Rumored Nervous Breakdown

I realize that I am still in the classroom as I regain consciousness. The stress of handing over the receipt overwhelmed my body. I don't even recognize which classroom I am in, but the spare potion bottles give me a clue that I am near the Potions hallway.

I have been sitting here for a few minutes attempting to get my head together. I have got to stop the cycle of panicking and making myself sick. This behavior is giving Dolores an edge on telling the world how unbalanced I may be. Sitting on this floor bawling like an infant is not going to solve my problem.

The Easter holidays are coming up, and I remember that the Ministry is calling some sort of workshop to tell us how inept we are at teaching. Frankly, I think it is a waste of time. Most of us have families and friends we only get to see once or twice a year. This serves to cause resentment and restlessness among the staff.

Although my legs feel like jelly, I manage to make it back to my bed; it only takes just a minute to fall into a nightmare.

Everything is dark, and I want to find my wand to see where I am; however, when I try to move, some force is holding me down on a bed. I don't like this one bit, but when I cry out for help, all I can come out with is a strangled moan.

The strange smells and scratchy sheets in the Psychiatric Isolation Ward give me a sickening realization that something is horribly wrong. I don't understand why I am here. It's hard to get my bearings when my eyes seem glued shut. Everything just hurts; my skin feels like it is on fire, I cannot take a deep breath, and my heart is racing erratically.

"That's the last dose." Copperbottom's voice echoes from a long distance. "What do we do now?"

"I'll go Floo Dolores," Bulstrode says in a disheartened manner. "We just can't let her suffer like this." Someone is touching my arm in a tender manner. "Just sit with her, I'll go find out what she wants to do about this."

I want to get up and run; however, my body feels like it is encased in concrete. I try to call out for help, but all that comes out is a guttural moan. Why doesn't someone help me? I just can't make anyone understand I am in pain.

I can open my eyes now, but it's not worth the effort. They keep slipping in and out of focus, and the images make no sense. I want someone to help me, but again, all that comes out is a wheezy moan. Someone is speaking, no, reading something. I can recognize Copperbottom's voice. "Nell, let's see; maybe this would be a nice one for me to read for you."

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grady
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so ryly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

I like the sound of his voice, and it seems so soothing. He continues to read for a while from a book with more poems. "I think this does more for you than any potion," he says. "Someday, I will find a way to send you more of these."

The door violently opens, and our "High Inquisitor" is darkening my door step. "What are you doing?" Dolores does not sound happy.

"I am reading her some poetry. Since she isn't calling out or thrashing anymore, I think it's soothing to her." Copperbottom seems rather pleased with his discovery. "At least I'm trying to do something," he informs her pointedly.

My eyes slide closed as Dolores screeches, "Bulstrode, they are coming for her. Get her dressed, now!"

I don't want to be touched, but someone has their hands on me. I strike out with a fist, making contact with something. I hear a distinct "ouch" come from above my head. My protest does not halt the progress of my being disrobed and redressed so painfully.

"Dawlish, get her out of here. That half-breed Lupin is downstairs causing quite a fuss." Dolores is out of breath.

"What do you want me to do with her?" Dawlish inquires impatiently. I am being roughly picked up, and I struggle against the arms holding me. My protests only come out as incoherent whispers. Someone shouts for me to stop; however, I can't stop my body from twitching. I can feel a curse hit me, stopping any movement. "I'm not going to roam around London with a half-dead woman in my arms," Dawlish complains loudly.

"Take her to Knockturn Alley to be with the rest of those drunken whores for all I care," Dolores snaps. "That is better than this lying slut deserves. The last thing we need is to account for a dead body in the hospital."

"Madam Umbridge, you can't do this; it's murder." Copperbottom should know better. His loud protest encourages me to open up my eyes to look at his face.

"Shut it, Copperbottom, I didn't ask for your opinion. Dawlish, what are you waiting for?" Her orders echo in my ears as everything goes dark.

