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. 15: Feeling Full
Early Saturday morning, Minerva McGonagall stood outside the flying instructor's office door and knocked, her trusty Cleansweep Five in hand. Now two weeks delayed from their original plan, she looked forward to starting her day with a flight over the school grounds.
"Morning," Rolanda Hooch said upon opening the door. She clutched a Comet 260, one of many brooms in her collection. "Well, didn't you dress the part today?"
Minerva looked down at her outfit, as if to remind herself of what she was wearing. As she got dressed, she felt compelled to dig through her wardrobe and pull out her old Gryffindor Quidditch team uniform, which she had kept largely for sentimental reasons. Despite its age, it was in good condition due to several Charms to extend its lifetime.
"For some reason, I thought I'd bring it out this morning," she said. "I'm surprised it fits, actually."
Rolanda pursed her lips and waited a beat before responding. "I'm surprised you still have it."
"I have many fond memories in this uniform—except for my very last match against Slytherin," Minerva said, still angry about the foul that knocked her out of the game, left her with some nasty injuries, and—in her mind—prevented Gryffindor from winning the Quidditch Cup. "I take it you don't have any of your old Quidditch uniforms?"
"No, I can't say that I do. Anyway, are you ready to go?"
Minerva nodded. "Lead the way."
"I always start at the Quidditch pitch," Rolanda said as she led her colleague outdoors. "Let me know if I go too fast, will you? I know you've been ill."
"I've been well for a week now; I think I'll be fine, Ro."
"Regardless, we can stop or slow down any time, okay?"
They'd reached the pitch and kicked off, soaring high above the castle. Minerva reveled in her favorite sensations of flying: the speed, the wind, and the view. Of course, the view was incredible, seeing the lake, the forest, and the castle in the distance below. Instead of her customary tight bun, she'd only partially tied back her hair so that she could feel the wind blowing through it. And rushing through the air was always exhilarating, even if Minerva could tell that Rolanda was not flying at top speed. She convinced herself that it was to allow her older broom to keep up, rather than an assumption about her physical capabilities.
"You okay there, Min? The wind is a bit strong this morning," Rolanda yelled.
Minerva sped up just enough to break even with her companion. "I'm fine. I put temperature-regulating Charms on my clothing, gloves, and earmuffs."
"Good. That first lap was just a warmup—do you want to go a bit faster?"
"Set the pace. I'll let you know if my broom can't handle it."
The flying instructor grinned. She approached the listed top speed of a Cleansweep Five and looked behind her, cheering when she saw Minerva accelerating to meet her.
"I'm impressed, Min! Perhaps you should be a reserve player; Gryffindor doesn't have much depth at Chaser this year."
"As much as I'd love to be able crush the Slytherin team myself, teachers are ineligible for House teams. Alas," Minerva said. "Why did you stop playing? Weren't you a professional for a bit?"
"You want to know why I quit even though I finally made starter for the Holyhead Harpies?"
"You left a starting position? Do tell, Ro."
The flying instructor paused before answering. "Because I couldn't bear to play without my best friend Joanna. Ro and Jo. We'd been inseparable since our second year here. She was eventually named Captain, and after school, we both spent a few years as reserves for the Harpies. She was a great player, but the starting Seeker had an amazing record and was surprisingly injury-free for several consecutive seasons. There just wasn't ever any reason for the Harpies to promote Jo to the starting spot."
"What happened? Did she get injured or traded to another team? For some reason, I can't imagine you'd stop playing professionally if you'd simply become competitors rather than teammates."
Rolanda smiled sadly and briefly looked down at the Forbidden Forest over which they were flying. "She died, Minerva."
Oh no. That's not the answer I expected, Minerva thought, feeling guilty that she asked. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring up a painful memory," she said.
"It's okay," Rolanda said, turning her head to look at her colleague. "Jo's death was what inspired me to come back to Hogwarts specifically. I wanted to be able to help students like her."
"What do you mean? If you don't mind my asking, that is."
