress, worry, and lack of sleep. It was then Minerva realized how much her own eyelids were drooping. Staying awake much longer would be nearly impossible.

"Tired?" Poppy asked.

"Mmhm," she murmured, leaning further into the fluffy white pillows. Before Poppy could get out another word, Minerva had fallen asleep.

Poppy exited the spacious private ward and stepped out into the main Hospital Wing to find the Headmaster slumped in the chair he had occupied for much of the night and morning. His head was bowed in his hands, slender fingers intertwined with his long white hair.

"She's asleep."

Albus nodded.

"I'm scared for her, Poppy. I'm afraid that I won't be able to do enough to help. I'm afraid that she'll—that she'll—do it again."

"We have to do our best. That's all we can do. And… that's all I know to say." She eyed him in concern. He needed to take care of himself, too.

"I'm not leaving."

"Albus…"

"I can't. I just can't, Poppy."

"The school needs you, too."

"I know… but I can't do it all right now."

With what felt like the weight of the world crashing down on his shoulders, the Headmaster buried his face in his hands, uncertain of how to proceed and afraid that he would fail to keep everything from falling apart.