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. 19: The Space Between

"Thank you for keeping Albus out. I don't think I can talk to him right now." Minerva had just settled in the hospital bed, grateful that she only had to face Poppy for the moment.

"Standard procedure on intake—or re-intake, as it is. I should re-examine you after your little adventure, but I think we need to talk, Min. Is there something you should tell me? Why you ran away, for instance? Or where you went?"

Minerva nodded but remained silent for a long minute. "I want to tell you, but I don't know if I can. Can you start with your physical exam? I feel terrible and think I might be more able to talk if I didn't feel like hell, physically."

Poppy agreed and went through set of routine questions and diagnostic spells, along with the standard procedures for the initial examination of an intoxicated patient. She walked to the door, cracked it open, and Summoned a few potions. "Well, I'm glad you're sober now. I take it you would like some relief for your hangover?"

"Yes, please. I hope you've got a pain reliever there."

"I do. Would you also like something for your stomach or Draught of Peace?"

"Yes, and yes. Thank you, Poppy."

"You're welcome, Min. Do you want to wait a few minutes for them to take effect, or do you feel ready to talk about what happened?"

"I'm not sure that 'ready' is the right word, but I suppose I can try." She shifted in bed, fidgeting her hands with the sheet and blanket covering her. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Can you tell me why you left?"

"Are you wearing your 'friend hat' or your 'mediwitch hat' right now?"

"Which would you prefer?"

"I don't know, honestly. I want you not to get upset or emotional, or at least, I think I'd prefer the professional distance that Madam Pomfrey the mediwitch would maintain. At the same time, I think I want my friend Poppy to help me feel less alone."

Poppy pulled up a chair to Minerva's bedside and sat down. She placed her hand on top of her patient's. "Let me try to be that for you, then."

Minerva tried to muster a grateful—albeit watery—smile. "When I woke up alone and in pain and realized how I got here, I felt… ashamed, just deeply, deeply ashamed. I was angry at myself for being stupid and reckless, drinking so much. Of all the irresponsible decisions I could make, this seemed like one of the worst—or at least, that's how I thought you and Albus would perceive it. I thought you would think I didn't actually want to get better, like I was trying not to get better.

"It hurt immensely to think that I'd failed you and Albus… and myself. I felt worthless, like I was a hopeless case. And it just seemed like there was nothing to do about it, like I couldn't be helped. I hadn't felt that low in a long time, and falling back there after finally starting to feel better seemed to hurt worse than when I didn't know what 'better' could be. And I—it was like the Dementors had closed in. I couldn't fight it."

After a pause and when Minerva didn't continue, Poppy spoke. "May I ask why you didn't come to me? You know I'm here for my patients—including you—twenty-four hours a day, regardless of how they got themselves here."

"I… I didn't feel like I could talk to you about what I was thinking. I was sure I'd met the limits of your patience. I thought I didn't deserve your help in the middle of the night because I got myself overly drunk."

"Well, I know you didn't go to Albus or Pomona, either. Will you tell me where Rolanda found you? I got the impression that you didn't go to her."

Minerva averted her eyes. "Astronomy Tower," she said almost inaudibly.

Poppy clasped her patient's hand more securely. "Can you tell me what happened there? I know it might be hard."

"Are you asking me if I—if I… tried anything?"

"Yes."

"I… I froze, I suppose, as soon as I opened the door. I looked at the notches in the wall, and I just—I hesitated. I got scared. I didn't want to die, but I didn't know how to turn around and go back, either." She bit her lip. "But I remembered something Christopher said when I asked him what I could do when I felt that way. I suppose it worked well enough this time, but perhaps I was just lucky that Ro flew over the tower."

"And I'm glad she did," Poppy said. "I'm glad that you fought, too, Minerva."

"Part of me feels like I clearly didn't fight if I didn't even try to ask for help. But perhaps Draught of Peace is setting in because I also feel like I fought as hard as I could to sit with the terror, rather than submit to it." She looked up. "Can you just wear your 'friend hat' now? I—I think I want a hug, if I'm honest."