I wake up in a pool of sweat and tears, because the images were so vivid. Was this dream, a memory that I had forgotten? Copperbottom has been the person stalking me all this time. What is his motive for reading and sending me these books? Is this a sick declaration of love on his part. I remember seeing the poem he was reading somewhere. I bolt for the book shelf in my study, and I pray that it is not the one Dolores took away from me. I won't rest until I find out which one it is. As I pore through the books, there is a sickening sensation rolling across my midsection. It was in Robert Frost's A Boy's Will. I am relieved to find it still on my shelf, and I tear through each page; I finally find a poem called, My November Guest. I cannot resist the urge to keep looking over my shoulder as I stand in my own home, because I find the whole thing disturbing and frightening.

I shudder suddenly as I realize they were going to leave me in Knockturn Alley. What would have happened to me if I was left there, dying alone without a name? Oh, God! What else did they do to me while I was unconscious? I feel almost "unclean" for some reason. Was Copperbottom, Dawlish, or someone else watching me at such a vulnerable moment as I am not only stripped of my clothes but my dignity? The most uncomfortable feelings come from the knowledge that Copperbottom and I spent hours alone together. Could I have been the victim of some sexual assault? It makes me sick just thinking about it. Maybe, this could have something to do with why Dolores calls me a whore or slut when she sees me. I pray the anger and humiliation of my discovery will lessen as the Easter holiday begins next week.

As they finally do arrive, the Easter holidays do not bring a reprieve from the pressure of dealing with Dolores. Once the kids have left on the train, I know I must face that woman tonight. My new receipt appeared this morning in a hollowed-out chocolate Easter egg. It is for the purchase of a Christmas gift the year before last for a certain Archibald Quimby; however, the poor sod had died eleven years previous.

I am on my way to see Dolores in her classroom like we had planned the last time. The cold chill of foreboding sinks to the bottom of my stomach as I finally approach the door jamb.

Dolores is sitting at her desk, twirling her wand between her fingers in the dim candlelight. I quietly cast a detection charm, looking for anyone who may be hiding in the shadows.

I walk up the darkened aisles of the classroom, sensing her desire to inflict as much pain and humiliation as possible. It's that same hopeless, creepy feeling of being around a Dementor.

I am going to control the situation this time. I slow down my strides, swaggering arrogantly as I walk towards her. "You're a little bit early, Dolores. I have always wondered if you were the sort of child who peeked at her presents before Christmas morning."

Her expression sours the closer I walk towards her. "Enough dawdling, Eleanor, I want what is in that envelope."

"Apparently, you have been sticking to our bargain. As long as you can play nicely, you will continue to get your little treasures." I shouldn't over play my hand. "I trust that permission for Rupert to come up here and for me to visit Hogsmeade has been reinstated?"

The candlelight is playing tricks with her features. Her face looks like a poorly carved pumpkin on Halloween. Her eyes look like caverns and every wrinkle is highlighted. "Yes they have, but I am warning you to watch your step."

I stop at the desk, envelope in hand for her to take. I wonder if I should walk out of the room before she can open it, or if I should hang around to watch her expression when she looks at it. "As promised, Dolores." I try to keep my hand from shaking as her eyes fall upon her prize.

She snatches it abruptly away from me and tears the envelope open. "This is the receipt for Archibald Quimby's presents! You shouldn't play games with me!" She reminds me of a child who did not get the flavor of lollipop she wanted. "You aren't going to get away with this much longer, you filthy whore."

"You really need to come up with a more original insult, Dolores. It is beginning to sound like a term of endearment." I give her a forced grin. I don't know why I am still standing here exchanging insults.

"You know your efforts are being wasted. With the papers in my hands, no one will believe a psychotic invalid over a Ministry official." She is attempting to counter my defense.

"I may be considered a psychotic invalid, but you are the one who is stealing money to feed some twisted purpose of her own. I don't know who or what you are spending that money on, but I would watch the company I keep." As I turn on my heel towards the door, I hear the shattering of glass, then an eerie glow filters through out the room. I look back and the last remnants of green flame tell me that she has gone, but I am itching to know where she has to get to in such a hurry.

