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. 17: The Party

"Albus, can we be fashionably late to this gathering?"

Minerva sat on the sofa in the Headmaster Suite, thumbing through the most recent edition of Charms & Transfiguration News, while her partner rifled through his wardrobe in the bedroom.

"Speaking of fashion," Albus said, standing in the doorway with two sets of robes on hangers. "Midnight blue or periwinkle?"

"Filius just invited us down to the Staff Room for a drink; I don't think it matters what you wear." She looked up to view the robes in question anyway. "Midnight blue."

"Thanks," he said and wandlessly sent the periwinkle set back to the wardrobe. "We are celebrating your imminent return to your role as Deputy Headmistress; I suppose you can be as late as you want to your own party."

Minerva groaned. "Did Filius call this a party? He knows I don't like parties. Besides, I thought he asked us down to celebrate the end of his tenure as Acting Deputy—not necessarily my return. This is his event."

"Okay, okay. I'm celebrating your return. Filius definitely called this his 'Done Deputizing' party, so I'm just using his word."

"He must have avoided calling it a party when talking to me, knowing that I might respectfully decline if he indicated it would be more than just a few colleagues enjoying a drink on a Saturday night. This is even more reason for us to linger here for a while."

Albus had donned his dark blue robes and joined Minerva on the sofa. "It still is a group of colleagues enjoying a drink in the Staff Room. Now, Filius might have more than just a drink, but you don't have to."

"Still, I think we should make a late entrance and early exit. He doesn't call himself 'Festive Filius' for nothing. You know as well as I do that any 'party' he throws is prone to have plenty of liquor. I do not enjoy being the lone sober person among a sea of inebriated colleagues, so I'd prefer we spend just enough time there to be polite."

"Would you feel better if I also limited myself to a drink or two?"

"Yes."

"You still want to wait before going down, don't you?"

"Yes."

"When would you like us to make our arrival?"

"Never, but a half-hour delay sounds doable to me."

"Fine, we can be 'fashionably' late then. Would you like some tea while you muster up your social energy?"

Minerva smiled gratefully. "Thank you and yes, please."

"You're welcome. I assume you would like me to open this morning's purchase from Hogsmeade?"

"Considering it's my favorite, and your herbal teas are probably a bad idea before drinking, yes. I appreciate that you decided to stock your cabinets for me."

"Good point—Sleepy Tea and alcohol do not mix well. And as I'm sure I've said before, my home is yours."

Minerva watched as he prepared their beverages in the kitchenette. He had the kettle on a small stovetop, where he magically produced a flame to heat the water. Somehow, preparing tea the (almost) Muggle way seemed to yield a better result than using Warming Charms on a mug of water, which she had to do in her rooms without a suitable place to light a fire.

Albus returned to the sofa with two mugs: one with a printed tabby cat running around—or sometimes napping on—the sides and the other with a phoenix going through its various life stages.

"To your return to my side, professionally," he said, raising his mug toward Minerva. "Cheers."

"Cheers," she said. "Although I don't love the administrative work, I am glad that Poppy has deemed me well enough to resume as Deputy. Perhaps more importantly, I'm relieved to feel well enough to do this."

"As am I. Would you like to celebrate properly with a cozy dinner in here tomorrow evening?"

"I'd ask why you're not suggesting next weekend just before I officially return to my Deputy duties, except I know you're a bit more spirited about these things than I am. You want me to agree to a romantic Valentine's Day dinner."

Albus smiled. "You know me well. And I know you—at least I didn't ask you to go to Madam Puddifoot's this morning instead."

"You wouldn't have dared. That place has entirely too much pink, not to mention it was almost certainly filled with student couples. Hogsmeade visits coincide every year with Valentine's Day intentionally, don't they?"

Albus shrugged. "Perhaps."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "That's your doing, I know. Anyway, yes, I would be delighted to share a private dinner with you tomorrow night."

"Thank you, my love. I hope to give you a quiet, restful evening, in contrast to tonight's festivities."

"So, you do admit that Filius has planned for a few hours of decadence to celebrate his stepping down from Acting Deputy!"

