A smell of lunch permeated the Ministry's grand atrium, and much of the traffic was flowing out of the fireplaces. Camille waited, hands clasped before her in gloves and watched the procession. The November weather up in Scotland was a little brisker and wetter than London. Despite the cavernous space, the atrium was comfortably warm, and as such she felt overdressed the more she waited.

Quarter past one came, and went. Camille considered the short queue to the welcome witches, whether to ask if they could reach Level 5 to rouse her son when finally he appeared, talking in German with a young woman with curled hair, laughing. It all seemed a little over-polite.
"I'll see you later, best get on." Pretty thing, young though, Camille thought as she watched them. Her accent wasn't German though, British, it sounded as if he had corrected her. Colleague, perhaps. She peeled off without further ado and she saw his smile drop away.

"Johann!" Camille exclaimed, hurrying towards him, a little hushed but insistent all the same.
"Mother." Her son smiled, a little less forced, throwing his arm around her and leaving a kiss on her cheek. He smelled of coffee.
"I thought you weren't going to show up for a moment there-."
"Yes, yes, well-." He was turning away heading up the atrium again, leaving her behind. She reached out and seized the arm of his grey suit jacket, firm enough to stop him drifting.
"Elephant."

He stopped still and looked from her face quizzically to her hand on his arm. It took a moment, she could almost se the thought process behind his eyes. Back to Sunday's conversation:
"I am glad they have sent you. Would you not have gone yourself?"
"No. Some days I don't consider my insomnia a problem at all. I can't convince myself. It feels entirely insignificant to worry anyone about, and then in the middle of the night it's an elephant."

His shoulders sank, voice lowering as he inclined towards her to reply.
"Not here." Her grip loosened, taking his cold hand instead, talking gently to him as she squeezed it, leaving a kiss on his cheek in return. 
"Come on my dear, otherwise we're going to be late."

The waiting area by the desk on the third floor was not quite as busy as it had been the last time, Johann noticed. The afternoon had brought a slight lull in the admissions queue. He was on high alert, a ball of caffeine and nerves, so observed every detail of his surroundings with quick glances. His mind was noisy, none too friendly, and his stomach was twisting and churning. He felt like he might throw up again.

Even with the swift ascent up three flights of stairs to the third floor, they were very close to the arrival time. His mother so very much hated to be late. It was something both his parents had agreed on. The only time it differed was social gatherings.

His mother had re-clasped his left hand on arrival by floo in the hospital's reception. He had let her concentrate on the route, focusing on trying to keep his cool instead. She let go of Johann's hand as they neared the desk so he could explain who he was. The clerk glanced at the time pointedly, before gesturing to take a seat.

Camille obediently followed direction, and folded one leg over the other, gesturing for Johann to sit beside her. He shook his head, preoccupied, glancing up and down the ward. Somewhere amongst them were Arcturus, and worse, Elixa. This wasn't the moment for family reunions. She would put two and two together and make ten. His right hand gripped the strap of his bag across his body from his left shoulder, every inch of him felt tense. He tried to lean against the wall between noticeboards full of advisory posters about common household poisons, but it all felt too awkward. He fidgeted, and considered making a dash to throw up just as his eyes caught sight of the familiar black and white hair.

He drew himself up, tried to force a smile, though there was little chance of covering the rather anxious expression, and the cold sweat breaking out. Below him, his mother spotted the approach and his interest and stood politely to greet Arcturus as he reached them. Out of the corner of his eye, Johann saw her glance to Arc's hair for a split second, as people often did. She would be too polite to say anything.
"Ar- Healer Hollingbury," he corrected himself, speaking quickly, "my mother, Camille. Mother, Healer Hollingbury." His hand tugged at his bag strap again, as if somehow it was a heavy weight. His mother's hand extended towards Arcturus, a little bow of her head, a polite, approachable smile.

The two of them followed Arcturus down the hallway, Johann trailing ever so slightly to the point his mother thought to apply her hand on the back of his elbow to encourage him along. His feet felt leaden.

Idiot…
.. fraud
making such a fuss

He was glad of when he could close the door to Arc's office behind them, so that he could more easily differentiate between the real noise of the hospital and what he could hear.

You're just making this up
You don't know what to do
It's all an excuse-

"Shut up."

Johann clapped a hand to his mouth as he sat down, realising he'd spoken aloud by the fact his mother had turned to look at him with surprise and a little disgust. She had already begun to ask Arcturus what the agenda was, and apologise for them running a little close to time. Johann had not been listening at all.
("So good of you to change the appointment time so I could attend to support Johann. We must apologise for not arriving in good time. Is there-")
"Not you!" He suddenly exclaimed, to them both, realising he had interrupted them. He raised his hands, palms towards each of them and muttered, "Sorry."

