Rumored Nervous Breakdown

A crop of whispers brings me out of a potion-induced escape. I just don't understand why people assume I am asleep when they enter the room, and my eyes are closed. The mild soreness in my chest is making me a bit cranky; they should leave me alone before I snap on someone.

"Nell, can you wake up for me?" It's Albus Dumbledore trying to rouse me. "I need to talk to you." Someone picks up my hand and gives it a squeeze.

I don't know if I want to talk to him right now. The sting of betrayal is still there, and his prediction about being unable to defend myself is false. That bitch tortured me no less than three times, and I didn't reveal anything. I could have told her that Dumbledore had Severus remove the papers from the back of the painting; however, I was able to resist her no matter how much she tormented me.

"Nell." A female coaxes me to open my eyes; it's Minerva standing somewhere in the room.

I might as well get this over with. They are going to stay here until I am willing to get the whole Dolores fiasco out in the open. I crack open my eyes to see both teachers looking at me with serious concern on their faces. I want to scream, "If you're so interested in protecting me, where were you when Dolores had me pinned to the bed, cursing my body within an inch of death?" I doubt if either one of them would be willing to answer the question.

"What do you want?" I inquire stupidly in a gravelly whisper, propping myself up against my pillows.

"You seem to be looking much better since the last time we spoke." Dumbledore seems to be testing the waters of my mood. "I was horrified to find out that you had a heart attack after being admitted here. I apologize for jumping to conclusions when you were found in your parlor, lying on the floor."

I take a deep breath and avoid his gaze whispering, "Apology accepted." I end up pushing my knuckle between my teeth to avoid saying any words I might regret.

I hear the scrape of a chair, and Minerva pushes the curtain of hair shielding my face from her view. "Nell, tell us what happened; we need to know so we can help you."

My finger is no longer blocking the question to come. "Help me with what?" I quickly take a sideways glance at her face, but I cannot read the emotion from her expression. "I didn't tell Dolores anything, end of story."

Footsteps are moving towards me, and I can tell it is Dumbledore. He pulls my chin upwards, forcing me look him in the eye and says, "Now, can you understand why I did not reveal their location?" He releases my chin, smiling benevolently.

I look at Minerva for some support, complaining, "I didn't give into her one bit. I could have so easily told her that Severus got there first." The realization hits that I did reveal someone took them first, but I didn't say who. "No matter how much she tried to curse me into submission, I was able to keep any information from her. Doesn't that count for something?" I can barely contain my temper. "What the hell is so important about a 400 Galleon luncheon with Malfoy, and Fudge's purchase orders for extravagant birthday presents for employees who are dead and gone decades ago? This mess is about embezzlement of some discretionary funds. There is something you are not telling me!" The urge to strike out at him is almost overpowering. "You cannot dismiss me like I am some dim first year who botched a hex outside of a classroom. I want an explanation!"

"When the time is right, we will discuss what is happening. Until then, you must respect my wishes." Dumbledore is starting to shut me out with a wave of his hand. All it has done is piss me off even more. "Minerva, I must return to the school. I shall come by later to discuss the matter further." He retreats out of the room without another word.

Minerva is remaining by my side, but this does little to make me feel better. "Nell, you really need to let us handle this. You are so frail right now, and I would hate for this stress to make you any more ill," Minerva explains. "You are safe and protected here. I want you to concentrate on getting well." She is stroking my hair, and it is irritating me to the point of slapping her hand off.

"Your 'this is for my own good' shit is causing more anxiety than it is preventing." I make a move to sit up with my legs hanging over the bed, looking her straight in the eye. I want to make a show of strength.

There is a look of mild surprise as she says, "Nell, there should be nothing to bother you now. Your classes are covered, there is tightened security around your room, Rupert is taking care of your daily affairs, and your parents are here to support you. Just concentrate on healing." There is so much tension during this exchange with Minerva, the room could potentially spontaneously combust at any second.

"We are wasting time every minute I am in here. I know that psychotic menace in pink better than anyone. I am feeling better, see." I stand up on my own two feet to prove that I am capable of doing more than lying on the bed, converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. All the blood rushes to my feet, and the room spins momentarily. "Don't leave me in here like some budgie in a gilded cage." I have unshed tears of frustration forming in my eyes as I sit back down on the bed once more, feeling utterly spent from my outburst.