"I can't deny that I enjoy a bit of socializing, but I promise to keep my wits about me. You just let me know when you've had enough, okay?"

"All right, all right. I'll try not to be too much of a recluse. But first, I'm going to take my time to finish my tea, and then we can head down."

Per their agreement, Albus and Minerva arrived thirty minutes late to the party. As expected, the liquor flowed freely, and the room was already teeming with loud conversations and raucous laughter. Albus and Minerva quickly got absorbed into a circle of their colleagues, and each accepted a glass of champagne. For Minerva, she considered this her one drink to be polite.

Oh dear, when did I become such a lightweight? she thought, surprised that she already started to feel the effects of the alcohol. She decided to sneak her way out of the crowd, hoping to find a moment's respite. She pulled out her wand to clean her champagne flute, and then she Transfigured it to a regular glass to fill with water.

"Look at you, being responsible," Rolanda Hooch said, suddenly appearing beside her. "I'm assuming that's water, of course—unless you've perfected a vodka-producing spell?" She laughed and sidled away toward the celebrant.

This is the wildest staff party I've been to in ages. Filius must be ecstatic about finishing his role as Acting Deputy if he's decided to engage us in this… alcohol-fueled hedonism in the Staff Room.

She waved her wand to move a chair closer to the fireplace and Transfigured it into an armchair, eager to sink into it and avoid the others. She wished she could take some Draught of Peace, but she'd already had a drink—and alcohol was not supposed to play well with the potion. Albus, ever the social butterfly, was entertaining a group of their colleagues. This was one way they differed greatly; she was much more introverted than he was. Hence why I'm over here, away from the clusters of people.

One person emerged from such a cluster and scurried over to Minerva. It was the man of the hour, Filius Flitwick.

"Min! Stop hiding and join us—I'm about to make a speech."

"If you insist," Minerva said, though she didn't have much choice: Filius magically pulled her along in her chair. Then he jumped up onto a table and demanded everyone's attention.

"We are gathered here tonight to celebrate half-term and the upcoming end to my time as Acting Deputy Headmaster." Several of the professors raised their glasses and cheered. "But we are not here just to celebrate me. We are here to celebrate our esteemed colleague who—had I not spent the past few months filling her impressive shoes—I would not have realized exactly how much she does for Hogwarts."

"Filius, no!" Minerva, mortified, tried to protest. Why must he single me out? This is not supposed to be about me!

But the tiny wizard had clearly surpassed mere tipsiness and was not to be swayed. Although he could tolerate more alcohol than one might expect for his small stature, it still didn't take much to get him to this state.

"Minerva, yes!" Filius exclaimed. "Everyone, we have underappreciated our dear Professor McGonagall for far too long. Transfiguration professor! Head of Gryffindor! Deputy Headmistress! I am so grateful for all that you do, and you do it all so well. Hogwarts would suffer without you. Accio whisky!"

Minerva hid her face behind her hands but couldn't help peering through her fingers at what was going on around her. Several of her colleagues were raising their glasses in her direction. Albus stood across the room trying not to smile too broadly. He somehow caught her eye and shrugged apologetically.

Pomona Sprout and Rolanda Hooch descended upon her from two sides and sandwiched her in a double bear hug.

"You hear that, Min? We need you, and we love you!" Pomona said, far too loudly for the proximity she had to her ear.

"He's got Schletter's! Your favorite!" Rolanda picked up a shot glass from midair, which seemed to have been sent over from Filius. She shoved the drink into Minerva's free hand. "Drink up!"

Minerva didn't really want to drink more, but she also didn't want to be sober if she was going to be the center of attention. If she couldn't self-medicate with potions, then perhaps alcohol was a suitable second choice. She downed the whisky and suddenly found herself swapping her empty glass for a second shot, this time from Filius himself.

"What the hell was that for? You know I don't like the attention," Minerva complained.

"Because you deserve attention sometimes, Min," Filius said, lifting his glass. "I dedicate this one to you! One, two, three!" He tossed back the shot, and for some reason, Minerva joined him, even though a voice somewhere in her mind told her that she probably shouldn't get three deep within the hour, especially if the first drink already gave her a buzz.

