A/n: just to let yall know, when I started this fic, I was living with my parents and had never kissed a boy. Today, (five years later) I would have made many different author-ly decisions. If nothing else, I kind of screwed myself on the timeline. But I am determined to continue, rather than rewrite.

You can do it.

No, I can't.

You told him you'd be there.

But, what if they find out?

Who cares? You need this. For the friendship, if nothing else.

But it's a lie, I don't deserve it. Yes you do. No. I can't go to Albert's single parent's... Whatever it is. Support group. I am not a single parent. I have Harry. And there is no way I am going to look those people in the eye and lie to them about what I do. They'll know I'm a witch, for sure. Or crazy. I won't be able to lie to them and it'll all just be worse.

So Ginny hasn't gone. And for a few days, she skipped her daily routine of walking down to the muggle coffeshop, strangely embarrassed at the idea of coming upon the friendly muggle father and his exuberant daughter. But on Friday, she took a good look at herself in the mirror, dark circles under her eyes from the nights she woke up to James Sirius's wailing, hair barely distinguishable from a dead animal, and said, firmly, "This is not me."

Ginny brushed her hair and picked out a nice dress, a woolen overcoat for the chilly weather, and her old Gryffindor scarf, striped in red and gold. Determined to be ok, she waited for her mother to pick up James Sirius, then began the short trek down to the muggle village. She was walking so resolutely that she almost missed the voice coming from the yellow house. "Hey! Mrs Potter?"

Ginny turned, halfway down the street, to see a short, round man bouncing after her. "Oh, hi Albert."

The trepidation must have been obvious from her face, because suddenly Ginny could see it mirrored in Albert's. "Oh, Mrs Potter, I'm very sorry to bother you. We just missed you at the luncheon, that's all. But, no problem at all, it really isn't. You look very nice today! Much better, if you don't mind me saying it. So perhaps you don't need us at all, and I'm babbling, very sorry. But if you do ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

At this outpouring of 'sorrys' that Ginny felt she did not deserve, something finally broke. This nice, friendly man had no business saying sorry to her, she was the sorry one, so very sorry, such a sorry excuse of a person lately and - Ginny broke into tears in the middle of the street, quite ruining the image the nice dress, the well-done hair, and the Gryffindor scarf were trying to project. Albert was patting her on the shoulder, saying "Oh, well, let's get you a cup of tea, does that sound nice?"

Blubbering, Ginny let herself be led into the cosy parlor in the yellow house. She sat on a pink paisley couch and sniffles into her scarf until a cup of tea was pressed into her hands. Albert sat across from her and opened a tin of biscuits, placing them on the table, along with a purple handkerchief. "There there. Now, you just sit tight and let it all out. If you sit on a toy, just throw it anywhere, Susie won't mind when she gets back from school. And if you want to talk about what's going on, you just let me know, ok? And eat some biscuits, lord knows I've had enough. You alright, Mrs Potter?" He smiled, patting his rotund middle.

"Ginny." Ginny sniffed. "That's my first name."

"Alright, Ginny. Eat a biscuit." It was a chocolate biscuit.

Ginny sniffed, and blew her nose on the purple handkerchief, and somewhere between the third and thirtieth cup of tea she told Albert the abridged, magic-less version of her story, about how awful and alone she felt even though she knew there were people who wanted to help, "... And I know they're all just trying to make it easy for me, I mean a lot of women take time off, and, and I know I should be enjoying this time with my son, and nobody expects me to be Lily, and, I should be happy but I'm not, and we don't even know what Lily would have done after Harry was born because she died and I'm not dead, I'm still here, and doesn't anybody know that?"

Albert nodded sympathetically. "I'm not sure I got all that, but it's not important. And what you're feeling? It doesn't mean you don't love your son."

Ginny sniffled. "I know that." She was too tired to be indignant at the half-accusation, too tired to figure out if it even was an accusation. Was she worried about not loving James Sirius? Sure, maybe she resented the pregnancy, and the timing of it, and the way her body ached, the lingering weight, and the screams in the middle of the night... Ginny looked at Albert with horror in her eyes. "Oh Merlin."

Albert let the odd invective pass. "Ginny, I'm not a doctor, but, I think it's pretty clear that you have postpartum depression."

"I have a what?"

"It's pretty common. Lots of women get it. Hormonal imbalance after the baby comes, plus the stresses of being a parent. It's a chemical thing."

Ginny didn't understand all of the muggle healer words, but she got the gist. "Something's wrong with me."

"Oh nononono. No. Nothing is wrong with you, honey. You're just sick - I mean, like you've got the flu. You just need some rest, and some pills, and you'll be a-ok." Ginny must not have looked convinced, because after a pause, he continued, "Depression is completely normal, nothing to be ashamed of. I used to feel that way all the time! Didn't accept myself the way i was, plus other people being stupid gits, you know. And sometimes when you're sad, you just can't help but make yourself sadder. You take the words of others and twist'em all around in your head, like they're looking down on you when they're not, or they're saying things they didn't really say, and you just let bad things keep going, and you stop being yourself."

"Yeah." Ginny nodded.

"Well, this is just a recommendation from a fellow who doesn't know a lot about you yet, but I think you'd feel a lot better if you saw a professional."

"Huh?"

"You know, a doctor, or a therapist. You're always welcome here but I'm just a friendly neighbor who wants to see you at your best, because I can tell that you're fabulous. Give me a minute, I think I have a second tin of biscuits somewhere."

Ginny realized that she had eaten an entire tin of biscuits, and when she looked out the window, the sun had almost reached the horizon. Had she really spent five hours - "Thanks Albert, for everything, really, this was such a help."

Albert beamed, holding a box of lemon meringues.

Ginny smiled back. "I have to go, I need to go pick up my son, my mother will be so worried. I'll think about what you said, about getting help."

"Good for you, honey." Albert pressed the box of meringues into her hands. "You take these for the road."

Ginny protested, but left with the meringues. She walked half a block, then ducked between two trees on the side of the road, and apparated to her parents' house. She collected James Sirius with the familiar shiver of magic running through her body, the zing of lemon on her tongue.