He slid his bag between his feet as his mother continued, his eyes sweeping across the desk.
"Is there a particular agenda for the appointment?" The blue log book[1] was amongst the paperwork on the desk along with his more substantial set of St Mungo's notes.

His heart thumped at the sight of it. Two weeks of keeping track was not happy reading. Johann had sent it first thing that morning, using a Ministry owl, as arranged with Arcturus. He ran a hand shakily through his hair and sat back, fingers tapping nervously on his knee.  At least he wouldn't have to explain to his mother if he was admitted that day, as Arc had warned about previously.

"Arcturus asked me to keep a log," Johann explained quietly to his mother, eyes not leaving Arc as he handled the book. "When I sleep, wake, when I drink alcohol, caffeine, and what I do take in the way of sleeping potion. I sent it on this morning so he could see it before we met." He glanced momentarily to his mother to see that she understood, and saw her reach into her suit jacket to pull out her glasses, as if she thought she might read it. Her notebook followed, and he glanced back to Arcturus with an ever so slight shake of his head in bewilderment. His mother was probably calculating Arc's basic arithmancy... he hoped.

1.

Nov 4-18

Johann had provided a very comprehensive peek into his sleeping patterns, and Arcturus had spent most of his morning trying to not think about the log he'd received earlier so that he could concentrate on his other patients. But it had been hard, there were so many things that he could immediately just circle in red and write admonishing notes to Johann about how much damage he was doing with each and every action.

He'd refrained from it. Despite his concerns, the man was still very much human and did not need red ink scribbled all over the log like a marked school essay. No, he needed awareness, open communication and genuine care for his situation, even if he'd deny it as hard as he could.

Arcturus had been consolidating his notes after lunch when the skull on his desk clattered its teeth to catch his attention. Ever since he'd returned he'd been using it as a reminder of sorts - stick a reminder on it and charm it to remind him of a specific time and date he needed that task to be done - and at least it was of some use other than unnerving people. Today, the note stuck to the pale yellow cranium read "Appt w/ J & mother, 1.30pm"

"Oh great," he muttered.

He shut the skull and left his office, all musings about previous patients and notes fled in the face of this moment. It wasn't out of fear; rather, it was how he was going to deal with Johann's mother. He wasn't anxious so much as worried. How much would Johann's mother know? If Johann was anything to go by, not a lot. How much could he talk? Well, he'd let her ask the questions at the start, that was for sure.

The first thing he was relieved about was that Johann's mother looked quite stately and dignified. Certainly not the kind of person to make a fuss in public, he thought, as he approached them, watching her rise to her feet with her son. Johann, on the other hand, looked like a wreck. He wasn't surprised, not after having read two weeks' worth of his sleeping or lack thereof in the log.

"Madam," he greeted her, smiling politely. Beyond what he'd seen of her, he wasn't about to start calling his assumptions of her. He'd seen her eyes flicker to his hair, but everyone did that. "This way, please."

He ripped the note off the skull before any of the two saw it and threw it into the nearly-full waste bin behind him. As a result the Storms had to sit down to faint but audible sounds of crunching as the bin decided to munch on the load just then, but it was thankfully drowned out by Johann's mother.

"So good of you to change the appointment time so I could attend to support Johann. We must apologise for not arriving in good time. Is there-"

"Shut up. Not you! Sorry."

Arcturus glanced at him briefly, giving the man an understanding small nod. It was always unnerving for a patient when they came with their parents, and he wasn't going to blame them. He had never told his own parents what exactly went down during the Battle of Hogwarts for that reason.

"Is there a particular agenda for the appointment?"

Arcturus reached out for the blue book on his desk, about to speak, but Johann solved that for him. "Arcturus asked me to keep a log. When I sleep, wake, when I drink alcohol, caffeine, and what I do take in the way of sleeping potion. I sent it on this morning so he could see it before we met."

A notebook. He wouldn't call it a first, but a parent taking out a notebook was one of the less common occurrences in his job. Johann's bewildered head shake only made him a little more confused, but his expression barely changed. In front of someone he didn't know, he was Healer Hollingbury.

"First off, you don't have to apologise, you came on time," he said. "Second, indeed, I was the one who set up this appointment to review Johann's sleeping diary and shed some light onto the severity of the matter. Things written down sometimes make a situation much clearer or simplier, after all." He looked between the two of them. "And I recommended that he tell someone about this, as he's not been entirely truthful about his situation to anyone else apart from me."