"Joanna was always a bit of a perfectionist. She had her heart set on being the best Seeker that Hufflepuff had ever seen. Even though we made the team as second years, we were both selected to play Chaser—and she was disappointed not to have been made Seeker. So, she spent all her free time practicing, working out, and reading about professional Quidditch Seekers, convinced that if she became fast enough, light enough, and skilled enough, then she'd make Seeker the next year.
"And she did—from our third year to our seventh, Jo caught the Snitch in every game she played. We won every game for which she wasn't out for injury or illness. She always blamed herself for missing a game, even if it was clearly not her fault, like when the opposing team's Beaters launched both Bludgers at her simultaneously within the first five minutes of the match. They could've killed her, yet when she finally woke up in the Hospital Wing, the first thing she said to me was, 'I should've stayed on my broom, Ro.'"
"It was Slytherin, wasn't it?" Minerva's rage surfaced momentarily; she'd always hold a grudge.
"Yes, but that's not important," Rolanda said. "Even though Jo never played a full season, the Holyhead Harpies decided to pick us both up as reserves. Her resolve to become the starting Seeker consumed her, much like it did when we were second years. Only now, she had the tenacity and autonomy of an adult witch, rather than the limitations of a twelve-year-old student. We already practiced all the time, and she had one of the best Seekers in the league as a teammate to emulate. To her, there was only one thing left she could do."
Rolanda paused and flew slightly ahead, turning her head back to look Minerva in the eyes. She looked forward again just in time to avoid flying into a Quidditch goal post.
"What did she do?"
"She decided she had to become even faster than our starter. But Jo already had the best broom on the market, the same as all our teammates, and she couldn't possibly spend any more time practicing. So, she figured that the only way her broom could go faster was if she were lighter. At first, it just seemed like she had the strict diet and exercise routines typical of an elite athlete, and I even joined her for a while. But eventually, it became unsustainable for me, and I felt like my performance wasn't getting any better as a result, so I decided to concentrate my efforts elsewhere.
"Then it seemed like she quickly became someone I didn't recognize. It was like, without me, she could take things farther than ever before. But her speeds did increase as her weight decreased, so our coaches and teammates encouraged her to keep doing whatever she was doing. To them, it worked, apparently. But I knew Jo, and I knew she was suffering. We shared a flat, and I spent so many nights trying to comfort her while she cried about 'not being good enough'. Those were her words; she thought she was never anything enough. Still, no matter what I said or did, it was like she just couldn't stop what she was doing. She was dwindling away while inching closer and closer to beating our starter in a time trial. Then one day, she finally did it.
"As all of our teammates and coaches were cheering for her—even the one she'd just surpassed—she landed awkwardly. When she tried to get to her feet, I saw her clutch her chest just before she collapsed. Everyone was still cheering as they ran toward her, thinking that she was merely exhausted, I guess. But I just knew something was wrong. I don't think I ever ran as fast as I did in that moment when I rushed to her side, screaming her name. She was taken to St. Mungo's, but… she didn't make it. Heart failure. She was twenty-one years old."
Rolanda's speed had slowed considerably as she progressed through her story, and she seemed to be circling the grounds on autopilot. Minerva could see a single tear drip down her colleague's cheek.
"Ro, that's tragic, losing your closest friend so young. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Sometimes it feels good to talk about her, even if it makes me sad," she said. "I like to think I'm honoring Jo's life every time I help a student who's fallen prey to this… obsession that consumed her. It's not just Quidditch players. It's other students sometimes, too. The Healers didn't have a name for it when Joanna died. Maybe if they did, or maybe if we knew what we know now, she could have gotten the help she needed."
Minerva found herself thinking back to her therapy sessions. From the time that Christopher told her, "It's a name for what you're going through," she sometimes felt like she could separate the depression from her herself, like it was something identifiable that could be fought, rather than something that she just was. She wondered if the ability to name the problem helped Healers find the proper treatment—like "any illness," as Poppy pointed out her depression was.
If they'd known the right name for Joanna's problem, then would Ro still have her best friend? She thought about what Rolanda said had happened leading up to her friend's death, and she wondered if it was a coincidence the name for her illness just might have been what Christopher had asked her about at their last meeting.
"Anorexia nervosa," Minerva breathed, unintentionally voicing her thought aloud.
