Disclaimer: Characters and ideas from the Harry Potter franchise are not my own.

Trigger Warning(s): Depictions of and/or references to mental illness, disordered eating, depression, and suicide.

Not Alone

Ch. 14: An Old Problem

"Sorry about missing last week." Minerva sat in her usual spot on the end of the sofa in her therapist's office, her hands wrapped around a hot cup of tea.

"No need to apologize; I got your owl. I hope that you're feeling better now."

"Well, I wish we could have met. Last weekend, I spent most of each day in bed, and there wasn't much I could do but sleep or think. We've established that I tend not to do well when I have time to dwell on my thoughts, and combined with feeling ill, I think I was a bit of a wreck. Albus and I talked a lot, but I can't imagine that I was pleasant company. I might have taken out my… frustration on Poppy at one point, too.

"I apologized, and at least it led to her lecturing me less, which I appreciated this past Friday in particular. It was not a good day." Minerva bit her lip and looked nervously at Christopher. "It might have been one of my worst days in recent weeks, physically and mentally."

"Do you want to tell me about that?"

"I learned the hard way how easily it is to overexert oneself whilst recovering from wizarding flu."

"And 'the hard way' is…?"

"As it turned out, performing three Conjuring spells was too much too soon. I had to dismiss my students halfway through class time so that I didn't pass out in front of all of them. They didn't all leave, and one of them had to help me when I started to collapse." Minerva set down her tea to rest her elbow on the arm of the couch and prop up her head with her hand.

"That was bad enough already, but I began to feel sick again at dinner. The very same student and her friend followed me out of the Great Hall to make sure I was okay. Of course, I was not quite okay, and her friend fetched Poppy for me. For Merlin's sake, I still don't want to believe that a student witnessed me lose a fight with my body twice. While I'm learning to ask for and accept help from my colleagues, I am not ready to be so vulnerable with my students.

"And please don't tell me, 'At least your students care about you!' Poppy has already said that, and it is not consoling."

Christopher eyed her sympathetically. "That sounds like a tough day, Minerva. I don't have any desire to give you 'at least' statements. And I'm not going to tell you that you ever need to be ready to be that vulnerable with your students. You are allowed boundaries; in fact, I recommend it. You get to decide how vulnerable you want to be with different people or in different circumstances."

Minerva nodded and picked up her tea again. She didn't know what to say, so she busied her lips over the rim of the cup, sipping slowly. She was glad that he validated her discomfort, and she certainly had it in her to enforce her boundaries. In this situation, all she had to do was tell her students—Miss MacDonald in particular—that if they were concerned about her, then they should tell Madam Pomfrey or another teacher, rather than try to deal with the perceived problem themselves.

"But something else is bothering you. Is it also about what happened on Friday?" Christopher asked after studying her for several minutes while she said nothing.

"Is it obvious?"

"I can tell that something is on your mind. That's part of the job."

"I'm not sure where to start. There are a couple of things bothering me about the other day—well, one thing is bothering me, and the other is just something I think I should tell you. Maybe I'll start there. It's probably easier."

"Okay."

"I told Pomona about my suicide attempt. She's another teacher and one of my oldest friends."

"How did it go?"

"It went well, I suppose. During, I was nervous, of course, but I think it helped a lot that Albus and Poppy were with me. Pomona—she asked me a few questions, and I said as much as I could until my thoughts got too loud. By having Albus and Poppy there, they knew how to give me the space that I needed to regather my strength. Perhaps you could say that they helped me be only as vulnerable as I wanted to be."

"That was a big step to let another friend in, and I'm glad you let your existing supporters help you with it. How do you feel now that Pomona knows?"

"Honestly, it seems that my fears were unfounded. As much as my mind screamed that she would think I'm weak and pathetic if she knew what I'd done and how I felt, she hasn't given any indication that she feels that way about me now. When I told her, she seemed sad, I guess, but not in a way that made me feel responsible for reassuring her. I think she just wants to understand so that she can help me in whatever way I'll let her."