Miraculously, I did not have any nightmares after my meeting with Dolores last night. Although my burden has not been lessened, I know that I will not have to deal with that wretched hag for another fourteen days.

Breakfast during holidays is a relaxed affair without the students. Most of the teachers opt to hole up in their quarters and enjoy some peace and quiet. With my freedom from duties and Dolores's edicts, I decide to contact Rupert for a visit.

Rupert,

Dolores has dropped her restrictions about having you visit the school and my ability to make a journey to the village. If you are free for the holiday, I would like to invite you for lunch at Hogsmeade and a game of "Keep Away" with the Snitch you gave me for my birthday. I really miss you and cannot wait to see you again.

Yours Truly,

Nell

Figuring I might not get answer until the next morning, I decide to vegetate with a book, but I skip the section of the shelves with the poetry. I have an urge to throw them into the fire; however, I just cannot bring myself to do it.

After lunch, I lose interest in the book and feel the need for a long, hot bubble bath. Minerva had given me some lavender-scented bubble bath that hums when the bubbles break to the surface. I thought it would be obnoxious, but as I sink into the garden tub, the humming lulls me into a stupor.

There is a creaking of the door into the room attached to my bathroom. Thinking Dolores is up to something, I jump out of the tub, grab my wand, and roughly pull a towel around me. Stumbling into the room with a drawn wand, I start to throw the first curse I can think of, but I suddenly realize it is just Rupert. "What in the hell are you doing here?" I have that "unclean" feeling creeping in my midsection.

"Nice outfit," he comments, smiling sappily at me. "I thought I would surprise you by asking you to dinner; however, I think I am a bit over-dressed." I wish he would quit gawking at me.

I realize my "cover" is slipping, and I end up dropping my wand to save my dignity. I feel like I am rooted to the spot as a rush of heat hits my face. I have longed to see him since the day he left me at the front gates, but I wish he would at least turn around. "Rupert, would you mind averting your eyes and stop gaping at me!" I stomp quickly from the room, totally embarrassed. As I dry off, I just wonder if I can face him again. I find myself needing to be in his company.

Walking out into the parlor, I just cannot summon the energy to shout at him. There is a moment of awkward silence when I sit on the sofa with him. His smile has faded a bit when he sees the tense expression on my face.

"I'm sorry. Minerva gave me the passwords to your door. I just wanted to surprise you. I apologize about my comments. I was just a bit stunned when you came out looking like that." A blush rises to his cheeks, and it is obvious that he has been punished enough.

"Rupert, I have already ordered dinner to be sent up here, so how about we just eat in instead." I would prefer to spend some time with some quiet conversation without prying ears and interruptions. I want time to ourselves.

As dinner arrives a few minutes later, he apprehensively broaches the subject of dealing with the papers and Dolores. I can tell he is not happy about this choice of action. Knowing there is no way I can change his mind, I change the topic to asking about his new partnership in the firm.

When we finish, the dishes disappear, and we sit down on the couch together. He is sits next to me and pulls a small box out of his pocket. My brain is screaming he is up to something, but my heart is telling me to stay put.

"Don't get upset with me, but I saw this in Hogesmeade and had to get this for you."

I take the velvet box and open it to find a delicate silver charm bracelet with a diamond in a setting in the shape of a Snitch. I am speechless.

"I found out your birthstone is a diamond, and that Snitch reminds me of our day in the village."

He seems to be waiting for me to hit him or reject the gift. Instead, I ask him to put it around my wrist. I notice his hands are positively trembling as he closes the clasp. Before he can move away, I put my hand over his to steady it. "I love it, Rupert. Thanks for thinking of me."

We have been sitting here for several seconds, staring each other in the eye. He leans closer and closer to my face. Before I realize what I am doing, I lean forward into a lingering kiss. It could have been a few seconds or hours until we break apart.