"Of course, Min." She raised an eyebrow when Minerva scooted over. "Are you asking me to hop in next to you?"

"If that's okay," Minerva said softly, a touch of pink coloring her cheeks.

Poppy climbed into bed beside her friend and instantly found a pair of tired arms wrapped loosely around her neck, with a suddenly tear-soaked face buried in her shoulder. She reciprocated with a firm embrace, whispering, "Let it out. Let it all out, dear."

After several minutes of silence, save for the occasional gasp or sniffle, Minerva finally spoke.

"I suppose I would normally do this sort of thing with Albus, but I'm still not sure if I can face him."

"Why are you afraid to see him, Min?"

"Because I was supposed to go to him when I was hurting so much, but I didn't. I didn't keep up my end of the deal. It's just that I thought I didn't deserve him. I convinced myself that he'd given up on me, and he didn't want to be with me anymore. Why would he when I was obviously incapable or worse, unwilling, to take care of myself?"

"Oh, Min. I suppose you didn't see the note that he left next to your wand. He asked me if he could stay with you, but you told me that you didn't want him to see you after I admitted you last night. Instead, he wrote you a message for you to see when you woke up. Would you like to read it?"

Minerva nodded and took a rolled-up sheet of parchment that Poppy pulled from her pocket. In Albus's loopy handwriting, her name was written on the exposed side of the scroll. She unfurled it.

My dearest Minerva,

I hope you are not feeling too poorly when you wake up and find this. Poppy told me you asked for privacy, so if you're reading this in the middle of the night, I will be back to see you in the morning, although I would have liked to stay with you overnight. I must admit that I am concerned about what happened at the party and would like for us to have a chat about your well-being. Please know that I am not upset with you, just worried that you may be struggling in ways I haven't realized. Let me reiterate that I am here for you, even when (or especially when) you feel you don't deserve help, even when you are unsure how to ask for what you need. I love you, now and always.

Albus xx

P.S. I look forward to our Valentine's Day dinner tonight - but I think I will save the wine for another time…

Minerva put down the parchment. "So, it's my fault he wasn't there. I can't believe I didn't notice this. That's what I get for leaving my wand, I suppose. I… didn't think I'd need it anymore."

"I'm sure he'd really like to see you. He's been leaping out of his skin all night."

"Are you sure he's not disappointed in me?"

"Minerva, he loves you. Above all else, he loves you and wants you to be well. Now, before you tell me that love and disappointment aren't mutually exclusive, I'll tell you that I'm not disappointed in you. I know how hard you're trying, and not every day is going to be good. This isn't an easy journey, and I certainly can't expect you not to have setbacks. I think Albus knows that, too. This isn't to say that we're going to let this slide completely. We need to figure out how to minimize the likelihood of setbacks like this. Does that sound fair?"

"If you're asking me if it's fair to keep me away from alcohol for a while, then yes, it is."

"Well, that's one thing. But I think we've got some more complicated things to think about."

"You think I would've gotten here without drinking."

"No, not necessarily, but we're worried, Min. We've talked before about what we can do if you come to us. But if you're not always able to tell someone explicitly that you're struggling, then we need help figuring out when and how to help you."

"I know." She looked at her hands. This was what she'd talked about with Healer Loughlin, what she tried to talk about with Albus. Sometimes, she needed someone to look out for her. It was hard to ask for that sort of vigilance; it made her feel burdensome. It was harder to articulate what that vigilance should look like. "Maybe we all need to be here for that conversation—you and Albus together, at least."

"Would you like me to fetch him now?"

"Sure, but can we—can we wait until daytime to have this talk properly? I think I just want to check in with Albus and then go back to sleep, if that's fine with you."

"I can agree to that. Is there anything you'd like me to tell him before I let him in—or to say to Pomona and Rolanda? I'm sure they're all still here."