"I will discuss this with Rupert and your parents; however, I agree with the Headmaster, you need to forget about the whole situation." She seems to be placating me as if I were a student again.

Before I can blurt out a protest, one of the Healers walks in to give me the once over. Minerva takes this as a cue to leave quietly after grasping my hand, giving it one last squeeze before making a reluctant exit.

I am almost relieved by this disruption, because my head is beginning to swim in confusion. As she walks out, I collapse back on the mattress and close my eyes to block out any further intrusion to my private thoughts.

I cannot even go back to sleep no matter what potion the Healers force down my throat. I am ready to leave this bed and prove my ability to handle my own affairs. Before I know it, several hours have passed without my even noticing. Someone is dropping off my lunch, and I jump at the unexpected sound of my lunch tray being placed on the bedside table. As I pick up the napkin, I notice a long, thin box wrapped in plain paper. When I open it up, I am stunned to find my wand nested in the parcel. There is a letter buried beneath the wand in small but tidy handwriting reading:

Eleanor,

Keep this close to you, but don't tell anyone it is back in your possession. There is something you need to understand. You are not out of allies yet, but you need to stand on your own feet, so you don't wear them down.

Signed,

An Ally

I would love to use my wand to make my escape from this room; however, there are several things stopping me. First, no one can Apparate or Disapparate from any where within the hospital, and second, Rupert made sure that the unauthorized use of spells would be prevented unless cast by a Healer. I need to just play nice until I can persuade everyone of my need to leave here. If I complain too much about my lodgings, the bed in the Psychiatric Ward is still waiting for me.

A voice causes my head to snap up, and my new guest is Pomona Sprout. I loved having classes with her. Sprout's personality is buoyant and refreshing. Even when Dolores was examining the other teachers and insulting every adult in the school, she never gave in to the black cloud hovering over the school.

"Nell, it is so wonderful to see you." She is walking over to my bed with a vase of the first flowers of spring, obviously enlarged with an engorgement charm. "Minerva told me you could use a bit of cheering up after lunch today."

This is an obvious ploy by Dumbledore and Minerva to manipulate my emotions. I cannot take out my frustration on an innocent party who has no idea she is a pawn in a game.

Pomona places the vase on a table next to the bed, but she hesitates when catching sight of the book of poems next to a lamp. "I didn't know you loved poetry. If I had known this, I could have brought you another book."

"I enjoy having something to keep me amused other than counting the cracks in the ceiling." I give her a wry smile, unable to come up with a better answer.

"I think it is fascinating that you and Severus have never gotten along, but you both love reading poetry. I went down to his dungeon to deliver some plants for potion ingredients, and there were several books of them on his desk." She has this bubbly smirk on her face; it reminds me of the times Mum used to discuss possible boyfriends when I was at school.

"Odd, how that sort of thing happens." I had no idea our melancholic Potions Master had a soft side. Of course, I remember Remus once telling me that when practicing with boggarts, he had Longbottom imagine Snape in the elder Mrs. Longbottom's dress, including that hideous vulture hat. I would have loved being a fly on the wall in the staff room that day.

"What are next, tea parties in the Potions classroom? I wonder if he has the bullocks to ask Dolores to loan him that bloody kitten teapot Fudge gave her the Christmas before last."

"We really miss you at the school. The meetings are not the same without you and Severus squabbling at each other. I miss your Daisy chasing the gnomes out of my greenhouses," she says with a note of sadness, pulling up a chair next to the bed. "Are you coming back?" she inquires. "I know Ursula Stanhope misses you terribly. She told me herself a few days ago. She is having problems with her fits again. Dolores seems keen on the idea the child can stop them any time she wants to. That poor child really needs someone who understands her."

"I miss her too, but I can't do anything from here." I can imagine how that poor child feels so misunderstood. I remember how it was then, how I am still going through this now. I feel a few tears flowing down my cheeks.

"Nell, I didn't mean to upset you," she says apologetically, pulling out a grubby handkerchief to dry my eyes.