"Nell, I'm sorry..." he stammers a bit, waiting for me to throw him out on his arse.

"Rupert, do you hear me complaining?" I inquire in a sultry tone, removing the glasses from his face, and banishing them to the coffee table. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him towards me. I am intoxicated by the smell of his aftershave. As his weight pushes me back into the sofa cushions, I notice how his freshly shaven cheek makes my skin tingle. His kiss is full of emotion, but his lips remain tender against mine.

We break apart momentarily, and I want to look up and into his eyes. Although the light is soft, I can see the look of happiness in his face. It is not the lustful, anxious look of a hormonal teen, but a gentle glance of a man in love. Reaching up to explore the texture of his hair, he responds by giving me fiery kiss on my neck. I have completely melted into a puddle, and I am unable to form an argument to stop the moment.

I don't know how much time has passed, but Rupert and I end up watching the fire while curled up on the couch together. I haven't felt this "complete" in a long time.

As I relish the warmth of his body against mine, that unclean feeling creeps back into my stomach.

"What am I doing? I am ruining his life by falling for him."

"Rupert." He doesn't seem to hear me, being completely caught up in playing with a lock of my hair. "Rupert, I need to ask you something."

"What is it?" I can feel him holding me a little tighter, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Isn't our relationship going to cause problems with the practice?" I inquire. "You've fallen in love with not only one of your clients, but one woman who has the reputation of being a psychotic whore. I'm scared that I am going to ruin the rest of your life." Tears are prickling at the corners of my eyes. "I don't want to lose you, but I cannot feel like you are going to resent me one day."

He leans forward to kiss me on the temple and says, "Nell, you are definitely not a psychotic whore, and I wish you would quit thinking of yourself in those terms." I can feel a cool rush of air as he brushes my hair from the back of my neck, causing the most delicious shivers to run through my body. "As for the practice, I have bought out my other partners, and I am unable to sack myself." He moves his chin to the back of my neck, planting a little kiss at my hairline. The horrible unclean feeling is rapidly being replaced by something more pleasant. "Need I remind you, my office is infamous for pissing off the Ministry and some of its favorite resources? I have loved you from the moment you loaned me that spare quill in class. I slept with that ruddy thing under my pillow for a month," he says in an amused tone.

I start to chuckle at a long forgotten memory. "I know. Aggie told me about it a few years later." I tilt my head back so I can see his face. I can see every laugh-line in his face, and I fight the urge to kiss him again. "Did you know, she predicted we would end up together in Divination one year?" It's been a long time since I have talked about my best friend with anyone. "Remember our talk in the hospital about my fear that any feelings for each other might just be the result of 'Florence Nightingale Syndrome'?" I ask him in a more relaxed tone.

"Yes. What made you change your mind about me?" He is running his hand up and down the sleeve of my blouse, and I end up stroking his other arm holding me securely against him.

"That day when you came back after replying to that letter telling you to return to my hospital room. I was blown away by how you were willing to make a choice between my wishes and your personal feelings."

Rupert responds to my answer by planting small kisses on the back of my neck, and I turn my head slightly, so I can reach up and stroke his face. We are forced out of our own universe by the grandfather clock striking ten.

"Nell, I need to go." He pulls away reluctantly from the comfort of the couch, and the room seems to become chilly again. "I have a meeting in the morning with a client, but how about lunch tomorrow? That way, we can go out for a meal and maybe another cuddle on the sofa again." He has a wicked grin on his face.

I follow him to the door, and he plants another soft kiss on my lips, and I swear my spine is going up in flames. "Goodnight, Nell."

"I love you," I tell him quietly as he leaves.

Our feelings are honest in nature. We are not clinging to one another to fill some selfish need, but it is because we complete each other. I have opened my soul to someone else for the first time in years. I walled myself off from my feelings because of a fear in getting hurt if someone were to leave me. No matter how much I rebuffed him, Rupert still kept a place for me in his heart.