"That I'm sorry for keeping them up? And… thank them for caring. Especially Ro—she was… she was sensitive and patient with me. If they're willing, I think I'd like us all to sit down for a chat together later. Well, 'like' is probably not the right word, but I suppose we 'should' talk."

"Okay, Min. I'll tell them."

Poppy left the room and quickly found Albus in her office, along with Pomona and Rolanda, as predicted.

"Poppy!"

"She's ready to see you, Albus. But before you go in, she said she'd like all of us to sit down for a chat later—during the day, after we all get some rest. She also wanted me to relay her thanks and apologies 'for keeping you up' tonight. And Rolanda, she says thank you for being patient with her."

"I'll tell her she's welcome when we see her later, then. I'm sure you or Albus will tell us when she wants to talk? Er, sorry, Pomona, I just volunteered you—I assumed you'd come, too."

"Of course, I'm coming, Ro. I want to be there for Min."

"She'll appreciate that," Albus said. "I know I do. Is there anything else, Poppy? Or can I go in now?"

Poppy smiled. "Go ahead."

He didn't need telling twice. He hurried into the room next door to find Minerva lying on her side in bed, clinging to the blankets.

"Hello, my love."

She turned onto her back and sat up. "Hi, Albus."

"May I sit with you?"

"Please."

He approached the bedside and climbed into the space she made for him. They immediately fell into each other's arms and simultaneously spoke.

"I love you so much, okay?"

"I'm sorry for everything."

Albus pulled her in tighter. "Forgiven, dear." He planted a chaste but desperate kiss on her lips. "I'm so glad you're still with us."

"I—I'm glad you're still with me."

"Minerva, of course I'm still here with you. I mean it when I say that I will love and support you through all your highs and lows, all your triumphs and troubles, and everything in between."

"I know you remind me of this often. Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that I haven't crossed some boundary to lose your support. I—I think I'm an exception to all sorts of things I wouldn't normally believe about anyone else."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how I often think I'm not allowed to need help, no matter what. I wouldn't ever claim that's true for anyone else."

"Oh. That line of thinking comes up when you're struggling, doesn't it—when you need not to think those thoughts most."

"Yes." She buried her face in his shoulder. "Can we save this for later? I'm exhausted, and I just want to fall asleep next to you now."

"It's a bit of a tight squeeze in here, but I am sure I can manage some shuteye with you in my arms." He tried to slide underneath the covers, but upon realizing his partner had taken all of them, he tugged lightly at them. "Min, did you plan to share?"

"Are you a wizard or not? This is a single—you'll need to enlarge it. Or I suppose you could get your own; Poppy keeps more in the cupboard."

Albus didn't know if he ought to be relieved or worried that her playful banter resurfaced just now. He eyed the side of her face carefully as he silently cast the spell to expand the width of the bedcovers. Her eyes were closed, and she tucked one hand under the pillow beneath her head. Sighing internally, Albus slipped under the blanket and pressed his body against her back, draping an arm over her protectively.

Nox, he thought and felt the woman beside him curl her knees up toward her chest, securing his hand between her waist and front of her thighs. He sidled ever closer and waited for the sound of her even breaths before he chose to welcome his own rest.

Lunch in the Great Hall was tense. Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch kept stealing concerned glances at Minerva, while Professor Flitwick kept apologizing profusely to everyone around him for getting carried away the night before. He tried to extract information about what he did at the party from everyone—apparently, he didn't remember anything past giving his toast on the table—which made Pomona and Rolanda look increasingly uncomfortable. Albus tried his best to maintain polite small talk with his colleagues, distracting himself from the upcoming conversation to take place in his sitting room after the meal.

Once they'd asked Poppy, Pomona, and Rolanda to join them that afternoon for a joint discussion of managing after her latest mental health crisis, Minerva asked if she could take a second dose of Draught of Peace. Now nibbling at a Cornish pasty, she was grateful for the permission. She was still a bit nervous, understandably, but she could cope. She could strategize how the discussion might go, consider what questions her friends might ask, and mentally articulate how she might respond and what she needed to ask of them.