"Have you thought about how you might let her help you?"

Minerva shook her head. "I haven't thought of anything specific. I wasn't exactly planning to tell her, but she saw how I, er, managed to make myself ill again at dinner, so it seemed like the time to explain some things to her." She took a long sip from her mug. "I think this is when I should tell you about what's bothering me."

"Okay. Whenever you're ready, Minerva."

She shifted in her seat, tucking her legs under her on the sofa. Her fingers fidgeted up and down the sides of the warm mug as she stared blankly at a distant corner of the room. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked at Christopher. "I think I might have a problem with anxiety."

"What makes you say that?"

"I've noticed that my darker thoughts tend to be preceded by overthinking about things that worry me—that I won't be capable of doing something that I think I should be able to do, or others will think I'm weak or a burden, things like that. Other times, it's the anxiety itself that feels overwhelming, and I lose my appetite or even get a stomachache, which has been happening more recently. I've dealt with this poorly sometimes, especially when it happened at mealtimes."

"Is this what happened at dinner the other day?"

Minerva pursed her lips and nodded.

"How exactly did you deal with it?"

"Vanished my food instead of swallowed," she confessed.

"In my experience, I've heard a few reasons why people Vanish their meals instead of eating, and my response is different for each reason. So, why do you do it, Minerva?"

"Because when I don't have an appetite, or worse, when my stomach hurts, then I don't feel like I can eat. But if I don't eat, then someone will worry about me or ask me if I'm okay. When I'm feeling overwhelmed by my emotions or thoughts, then I'm in a state where I feel like I can't even pretend that I'm fine. It's like I need to run away before I break down and cry. So, if I Vanish my food, then I can make it look like I ate, and I can get out of the Great Hall sooner."

"To be clear, the Vanishing Spells aren't because of anxiety or guilt about eating—or concerns about weight or body image?"

"No, it's nothing like that. Although I did lose a lot of weight when I was doing it regularly, it wasn't a goal; it was more like a side effect."

"Okay. I had to ask to help me gauge if I think you're dealing with an eating disorder."

"A what?"

"An eating disorder—they haven't received much attention in the wizarding world, and they have only recently been included as a category in Muggle diagnostic references. Perhaps the most well-known is what the Muggles have called anorexia nervosa. The avoidance of eating is one characteristic—as is significant weight loss—so I hope you can see why I asked."

"I'm not trying to starve myself or lose weight. Even so, this is probably what worries Poppy most about my physical health. It gets a bit exhausting at times."

"I believe you," Christopher said. "Still, using Vanishing Spells to avoid eating is not a good coping mechanism, and if this is what you feel you need to do to manage your anxiety, then I would agree that it's a problem."

"Until this last time, I hadn't done it since before my suicide attempt. I know things are different now, but there's a part of me that worries I'll feel like I need it as much as I did before. I—I admit that I thought about it a few times this weekend."

"May I ask how often you were doing it at that time?"

"Daily. Sometimes multiple times a day."

Christopher's eyes darkened. "Minerva, do you think you would tell someone if you got to that point again? Even if I don't think your thought patterns align classically with an eating disorder per se, I might want to approach your treatment in a similar way—the physical risks associated with this behavior are great no matter the reason behind it. These conditions can be quite dangerous, so I'd want to work closely with your mediwitch and possibly another specialist for a more coordinated strategy."

"I'm not sure. Aside from the anxiety, sometimes I simply felt like I didn't deserve to eat because I felt so worthless." Minerva looked at the floor. "Poppy certainly wouldn't be the first person I'd tell; she'd probably pump me full of Nutrient Potions and scold me for not going to her sooner. If I told Albus or Pomona, they'd probably take me straight to Poppy, so the result might be the same." She nervously looked up again. "I suppose I might tell you, and you might have to convince me to let you talk to Poppy—but I take it you'd discuss a better way for her to handle it?"

"Yes, that's the general idea. She and I would discuss your physical and mental health together."