"So, you know of it." Rolanda shifted closer to her flying partner and gently reached out to touch her shoulder. Her eyes still welled with tears. "How long, Min?"
"What?"
"I get it if you don't want to tell me, but I had to ask."
"I don't know what you're on about, Ro."
She gave Minerva a you-know-what-I-mean look, the sort that a student might get when they were playing dumb about something they clearly knew.
"Min, Pomona asked me to watch you one night at dinner, to make sure that she really saw you do something… alarming. And now here you are, dressed in a uniform you said you were 'surprised' to fit into, when it's actually loose on you, despite being tailored to fit closely to your teenage frame. I'm not trying to scold or criticize you; I just want to know that you're okay."
Does she think I have this—what did Christopher call it—this eating disorder? It occurred to Minerva that if Rolanda had watched her at dinner at Pomona's request, then that meant… She knows about the Vanishing Spells.
Minerva's heart started to race. "We need to land," she said shakily.
They slowly descended, flying low over the Black Lake until they reached its shores. Rolanda hopped off her broom, laid it on the grass, and sat down on a large rock. Minerva followed suit and sat next to her colleague. She retrieved her wand from her pocket to Conjure a glass.
"Aguamenti," she murmured. She took a sip of the cool water before fishing in her pocket again, this time for a small ampule, which she was glad she'd convinced herself to bring, just in case. She broke it open and poured the contents in her mouth, washing it down with the rest of the water. "Sorry. I—I needed to take this."
"Are you okay, Minerva?" Rolanda asked.
"I get why you're concerned, but it's not like it was for your friend. I'm not—and I wasn't—trying to lose so much weight."
Rolanda's usually sharp features had somehow softened, and her ravenlike eyes glistened. "Then can you explain what Pomona and I saw last week?"
Although Minerva wasn't sure that she could tell the whole story, she felt like she could share some of it. "You know how some people can't eat before a Quidditch match because they're too nervous?"
"Yes, of course—the pregame jitters."
"It's a bit like that, except it's not only before something important. Sometimes it's just a regular day, and still my nerves affect my appetite. On a stressful day, then it's even worse, and I don't feel like I can eat at all."
"Was it one of those 'stressful' days when we saw you pretend to eat at dinner?"
"You could put it that way," Minerva said, surprised that she didn't seem to know about her little fainting spell in her classroom. "Did Pomona not tell you what happened to me that morning? Or anything from that day?"
"No. All she did was smack my arm at the table and say, 'Watch Minerva. Right now. Watch her eat.' And then I said, 'Bloody hell, did she disappear what she just put in her mouth?' And all she said was, 'I need to tell Dumbledore.' I asked her about it later, but she was quite cryptic. Honestly, she was in a bit of a state, but she wouldn't tell me why."
"Oh. Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by any of that," Minerva said, considering that Pomona would be thoughtful enough not to talk about what she'd heard from Catherine Claymore, and she had good reason to be 'in a bit of a state' that evening after their conversation in the Hospital Wing. "She did tell Dumbledore, and they went to tell Poppy, but Poppy was with me, so then I had to admit that, yes, I Vanished what little I attempted to eat."
"You don't know how relieved I am that Poppy knows. Mind you, I'm still worried as hell, but I'm glad Poppy knows."
"She knows everything. Ever since my stint in the Hospital Wing, she's been regularly monitoring my health. Our latest effort to improve my appetite is for me to take Draught of Peace as needed. That's what I did when we landed. I take it whenever I start to feel like I might get overwhelmed by anxiety."
"I'm sorry, Min. Flying is a good way to work up an appetite and relieve stress—and I bungled that for you, didn't I? I didn't mean to make you feel anxious. I'll have you know that I didn't plan to tell you about Joanna today, but you asked, and… well, then it was hard for me not to ask you if you're okay."
"I understand. I can't fault you for wondering," Minerva said. "And yes, flying is meant to be a non-medicinal way to help me feel better. I'm trying to reserve potions only for when I feel like it's coming on too fast and I need to counteract it before it overwhelms me."
"If it helps, I meant it when I said that I'm always ready to fly if you need to—as long as I'm not teaching flying lessons or supervising Quidditch teams, of course."
