Group Therapy

Michael had secured a large room on the first floor for his experiment. Well, he shouldn't really be thinking of it as an experiment. More like a trial, perhaps? There were many people in the wizarding world lately that could do with talking their problems through in front of empathetic listeners.

He only hoped that (a) most of the people who showed up today would be empathetic and (b) people would show up.

He'd begun preparations by creating a large ring with the chairs the room was stocked with, though there were more lined up against the walls in case they were needed. And there was a variety of refreshments lined up on a table under the window. At least St Mungos had good catering these days.

He said he would get off of her back if she just logged in the hours. It was a group thing so she figured she could claim she was someone who just needed to be in the environment to feel the effect, decline actually speaking, and all would be fine. She would log the hours and Teddy wouldn't take her to the hospital again.

It had been against her will of course. The stupid Baker kid had ruined it, ruined their no-strings-attached thing by calling Teddy after one of her night terrors. Teddy dragged her to the hospital where they put all these trauma terms in her head and made her seem like a refugee rather than someone who had just gone through some shitty times. She knew he was the one who had convinced the healer to prescribe her with the therapy. She fought, she fought, but on Teddy's promise that he would back off if she did it, she finally allowed herself to lose control to the ways of this world.

Wasn't that the very thing they were trying to cure her of?

She hadn't spoken to Baker or Teddy since, of course, on the principle of them assuming any control over what she did. But she kept her promise and showed up, asking the receptionist which way she was headed. She nodded and followed the directions.

There was no one there. Well, except for the guy who looked like he was probably in charge. He had that air, that air of 'this is more than just this.' She glanced around, taking in the chairs and the refreshments table, before choosing a seat that was 3 o'clock to the other man, deciding it was probably safest there.

And then she waited. If she had to spend the entirety waiting, she would not be upset.

i-made-a-thing

Woo, group therapy. There was a time when Shylock had thought he'd never be happy about therapy, but knowing he was about to talk about himself in front of other people made him glad he'd already spoken to Michael in private.  At least he knew what his malfunction was.

He was escorted up to the conference room; he was escorted everywhere lately, even the loos. It was actually convenient, having someone to lean on when he lost his balance or began hallucinating. Not that that happened very often since the healers had straightened out his "meds".

The nurse had the decency to stop at the door. Healing workers had a tendency to treat patients as though they weren't there, and from what Shylock had picked up when they talked over his head, he wasn't impaired enough to warrant another member of staff being rostered. They were fitting him in between other patients, which meant she doubtless wanted to get back to her work.

Inside, it was only him, Michael, and one other girl. He recognised her as a Weasley-or-Potter, but only because she'd started school when he was there. Shylock had never hung out with people like that. Had never hung out with people at all. He wouldn't have been able to say what her name was.

Still, after a listless wave to the healer, he went and sat by her.

"What're you in for?" he asked.

outfit

It was while they were at her treatment when someone brought up the idea of attending group therapy.  There was a group.  It was happening today.  Would she like to go?  Of course, Lucy didn't really get a choice.  She was here with her dad.  Of course she "wanted" to go.  Daddy would probably fall apart if he thought there was something wrong with her mind as well as her body.

She was still swigging blood replenishing potion from a bottle as she entered the room, only to see her least favourite cousin.  

She didn't exactly dislike Lily, but ever since her "problem" had come out, the other girl had become the world's biggest drama queen and it was driving Lucy up the wall.  What mainly annoyed Lucy about it was the way Lils insisted she wanted to be independent, but then went completely to pieces whenever there was an audience.  Like she was doing it especially for them. That was the part that pissed Lucy off. Lily had been an attention seeker all her life, but nobody else ever seemed to notice.

Lucy shot Lily a dirty look and took the chair directly opposite her. Maybe this wouldn't be as boring as she'd thought.

Lily had, unfortunately, chosen a seat that face the door. She supposed it was an unconscious choice, something born out of her new mindset that focused on almost animalistic survival. Much of her sense of self had been stripped from her, but that sense of 'do what you must to live' had only been heightened. It almost made her feral.

A man entered and her eyes briefly lifted to look at him, before they dropped again. She had become remarkably good at just shutting off, thinking and feeling nothing. Most of her days she was just... there. Just a figure.

The man sat next to her and spoke. She considered the question and found that, even if she did feel like speaking, she wouldn't have a clear cut answer. There were lots of reasons she was here, and there were even more reasons that weren't true that had put her in this position.