"Okay. I hope I don't get back to that point, and I can't guarantee that I'll feel able to admit it if I do. But as I see it now, I think I'd be most likely to tell you, over anyone else."

"That's enough for me about this hypothetical scenario for now—let's talk about managing your anxiety in the present."

"Please. Can we start with coping with my nerves in the Great Hall? Albus and Poppy have agreed to help ensure I eat properly later if I feel like I need to leave, but I'm not thrilled with this solution. Needing a chaperone for meals doesn't seem ideal."

"You're looking for a way to cope so that you don't get overwhelmed in the first place—or to calm yourself down if you do."

"Right."

"Well, there's potentially a simple solution—that is, unless you've already tried it and found it ineffective," Christopher said. "You could take a bit of Draught of Peace as needed, either in the moment or as a preventative."

Minerva frowned. "For some reason, I don't like the idea of needing potions to get through normal daily activities."

"Would you like to talk through that reservation, or would you prefer we discuss other possible strategies?"

"I know I don't have an actual reason to be against it. Logically, it sounds promising, and—" And this wouldn't be my first time relying on Draught of Peace. How the hell did I forget?

"…and what, Minerva?"

"Sorry. It just occurred to me that I've had problems with anxiety before, and I did find potions helpful."

"Oh?"

"It was a long time ago; I was a teenager. I would always get nervous as exams approached, but it was especially bad my fifth year when OWL preparation was in full swing. I spent months feeling sick to my stomach until the mediwitch started giving me packets of ampules containing Draught of Peace. Then I could take one whenever I needed it," she explained. "I wonder if I started using Vanishing Spells because I subconsciously remembered my teenage troubles and figured I might have better luck on an empty stomach. I—I'm a bit concerned that my anxiety is getting as bad as—or worse than—it was then."

Christopher nodded. "Is this your way of saying you'd like to try it again? Because you know it helped before?"

"I suppose I should talk about this with Poppy later," Minerva said but then almost immediately scrunched up her face in thought.

This idea should have been obvious, so why hasn't Poppy suggested it? I know it's possible to overdose on Draught of Peace, but doesn't it take a lot, unless it's made wrong? Does she trust me that little with potions? The old mediwitch could trust a fifth year with a dozen doses at a time, and I am definitely more responsible than my sixteen-year-old self.

Perhaps I shouldn't talk to her about it after all; I could simply stop by the apothecary here in Hogsmeade and buy some for myself. It's not like it's a controlled substance. I could even get some of that tea that Albus keeps. But then would that make me seem even less trustworthy to Poppy—sneaking potions to get through the day?

"Minerva?" Christopher interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm worried that Poppy won't want me to have a supply of potions because I overdosed the last time that she gave me a week's worth of one."

"Has she indicated that she has this concern?"

"She didn't exactly deny it when I accused her of feeling this way."

"Should I know more about this confrontation with Poppy?"

"When I said I took my frustration out on Poppy last week, I meant that I told her I thought she didn't trust me with potions, among other things." Minerva untucked her legs and returned her feet to the floor. She hunched over to hold her head in her hands. "Given the stunt I pulled on Friday, it seems like she shouldn't trust me. I was just thinking that I could take Draught of Peace with telling her, but that certainly wouldn't do me any favors in regaining her trust."

"True, and even though you could easily obtain Draught of Peace yourself, I would discourage you from starting any potions regimen without discussing it with Poppy," Christopher said.

"Is it pathetic that I have anxiety about asking her to help me manage my anxiety? I think I'm getting a bloody stomachache over this." She let out a wry laugh.

"No, it's not pathetic, and I think you know that." He Summoned a drinking glass from a shelf and filled it with water. "Here. Do you want to take a little break?"

Minerva sat up and took a sip of water. She shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. Maybe I'll ask Albus to accompany me when I see Poppy tonight. My… habit of not eating was something we talked about when I was stuck in bed. He noticed when I was doing it before. He told me last week that he was actually on his way to share his concerns with Poppy when he found me right before I attempted." She bit her bottom lip. "I lost all control that night," she said in a small voice.