"Thanks for not giving me some sugar-coated commentary that has been sanitized for my health." I hope she understands even everyday news and tragedies are important for me to know about. It makes me feel more connected with the outside world.

We spend some time discussing the latest gossip and little stunts the students are pulling to undermine Dolores' world; however, she does let on some teachers are just as guilty of mischief as the students. My visits are only limited to thirty minutes. The time has flown by; she is shooed out by another Healer checking my vitals before dinner.

This visit has done more than any potion to make me feel better. I am needed and missed by students and other teachers willing to look past the steady diet of shit Dolores has been spreading around the community. I am now more determined than ever to fight my way out of this bed and back to the school, keeping my promise to walk out of those massive gates at the school on the last day of school in late June.

I wake again in this prison to the sounds and smells of breakfast in my room. There is a need for me to ask my parents of the plans for my future. Will they send me upstairs, or put me in some sort of convalescence center, or move back home? I don't like being in the dark about what life is handing me. I think the person who sent me my wand back is right, I do need to stand on my own two feet.

After my less than satisfactory breakfast, the Healer on my ward hands me a dressing gown and slippers, announcing that it is time I get some exercise by walking around the ward. I am a bit concerned about a plot by Dolores to catch me out in the open; however, I remember my returned wand is stuck in a pocket in the lining of my dressing gown.

I am a little shaky as I stand up and journey out in the hallway. The waves of dizziness are being replaced by agonizing joy at moving around under my own power. I know the route followed by all the patients on this ward for rehabilitation. The time away from bed only strengthens my resolve to leave here to fulfill my oath to Dolores.

The past fifteen minutes have been wonderful, walking around on my own again. Although a Healer is guiding my movements by the elbow, I feel so free. As we slowly make out way back to my room, Rupert shows up carrying a package in his hands, beaming at the sight of me.

"Nell, just look at you walking around." He walks up to the Healer and me as we make it to the door of my room.

"Rupert," I say in an exasperated tone, "I am just walking down the hallway for a stroll." He attempts to take my elbow from the Healer; however, she refuses to allow him to help; I cannot help but to be grateful for her gesture. "Why are you here? I thought you were busy with the Prophet suit."

"I came down to see my favorite client," he states in an irritating manner. "I have been meeting with your dad in his office a few times a week."

I roll my eyes to the ceiling as I ease myself back into bed saying, "I don't want to know what you were talking about."

"I really enjoy spending my free time with him. I didn't realize how much your father has learned about Wizarding law in such a short span of time," he says in a voice of admiration, sitting down in the chair next to the bed and fingering the flowers. "I have been helping with some decisions on where we go from here."

I am floored at his intrusion on my life. I bet he is getting chummy with dad to gain some more influence to feed his ego. "Who is involved in the 'we' of this discussion?" I inquire, attempting not to throttle him.

"Your family and I were planning for you to remain here for the meantime. Minerva and Dumbledore feel the same as we do." He is so patronizing.

"Rupert, my parents are in charge of what is happening to me, and I would appreciate if the decisions are made by the people who brought me into this world. The rest of you have no clue of what I am really like as a whole person, not just a student or teacher." My face is starting to redden as I tell him, "You don't know me at all. Rupert, you have only seen me in passing at school and as my attorney. I appreciate how you have comforted me through this disaster; however, this does not qualify you to make life altering measures."

"Nell, I don't understand. I do love you, and I thought you did care for me too." He seems to be a bit hurt.

"Rupert, you are a wonderful person, and I don't want to break your heart; however, this environment is not a proper place to start any sort of relationship. Watch out for my dad, because he can fill your head with silly ideas about me." I hope I have let him down easy.

He looks like I have smacked him across the face as he hands me the package. "I thought you might enjoy this book with the works of Kipling." He looks so hurt.

"Rupert, come back to discuss things in a capacity of a friend and not a spouse. I still want to see you; however, there is a need to build a friendship developed by trust and not a hostage situation." He leaves with his shoulders slumping and shuts the door quietly behind him.

I open up the book, and I find a poem marked with a piece of parchment. It reads:

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

I like the book Rupert brought; however, he is intruding on something that is between me and my parents. I think it is time to set some boundaries. Dad really likes him, but he needs to realize that Rupert is not a family member. I have always tolerated Rupert's attention, but he is slowly taking too much liberty when he has little attachment to me. We have never dated or taken the time to really know each other. I don't like how he is taking advantage of my captivity to manipulate my emotions.