"Filius, Schletter's is for enjoying—I can't believe you're having me do shots of it!" Minerva said, shaking her head.

"Don't worry, Min! I've got a second bottle!" Filius grinned mischievously. "This first one was to bring out Drunk Professor McGonagall!"

"Wait a few minutes, and you'll have succeeded," Minerva grumbled and pressed her lips into a long, thin line. She flinched when the two witches surrounding her excitedly screamed in unison. "And how much have you lot had to drink already? For the love of Merlin, you're being so loud!"

"I suspect you'll soon become overly loud, too, my dear," a calm voice said from behind.

"We'll leave you two alone," Rolanda whispered—or attempted to whisper. She winked and dragged Pomona and Filius by the hands to visit another group of professors.

Minerva stood up and slowly turned around. "Well, aren't you Mr. Perfect? Has no one here tried to get you pissed?"

"Perhaps I have some immunity as Headmaster. No one has encouraged me to partake in more as long as I've had this glass of champagne in my hand."

"Wait, is that still your first drink? You've been nursing that this whole time?"

"It's not too bad. Filius Charmed it to stay perfectly palatable."

Minerva glowered at her partner. "So, you haven't even finished a single drink, and now Sober Albus is about to witness Drunk Minerva? This is not fair."

"Aguamenti," Albus murmured, refilling the water glass she was still holding. "While I hope that you have fun as Drunk Minerva—you certainly deserve a bit of fun, dear—we should try to prevent you from becoming Hungover Minerva tomorrow, yes?"

"I don't think I've had enough for that outcome, but by the looks of it, you'll have a very hungover staff on your hands tomorrow if this keeps up. Is anyone here young enough to drink like this?"

"I heard our two colleagues who likely could still handle such drunken debauchery left early so that they could be of sound mind and body for past-curfew patrols tonight."

"Phoebe and Severus. How I envy twentysomethings right now—or I might in the morning."

"Then I suggest you enjoy yourself tonight—make the potential hangover worth it," Albus said, his face dangerously close to hers. "Is that flush in your cheeks because of me, or are you starting to loosen up, Min?"

"If I were a wee bit further gone, I'd shut you up with my lips. As it is, I'm going to walk away from you now." She took a few steps before turning her head back to say, "Both. That's the answer to your question."

Albus watched her retreat toward Rolanda, Pomona, and Filius, who had broken off from a once larger group that included Septima Vector, Aurora Sinistra, and other elective course professors. Now, only Septima and Aurora remained, so Albus strode over to join them.

After nearly an hour of conversation and absolutely no pressure to replenish his drink once he'd finally finished his glass of champagne, the two witches decided that they were ready to retire to their chambers. They said their goodbyes to Albus and headed over to wave goodbye to Filius, who was now sitting with Minerva near the fireplace. Pomona and Rolanda were still present, giggling away in a corner like schoolgirls. Figuring that Minerva would come fetch him when she wanted to leave, he decided to join the two animated witches.

"Thank you for coming tonight!" Filius said as Septima and Aurora left. He turned back to Minerva, an empty bottle of Schletter's Fine Whisky on the table beside them (the second remained unopened) and picked up his glass. They had split the last of the whisky and chose to sip it and savor it this time, much to Minerva's delight. "I got the second bottle for you. Take it home—unless the one in your office needs replacing?"

"Shhh, Filius! That's my secret stash!"

"Is it really a secret if you've shared a drink with me before?"

"I suppose not. But seriously, I'm not sure that I've even told Albus about that; for all he knows, my ancient copy of Advanced Transfiguration never moves from its spot on the bookshelf," Minerva said. "But no, it doesn't need replacing—that's my emergency stash."

Filius laughed. "I won't pretend the Ogden's Old in my office is just for 'emergency' use." Then he leaned in closer. "Really, not even Albus? I feel special!"

"Well, you are a very dear colleague to me, Filius. And we House Heads need to commiserate sometimes, don't we?" She took a sip, but she was beginning to fade from the happy version of Drunk Minerva to her next stage of impairment. It had been a long time since she'd reached that level of drunkenness.