She put down her glass, wrapped her arms around her midsection, and doubled over as tears threatened to spill. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hang on to the sense of control she remembered losing.

"Let's take that break anyway," Christopher said gently. "Slow, deep breaths, Minerva—and try to focus only on that, okay? I'll do it with you."

She tried to match his tempo but found it difficult to quiet her mind. When a gasping sob caught in her throat, her ability to maintain the measured breaths immediately disappeared. Her final thoughts and emotions from that night came rushing back, and she broke down much like she had during her last therapy session.

"There are tissues beside you," Christopher said when she finally was able to catch and steady her breath somewhat.

"Thank you." She blew her nose, dabbed at her eyes, and wiped away the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"I know this is inopportune, but we only have a few minutes left. Will you be okay?"

Minerva nodded as she slowly emptied her glass of water, trying to concentrate on the coolness of the liquid in hopes of calming her mind.

"Shall we put you in the books for next week? Would you like to schedule for all of February while we're here?"

"Sure."

"All right, I've got you down for this same time next Monday."

"Okay."

"Take care, Minerva."

She nodded. "Thank you," she said quietly, still sniffling as she put on her cloak. Today was the first time she was upset that time had run out; she felt like she needed to talk about the memories from that fateful night that resurfaced so clearly toward the end of the appointment. Maybe she was finally ready to talk with Christopher about that night and work out what the breaking point was. But then their fifty minutes were up, and she had to leave, alone with too many thoughts.

For Merlin's sake, Minerva, keep it together until you get back to Hogwarts, she scolded herself as she headed for the Hog's Head. She had little desire for Aberforth to see her cry this time, and she hoped that he wouldn't mention that she looked like she'd been crying again. But the more she suppressed the emotions that demanded release, the tighter her stomach seemed to twist. And despite the winter cold, she broke into a sweat as her heart began to race. Min, seriously, please just fucking hold it in for a few more minutes. You're fine. You just have to get through the Floo. You. Are. Fine.

She was not fine.

Aberforth nodded at her when she pushed open the door to the pub. "I'll take you up to—oh, bloody hell, do I know that look." He grimaced as Minerva neared. "The ladies' toilet is over there. I'll unlock it." He raised his wand and pointed the way.

Minerva hurried in the indicated direction, grateful that she didn't have to ask but unsure if this was worse than if she had just come in with tears streaming down her face. She quickly decided that this was indeed worse, for she could no longer keep herself from becoming a sobbing, inconsolable wreck, anyway, as she deposited her stomach contents in the toilet. Eventually she emerged, feeling only marginally better physically and significantly worse emotionally.

"Don't think I haven't seen this countless times—although typically, the poor soul is heavily intoxicated. Are you okay?" Aberforth asked, his expression much softer than usual.

"Could be better, obviously," Minerva mumbled.

"You're welcome to sit down for a bit if you need to."

"I'll be fine. I just want to go home."

"If you say so. Follow me upstairs, then," he said, leading the way.

"Thank you, Ab." She picked up a handful of Floo powder and cleared her throat before tossing the powder into the flames and stating her destination. She shut her eyes and kept her elbows tucked in as she zoomed through the Floo Network. When she arrived at her office, she stumbled out of the fireplace and dropped on all fours, succumbing to the residual sickness she felt upon leaving the Hog's Head.

She cast a Vanishing Spell followed by a cleaning spell and then sat on the stone floor, leaning back against the side of her desk. She swore, cursing herself for not taking up Aberforth's offer to sit for a while before returning to the castle. Now she chose to rest, mentally bemoaning her poor choices until her stomach had settled enough for the walk up to the Headmaster's Tower. As much as she wanted to change into her cat form to hide how dreadful she must have looked, transforming her body seemed like a bad idea.