He looked down at the blue book, now open to a random page where Johann had scribbled. "To get to the point, I'm of the opinion that he can't handle this situation alone, and I can't either. There's a lot more going on here than just a choice, which I believe Johann has stated to me that a lot of people he knows seem to see his case as.

"But I don't know how much you know, so it would be certainly be...well, enlightening to have some insight from another perspective as well as finally elaborate on all of this." He gestured at the book. "I would like to know, for a start, what you could tell me about the history of this issue, Madam Storm."

Healer Hollingbury was most courteous and calm, which Camille appreciated. Her notebook and her self-inking quill went with her most places to keep a note of things, it was no larger than her hand. She did not miss Johann's glance at it, and realised that he might assume she was calculating something related to the healer, but in truth she wasn't. Yes, her son had changed to refer to Healer Hollingbury by a forename, but she wasn't anxious to consider his perceived character. It was however curious that Johann had switched - but she dismissed it as a familiarity to who he was speaking to.

The first question was posed by the Healer directly to her, she realised with surprise, her gaze moved from the book directly to Hollingbury as he addressed her. She shifted ever so slightly in her seat as she turned a little to observe Johann, who was now looking to her with a little trepidation.

"Well," Camille began, tucking her glasses away again, realising she would not be glancing much at her own questions within the notebook to begin with. "He was never all that good at sleeping as a child, always took a long time to settle, I used to sit and read to him a while, an hour some nights, to try and get him to settle. Some nights I used to think I could hear him talking to someone." She glanced to Johann to see if he agreed. Her son gave a nonchalant shrug, neither strongly agreeing nor disagreeing.
"I did ask your grandfather," she glanced to Arcturus, "My fath - my late husband's father is a healer, he dismissed that anything was the matter, we never really looked into it. You were happy enough, you'd grow out of it." Camille frowned to herself, at Medgar's easy insistence to ignore things.

"It wasn't until you moved here that things changed, I think. You didn't write, but Ignan did. And then you told me the other day about being here, and taking too much. I knew a little last Christmas, but Ignan said you were fine - you said you were fine." She gave a little huff and refolded her legs the other way.

"You're right, Healer Hollingbury, Johann has not been entirely truthful about matters. But he is thirty-four, he is not my little boy anymore."

Owch. He supposed he deserved that description from Arcturus. It didn't make him feel any more comfortable out the situation. Between the log under Arc's fingers and his mother taking this very seriously, his stomach was tying itself into a knot.

His mother gave a very summarised view of his childhood sleeping. In truth, that was all it had possibly been - a restless, child who had needed more physical exercise to really fall exhausted into bed. He didn't recall it all in great detail other than being fascinated with the stories, trying to read the words with his mother. The voices had been like imaginary playmates, though he couldn't work out if his mind was playing tricks with him now and misremembering them being there.

Much like she had on the Sunday, she reexplained his grandfather's consultation, and mentioned that he'd grow out of it. Perhaps he had, but as a teenager he'd been more clever to cover things. His father had more been the one with potential to catch him, if he was working at home on an evening. But of the two of them, his father had never brought it up as an issue.

It had got altogether worse on coming to Britain, but the stresses had triggered it of running away from Hanover, made it more consistent and down it had gone, worse and worse the more he worked and got involved with Vedir and now again with Almasy.
"… you said you were fine."
"I was." Johann protested meekly, his arms folded across his lap, upper body curled forward, very much different to his usual good posture. His gaze did not leave his mother all the time she spoke.

"He is not my little boy anymore."

Johann paused in his nervous tapping on his knee, and just as his mother had a moment before, he shifted, turned more away from her for the comment. His blue eyes fixed keenly on the log again, and he sat back, folding his arms across his chest defiantly.
"This is a bit different from childhood night terrors now." He muttered in his defence, shooting a look to his mother, who frowned at him a little in response. "Reading myself a bedtime story isn't the answer." He rolled his shoulders, staring at the log again, jaw set. "I can read a whole book." 

The only thing stopping Arc from responding to "He is not my little boy anymore" with a deadpan "Well, he sometimes acts like one" was his own sense of self-preservation and courtesy. Still, he had to set his jaw a bit in order to refrain completely before it slipped out in some other way.

So, childhood history where people thought it would only be a phase. The first thing he thought was that it was only tangentially related to his specialisation now. Relying on the sleeping potion was just the tip of the iceberg; unfortunately the rest of it below was a chunk of sharp-edged ice that would require careful navigation about it.