At the end of the meal, the five Hogwarts staff members wordlessly walked up to the Headmaster's Tower, no one speaking until they'd reached the private chambers beyond the circular office.

"Sit where you'd like," Albus instructed, gesturing toward the sofa and armchairs as he headed straight for his kitchenette. "Tea, anyone?"

He heard murmurs of "yes, please" and "no, thank you" and decided to prepare a big pot of Minerva's favorite tea for everyone anyway, in case anyone changed their mind. The four witches continued to sit in silence, save for his partner's comment: "I'm not starting without you, Albus." Of course, he could participate in a conversation from his short distance away, but he knew that she meant she needed him next to her.

He brought a tray with the teapot and matching set of teacups over to the table central to the seating area, where he found Pomona and Rolanda opposite each other in his two armchairs and Poppy sat at one end of the sofa. Albus took the other end, and Minerva shifted from the center to accept his arm around her while she laid her head on his shoulder. Wandlessly, he poured her a cup—no sugar, no cream, as she preferred it—and sent it to her hands. Once all his guests had a cup if they so desired, Albus served himself—his "sugar with a bit of tea," as Poppy called it—and looked expectantly at the woman to his left.

"I—I understand that you're all worried about me," Minerva said quietly. "I'm sorry for putting you through all this, especially when I should know better. You've all done so much for me, and I—I clearly ignored your offers to listen or be there when I needed help. Last night and this morning, I was reckless and weak. I should have fought harder. I should have—"

"Minerva," Rolanda interrupted sternly. "Yes, you were reckless, but you're not weak. And I know you fought plenty hard. I suppose I can't speak for everyone else, but I'm not here to scold you or listen to your apologies or self-flagellations. I didn't ask you up in the tower because I could tell you still struggled with your urges, but now, however, I'd really like to know what happened and how we can help you feel better so that this doesn't happen again."

"Ro, be gentle—" Pomona began but was quickly cut off.

"It's fine, Pomona. Her comments are fair. I don't want to waste your time this afternoon, and I can save my self-pity party for my therapist tomorrow," Minerva said. She saw Pomona quirk an eyebrow. "I realize there's a lot you and Ro don't know. Yes, I see a therapist—a psychological Healer. Albus and Poppy haven't been flying solo in the dark these past few months. This sort of situation is exactly the thing I'm trying to work on: I need to figure out what to do in the space between feeling able to ask someone for help and feeling like everyone would be better off without me."

"Did you feel like that, like we'd be 'better off' without you?" Pomona asked.

Minerva nodded. "I've said this to Albus before, but I really struggle with the depressive thoughts when I blame myself for having them in the first place. Getting myself so drunk that I woke up in the Hospital Wing seemed like the prime example of my problems being my fault."

"And even though I've told you I don't care whose fault your problems are, it was still too hard for you to come to me," Albus said, resting his head on top of hers. "This is what we need to discuss—what to do when you're in this headspace. It seems like this is the space where you're in danger of—of harming yourself, but you feel most unable to get yourself to safety."

"Is that what you meant by 'Dementors'? You feel… hopeless but frozen? Like there's nothing you can do about it?" Pomona asked.

"That about sums it up," Minerva murmured and brought her teacup to her lips, grateful that Albus had Charmed the beverage to stay warm. This felt an awful lot like her appointments with Healer Loughlin, where she talked too much and drank too slowly. "I've been trying to identify what gets me there. It looks like excessive alcohol is one way. Sorry. I probably should've foreseen that."

"'Foreseen,' Min? I thought you despised Divination," Rolanda quipped, earning a glare from all four friends. "Seriously, though, I'm sorry I encouraged you at the party. I won't pretend I didn't contribute to your distress last night."

"Well, I've already told Poppy it's fair to ban me from alcohol, at least for now, so perhaps one of you can help me with that. This will sound bad considering the circumstances, but maybe one of you could stow my stash of Schletter's somewhere away from me for a while."