"Thanks, Ro. I suppose it might be a good thing that you know why I might suddenly 'need' to fly. This will sound stupid, but I get anxious about telling people that I feel anxious."
"Then I'll try not to ask you what's wrong if you come barging into my office with your broom. You could even borrow one of mine if you feel like you don't have time to fetch yours."
"I'd appreciate that."
"By the way, I'm sorry if I sounded like I was judging you earlier for still having your Quidditch uniform. I—I had to bite my tongue not to say I wasn't surprised that it fit you, and, well, then I said what I said. For what it's worth, I still have something from my school days: Jo's broom. That's the one I have hung up above my office door."
Minerva felt tears sting at her eyes at that bit of information, and she looked over to see that Rolanda was already quietly crying. It seemed that she was a silent crier, unlike Minerva, who tended to devolve into fits with loud, gasping sobs.
"I'm really sorry you've suffered such a great loss. I had no idea."
Rolanda shrugged. "You can't always see someone's pain."
"Are you okay, Rolanda?"
"I am," she said, wiping her tears with her sleeve. "Will it always hurt to think about how she died? Yes, I think so. I tend to talk to Pomona when I'm thinking a lot about Jo. Many Hufflepuffs have heard of her, particularly those that play for the House team. She really was a good Seeker." She smiled wistfully. "Leaving Holyhead and coming back here was something I initially thought I did for Jo, but it's also where I needed to be. Working with so many students over the decades has helped immensely."
"If I were Pomona, I'd crush you in a hug right now."
"Good thing you're Minerva, then. I don't quite feel like being crushed. Sometimes it's nice just to sit and talk—or sit and listen, or sit, full stop—with someone. You're good company for that, Min."
"Sure, when I've taken Draught of Peace."
Rolanda rolled her eyes. "Something tells me you'd appreciate a quiet sit down with someone even more when you need a potion but don't have it."
"They do say that misery loves company."
"And I wouldn't want you to be miserable. Is that how it makes you feel? The anxiety?"
"In a way."
It's feeling worthless and hopeless that makes me miserable—the anxiety just helps me get there sometimes, Minerva thought. I can't tell her about that, not alone. And I certainly can't tell her about where those thoughts led me, not when she's just told me about losing her best friend to—
Heart failure. It was heart failure, she reminded herself. She didn't try to die on purpose. She wasn't pathetic like me.
"Min?" Rolanda waved a hand up and down in front of Minerva's face. "Your face went blank for a moment."
"Sorry. What did you say?"
"You said it makes you miserable 'in a way' so I asked you, 'In what way?' But I get the sense you don't want to talk about it."
"Oh." Minerva shrugged. "It makes me sick sometimes." There. A different sort of misery—not a lie, and it's perfectly understandable. "I'm just a bit embarrassed about it is all."
"So, it really is like the worst of pre-game jitters. Does Draught of Peace help with that?"
Minerva nodded. "It helps to quiet my mind, which seems to prevent the physical symptoms. At least, these past few days I haven't had to deal with the cycle of feeling worried, feeling sick from worry, and then worrying about being sick. Hopefully, this works for the long term. Poppy said there's a chance I could build up a tolerance to the potion, which we're trying to avoid by limiting the frequency that I take it."
"Then I hope it keeps working for you, too," Rolanda said. "Shall we head in for breakfast while you're still feeling the effects?"
"I suppose so. You'd find it comforting if I ate well this morning, wouldn't you?" Minerva said. "But I should probably change my outfit first. You're welcome to come up to my rooms with me and wait if you'd like to head to the Great Hall together."
"Sure, I'd be happy to accompany you." Rolanda picked up her broom. "Race you to the castle doors?"
Minerva rolled her eyes. "I know your broom accelerates faster and reaches higher top speeds than mine." A cheeky grin spread across her face. "But why stop at the castle doors?"
"Is the strict Professor McGonagall thinking of something mischievous?" Rolanda asked, feigning shock.
"If I'm doomed to lose to you in a race, I may as well still have a bit of fun. I think I might fly through the castle back to my quarters."
"You're dressed the part, so why not play the part? You pulled stunts like this even as Head Girl, didn't you?"