This was followed up by the thought that no one in the hospital was qualified to deal with this either, and usually they'd just prescribe a counter-action and leave it up to the patient to deal with it. And that, Arc felt, betrayed everything he felt his job was about. If he didn't deal with it, no one else would.

"If there were a potion to deal with this sort of thing, I would have handed it over without hesitating," he said. "But there isn't, and there won't be. There isn't an instant magical cure for this and the journey to recovery will be at least somewhat turbulent and difficult.

"But it's not impossible to cure." Because his brain clearly hasn't been turned to scrambled egg yet. "It will just take a very long time, and as much support and care from others. By 'care' I don't mean 'being your little boy', I mean encouragement, positivity and confidence, but still enough for him to make his own choices under the right guidance. Treating his condition as a problem, or taking an approach as if there's something 'wrong' with him is not conducive to the recovery process, because it reinforces any belief that it isn't worth troubling anyone about. Perpetuating the idea that he can't handle it belittles his capabilities and will reduce his self-esteem. I could go on, but I think you get the idea." Arc waved a hand in Johann's direction. "He's not a victim of it. He is an individual with active control over his life, and he should be treated that way. But from what he tells me, he seems to know people who think of it in an entirely opposite way and I'm frankly not surprised he hasn't been telling anyone. It's hard to trust people when you're ashamed about being...'different', being 'broken'."

The healer glanced at Johann at the last few words. He wasn't sure if what he'd just rattled off was already known to the audience before him or just pointless rambling. And you just doubted yourself, too - a mutual connection? But he'd mostly had to deal with Johann for so long that he'd realised the man needed reinforcement and possibly the words from someone he looked up to.

"I can't necessarily provide all of that," he said. "I can probably be as truthful as possible about every single effect that would happen in the long run, if that's what he needs, but leading him from depending on one thing to another doesn't help. As for my services?" He laid his hands flat on the book, fingers splayed over the inked pages, and took a deep breath before exhaling. "I spent part of my morning calculating the exact concentration of the sleeping potions he used, and over the two weeks he's consumed enough to at least knock out a dragon in less than three minutes and sleep for half an hour."

He paused to let it sink in. "Unfortunately for Johann, he won't be much like aforesaid draco dormiens, who will wake up afterwards with not much of an effect, not in the long run. He may, at some point, not wake up at all."

The comment about Johann's age was more to imply that Camille did not feel it was her place to pry into his private life. It didn't mean she loved him less or did not care so much, quite the opposite, but she couldn't control his life. It wasn't her place, it never had entirely been his place, but she had guided him as best she could. Her son took it a lot more literally, probably down to the amount of coffee he'd consumed and how anxious he was. He was very tense, usually sat very well from her insistence through childhood, but now had folded forward, one leg folded over the other, snarling at them both

Much as she wanted to reach out and explain how she meant it, she also had more of a plan on how she might ensure Johann committed a little more effort to breaking bad habits.

Healer Hollingbury explained in broad terms how there wasn't a particular potion to help resolve things. Camille nodded mutely - had there been such a thing, undoubtedly it would already be prescribed.
"… by 'care' I don't mean 'being your little boy'…" The Arithmancy professor's eyebrows raised at the healer. She hadn't expected to ever approach it like that, but perhaps the comment was more for Johann's benefit since he had snapped. Still, she noted the key points, prudent for if she lost her temper with him along the line and needed to reconsider her approach.

"It's hard to trust people when you're ashamed about being… 'different', being 'broken'." She reached her hand out this time, and wrapped her fingers around her son's right hand, offering him a gentle smile, a silent apology for how she had worded things.

"Quite," she agreed with Healer Hollingbury, and glanced back to him. "So…"

The wizard in lime green continued to explain things, and she absentmindedly rubbed at her son's cold knuckles with her thumb in an attempt to soothe him. Hollingbury was referring to the records before him which Johann had earlier outlined. Camille inclined forward to see if she could take a better look from her angle, but stopped, mouth falling open as the healer mentioned how much he had consumed.

Her blue eyes rounded on her son's quickly, absolutely gobsmacked. Holingbury's words about not waking up at all took a moment to also land in Camille's mind. She was still thrown by the amount he had taken.
"How much?!" She exclaimed, "Johann!"

Despite the wise healer's words of not implying that Johann held not ability to sort himself out with support, mother accidentally reverted to scolding tone.
"For Merlin's sake!" The comment slipped out in her native Dutch tongue through the surprise, and Johann's head snapped round, angry.
"If you're going to berate me, do it in English." He snapped in return, in English, yanking his hand away from her.