"Min!" Albus exclaimed. "You keep liquor in your office? Since when? Have you been—"

"To be fair, Albus, you know she's not the only professor who does," Poppy cut in. "I can take it off your hands, Min. Thank you for telling us about it."

"Thank you, Poppy. I'll take you down to my office after this."

"You're welcome, dear. Now, I've been thinking while you've been talking. You said that you feel like you can't ask for help or talk about it when you find yourself in a dark place. What if you didn't have to say anything? Do you think you could bring yourself physically to one of us if you knew you didn't have to talk?"

"You mean, could I show up at your office, refuse to speak, and stare anywhere but at you?" Minerva asked. She wondered if the major obstacle was the fear of admitting her problem, although appearing before someone was still asking for emotional labor in some way. Perhaps it would be enough if she simply made herself effectively invisible in their presence and let them continue with what they were doing. Would that be like a safer form of "procrastination" in this situation?

"Sure. Whatever you need," Poppy said.

"And if what you need is just not to be alone, then you're more than welcome to sit in my office while I keep my mouth shut, too," Rolanda added.

"Me, too. I can try not to crush you in a hug, unless you ask, that is," Pomona chimed in. "You don't need to do it verbally—Merlin knows I've given you more surprise hugs throughout our friendship than I can count."

"We'll know that something is wrong if you come to us and can't bring yourself to speak, something that we need to take seriously," Rolanda said. "You won't need to ask us for the space to ride it out—we can just give it to you—but we'll be present when you are ready to talk."

Minerva thought about what they suggested. Would I have been able to do any of this today? Perhaps if it were an evening or daytime on the weekend, like right now, but what about—

"What about if you're asleep? I'd have needed to wake one of you up for this morning's incident."

"Wake me up, then. If you walk into the Hospital Wing, an alarm will go off in my bedroom—just like it did when you got out of bed. It's my job to keep you alive and well," Poppy said, reaching over to touch her Minerva's shoulder. "You're also my friend, Min; I quite like having you around."

Albus put down his teacup, undissolved sugar still at the bottom, and reached his newly free hand across his lap to pick up his partner's right hand. "And, my love, you are welcome to barge into my bedroom at any time of the day or night, for any reason. You know the way in." He refrained from glaring at Rolanda, who failed to suppress a sly grin. "Throw a pillow at my head if you need to rouse me from my snoring; I know you're good at that."

"And I know I'd rather lose a bit of sleep than lose you, Min," Pomona said softly. "I'm sure I'd have many sleepless nights if we lost you. Would it help if I occasionally reminded you that I'm willing to open my door for you when you're having a hard time?"

Minerva shrugged. "In general, I think it helps to be reminded explicitly how you're willing to be here for me, but I don't know if it would have been enough this morning." She hung her head, hiding her face in her partner's long beard. "I'm sorry. I—I thought of all of you, but even if you've said you're 'always' willing to listen, I convinced myself that there were exceptions, that there were conditions. And I violated those conditions."

Albus turned his body, causing her to react by lifting her head off him. "I need you to look at me, Minerva," he said solemnly. She mirrored his position, and he took both her hands in his. "I love you unconditionally, my dear. I'm saying this right now—yes, in front of our friends—not to posture, but because I need you to know. My love for you is unconditional. Do you hear me?"

The customary gentle twinkle in his eyes was replaced by a piercing intensity that surprised Minerva. She felt compelled to fortify her emotional armor to prevent those eyes and words from reaching her heart, to use the old defense mechanism of isolating herself by pushing others away. But now was probably not the time to protest his overt sentimentality, jokingly or otherwise. Now, she should let Albus love all of her; she should let herself be loved.

"I hear you," she said in a voice smaller than she intended. She took a deep breath and tried again, more firmly this time. "I hear you."

"We all love you, Min. Not quite like this codger does," Rolanda said, tilting her head toward Albus, "but in our own ways. I meant it when I said it in the tower, and I mean it now. These two can correct me if I'm wrong, but I know I'm not."