"And as I said earlier in front of everyone—much to your chagrin, I know—I value having you as a colleague, too. I meant it when I said Hogwarts would be worse off without you. Certainly, my experience as a professor would be worse without you."

She still felt a good buzz, so she was not consciously concerned that she might be on the verge of losing her inhibitions and the filter between her thoughts and her words. She tossed her head back to finish the last few drops of her drink, put the glass down, and threw her arms around her tiny colleague—the sort of public display of affection that would only come from an inebriated version of herself. "Then I suppose you're lucky I'm not dead yet. Thank you, Filius, but don't you ever embarrass me like that again."

"And you better not go dying any time soon—with all the time you've spent ill this school year, you've had a lot of us worried. But thank Merlin you've gotten better so that I don't have to do this Deputy business anymore. Albus and I make a terrible pair sometimes, but you two are a dream together." He pulled away and grinned. "That Hospital Wing stay got him to confess his love for you, didn't it?"

"Filius!" Minerva hissed. Her cheeks, already pink from the alcohol, flushed further.

"I knew it! This deserves a toast!" Filius jumped up onto his chair and raised his hand into the air, grabbing a champagne bottle he had silently Summoned. "We've still got plenty left—here, take a glass—" He Conjured a large wine glass and handed it to Minerva.

"You better not be making another speech—I didn't confirm or deny anything!"

"Fine, fine, no speech, but we may as well not let this go to waste. Cheers to you and Albus—your face said it all."

She glowered at her colleague and busied her lips with a swig of champagne. "We're not telling everyone, okay? I mean, they know," Minerva nudged her head toward Rolanda and Pomona, "and so does Poppy, but that's it."

"Well, it's about damn time. And I must say, now that I know, I feel even more special that you haven't even told Albus about your secret stash of Schletter's."

"I certainly wasn't going to advertise it to Headmaster Dumbledore when I first put it there, and something tells me that he still wouldn't approve now. Seriously, earlier this year I had one drink in my office when he suddenly appeared. It was like he knew somehow. I hid the evidence so fast like I was a student trying to avoid detention."

Filius laughed. "I've offered him firewhisky in my office; I don't think you need to worry, Minerva."

"Given the way you've had me drink tonight, I probably shouldn't bring it up any time soon. He's going to think it's another one of my bad habits and tell on me to Poppy."

"Now I'm imagining Poppy subjecting you to random Blood Alcohol Level Spells—at dinner, in the middle of class…"

"That's not funny! I've been embarrassed enough in front of my students this year, thank you very much. And Poppy already gives me a physical examination every week. She would have no qualms about adding that test to her list. I don't need her thinking I enjoy poisoning myself."

"She wouldn't think that just because you keep some liquor in your office. I've casually mentioned my firewhisky stores to her, and all she did was roll her eyes."

She downed the remainder of her drink and fully arrived in the deeper depths of drunkenness. "Well, she hasn't had to put you in a bloody coma to save your life, so she's probably not worried about you killing yourself with alcohol."

Filius, who had been in the midst of drinking from his glass, coughed and spluttered. "Sorry, wrong pipe. Did you just say you were in a coma?"

"Yes, Poppy put me in a coma in November. She and Albus were afraid I was going to die—maybe it is a very lucky thing that I'm not dead."

"Although I'm drunk, Min, I don't think this is how you wanted to tell me about the illness you had earlier this year—unless you're not being serious, in which case, this is not a good joke."

"I'm serious, Filius! Poppy has already seen me overdosed a potion she'd prescribed to me; it wouldn't take much for her to think I abuse alcohol and potions."

"You're proper pissed right now, aren't you? Or else, what the hell are you on about? There's no way you're a potions addict." Filius said, shaking his head. Then his eyes widened. "Or am I so far gone that I'm imagining this conversation? Minerva, am I hallucinating?" He reached his arms out toward her, as if touching her would confirm that she was real.

At this point, Minerva and Filius had abysmal volume control. Their words could easily be heard across the room, where Albus stood with the Herbology professor and flying instructor.