Oh dear, this wasn't at all going to plan, but she had been rather thrown for six over the amount. She closed her eyes a moment, and pressed her lips into a straight line, realising that her outburst was more founded on fear. She couldn't lose him, not ever, and especially so soon after Wolfgang.

After a moment of stalemate, Camlle's eyes came open, fixed on Arcturus instead.
"Healer, might I ask a few questions I have noted?" On seeing permission, she perched her glasses on the end of her nose and pressed open her notebook. "I would like to know, whether my son is in good health otherwise at the moment." There was a mild noise of protest from her left and she prevailed. "Whether this… abuse of potion has caused any lasting damage already, and how soon it might be before it does."

His mother's touch combined with Arc's rather calm words helped to keep his grasp on things. It was still very noisy in his head, but if he focused on the two real voices in the room, it wasn't so bad. He watched her thumb run over the back of his hand as the other two discussed. Arcturus doing most of the talking, not too unusual for these appointments even if he could be rather quiet outside of them.


The gesture provoked him to uncurl just a little, and look up properly to regard them both, albeit cautiously. He was still very much preoccupied with the thought of Arcturus interpreting the log, and whether he would see it all and confine Johann to the ward for the foreseeable future. The majority of him was strongly against it, but a small corner of his mind was just incredibly tired. It was also the small corner that would speak out on the longest nights to suggest why not just finish the bottle. So he tried not to listen to it.

Arc's comment about being broken and different was definitely a mutual statement, even if his mother had no idea. His friend and healer's gaze met his for a second as he delivered the line. This had begun as a mutual agreement to help each other. Johann wasn't exactly sure how he was able to keep up his side of the deal if he wasn't allowed to come near Arcturus outside of these moments. He and Elixa were at odds over it, and he couldn't blame Balfour entirely for it. It wasn't his lover's fault that he and Arcturus had fallen apart before Malaysia, and never been able to quite get it together as friends since. It wasn't for lack of trying. Broken. They both were showing cracks.


The mention of how much he'd drunk according to the log took mother and son by surprise, though son admittedly was not nearly as surprised. As his mother exclaimed in Dutch, he pulled his hand and snapped back at her in English. He had trusted her with the information, at Arc's suggestion and if she was going to turn on him then she would do it in English so the healer could hear.


He stared off to one side of Arcturus and crossed his arms over his stomach.
"It was over two weeks, It's not like I took all of that at once." He snarled, more to his mother, but there was no conviction in the protest. Instead, there was a verging on apologetic glance to Arcturus instead, now visibly upset, a break in his voice and his shoulders rising and falling with angry breaths. This was excruciating. He had to pull himself together. He had not intended to get upset about this. They were meant to be in and out quickly, no fuss.


Ignoring him, his mother pressed on with her questions, which turned out to be what the notebook was for. Her tone was detached, as if they were enquiring about a loan at the bank, not how long he had left. Not quite under his breath, Johann swore in protest for the questions. Not because they were ridiculous, quite the opposite. He just did not want to know the answers.

Was it sad that he was used to parents snapping at their offspring once he'd conveyed an urgent, potentially life-threatening piece of information? No, not really. He'd expect his own parents to do that too. As such, he sat there with his hands splayed on the pages of the log, watching the two of them and being as unobtrusive as possible. Not that he wouldn't get involved if he had to, but usually he left it up to both parties to rein themselves in.

He glanced at Johann, who was sulking as his mother asked her questions. He felt bad about having to bare the facts, but even now he'd decided that he'd been too kind in the past. Truth needed out, and since the only person who was qualified to talk about facts was him, he was going to bite the bullet and proceed. And Johann had to bite his own damn bullet too.

"For a start, your son is...let's put it this way, his body's adapted to taking that much potion, but I'm afraid there will be a point where his brain begins to give up. Sleep is a necessary, if occasionally irritating, interruption in our lives. But that is, unfortunately, not all that is to his case, despite what he'll tell you.

"His lack of normal sleep is what we should be dealing with first and foremost. The total hours of sleep he's had for the two-week period is," Arcturus checked back on his own notes, "sixty hours and thirty minutes. Assuming the number of hours of sleep necessary for functioning during waking hours per day is eight, that means he's sleeping almost a little more than half of what a normal human would sleep. In addition the quality of sleep he's getting is low. The only reason why he's not impaired to to the point of  being the cognitive equivalent of being legally drunk is because of the sleeping potion."