I need to let all of them love me. I need to let them in so that I can believe they love me.

Minerva looked at Albus and then from one friend to the next. "How did I get so lucky to have friends like you?"

"A 'romantic' dinner doesn't feel appropriate tonight in light of my actions, but are you still willing to share a private meal with me here?" Minerva asked when the settled down after returning from her office. Poppy had collected the bottle of Schletter's Fine Whisky once hidden on the bookshelf, and before departing for the Hospital Wing, she clung to Minerva in a lingering embrace.

Albus gazed sadly at his partner for a long moment. "Of course, dear. It would be punitive to withhold intimacy from you simply because you had a bad day. If candlelight and flowers will make you feel as though I'm glossing over what's happened, then we can save them for another time. But we've still got to eat, and we still need to talk. Dinner seems like a suitable avenue to accomplish both."

"I don't think you could ever gloss over this, but I could. And you know I would."

"I know it's a coping mechanism, Min."

"One I shouldn't use with you. I need to trust you with my vulnerability. I need that trust to be so ingrained that I don't doubt it when I need to let you in most."

"You're getting better," Albus said. "I don't know how long it takes to overcome a lifetime of keeping your problems to yourself, but we're here to help you see that it's okay to rely on us. That's why we had our chat today. We're going to rely on each other, too; we're going to work together to help you get better."

"It felt a bit odd to say, 'Yes, please talk about me when I'm not around,' but it's probably for the best. The lot of you can finally be more of a safety net than single strings anchored at one end. I suppose it was a bit much to ask each of you to operate largely independently."

"Well, Poppy and I have been tethered, but yes, yes—two points only make a line. We're all stronger together. Just like you're strong, but you're stronger with us. I'm glad you talked to all of us today."

"I'm glad you all came out for me."

"That's because we love you, Minerva. Rolanda wasn't wrong. Now, will you let this codger love you tonight?"

"Are you asking if I'll let you bring out the candles and flowers, or are you asking me to fuck you tonight?"

"Minerva! How crude of you," Albus chided lightly, struggling to suppress a smirk. "And I was asking about the candles and flowers. Despite everything, I would still like to romance you, my love."

"You had a whole night planned, didn't you?"

"Of course. Like you said the other day, I would be sentimental about these things. Perhaps it hasn't gone as planned so far, but it is our first Valentine's Day as a couple, Minerva. As long as you and I are alive together, I don't want to miss out on celebrating us."

"To think I've mostly called you a cheeky bastard—you really are a romantic at heart. Well, I told myself today that I needed to let myself be loved. So, love me, Albus."

He cupped her cheek and leaned in for a soft, slow kiss. "Thank you." He brightened considerably, his customary twinkle returning to his eyes. "Give me a minute." He scurried away to the bedroom, leaving Minerva on the sofa.

Let him do this for you, Minerva thought. Enjoy it.

Surprises weren't her favorite, but she knew—she trusted—that his plans centered around her preferences, her desires, her needs. So, she waited as patiently as she could, listening to him rummage through his wardrobe for what seemed like ages before he finally reappeared at the threshold between the bedroom and sitting room.

Minerva's mouth fell agape. She didn't know what to expect, but she wasn't expecting his best dress robes. At least, she assumed they were his best; in any case, she liked them best of any she'd ever seen him wear. He looked sharp but still very him with a silk lavender top cut to fit closely in the torso but flow in the sleeves, anchored by a floor-length royal purple skirt tied at the waist with a wide sash.

"Is that your sash a purple tartan?" she gasped.

Albus beamed. "Usually, I wear the matching solid purple sash with these robes, but I thought you'd like a tartan. I had it made."

"I feel remarkably underdressed." Not typically one to care much about fashion, she suddenly wished she had on something similarly elegant to match her dinner partner.

"Not to worry." His grin broadening, Albus raised a hand to Summon a garment bag. "Poppy helped me—she knows your measurements."