Fortunately, because it was the middle of one of the afternoon class periods, she encountered no students or teachers in the corridors. Although she saw Peeves approaching in her peripheral vision, she yelled at him to sod off, surprised but relieved that he obeyed. She was further pleased to find that Albus was working alone at his desk, rather than in a meeting.

"Hello, Minerva," he said, looking up when she entered the circular office. He furrowed his brow. "Are you all right?"

"I've really got to stop looking like hell every time I see your brother." She sat down, crossed her arms on the desk, and buried her face in them.

"Another difficult session today?"

"Do you remember how I used to get nervous over exams as a student?"

"Er, a lot of students did—and still do, of course, as you know. Are you asking about something specific?"

"I was thinking about how I needed Draught of Peace regularly to get through my fifth year."

"You're really asking me to dig deep into memories, Min. I take it you were worried about OWLs?" Albus stroked his beard, straining to remember.

"Yes, but I don't think I realized just how much my nerves were affecting me for a while—and neither did Madam Madewell."

"Oh, was that the year you made a lot of trips to the Hospital Wing? I recall your other teachers coming to me, as your Head of House, concerned because you frequently complained of feeling ill—at least, I think it was you. But even when they sent you to the Hospital Wing, Madam Madewell would send you back to class when she couldn't find anything wrong on her diagnostic scans."

Minerva lifted her head and nodded. "That was me. I'm sure my teachers and Madam Madewell tired of trading me back and forth until she and I finally made the connection between my constant anxiety and persistent stomachaches."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Does this have anything to do with your anxiety now?"

"Christopher suggested that Draught of Peace might help me so that I don't feel the need to Vanish my meals."

"That makes sense. If you're not overly anxious, then you're less likely to lose your appetite."

"I know. I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. Everything was so much better after Madam Madewell started providing me with a week or so's worth of doses to take whenever I felt I needed it."

"Well, it's been a long time since you were a student; I don't think it's odd that you didn't think of it," Albus said. His eyes lit up as if he'd just realized something. "And now I finally understand why I had to take you to the Hospital Wing after our career guidance meeting in your fifth year. A lot of those meetings blurred together, but yours I remember quite clearly."

"Oh no, don't remind me," Minerva groaned, hiding her face again. "I was so embarrassed. I wish you didn't remember that."

"I recall being very confused that you looked panicked and started to cry when I told you how confident I was that you'd excel in all the NEWT-level courses you needed to take—until, well, you know. I did appreciate that you managed to steer clear of my desk." He chuckled.

"It's not funny! I was mortified, on top of all the stress I felt about school my future!"

"It was ages ago, Min. Surely you can laugh about it now."

"Maybe I would if my anxiety-related stomach issues were merely a distant memory," she muttered.

"I'm sorry. I suppose this was a bit insensitive of me." His eyes widened. "Has it happened again recently?" he asked, considering that might be why she looked a bit off-color when she arrived.

"Today, in damn near the same spot beside the desk," Minerva mumbled. "And just before at the Hog's Head. I should've waited before Flooing back, like Aberforth suggested."

"I'm really sorry you're having this problem again."

Minerva straightened up and sighed. "At least that incident with you might have convinced Madam Madewell that it wasn't all in my head, or worse, that I was lying to get out of class. Then I was able to understand why I felt so ill and how to take care of it. Hopefully, the same solution will work for me now."

"I hope so, too. Are you going to talk to Poppy about this tonight?"

Minerva's shoulders slumped. "There's a part of me that thinks she will discourage me—or make me take the potion only with supervision—because of what I did the last time she gave me a week's worth of a potion."

"We've had this conversation—I don't think she sees you as a potions abuser in general. If your therapist recommends it, and you have a history where it helped you, I don't see why she wouldn't agree to your using it regularly again."

"Even so, I was hoping you'd let me have some of your tea infused with it before dinner tonight—it could help me through the meal and my check-up with Poppy afterward."

"Of course."

"And I know you don't usually come to my weekly examinations, but do you think you could this time? I'd like the moral support."