Arcturus looked up at Johann, fixing a steely gaze on the man. "Your son's never really asked, but since we're here I might as well go into the long-term effects to shed some light on what he is dealing with and may deal with in the future. Lack of sleep can cause hallucinations - you don't need withdrawal from sleeping potion to do that for you - difficulty in concentration, frequent focus on the negative and being more easily influenced into anger or moodiness, slurred speech, more inclined towards risky decisions and not thinking them out, and impaired wit for more short-term effects." The healer waved a hand in Johann's direction. "I've seen all of that - well, maybe apart from slurred speech, since he seems to have a honed grip on his linguistic capabilities, but that's not an excuse.

"Long-term effects? Loss of memory, incorporation of false memories of events, and ultimately permanent brain damage." The healer turned a page in his notes. "That's just the brain. Elsewhere in his body he has an increased risk in heart failure, increased reaction time with decreased accuracy and tremors, especially in his hands which will give him difficulty in writing, increased ache and joint pain, suppression in growth and repair and an impaired immune system which means he'll fall ill a lot faster." The page he was looking at actually had far more notes than that, but it was mostly observations of Johann he'd recorded down with relevance to the signs, and as opposed to the 'fact' notes were roughly scribbled.

"The sleeping potion doesn't help much to alleviate any of that. Yes, it does mean he gets some sleep, but 'catch-up' sleep is not the same as actually getting some on the night itself." Arcturus turned another page, not looking at any of the two in front of him. "Damage from sleeping potion is mostly in the gastrointestinal area - stomach and intestines, leading to poor digestion rate and rupturing of organs due to vomiting, sometimes bloodstained. Vomiting also leads to dehydration, and considering your son already drinks coffee like water and sleeping potion like coffee, I'm not entirely sure how much water content he's got left in his body since lack of sleep also causes vomiting."

The healer shut his notes and intertwined his fingers together on top of the open log. "Any other questions?"

It was a strange, detached way to talk about him as if he was not there. On the one hand it did nothing to improve Johann's mood, as if they were talking about him rather than to him, but on the other, it rather appealed to the moments of disassociation, where Johann had almost found himself mid-morning, convinced he didn't need to come.

Despite the resolute stare away from both of them, Johann was listening intently. He'd been too cowardly to read the healer's reference back when he'd been stuck here last year, and he'd never bothered trying to look it up again because he was petrified of what he'd read.

He saw Arcturus look his way out of the corner of his eye and glanced instinctively in return. The phrase how are you not dead in conjunction with any reference to how much potion he took was eloquently explained by Arc, and his eyes slid to the right to observe his mother. She was not taking notes, but her mouth had fallen open, quill loose between her fingers.

Each time Arcturus listed a symptom, he gave a nod, visible enough to his mother in confirmation. Hallucinations, concentration, negative outlook, easily angered - he paused on the slurred speech and wiggled a flat palm as if indicating semi agreement - poor decision-making. Yes. As the list progressed, his mother's head turned slowly from Arcturus to her son.

In all, the others were not overly surprising to hear. His hands already shook so much when he got severely tired that he had to dictate and when his speech failed and he was sat with his hands over his eyes, the quill simply gave up trying.

His chin dropped, and he sighed, not interrupting Arcturus, but now unable to look at his mother at all.

It was an awful lot to process in one go, but she had asked.

"Any other questions?" Camille raised a hand gently to Healer Hollingbury to gesture she did but not to him straight away.

"You're listening, clearly, Johann. Vomiting?" He nodded once, not looking up, staring at the foot of the desk, elbows propped on his knees. "Vomiting blood, Johann?" A pause and another nod.

She looked to Arcturus, her expression fearful.
"So he's already done damage there, and you're letting-" she corrected herself, rounding on her son instead, "and you're still drinking it? Surely you've already done irreversible damage elsewhere in this case? You want to lose your memory?"
"No!" The protest from Johann was sharp, and he suddenly sat up, hands forming fists.
"Then you have to give this up Johann. Now." Instead of replying, Johann raised both hands in exasperation. "I am not going to have you kill yourself too."

Nobody seemed to move for a good few seconds. Camille turned back to Arcturus.
"Apologies, Healer Hollingbury. The questions were, how long as he left, and what damage do we know he's already caused, if you have observed so many symptoms." She swallowed audibly, "And then, what we do now."

She was going to need the mother of all whiskeys after this for when her anger subsided and she began to blame herself.

Arcturus turned his eyes downwards to the open book as mother and son bickered for a moment. This always happened, and he was no stranger to any of it.

