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

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

The Closest Person to Him

Chapter 7: Reality

Tell Poppy.

The idea didn't sit well with Albus. He didn't want to make Minerva more upset with him. Even if he asked the mediwitch not to reveal that he was the one to report her behavior, she would figure it out. He was the only one who saw what she was doing. And Poppy was unlikely to get through to Minerva with generic concerns about her health and eating habits—she would have to confront her with what Albus knew.

This was why he was pacing an empty classroom. He told himself that he'd go to the Hospital Wing after dinner, but he lost his nerve along the way. He wished he could convince himself that he was worried about nothing, but what he saw at breakfast wasn't a one-time occurrence. Minerva did the same thing at dinner. If she consumed anything beyond water or pumpkin juice, he didn't notice.

Why is she doing this? Albus couldn't think of any reason that made sense. She couldn't be doing this to save time; if she wanted that, she could just eat faster rather than go through all this trouble. He didn't take her to be the sort of person to go on a hunger strike, and even if she were, then what statement was she trying to make? He never heard her express a desire to lose weight, and even she wanted to, she was far too reasonable to do it this way, right? And as far as he knew, being hungry was not an enjoyable feeling, so she couldn't just like it.

Armando was right—this is beyond me. Despite his reservations, he knew he had to tell Poppy. She would know what to do better than he did.

With a deep breath, he mustered the resolve to finish his trek to the Hospital Wing. Only as soon as he walked out of the classroom, he saw Minerva heading in his direction. Albus mentally swore and bit his tongue to avoid crying out in surprise. Silently, he cast a Disillusionment Charm and hurried back into the classroom, waiting for her to pass by.

But then she, too, ran into the classroom.

What is she doing in here? Albus held his breath and tried not to move. Though the room was dark and illuminated only by the light from the corridor, he could see that she had a potion in one hand and her wand in the other.

"Eva—" she began, but she stopped suddenly when Albus shifted his weight. He forgot the classroom desks were creaky. She appeared to glance around the classroom, as if searching for the source of the noise.

Eva—Evanesco? What is she Vanishing now? The potion? Albus had grown exponentially more confused over the past few seconds, when suddenly he remembered that she might still be taking that concussion potion Poppy prescribed to her after her Quidditch accident. Or rather, she was supposed to take it. Evidently, she wanted to get rid of it.

When Minerva raised her wand again, he knew he had to do something. He couldn't just let her not take medication that Poppy thought she needed. Not knowing what to do exactly, Albus started by dropping the Disillusionment Charm and lighting the tip of his wand.

"Good evening, Minerva." Announcing his presence was a start, but he didn't have a plan for this occasion. At least Minerva lowered her wand, and she turned to face him.

"Albus!" she gasped. "I knew someone else was in here! What are you doing here, Albus?"

"I could ask you the same question," Albus said, sounding much calmer than he felt. The desk creaked again as he got up to approach Minerva. He moved his wand to her hand holding the potion, and indeed it looked like the concussion potion.

"Do you always take your medication in the dark, Minerva?" he asked, raising a thick white eyebrow.

Minerva just scowled.

"It would not surprise me if you were to, say, Vanish your potion," Albus said. She didn't get to finish saying the incantation, but coupled with his observations at meals, he had heard enough. "I have noticed you do the same with your meals on occasion."

Albus braced himself for her response. Although he did say last night that he would rather confront Minerva directly rather than report her to Madam Pomfrey, he hadn't prepared for this conversation. But now it was out there—she knew that he knew her secret.

"Albus…," Minerva sighed, but she didn't continue. She looked like she'd given up, like she had lost the will to fight.

"What is the matter, Minerva? Please tell me." He desperately hoped that she would let her guard down.

Alas, it was not to be.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Then why?" He tried again, this time gesturing toward her wand. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"I don't need it," Minerva insisted. "Poppy is being extreme."

"I'm sure she is not," Albus countered. "Don't you care about your well-being, Minerva?" He knew she didn't like to take potions—who did? But this seemed beyond her usual stubbornness.

"Of course, I do," Minerva said stiffly, "but there is nothing wrong with me."

Does she take me for a fool right now? Albus thought, utterly bewildered by her behavior. We've just established that I know she's been casting Vanishing Spells on her meals and now her medication. Clearly, something is wrong!

"You don't eat," he said pointedly.

"Yes, I do. Just sometimes I am not hungry."

Sometimes? It seems like all the time lately!

"Minerva…," he murmured, feeling at a loss. This version of Minerva really worried him. Yes, she could be stubborn, but she usually conceded when she didn't have a solid argument. Tonight, she wasn't really arguing—she was denying reality. Does she believe what she is saying, or does she just hope I'll give up?

Minerva looked pleadingly at Albus, with the same resignation in her eyes that she had when he told her he knew about the Vanishing Spells.

"Please stop, Albus. I'm fine," she reiterated. Then she bolted out of the room.