Her grin broadened. "Let's go." She mounted her Cleansweep Five and kicked off toward the castle.
Rolanda immediately followed with a takeoff of her own and quickly caught up. "You better keep pace, Min! I don't want to fly through the corridors by myself!"
"You know I can take this broom to its limit!" Minerva yelled as Rolanda sped away. Being a cat Animagus had its perks—despite her age, she was still remarkably flexible. She adjusted her stance into an aggressive racing position and drove her Cleansweep to its maximum velocity, closing in on her competitor as they approached the entrance.
The flying instructor raised her wand to open the doors but suddenly braked to a halt upon crossing into the Entrance Hall.
"Shit, it's Dumbledore!" she exclaimed, preparing to dismount. She clapped a hand to her mouth when she realized she was in the presence of students as well as her boss. "Pardon my language."
"Oh, am I going to win this race after all, Ro?" Minerva taunted as she flew past, refusing to slow down and ignoring the gaping mouths of the few students awake this early on a Saturday morning. She dared to wink at Albus as she passed over his head, despite the incredulous look he was giving the two of them from the marble staircase.
"Damn, I can't lose like this!" Rolanda took off again, chasing after her friend.
"No flying in the corridors!" Albus yelled, tossing his hands up in the air after a second broom flew over him. "Five points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!"
Minerva knew the fastest route to her personal chambers, which she used to her advantage. She landed by her door and smirked triumphantly as she waited for Rolanda.
"This is what happens when you let yourself get distracted."
"You win this one, Min," Rolanda conceded. "Do you s'pose Dumbledore is upset with us?"
"No, not really." They stepped through the portrait hole behind the painting of Godric Gryffindor into a small sitting room that doubled as Minerva's private study. "Feel free to sit down. I'll be just a moment." As promised, she emerged from her bedroom a few minutes later clad in a thick emerald-green robe, her hair now pulled back into a neat bun.
"You know, the last time I was here, you were despondent about Dumbledore. It seems the two of you have made up since then—did he finally come to his senses?"
Caught off-guard, Minerva turned scarlet. "You were the one who told me to get over it; Pomona was sympathetic, at least."
"Well, you know me: I don't see the appeal." Rolanda's yellow eyes sparkled with delight. "I'll take your blushing as a 'yes'—damn, Min, shagging the headmaster. Way to go."
"Rolanda!" She picked up a gold-colored pillow from an armchair and threw it playfully at the flying instructor, who caught it with one hand.
"Well, if he's your boyfriend now, then I suppose you can get our House points back. I think I heard him shouting, 'Five points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff' after I flew past him." She put the pillow on the nearest chair.
"Can he do that?" Minerva asked, furrowing her brow. "Let's check when we get downstairs. How red am I, by the way? Should I hide in here for longer?"
"You're just a tad pink now, Min. I'm ready to go if you are."
The pair bounded down to the Entrance Hall to look at the House point hourglasses before heading into the Great Hall. Minerva pointed her wand at the Gryffindor hourglass and whispered an incantation, causing a roll of parchment to sprout from the tip of her wand tabulating the point gains and losses from the school year.
"I'm glad the students don't know this spell," she muttered upon seeing the last line: -5 points, M. McGonagall (A. Dumbledore), 30 January 1988. A similar line appeared on the Hufflepuff tally: -5 points, R. Hooch (A. Dumbledore), 30 January 1988. She Vanished both sheets of parchment. "You're right—he did it to both of us."
"What would happen if we hired someone who didn't attend Hogwarts as a student? Would they be Sorted on their first day, too?"
"I suppose so," Minerva mused. "Well, I'll fix this."
"What, are you going to ask him to give them back?" Rolanda asked as they walked into the Great Hall.
"No, I'll just award points to students." As they strode between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, Minerva saw the two students she sought. "Go on ahead, Madam Hooch. Miss MacDonald, Miss Claymore—a word please?"
The friends, in their usual spots near each other but at separate tables, turned around in their seats. "Yes, Professor?" they asked in unison.
Minerva crouched down to their level and spoke in a low voice, just loud enough for the two students to hear. "About your, er, intrusive interrogation in the girls' lavatory last week—"
"We're sorry, Professor!" Catherine Claymore interrupted, but quickly quieted when her teacher put up a hand.
