Why can't you be good for something

James loved Euphemia Potter. Really, he did.

She was a kind and gentle woman but what got to James was all she would talk about was food. Constantly. He remembers that even when he was younger, she would constantly be saying,

‘Im going to need to walk off this meal later,’ or ‘I’ve gained so much weight recently, I need to fast again.’ She would say those terrible things as his father would just sit there, looking rather uncomfortable as he would tell her, “I think you’re fine as you are my love.”

James Potter loved his mum. He did. But sometimes he disliked her so much.

James walks into the cottage he’d grown up in all his life. He smiles at his father as he sets down his bags for him in the living room. Euphemia was in the kitchen, making some food. The thought of eating right now made James sick to his stomach. He had to lose weight this summer.

“Thanks dad.” James smiles and takes his bag up to his room, sighing as he sees the large bedroom. A four poster bed stands in against the wall with dark brown cupboards and a desk scattered around in a neat fashion. His mother had clearly spent some time in there, because all of James’s messy trinkets were now in perfect order. He sighed a little to himself.

It had gotten a little annoying recently. His mum would always write about how much she missed him and wanted him home, he couldn’t help but be glad he was at Hogwarts.

He felt slightly guilty in thinking that, because of course he missed his parents. He just didn’t miss the constant longing looks from his mum when he ate. Or his dad not caring a day after something bad had happened like he just forgot James existed. Or the walking in on his mum just staring at herself in the mirror. Or the not eating and then having the decency to tell James he looked too skinny. How the hell was he meant to know what a normal relationship with food looked like when he couldn’t even have a mum who ate normally?

James walked down the tiled stairs, sighing as the smells of spices and herbs wafted through the open kitchenette. He glanced at a family photo from last year. God, he was so much fatter. He could never go back to that. Ever.

“James, love!” Effie called from behind the bench. “Come help me with the vegetables.”

James took a deep breath and tried to push the nagging nausea from the back of his throat away, stepping into the kitchen and staring at all of the poison scattered around. The food. He ignores the urge to pile his plate high with food and start to binge and started to chop up some capsicum.

Slowly James starts to think about everything. He’d never been very good at starving- always having one or two things during the day and a large dinner. Maybe that was why he was gaining so much weight again. Another whole pound from his previous weight. Maybe that was why Lily had broken up with him. He was simply too disgusting. She was so pretty and he was, well, James. ‘No, no’ He scolded himself. She had broken up with him because she liked Mary. She had never liked him in the first place and James was a horrible person. He let out a small gasp as he slipped with the knife, pricking his finger. He put the small wound into his mouth.

“James.” His mother sighs. “What have I told you about daydreaming in the kitchen? Go get a band aid.” 

'How about He pushed down the urge to start yelling and instead he forced a smile.

“Sorry mum. Won’t happen again.”

But it did happen again. Late at night in his childhood bedroom, his plushies facing the wall so they wouldn’t have to see the monster that was the blade on James Potter’s upper thighs. Silent tears leaked as he pressed down again and again. He could barely breathe as he thought about how his mother only had a single protein shake for dinner.

God he was even more pathetic for doing this over something as stupid at that.

The usual quietness that cutting gave him didn’t come to James this time. His brain was usually quiet and just focused on one thing. But today, his mind felt like a whir of everything that had happened. He wiped his eyes and tucked the blade back into his jewellery case. He took a few deep breaths and tries not to worry about hiding it. He could always just say it was a hex- he’d worry about excuses later. James stands up and gently washes the cuts with a gentle towel. He puts bandages over them and puts on his pyjama pants. He couldn’t have anyone finding out through some stupid infection.

So the little cleaning he did would have to do for the night. He tried to not think about his exhaustion or the way his thighs still touched as he drifted off to a deep sleep.