"Minerva!" Albus exclaimed and ran after her, but Minerva sped up. She didn't appear to be going anywhere in particular, but he knew he had to catch up to her. A sick feeling in his stomach told him that something was off. It was the same feeling as that night he brought her in from the Quidditch pitch, only worse this time.

Eventually, Minerva tripped on a crooked stone on the floor and fell. She pulled herself up into a seated position and backed into a corner, knees pulled to her face and arms wrapped around her legs.

"Minerva," Albus called and rushed over to her. As he neared, he realized she was sobbing so hard that her whole body shook.

What is happening right now? Albus thought, desperately wanting to know what was wrong. He had never seen her like this before, and he never would have imagined she'd ever break down like this in a public space, certainly not if she could help it. And so, it occurred to him that whatever she was feeling right now, she couldn't help.

"No!" Minerva cried and buried her tear-streaked face between her knees. She looked a shell of her usually formidable presence. His heart shattering at the sight, Albus felt the urge to hold her tight, as if to keep her from literally falling apart.

"No, no, no… Albus…," she protested weakly as he wrapped his arms around her. He brushed away the steady stream of teardrops and the stray hairs that had fallen into her face while Minerva carried on whimpering incoherently.

"Albus, I don't—you shouldn't—please don't—I can't—"

"Shh…," Albus murmured, trying to soothe her. "Just calm down, love."

Suddenly, Minerva jerked herself free, jumped to her feet, and backed away.

"Please don't do this to me, Albus. Please, I can't—I can't…"

You can't what? What don't you want me to do? Albus thought, more confused than ever.

"Minerva? What is it? Please… please tell me what is wrong."

His gaze fixed on her exhausted eyes, seemingly staring into nothingness, her face appeared curiously calm yet pained as she parted her lips to whisper:

"I can't… I can't take this anymore."

Dread crept over Albus and sank into his core. What are you saying, Minerva?

He stared, mouth slightly agape, shaking his head as he searched for words. She closed her eyes and her face twisted into a heartbreakingly tortured expression. The lip on the neck of a glass flask met hers, and she began to chug, as if to quench a terrible thirst.

But it wasn't water. And it wasn't wine, though it looked it, if Albus didn't know better.

"Minerva…," Albus gasped. Why did his body suddenly feel like lead? Why did his legs seem to be moving in slow motion? She was downing the potion he stopped her from Vanishing, and all he could do was cry out, "Stop, Minerva, please stop! Minerva, you've got to stop…"

He reached out to her as she dropped the flask, glass shards scattering at their feet. She seemed to stumble toward him, fear now filling her emerald eyes, when her knees buckled, and she crumpled toward the floor.

"Minerva!"

This can't be happening right now. This can't be real.

"MINERVA!"

He dropped to his knees at her side and grabbed her wrist. He found a pulse, which wasn't so much relieving as it was simply not devastating. Her breaths were shallow.

Tightly gripping his wand, he sent the toughest Patronus he ever cast speeding toward the infirmary to alert Madam Pomfrey. Then he conjured a stretcher and lifted Minerva's body onto it.

"Hold on, Minerva—I'm going levitate you to the Hospital Wing."

The stretcher floating in midair, Albus hurried through the corridors, relying largely on muscle memory as he refused to tear his eyes away from Minerva. Partway there, despite being unconscious, she began to vomit. Albus swore under his breath, remembering that he should have turned her on her side to help prevent her from aspirating her own vomit.

Please don't choke, he thought desperately. He paused as briefly as possible to reposition her before continuing toward the Hospital Wing. When the doors were in sight, Madam Pomfrey rushed out to meet them.

"Albus, what the hell happened?"

They ran together, Poppy now holding Minerva in place on her side as Albus maneuvered the stretcher with his wand.

"The potion—she damn near drank all of it!"

Poppy swore loudly.

"She's overdosed, that's for certain. This way."

They ran through a miraculously empty Hospital Wing toward a private room. Albus levitated Minerva into the bed and Banished the stretcher.

"You've got to let me work, Albus," Poppy said sternly, ushering him out of the room and shutting the door.

"But—" he started to protest, though he knew it would be useless. He would be useless in there, and Poppy was right to keep him out.

Now he was alone.

Alone with his thoughts.

He paced outside the room, repeating his favorite four-letter words over and over as the scenes from the evening replayed in his mind.

This is all my fault. I should've just let her Vanish the damn potion. Why do I try to be a goddamn hero all the time?

Minerva's unconscious form lingered in his head.

Why do I hurt the ones I love?

His sister's body flashed into his mind.

Why do I kill the ones I love?

He wanted to conjure a mirror just to destroy his reflection.

What if she doesn't make it?

Albus grabbed onto the wall and sank to the floor. He ran both hands through his long, gray hair atop his head, knocking his hat off in the process. He didn't want to imagine a life without Minerva. But as the minutes turned to hours and Poppy didn't come out, he felt more and more like it would become his reality.