Once they were done, he got to his feet, carefully tucking his robes so they would not catch on the edge of the chair. "I'll need to take a bit of his blood to answer a couple of your questions. But as to how long he's got left, I can't honestly answer except that if he keeps up the rate , I'd have to estimate his organs giving up maybe..." he frowned in estimating his calculations, "by the middle of next year. At worst."

The bloodwork case had already been sitting opened and innocently with all its contents around it, but on the counter under the cabinets. He'd actually been carefully replacing the potions he used for testing, but since they were all out now he might as well. Besides, he did want to use another test, this time to see how much potion remained in Johann's blood once the magic had been absorbed.

The healer beckoned to Johann as he rolled his sleeves up. This was almost a ritual between the two of them, and even if he would rather chew his arm off than admit it, he would cherish that level of trust between them.

Johann's pale skin was much paler than usual; Arcturus could see the faint blue vein running up his arm like a river. It took him no time at all to draw some blood into the white ceramic bowl he kept aside for these purposes, and before long the exit wound was wrapped in murtlap essence-soaked bandages. There was a lot of improvisation going on with the bloodwork case.

"Excuse me a moment, the tests take a few minutes or so," he said to the two of them, bowing his head a little. "I'll be here if you need me."

It would be best to leave mother and son alone, perhaps, for a while. Arcturus watched the various little bowls of blood he'd divided them into, standing at the counter, pretending to not listen to anything going on behind him. Or at least look like he was listening.

"… by middle of next year. At worst."

His mother gave a strange little noise like her voice had got caught in her throat. Johann's expression remained absolutely the same, resigned, staring at the foot of the desk. The beautiful denial he had been holding up was being torn to shreds between the other two. There was panic rising beneath his straight face, which only remained straight for the fact he was concentrating so hard on keeping it that way. There was a cacophony in his head, sing-song voices mocking him.


Arc beckoned him and Johann automatically got to his feet, adding his jacket to the coat on the back of the chair and unbuttoning his left shirtsleeve, rolling it up. He still resolutely would not watch what Arcturus was doing, but at least he would come willingly. His breathing was quiet but quick, and he looked everywhere but Arcturus, a suppressed anger that caused a quick pulse, increased blood pressure. He placed his hand over the murtlap soaked bandage afterwards, applying a little pressure without being prompted, and sat still, wise to what happened when he tried to get up quickly once.

The healer retired to do his tests. Johann knew it would both come back with sleeping potion, as the log recorded, the lack of anything to eat and also reveal the amount of coffee he'd drunk that morning. However, after the rather grim prediction of when his body would start to give up, the thought of Hollingbury also answering what damage do we know he's already caused which had been the unanswered question, along with what we do now was not something he wanted to hear.


As he sat up a little, he was now elevated above his mother. She was watching and scribbling in her notebook, looking upset. This was what Arcturus had meant by hurting those you love by keeping them in the dark. Telling them before it was too late. From this prognosis, he was not going to live to see next Christmas. The way he'd been last year had he not been discovered in the office, he might not have seen the last one.

"Mother…" Camille's quill twitched angrily. "Please. I need your help, not your anger. I have no intentions of leaving you, of leaving anyone for that matter." Arc's quiet, methodical work, the sound of glasswork meeting nearby punctuated the conversation faintly beneath the crowing in his head. "This isn't something I'm finding easy to control, which is why I'm here. The last few months have been difficult for us both, and I am sorry to have to lean on you. You're quite right," his voice croaked a moment, and he blinked hard, "I'm not your little boy, but if she's there, I still need my mother."

"Of course I'm still here." Camille replied quietly, rubbing her eyes with one hand, her glasses in the other with the quill. "It's just, from what you told me, I didn't expect to hear you, my only child, might only have six or eight months to live." Johann swallowed, and nodded.
"It's pretty bloody scary for me too."


His feet made the floor again, rolling his shirtsleeve back down over the bandage, hands shaking as he did. His mother set aside her notebook on the nearest edge of Hollingbury's desk, buttoned his cuff without request and lay a hand to his cheek.
"We'll sort this out." She told him quietly, her expression reading both reassurance for him and grave concern as he uttered almost inaudible thanks and let her grip his hand.

"I don't suppose you are available for bedtime stories?" He asked her in a low voice, just to try and reassure her he was still her son and not some invalid all of a sudden. His mother smiled sadly and let go of his hand, turning away to wipe the corner of one eye as if to hide it from him. She reached for her notebook again, frowning at it.


Johann turned his attention to Arc's back, letting out a sigh. He cleared his throat and raised his voice. He didn't want to hear the answer, but there was no avoiding it.
"So, Arcturus. What's the damage?"