"Your actions—though not the ideal course to take in the situation—demonstrated why you are in your respective Houses. Miss MacDonald, for your bravery, I award five points to Gryffindor. Miss Claymore, for your loyalty, I award five points to Hufflepuff." Before either student could respond, Minerva continued firmly, "That said, don't do it again. Seriously, please just fetch Madam Pomfrey or another teacher if you feel that I—or any other staff member, for that matter—should receive medical attention in the future." She straightened up. "Carry on."
With the House point situation now sorted, she finally made her way to the staff table.
"Good morning, Minerva," Albus said. "It seems that you had a good time flying with Rolanda earlier today."
"I did, thank you," she said, filling her plate.
"You looked so happy that I found it hard to be annoyed."
"Oh?" She turned her head to face his. "Then why deduct House points?"
"What? Did I actually affect the totals?"
"Yes. I assumed you knew. But don't worry; I fixed it," she said. "Can any of us take points from each other, or just you?"
"I don't know. Shall we do an experiment later? I'll break some rules, and you can try to take House points from me."
"You don't suppose Hogwarts would let me, a lowly professor, take points from the headmaster, do you?"
"Perhaps we should bring some of your colleagues, but do we really want others to know about this?"
"Well, Rolanda already knows, so we could bring her."
"All right, let's do it tonight," Albus said, intrigued by his newly discovered power. "You're not a 'lowly' professor, by the way. And you're also the Deputy Headmistress."
"In name only."
"Minerva," he said sternly but then softened his tone. "It seems like you've been feeling better this week. If this continues, would you like to discuss resuming some more of your usual duties?"
"Do you think Poppy would agree to that?"
Albus nodded his head toward her plate. "If this continues, too, then I think she'll be quite pleased."
Minerva pressed her lips together and said nothing, mentally recounting her earlier conversation with Rolanda. As much as Madam Pomfrey emphasized how worried she was, Minerva always felt like Poppy was just being Poppy, constantly insisting that she take better care of her health. The only difference lately was that she heard these reminders every week, rather than once a year. Now that another person—someone who didn't know the details of her recent struggles—expressed their concern, she wondered if she hadn't been taking this 'side effect,' as she thought of it, seriously enough.
"Min?"
"Sorry. I was thinking about something Rolanda said earlier," she said. "Can we talk after breakfast? I think it's going to linger in my mind."
"Of course."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. I hope that you know I'm always willing to listen to you."
Minerva flashed a closed-lip smile and returned to her plate. She was glad that the effects of Draught of Peace seemed to last for a few hours. Before, she likely would have struggled upon thinking about her conversation with Rolanda—like she did when they were outside having that conversation until she got the potion in her. Now, she merely felt pensive, which was distracting but not necessarily troubling.
"Let's go to my quarters today," Minerva said when they left the Great Hall. Typically, they spent their leisure time together in Albus's rooms; his residence was much nicer, as Headmaster.
When they arrived, Minerva marched straight to her bedroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror that she never gave much time; after all, she dressed the same way every day. Today, she pulled her robe off and tossed it onto the bed behind her.
"I thought we were going to talk?" Albus said, puzzled when he found Minerva only partially dressed.
"We are," she said, looking at her reflection—really looking for the first time in a while. "Rolanda pointed out that I've become startlingly thin. Is it obvious?"
"Er—do you really want me to answer this?" Albus asked nervously as he sat down on the edge of the bed.
She turned around and held his gaze for several seconds. "Yes."
"Okay. Poppy and I have noticed, of course, but we regularly see you without your usual robes. I—I don't think the extent is obvious when you're dressed normally, unless one were exceptionally observant, I suppose."
"Or maybe if they're looking for it," Minerva added. "Rolanda saw the Vanishing Spell last week. She said she was alarmed then and even more so when she saw me this morning. Honestly, I think she might be at least as worried as Poppy. I understand why, based on our conversation while flying. Between what she said and something Christopher said last time, I think it's finally sunk in that Poppy isn't just trying to nag me about trivial measures."
"Poppy is too much of a no-nonsense sort to 'nag' anyone about trivialities."