"Sure, I can do that."

"Thank you. I'm going inside now. I think I need to lie down for a while."

"Sounds like you could use some rest. Drink some water, too."

"Yes, Poppy."

Albus smirked. "I don't need medical training to know that you should hydrate after heaving at the Hog's Head. How much did you have to drink, Min?"

"Not funny!" Minerva grumbled, raising a finger at him.

"Too soon?"

"Yes, too soon. Your brother was nicer about this."

"Sorry, dear," he said, his eyes twinkling apologetically. "I love you."

She glowered at him. "I love you, too, even though you're being a right arse," she said and disappeared beyond the sliding bookcase.

That evening after dinner ended, Albus and Minerva made their way from the Great Hall to Poppy Pomfrey's office in the Hospital Wing.

"Hi, Min," Madam Pomfrey said, glancing up from some paperwork on her desk. "Oh, and Albus, too."

"Good evening, Poppy," Albus said, shutting the door.

"I wanted to talk to you about something after the exam if you don't mind. That's why I brought Albus," Minerva said.

"That sounds fine." Poppy rose and looked at the headmaster. "You can sit in my chair for now."

As Albus took the chair behind the desk, Minerva began to undress, accustomed to the routine, and handed her teaching robes to Albus. Poppy Transfigured the guest chair in front of the desk into an examination table, upon which Minerva sat.

"Can we do my weight last? I—I suppose what I want to talk about is related."

Poppy raised her eyebrows quizzically. "Okay, then let's start here."

Albus watched with a mixture of wonder and worry. He was wonderstruck by the variety of spells that Poppy performed in quick succession but worried that Minerva needed such thorough monitoring each week. He wasn't familiar with all of the spells, and he was further surprised that Poppy followed her magical diagnostics with a manual exam. Finally, as agreed, Minerva hopped off the table and onto the scale.

Poppy hummed in concern.

"I take it you're not happy with me," Minerva murmured.

"I'm not unhappy with you, Min. You were ill last week, so I knew I was unlikely to be pleased by today's measurement. It's just a bit lower than I expected to see." She sighed. "But you said you wanted to talk about this?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Poppy Untransfigured the examination table. "Let's switch places, Albus. Feel free to Conjure a chair or Transfigure this again to fit the two of you."

Albus chose to do the latter. He handed Minerva her robes and sat down; she joined him after getting dressed. Like the other night, they entwined their fingers, granting Minerva a sense of safety in preparation for her impending emotional exposure.

"I think I know why I haven't been getting back to my normal weight as steadily as you hoped. And before you respond, no, I didn't lie to you about Vanishing Spells. Except for Friday, I really haven't done it since November."

"I'm listening," Poppy said.

Minerva turned her head to look at Albus, who nodded reassuringly. She took a deep breath and shared what she had said to her therapist about her anxiety. She added what she had told Albus about her thoughts when she'd been Vanishing her meals regularly. Finally, she relayed her similar experiences as a student, which Albus confirmed. He began to recount the story about their career guidance meeting until Minerva silenced him with her protests. ("She doesn't need that illustration!")

"Perhaps she needs the more recent 'illustration' that you neglected to provide during your physical exam," Albus said despite the death glare he received.

"Fine," Minerva conceded, noting that Poppy was looking at her expectantly. She confessed that she'd been sick that afternoon, although she didn't mention where, which Albus let slide.

"Well, thank you for telling me now. So, how are you really feeling tonight?"

"Honestly, Poppy, I'm okay. Albus keeps medicated teas at home, and I had some containing Draught of Peace before dinner. I was able to get through the meal without issue, albeit cautiously because of earlier. Even now, although I'm a bit nervous, my body and mind aren't going haywire talking to you."

"That's encouraging, Min. I wish I knew sooner that you've been struggling with anxiety, especially since it makes you feel ill at times. I got that you had painful thoughts, but I didn't realize they were coupled to trouble with your nerves. Had I, then I probably would have considered Draught of Peace already; it's the obvious option."