Most of the conversation between the two Arcturus tuned out, driven by the desire to not hear what Johann had to say to his mother. Harsh revelations led to ugly emotions, and the healer wanted no part of it - he himself already had his own to deal with, and he wanted to maintain the professionalism here. In private he himself was upset, seeking already for an answer to help his friend get better, but he would never show those emotions at his workplace. A distraught healer, whom people looked up to for help, would not benefit anyone.

That, and he still cared for Johann enough that watching him destroy himself was painful enough.

The blood swirling in the bowls were at least hypnotic enough to distract him for a little while. Arcturus watched the changes and sighed. Caffeine. Sleeping potion. And he'd noticed that Johann's blood was thicker than usual; the magical potion he normally used to prevent blood from thickening had required more addition. Among many other things.

There was some hope, however, in one of the bowls. The only thing stopping Arcturus from sighing in relief was the little rational core in his head that kept him so grounded he might as well be an earthworm. You can't be relieved now if he doesn't start changing his lifestyle. This voice was a little son of a...well, it was his, and that probably said a lot of things about himself.

"So, Arcturus. What's the damage?" Johann's voice interrupted all of his thoughts. Arcturus exhaled, having jumped slightly; he hoped neither Johann or his mother had noticed. He turned back to them and sat down, gathering his thoughts into something more coherent and less full of healer jargon for them to understand.

"Your organs are having some trouble, as far as I can tell," he said. "Blood's not a very specific indicator, even if it hints at what's to come. I can't possibly tell you which organs of yours are feeling the pressure, but it's most likely going to start with your heart. The sleeping potion and lack of food may already be dealing a number on your stomach, your kidneys are probably," getting into merry trouble with caffeine-- don't say this out loud!, "straining under the amount of caffeine you drink...it's your vital organs, let's just leave it at that. Water, Johann. That won't do damage to your body. Keep yourself hydrated with that.

"What do you do now?" Arcturus pressed his lips together into a straight line. "That's not such an easy question, but the first thing is that you don't immediately go cold turkey on those sleeping potions." The last time you did left behind memories I'm not too fond of. "Otherwise you'll just boomerang yourself back to them. But you need to start eating better, resting enough and stop drinking caffeine. Do away with the caffeine, in fact - if you feel like you need to stop work, just stop and rest. Keep your diet balanced, don't just take a bite from a sandwich and call it lunch. Refrain from alcohol, that will just accelerate the damage. If you do need the sleeping potion, you're going to have to start rationing yourself on them. Tell yourself that you should be in charge of your body, not the other way round."

He paused. As much as the rational core of him was indeed rational, it was also heavily sarcastic and there had been an entire string of snarky comments in his head that he'd replaced with something a little more healer-y. Not here. "I need you to stop and think about what you want your future to be. As for those voices in your head..." Arcturus shook his head. "...I can't do anything for those. I can only give you the tonic I've been working on, and that will only delay the organ damage. But I feel that if you take care of yourself, for once, perhaps they will find themselves with nothing to complain about and keep quiet."

The healer spread his hands. "That's all about the advice I can give you based on everything I've done. There is nothing more that I can do otherwise, at least for the moment. I'm still working on it, but time is not on our side. It's all up to you." He interlaced his fingers together and looked at the two of them expectantly for any response to what he'd just said.

The verdict was not any further reassuring. Her eyes didn't leave Healer Hollingbury's face, but out of the corner of her eye she could see her son's expression remain strangely neutral, though his blue eyes betrayed the calm. He was scared. But it was good to be. This wasn't something he could avoid, or run away from, this was happening.

Water Camille scratched into the notebook almost redundantly, though it was a way to keep focused. Johann gave a single nod and rearranged his hands in his lap.

Don't withdraw suddenly
No caffeine
Balanced diet, eat proper meals
Stop working and rest
No alcohol
Ration potion

At the Healer's mention of the voices, Camille glanced sidelong at Johann who's gaze had dropped again, but still fearful behind his eyes.

"Johann?" The Arithmancy Professor asked quietly of her son. He looked up and gave a single nod, thoughtful. "It scares me that you will have to keep taking these potions, but like you say," she glanced to Arcturus, worried, "he's become accustomed to them so much his body won't cope without." Her hand went to her mouth, fingers curled, unsure as she studied Johann. He was so quiet, he always asked questions, why wasn't he asking questions?

In the silence between the three of them she felt obliged to fill it with repetition.
"No coffee, no wine, eat properly, drink water, rest. Thank you Healer Hollingbury, all very logical, achievable steps." She glanced at the time, and shifted in her seat. "When will you need to see him again?"