Minerva picked up the black slip that she wore under her robes and put it back on. She sat down next to Albus. "I know that I didn't care that it was unhealthy when I was Vanishing regularly, but I don't know that I've cared much about what Poppy has said over the past couple months except when I physically wasn't feeling well. Honestly, before this week, I think I only cared about minimizing my misery, which isn't quite the same as wanting to become well. It isn't quite the same as wanting to live.
"But I think I—for the first time in ages, I think I want to live. I think I want to get better. And I think that getting better might mean that I need to be serious about improving my mental and physical health."
"Minerva, I am so glad to hear you say that." He turned slightly to take both her hands in his. "Truly, my dear, hearing you say that you want to live is—it's wonderful." Tears of relief gleamed in his blue eyes, and he leaned in to brush her lips with his—gently, briefly. "Do you know what's brought on this shift in perspective?"
"I'm not sure, exactly. I've still felt bad at times recently, but I suppose I could deal with it without too much trouble. Perhaps the potion has helped; I haven't had to struggle with being overwhelmed by my thoughts or emotions. But that seems far too simple, like it's too good to last." She pursed her lips. "I want it to last, Albus. Today I—I enjoyed flying. I don't know that I've genuinely enjoyed anything in a long time."
"While my ego wants to say, 'But what about…,' my heart tells me just to be happy for you. And I am, dear. I'll allow you to fly through the corridors every single day if it lets you feel real joy again—school rules be damned."
Minerva laughed. "What fun is breaking the rules if I've got the headmaster's blessing?"
"Oh, so it's rule-breaking you enjoy?"
"On occasion. I can't make it a habit though—then Gryffindor would never win the House Cup, now that you know you can take points from professors. Not to mention, how could my students ever take me seriously if they knew I enjoyed flouting the rules?"
"If your reputation is your concern, then perhaps it was prudent that you flew so fast; I'm not sure that any of the students in the Entrance Hall recognized you."
"That's probably for the best. My intention was not for students to see me with my hair down—literally and figuratively—or for them to see me dressed like a teenager. Seriously, I got that uniform at the start of fifth year."
"Was that really your Quidditch uniform from when you played for Gryffindor?"
"Yes. The designs have changed over the decades, so it's clearly not modern."
"I didn't get a good look when you flew over my head. I thought perhaps you'd taken a spare from the Quidditch storeroom; presumably you've grown a bit since you were fifteen."
She suddenly sobered. "That's the problem, Albus. I did, so it was quite a shock when I decided to try it on this morning. I figured it would be tight if I could even squeeze into it, but as Rolanda pointed out, it was loose on me. That's what I was thinking about at breakfast and just now in the mirror—I finally see why this is the point Poppy belabors with me. I thought I simply didn't care about superficial things like my appearance or weight, but maybe I also didn't care enough about living to pay attention to what Poppy has been trying to tell me.
"Would you be willing to come with me more often to my appointments with her? Some weeks you'll have other obligations, I'm sure, but would you if you're available? I don't know that I'll always feel as… motivated as I do today, and perhaps it would be helpful if you also listened to what she wants me to do to take better care of myself."
"Of course, if that's what you want. I'm your partner, Min; I'm here to support you through this in whatever way I can."
Minerva smiled apologetically. "I know I've needed a lot of support sometimes."
"Well, you don't just have me. You have Poppy and Pomona, too—not to mention your therapist."
"And now Rolanda, perhaps. I needed Draught of Peace while I was out with her, so I let her know about my anxiety problem. Before today, I would not have expected her to be so understanding."
"She's tough but fair, with a bit of a rough exterior, but she's got a big heart inside. A lot like you."
"I haven't felt like I've got a 'big heart inside' lately; I've just felt hollow. But maybe I'm starting to find myself again."
Albus leaned in to wrap his arms around Minerva, and she gladly returned the embrace. She felt hopeful that her heart could feel full again, and now she had more than mere hope to aid in her recovery. Today, she found in herself the will to live.
Author's Note: I literally made myself cry writing this chapter when I gave Madam Hooch a sad backstory, so I hope you felt something, too. As always, thank you for reading!