"Wait, have I seriously never mentioned my anxiety to you before?"

Poppy shook her head. "No, not explicitly, at least. You might have alluded to it, but nothing you've told me previously seemed inconsistent with depression or your physical recovery from the overdose."

"Well, then I got myself worked up over nothing. I had convinced myself that you just didn't want me to have access to potions."

"Oh, Min." Poppy looked sad but sympathetic. "Are you still worried that I don't trust you? Because I assure you, I do, even if a bit of fear lurks somewhere in my mind. Besides, Draught of Peace should reduce the likelihood that you'll feel like hurting yourself—not to mention that it is generally quite safe. Between this and what you've told me, it sounds like the benefits far outweigh the risks."

"Now I wish I hadn't kept almost all my emotional issues from you. It took me a while to notice the pattern—consciously, at least—and put a name to it, but maybe you would have figured it out more quickly."

"At least now I can help you mitigate it. Do you want to work out a suitable dose and possible frequency right now?"

"Yes, please."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Sounds like I have another patient. Do you want to wait while I assist them?"

The two professors nodded.

"Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can." Poppy rose and went to the door, cracking it open just wide enough to talk to whomever was there. Then she slipped out through the small opening she'd made and shut her office door.

Minerva laid her head on Albus's shoulder. "Thanks for coming."

"You're welcome. I think it's going well. Do you?"

"I think so, too. I'm annoyed at myself for not telling Poppy about any of this sooner, though. I think I assumed that she would be cross with me for letting my thoughts interfere with my eating habits. I figured she'd be overbearing about it and require me to take my meals here or otherwise under supervision, so I tried not to talk about it even when it was relevant."

"While you're learning to be open with her, I think she's also learning how best to support you. We're all learning here, Min." He rested his head upon hers. "I'm proud of you for sharing so much with her tonight."

"I couldn't have gotten to this point without you."

"Sure, you could have—you're stronger than you give yourself credit."

"Albus, I probably would've been dead already if it weren't for you." She slipped her head out from under his and turned to look him in the eyes. "I think we need to talk about that night."

Bloody hell, this conversation turned morbid suddenly, Albus thought uneasily. He was sure his heart stopped for a moment, and he blinked rapidly, trying to focus on Minerva's face, rather than on his apprehension. "I—I suppose we do."

"Not right now, of course. I want to talk it through in therapy first."

"Oh. Okay." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll need to mentally prepare, too, you know."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to spring the topic on you. It's just that I think I was finally ready to talk about it with Christopher today, but we ran out of time before I could really get started."

"Is it hard to leave when you still want to talk about something?"

"This was the first time that I wanted to keep talking, and yes, it was hard to leave. I had so many intense emotions and thoughts that I desperately wanted to release." Minerva shrugged. "I guess I released them in the loo at Aberforth's. If I'm ever sick and sobbing at the Hog's Head again, I really hope it's because I'm drunk."

Well, I suppose you get to joke about it, Albus thought. "If this sort of thing happens again, then you'll have Draught of Peace to help you calm down," he said.

"I hope so. We'll see how Poppy deems it acceptable for me to use it, won't we?"

"Yes, we will," Albus said. He opened his arms, and Minerva leaned into his embrace. They quietly sat with their musings as they awaited Poppy's return, feeling heartened that a simple magical solution could potentially ease some of the struggles that Minerva had faced thus far on her journey.

Author's Note: As someone who has greatly benefited from antidepressant medication, I wanted to incorporated potions somehow as part of Minerva's overall treatment plan. Given that this story takes place in the 1980s, the meds that I've used weren't even available yet! I am trying to write this as if mental health treatment and diagnoses in the wizarding world were in a similar stage as that of the Muggle world—with the assumption that magical folks tend to be a bit behind when it comes to nonmagically-induced mental health issues.

Anyway, thank you for reading, as always! All reviews, follows, and favorites are greatly appreciated :)