"Having an overprotective brother, I think," was the answer she settled on.

Speaking of family.

Her eyes did not immediately flit away at the sight of Lucy Weasley, as she wasn't sure it was Lucy. She knew, of course, it was, but Lucy had gotten a little taller since she had last seen her, looked a little older. The younger girl seemed displeased to see her, and Lily foolishly wondered if maybe Molly had told her about the scene she had been rescued from. Almost as instantly as the thought appeared, it was banished when Lily reminded herself that Molly spoke to no one, especially her family.

Lily was briefly tempted to point out that their relation might cause a conflict of interest. But what was the use of rocking the boat? She had no intentions on speaking anyway.

Shylock nodded in sympathy with the Potter-or-Weasley. He knew that feel.  It was the way he'd felt until, oh, very recently.  Even then, when he'd decided to try and get better it was more because watching Selwyn worry was more painful than whatever he inflicted on himself.

"Join the club," he replied.  He did, after all, have an interfering older brother as well.

"It won't be as bad as you probably think.  Just people talking about how screwed up they are.  I'm Shylock."

He considered offering a hand to shake, but she didn't seem the type who wanted human contact.  You learnt to spot them after a while in the psych ward, if only because they tended to lash out at anyone who got too close.

Michael stopped pretending to make himself coffee. He'd left it fifteen minutes and no further patients had turned up. If anything could be learned from this is was how little credibility psychology had in the wizarding world.

"Looks like it's just the four of us today, then," he said, taking his own seat in the circle.

He hadn't been intending to do this. It wasn't supposed to be one of those Anonymous meetings like muggles set up, but Michael knew how unlikely it was for either of the girls to talk and putting Shylock on the spot seemed unfair.

So after setting his cup on the floor he immediately stood.

"I'm Michael and I have emotional trauma."

Lily had dropped her gaze to examine her shoes, better to look at her own clothing than to meet the judgmental gaze of her cousin. She did not often think of herself as a victim, despite the fact that a victim complex would probably be quite complementary to all of her other issues. Honestly, Lily did not think of herself much, nor did she think of how people viewed her.

However, the addition of a cousin who looked so displeased with her to an already impossible thing as group therapy seemed a bit like insult to injury.

She glanced up at the man, glanced away, and then allowed for a little lift of her lips. "Lily," she responded.

The guy, the looks-like-he's-in-charge-guy, took a seat and called them all to, and Lily immediately felt more ill at ease at the realization that it would be very hard to avoid talking.

He spoke, introducing himself with a name and a diagnosis. She allowed her eyes to settle on her knees, waiting...

Surely there was more?

Was this totally awkward or what? Lucy and Lily were family and Michael would have been paramount to family if he wasn't so averse to the Order of the Phoenix. Now, with this revelation, that made sense to Lucy.

Jenna sometimes alluded to how Dumbledore's Army had screwed Terry up, but Lucy had always assumed Michael had his shit together. She made a mental note to look up the clinical definition of emotional trauma when she got back to school.

For now, it was time for introductions. She'd seen enough television while staying with Grandpa Arthur to know how this went.

"I'm Lucy," she said, standing, "which I think you all know."

"I have chronic blood poisoning from being bitten by an acromantula when I was twelve. And I guess that's pretty depressing."

She knew that wasn't what Michael wanted to hear, but she got psychoanalysed enough from his daughter, thanks.

Fiona Grimm couldn't believe she was late. She hurried down the hallways behind the healer that had promised to help her find her way, clenching her fists together and cheeks turning pink. She wanted to turn back and just disappear, but she felt on the hook with this healer now, and doing so could potentially lead to some sort of confrontation that she wasn't ready for.

"It's right here," the healer said, peeking through the window. "Looks like they've already begun."

"Maybe I should just go," she said, taking a step back.

"Don't be silly, it's fine," the healer said, opening the door and ushering her inside.

Finn had entered right on top of Lucy Weasley's admission. She hovered next to the door, gaze lowered, hands fumbling to clasp in front of her.

Once Lucy was done, she felt eyes on her and she cleared her throat, rubbing her arms. "Sorry I'm late, I- sorry. I'm Fiona Grimm, I, um, struggle with anxiety, I guess. Especially, um, social anxiety?"

She looked down at her feet and the quickly crossed, sinking into a chair next to the Potter girl.