I must have dozed off, because I wake up and find the book lying on the floor. As I reach over to pick it up, there is a presence in the room.

"Why is it when Severus enters the room, he sucks the happiness and light out of a room quicker than a crowd of Dementors?"

He walks soundlessly over to the bed, crossing his arms as he attempts to pull a menacing face. "Eleanor," he calls my name.

"Maybe if I use a Patronus charm, I can chase him out of the room."

"I came here to find out when you are sending out invitations for your baby shower." I wonder if this is an attempt to get a rise out of me. "It's wonderful you will be due so close to the holidays."

"Stifle it, Severus," I bark.

"I saw Rupert in Dumbledore's office this afternoon nearly in tears." I hate it when he smirks at me. "I told Rupert he was below your standards. I see you are finally coming to your senses where he is concerned," he says in a self-satisfied tone. "I think it is a pity you will be a single parent."

"Do you believe that rubbish?" I ask, wishing I could curse him.

"I don't, but you need to be aware Dolores is drafting a letter to the School Governors discussing your lack of morality," he informs me. "She is accusing you of being a whore with an insatiable need for sex with multiple partners in your office. Where did you find the time?"

"There is nothing I can do from here, so I really don't care," I snap. "There is no way my parents are going to let me leave here if Dumbledore has any influence on this." I want to scream, but I don't need him to get any satisfaction from his taunts. "I think you forget I have been declared incompetent to handle my own affairs."

"That's odd," he says with false shock. "Dumbledore seemed a bit unhappy today when he discovered your parents never allowed that sorry excuse for a lawyer to submit the proper documents for guardianship over your affairs." He moves over to the side table and absent-mindedly toys with the floral arrangement. I hate it when he knows all the facts and teases me about my lack of knowledge. "Your heart attack changes everything; you can walk out of here any time you please."

"How did you come by this information?" I inquire.

"I told you I was in the Headmaster's office today."

I don't know if I should believe this two-faced bastard; however, he does take delight in feeding me truthful, disturbing information. I am confused by my feelings and wonder when I should confront everyone about this.

"Who sent you here?" I inquire without really thinking about it.

"That's not important." He moves towards the door.

"What are you getting out of helping me?" My stomach has turned to jelly as I ask, "Why have you been so intent on taking care of me? I have seen you watching me when I was in the Hospital Wing, brewing custom potions when I was ill, scraping me off the floor when I was unable to help myself, and giving me your version of 'friendly' advice."

"That is irrelevant to the issue at hand," he says, blowing me off again. I think he is enjoying this. I wonder if Dumbledore is aware of the "personal assistance" by his Potions Master.

"I am tired of people not giving me a straight answer. Stop treating me like I too fragile to handle some simple facts." I am holding back tears of frustration. Severus has about as much empathy as a moldy rag, crying would only inflame his desire to cut my soul apart.

"Eleanor, you need to stand up for yourself and not cower behind being ill all the time." The door opens with a creak, but he does not walk out right away. "You are allowing people to use your emotional state to ruin your future." He finally steps out into the hallway, leaving me speechless.

It has suddenly dawned on me who sent the poems and letters. Severus gave it away when he told me to stand up for myself, so it is has to be him. Sprout noticed the poetry books on his desk and found about his love of the genre. Why is he doing this? He never does anything out of the "kindness of his heart." I doubt if that under-sized Dementor has a heart at all. He is getting something from this, and I am clueless to what it is.

I am feeling rather guilty about my rebuff of Rupert's intentions. It is impossible to sustain a relationship born out of pity. He knew the papers were not filed, so why didn't he tell me this. My parents have always over reacted when they perceived I was in a position to see myself hurt; however, Rupert claims to love me; yet, he lies about something this important. I know I cannot jump out of this bed right now. What am I going to do, crawl back to Hogwarts? I would probably splich myself if I tried to Apparate anywhere right now. Why is everyone hiding the truth from me? There is a need for me to stand up for myself and get the facts from each person one at a time.