"Pomona, what is she saying right now?" Rolanda asked nervously, grabbing the shorter witch's arm.

"She didn't tell me how she tried to kill herself," Pomona gasped, hand to her heart.

"She didn't tell me that she tried to kill herself," Rolanda breathed, clutching harder at her friend's arm.

Albus swept across the room toward the drunk Deputy and Acting Deputy. "Minerva," he said commandingly, trying to interrupt as he hurried over to her. "I don't think now is quite the right time for this…"

"Albussssss!" She jumped on her chair, and despite her wobbliness, she whirled around and leaned in to plant a peck on his lips. "When is a good time, then?"

"When? When you're sober," he said, placing both hands on her shoulders and trying to hold her unfocused gaze. "I think it's time I take you home, dear."

"Well, I think now's as good a time as any that he learns he did all my Deputy work for me because I tried to off myself, failed, and then you and Poppy pulled me from full-time so that I could focus on becoming less fucked up."

Filius uttered a high-pitched squeak, dropped his glass, and toppled out of his seat.

"Oh, shit, Filius!" Rolanda yelled and ran over to the collapsed wizard, tailed closely by Pomona. They both knelt on the floor on either side of him.

"Filius, wake up. Can you hear me?" Pomona asked but received no response.

"He's still breathing, and he's got a pulse, but it's a bit slow," Rolanda said. "Something tells me it wasn't purely shock that made him pass out."

"I guess it really wasn't a good time. Why are you always right?" Minerva, clearly oblivious to the severity of the situation, said to Albus, who had to restrain himself from facepalming in exasperation.

"We probably should've watched him more closely once he got going. It's been a while, but it's not the first time he overdid it…" Rolanda muttered. "Let's take him to Poppy. She'll fix him up."

"Albus, we'll take him to the Hospital Wing. You know we're good enough for it," Pomona added. "It looks like Minerva needs a chaperone, too."

"I don't need a chaperone!" Minerva protested.

"Let me know if he's all right. You have all of my gratitude, both of you," Albus said as the two relatively sober witches carried Filius away. "Do I need to take you to the Hospital Wing, too?"

"No! So, I'm a little drunk. I'm fine. I might need a pain relief potion in the morning, though."

"I will object to the notion that you're just a 'little' drunk. You're right up there with Filius."

"But you didn't have to carry me out of here. I can walk just fine. See?" Though a bit unsteady, Minerva was able to hop off her chair, and she even managed to walk out of the Staff Room—if crooked staggering counted as walking. In the corridor, she leaned against the wall to stay upright. "Albus, I think the castle is swaying."

"Clearly, you're not 'just fine' right now." He followed her out the door and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she instinctively looped hers around his waist, shifting most of her weight onto him. "Let me take you to see Poppy. Call it an abundance of caution."

"Fine," she conceded, allowing Albus to guide her toward the Hospital Wing. "But you're overreacting."

"How much did you have to drink tonight?" he asked. "I haven't seen you like this since the night after the students left at the end of your first year of teaching."

"I only had four drinks. I could always handle that before. Or maybe it was five? We didn't exactly measure when we finished the bottle. Oh, and the champagne—I suppose those portions were also generous…"

"We were hardly there for two hours! When was the last time you had more than one or two drinks in a whole night?"

"I don't know."

"I hate to bring this up, but before today, have you had anything to drink since, well, since—You-Know-When? I know you're making progress, but that could affect your tolerance…"

"Once, I think? I guess I really am a lightweight now. I didn't even consider that. You must think I'm so stupid right now. I'm going to have the worst hangover tomorrow. I'm too damn old for hangovers, Albus!"

"I don't think you're stupid, and we all make bad decisions sometimes. I'm just worried. Seriously, if you and Filius had opened that second bottle of whisky, I don't want to know what would have happened."

"Oh no, the second bottle! Filius got it for me! I forgot about it—I don't suppose you'll let me go back and get it?"

Albus looked at the woman beside him incredulously. "You must be joking."