In great detail, Minerva thought. "You enlisted Poppy? When did you two plan this?"

"Last week. I had her put in a rush order under her name to an independent seamstress in Hogsmeade. I know sometimes it's not fun to keep our relationship out of the public's knowledge. I thought that if we can't go out to a fancy restaurant together in our best dress robes, then we ought to bring that experience here. Now, if you go and get dressed in the bedroom, then when you come out, this room will be transformed."

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you, Albus Dumbledore?" She rose to her feet and approached him. Before plucking the garment bag from him, she placed her hand on the back of his head and pulled him in to initiate a kiss. "Or have I spoken too soon, and I'll open this to find a set of lingerie instead of dress robes?"

"That's in a different bag."

Minerva turned crimson. "You're too much," she said, snapping up the garment bag from his clutches, unsure why she felt so flustered. Perhaps it was because she was unaccustomed to being pampered, to feeling desired. She slammed the door shut—too hard, perhaps—and yelled an apology. A note fell out of the garment bag as she began to open it.

To the most beautiful, most brilliant, and bravest witch I have ever met – I hope you feel as lovely in these dress robes as I know you to be. And yes, you can pull off this plunging neckline; however, should you disagree, you will find also enclosed a coordinating over robe.

She pulled what appeared to be a form-fitting sleeveless gown with perhaps the most revealing top she'd ever considered trying. The flush in her cheeks just might have become permanent. Well, I wouldn't normally consider this for myself, she thought. There is no way I can wear a bra with this!

Despite her reservations, she removed her customary emerald-green robes and most of her undergarments, unzipped the dress, and stepped inside. Once she put her arms through the armholes, she used her wand to redo the concealed side zipper. With a deep breath, she turned toward the full-length mirror that she knew Albus used regularly.

Good heavens, I look like my Roman namesake, she thought. If Albus was going for the 'goddess in green' look, he succeeded. She was delighted that he chose a dark green; it was her favorite color to wear, after all. To her surprise, the deep V-neck that met at her natural waist was tasteful, and the column silhouette suited her height and build. She reached her hands in for a quick adjustment, comforted by the Charms to hold her in place.

If they were in public, Minerva almost certainly would not have the courage to wear the gown without covering up, but with just Albus she felt like could exit the bedroom as she was. Even so, she was curious to see the outer robe he'd chosen to go over top. When she returned to the garment bag, she couldn't help but smile. It was very her but very him at the same time.

"This tartan matches your sash!" she exclaimed.

"And it matches your gown," he pointed out, calling through the door.

Minerva put her arms through the sleeves of the silk robe in purple-and-green tartan print. She saw that it closed over her chest, but she chose not to clasp it shut. Instead, she left it open, striking a balance between revealing and modest. Spending much time on clothing choices always seemed frivolous to her, but tonight, she thought she might understand why Albus preferred an extensive wardrobe: the outfit helped her feel unexpectedly confident.

She reopened the bedroom door.

"Minerva," Albus breathed, his jaw slack. It was not often that Albus Dumbledore was speechless, but this moment was one of those rare occasions. All he could do was hold her gently at the waist and gaze into her green eyes as she looked up at him. Had he not been so mesmerized, he might have praised himself for his impeccable eye for styling others or told her that she'd forgotten to put on the shoes he chose to go with her ensemble.

"You put a lot of thought into this, didn't you?" She wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's perfect." Closing her eyes, she closed the gap between their faces to brush his lips with hers. "It's out of my comfort zone, but somehow, it's still perfect."

"I'm glad you think so. You look magnificent, my dear—just like you are."

Minerva smirked playfully. "You look handsome, too, I suppose."

"I'll take that. May I escort you to our table?"

"Yes, please."

Albus had Transfigured his armchairs and coffee table into a quaint dining set for two. He dimmed the lights, and suddenly the room was lit by countless enchanted candles, floating in midair much like those in the Great Hall. Rose petals were scattered on the tablecloth, and at each seat lay a sheet of parchment.

"A five-course meal, Albus? This doesn't look like any of the usual offerings from the kitchens."

"No, but I put in a request. I do hope you'll enjoy it, my dear."

"I'm sorry we can't have wine tonight. Pumpkin juice doesn't quite seem to go with this menu."

"It's okay. We'll can have it another time. Last night was an odd occurrence, yes? You were being truthful when you told Poppy it's not part of a pattern?"

"Yes, Albus, I was being truthful. If I lied, it wouldn't help me regain your trust, would it? And I do I believe I need to restore it after last night."

"It's not that we don't trust you, Min, but we know that sometimes you can't trust yourself. That's why you asked us to look out for you, isn't it?"

Minerva nodded. "Are you reconsidering my return to Deputy duties?"

"Are you?"

"I figured you and Poppy would think I'm no longer ready. Then you'd ask Filius to stay on longer, and he would, despite his public celebration of his stepping down. He'd know you'd only ask if you thought I wasn't well enough after all, and then everyone would know I've had some sort of setback."

"Do you feel ready still? I'm not asking you what you think should happen based on what others might think. I'm asking you if you truly feel that you'll be okay to have this back on your plate."

"If I had to start tomorrow, then perhaps not, but I think I will be okay again in a few days. I just need some time to process my thoughts, and I'm sure Healer Loughlin will help me with that. Then, I will hopefully start feeling like myself again soon. I suppose it's a good thing that it's half-term."

"Yes, I think we could all benefit from the week off. Let's check in about this in a few days. If you're still struggling, then let's consider postponing your resuming as Deputy. Does that sound okay?"

"Yes, that sounds fair."

"I am a fair and benevolent headmaster."

"And a supportive, generous partner—perhaps too generous." She hugged herself to stroke her sleeves. "Bespoke dress robes? Silk, Albus? You spoil me."

"I know you tend to gravitate toward simple pleasures, but you deserve to enjoy the finer things in life, too. Besides, I can afford it—the Order of Merlin wasn't simply a medal, you know."

"Well, I do feel special tonight. Thank you." She reached across the table to hold his hands. "But really, I'll feel a bit overwhelmed if we do this sort of thing too often."

"As you wish, my dear. I am glad to hear that you feel special tonight. My hope is that I can help you feel loved, needed, wanted—whether that's in dress robes, teaching robes, or none at all." He winked.

"I'd roll my eyes at you, but it seems my heart won't let me right now."

Albus grinned broadly. "You like my cheekiness sometimes. I know it."

"I won't admit it aloud."

"I don't need you to." He let go of one of her hands to pick up his wand, which he twirled with his fingers. "Now, are you ready to eat? I need to alert the kitchens if we'd like to be fed."

"Yes, let's eat."

Albus tapped his wand to the parchment, and their first course appeared in front of them. "Bon appétit."

Minerva mustered a small smile. It occurred to her that if he didn't believe she'd rebound, then he wouldn't be doing this tonight. Instead, he'd hover worriedly, like he had done in the first several weeks following her attempt. Now, her support system was larger and stronger, and she had many more tools to cope when troubling thoughts and feelings arose. Perhaps most importantly, she knew what "better" might be, and she'd fight like hell to get back there.

If Albus believes in me, despite so much evidence that he shouldn't, then I can believe in him—especially when there's so much evidence that I should. I can do this. I can let his—and Poppy's and Rolanda's and Pomona's—love in to strengthen me enough that I'll go to them when I need them.

Author's Note: I think that this story is winding down—like maybe just one more chapter, or a chapter and an epilogue, are left in me. However, circling my brain have been ideas for a sequel, which has some bits and pieces in the works. I'm thinking it will have a less dark mood to it (but of course, it wouldn't really fit in with this set of stories if it ignored the darkness altogether) and focus a bit more on Albus and Minerva's relationship.

As always, thank you for reading! Hello and thank you to new story followers, and a big thank you to my reviewer(s)!