"I knew you'd think it a ridiculous idea," she said glumly and tilted her head up to look at his face. "But you know I'm not an alcoholic. Occasionally, I just like to imbibe in the products from my favorite Scottish distillery."

"And on this occasion, you had too much." They reached the entrance to the Hospital Wing. As he opened one of the double doors with his free hand, he found that the woman hanging onto him was suddenly much more difficult to pull along. "Min, stop dragging your feet. We're already here, so you might as well let Poppy see you."

"I don't want anyone to see me like this." As if for added effect, she tried to hide her face in his midnight blue robes.

"Minerva, please."

"What if there are students in there?"

"Unless you announce your condition, then you can plausibly deny any rumors claiming that 'Professor McGonagall was so drunk that Dumbledore had to drag her to the Hospital Wing.' How does that sound?"

Albus felt her shake her head, and he thought she was trying to indicate that she still didn't want to go inside. He was rolling his eyes when he heard an uncharacteristically pitiful whimper.

"Whining won't convince me to take you home—Minerva! What are you doing?" He felt as if he'd become responsible for supporting all her weight as she tightened her hold around his waist.

"I think I drank too much," she murmured in a small voice.

"I agree," Albus said, relieved that she admitted that she wasn't 'just fine' after all. "Does that mean you're willing to go inside now?"

She nodded, her face rubbing up and down against his robes, and shuffled along with him as he tried to lead her again. They saw Pomona and Rolanda standing in the center aisle between the rows of beds, eyeing the couple closely as they entered.

"Albus," Minerva moaned miserably. "I don't feel well."

"Okay, dear, try to hold on a moment longer. Do you feel like you need to be sick, or do you just need to lie down?" She started to nod when he spoke the former suggestion.

Pomona and Rolanda exchanged concerned looks, shook their heads at each other, and quickly challenged each other to a game of Parchment, Scissors, Stone. Rolanda scowled, having thrown parchment in a loss to scissors.

"I'll get the door," Rolanda said, hurrying ahead of them to the Hospital Wing lavatory.

Albus quickened his pace toward where Rolanda had run, glad that he decided to take Minerva to the Hospital Wing instead of home. He'd never seen her drink to the point of sickness before—well, he hadn't seen her drink alcoholic beverages to this point—and he did not like it.

"Do you need me—or someone—to go in with you?" he asked when they reached their destination.

Minerva shook her head, her nonverbal protest not especially convincing as she let go of his waist and stumbled her way past Rolanda to befriend the nearest plumbing fixture.

"I'll stay with her. Go and talk to Poppy," Rolanda said and took over caring for their inebriated friend.

Albus thanked her and turned around to look for the mediwitch. He assumed that she was tending to their other intoxicated friend and wondered at which bed he could find her when Pomona emerged from behind a curtain.

"I just told her that you brought Minerva. She's with Filius right now but will be out in a moment to talk to you," she said.

Albus nodded. He approached Pomona and joined her in waiting near the first bed beyond the Hospital Wing entrance. "How is he?"

"He's awake, though not particularly coherent."

"Do you think he'll remember anything Minerva said?"

"I don't know. Do you think Minerva will remember anything she said?"

"I don't know." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Should I be surprised that both my Deputy and Acting Deputy were irresponsible at a party to celebrate one's end to their duties and the other's return to them?"

"Well, I'm not shocked by Filius—he has a tendency to forget his limit every few years or so. But I am surprised—and worried—that Minerva did. It's not like her, or at least, it's not like the Minerva I know."

"No, it's not. She didn't much want to attend at all. Now I wonder if she decided to drink so much to cope with her reluctance to be there."

"Speaking of reluctance, I hope Ro is surviving in there. I'm sure she'll say I owe her the next time something like this happens."

"Well, I hope 'next time' is not for a long time—and that it doesn't involve Minerva. Her body does not need this."

"Did she really overdose on potions? I—I didn't ask when she told me about her… attempt. Ro didn't even know about it at all."

Albus sighed. "We're all going to have to talk about this, aren't we?"

Just then, Madam Pomfrey stepped out from Filius's bedside. "So, Minerva, too?"

Albus and Pomona nodded sheepishly; Albus felt particularly guilty that he hadn't paid enough attention to prevent her from reaching this point.

"Rolanda's with her?"

They nodded again.

"Do you know what she had to drink? Did she take any potions today, Albus?"

"Whisky and champagne. And she last had a dose of Draught of Peace this morning."

"Okay. That should be far enough back not to cause a problem. I'll go check on them." Poppy took off for the infirmary lavatory, followed closely by her two colleagues. As they neared, the door swung open, apparently by magic if Rolanda's wand pointed toward it meant anything.

"I need some help in here," she said from the tile floor. Across her lap lay Minerva, who seemed to struggle to keep her eyes open. "Stay with me, Min. You can't go to sleep yet."

"Ro? Don't feel well. Can you… take me… Hospaling?" Minerva murmured faintly, forgetting words and syllables in her slurred speech.

"Don't worry, Min, I'll get you to the Hospital Wing soon," Rolanda said soothingly, as if talking to a child. She looked up at Poppy and shook her head. "She's out of it."

The mediwitch crouched down. "Minerva, it's me, Poppy. Rolanda and I are going to take you to bed, okay?"

"Mmmkay."

Together, Rolanda and Poppy lifted Minerva and carried her to the nearest unoccupied bed; the bed closest to them had a shellshocked Albus sitting on it, tended to by Pomona. The scene reminded him far too much of when he brought Minerva to the Hospital Wing when she'd collapsed from her overdose. He saw her lying unconscious on the stretcher again as he levitated her.

Please don't choke. Please don't die. The thoughts from that night repeated in his head.

"Albus, she's going to be fine. Poppy will take care of her. Come now, take a slow, deep breath," Pomona said, her hand on the older wizard's shoulder.

But his breaths remained quick and shallow as that night continued to replay in his mind's eye. I should have stopped her. Why didn't I stop her? He saw the stretcher disappear once he'd laid her on the bed in the private ward, heard Poppy's command for him to leave so that she could work, and felt himself slide down the bare white wall. Why can't I save the people I love?

He suddenly felt the cold stone floor through his robes. Evidently, he'd slid from his seated position on the bed until he hit the floor.

"Albus! What happened? It's like we lost you for a moment," Pomona said. Once again joined by Rolanda, the two witches huddled over him, their brows furrowed in concern.

"It felt like that night." He looked up, from Pomona to Rolanda, and squinted at the latter. "Is that vomit on your robes?"

Rolanda looked down at herself. "Ah, fuck." She drew her wand to clean herself up. "Our next drunk colleague is your responsibility, Pomona."

"Don't change the subject, you two. Now, what happened, Albus? What do you mean 'it felt like that night'?"

"The night she overdosed. When I saw her sick and barely conscious in there, I felt like I was rushing her here all over again."

"Well, let's get you off the floor and onto the bed. You look shaken; maybe Poppy should check on you, too."

"Fine." Each witch linked one of their arms under his and helped him back up. They sat on either side of him at the edge of the bed while he continued to stare blankly ahead.

"Was everything she said true, Albus?" Rolanda asked quietly. "Now I regret giving her that first shot of whisky."

Albus nodded. "I wish you didn't find out this way."

"This is going to take a bit to set in. Damn. Minerva? Our Minerva?"

Pomona reached across Albus's lap to touch Rolanda's arm. "I know, Ro. It's late, but do you want to talk about it before going to bed? We can fetch something to eat from the kitchens."

"Thank you, Pomona. I think that will help—but let's wait for Poppy to come out."

"Of course. And Albus? Will you let us know when Minerva is ready to have a chat about this?"

"I will. I'd like for all of us—Filius included if he recalls anything—to talk about what she confessed tonight, but it might take her a bit to process, whether she remembers, or I need to tell her," Albus said. "I know that we're all distressed to some degree by what she said and the circumstances under which she said it, but I suspect Minerva will also be quite distraught about her own actions. Please try to be respectful of that."

Pomona and Rolanda nodded solemnly, and the trio waited in silence until Madam Pomfrey reappeared.

"Thank you for bringing them to me," Poppy said. "A touch of alcohol poisoning, the both of them, but they should be fine in the morning. Now, are you okay, Albus? When we passed by, you looked like you'd been grazed by a Stunner."

"I think I just need a bit of chocolate. It was hard to see her like that."

Poppy Summoned a chocolate bar and handed it to the headmaster. "Eat this, and if you're feeling better, let's talk in my office. Otherwise, I'll shut the curtain, and we can talk out here. Can I help you two with anything?" She looked pointedly at the pair of Hufflepuffs on either side of Albus.

"No, we just wanted to make sure that Minerva would be all right," Pomona said.

"Well, thank you for looking out for your friends. I'll take care of them from here," Poppy said.

Pomona and Rolanda said their thanks and goodbyes. They left the Hospital Wing, presumably to head for the kitchens to find some late-night snacks as fuel for their debriefing of the evening's events.

"To your office?" Albus asked once they were alone. "The chocolate helped."

Poppy led the way and shut the door behind them. "Sit," she said as she made her way to her own chair behind the desk. "What happened tonight? I've never known Minerva to drink to excess, and I'm especially worried about her mental health right now."

"I'm worried, too. I didn't think she'd continue to drink after Rolanda and Filius each gave her a bit of whisky. Afterward, she spoke with me briefly before wandering off to join them and Pomona. According to Pomona, they'd stopped drinking by that point and didn't offer any more to Minerva, so she must have had a lot when she and Filius went off on their own.

"I know she was a bit tipsy when she walked away from me, but usually she still has her wits about her after a few drinks. Could her threshold for this level of impaired judgment be a result of lowered tolerance for alcohol? I considered that she might not have realized how her limit has changed since the decline in her physical health…"

"Oh, her limit is almost certainly lower than she'd be used to—I never thought to warn her not to binge drink because I didn't think it was something she'd ever do. But if she chose to get drunk for a reason—or if this is secretly a habit of hers—then that's something I think we'll need to understand so that we can help her cope in better ways. Will you come back in the morning so that we can talk to her when she's sober?"

"Of course, I can. You're keeping her overnight? Can I stay with her?"

"She'll be fine, Albus. I'm keeping them both overnight to monitor their processing of the alcohol and help them if needed should they wake during the night. Besides, one of the few things Minerva said to me out there was that she didn't want to see you—or rather, she didn't want you to see her. I think she's a bit embarrassed."

Albus felt his heart sink. "She doesn't need to feel embarrassed in front of me. I wish she knew that. I just want to know that she's okay, not judge or scold her."

"I can ask her again—drunk people can be fickle—but if she says no, then it's probably best for you to go home and get a good night's rest. I think this is one of those situations where we need to reach out to her and make sure she's not falling back to a dark place, so we should steel ourselves for a potentially tough conversation."

Albus nodded, feeling grim. While excessive drinking wasn't one of the "warning signs" that Minerva had explicitly discussed with him, he certainly felt alarmed by what he witnessed tonight. That Poppy was more concerned about the ramifications upon Minerva's mental health than her physical health weighed heavily on his mind.

Minerva asked us to look out for her. I failed tonight, but tomorrow I won't, Albus thought. Although he knew she could take care of herself at a party, he feared that she didn't believe she could say no to her colleagues or leave before things got bad. Or worse, she drank herself to the brink intentionally, and this was the only way she knew to ask for help.

Author's Note: My experiences in becoming a chemistry professor suggest that academic types sometimes have a "work hard, play harder" approach to socializing. (Or perhaps it's just because I'm a chemist—as a physicist once told me, physicists view chemists as drunks. Every chemist I've told this has been like, "Yeah, that tracks.") And as lovely as it would be for one's mental health to improve linearly with time as they learn new coping strategies and start to feel better, a much more complicated path is almost certainly the norm—hence Minerva's poor judgment here.

Also on the professoring note: Classes have started again at my university. I hope to continue with an approximately weekly update schedule, but it remains to be seen how crazy teaching will get as we've returned to in-person classes.

Finally, as always, thank you for reading and reviewing!