James Potter is fucking falling apart. He is tumbling down, scrambling for purchase on a cliff made of jagged, sharp edges, leading down to a void of nothingness.
He is breaking apart and knows he has no right to be.
James was thankful to have the friends he did. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were the perfect combination of kind, mischievous, and smart. The four of them had a dynamic James wouldn't change for the entire world.
But being their friend meant James had a firsthand insight into the struggles his friends constantly faced. Sirius' abusive family, along with pressure to keep an eye out for Regulus. Remus facing constant discrimination, lonely and full of self-hatred. Peter, whose father was entirely out of the picture and was riddled with anxiety.
Really, compared to them, James was lucky.
Both of his parents were in the picture. They weren't abusive at all. His family had loads of money due to their heritage, and James hadn't gone through a traumatic situation in his entire life.
He knew his parents were good. Really, really good.
But sometimes....sometimes, they would make these comments. They were small, passing words, spoken without a second thought. He doubted his parents even noticed the things they were saying.
That didn't make it weigh down on James any less.
He had really started to notice it when he went back home for break. Normally Sirius and Regulus would have come with him, but they chose to stay at Hogwarts.
(And god, did having Regulus so far away make things so difficult. They had made things official a few weeks before the break started, and James had gotten used to his company. The way he smelled like fresh books and smooth whiskey, the way his voice filled the room. The aching feeling in his heart only made James feel that much worse.)
At first, it was small. His parents had greeted him enthusiastically, excited for his return home. And James was more than thankful to speak Punjabi with them as they asked about his studies and Quidditch.
His father had cast a passing glance at James' figure as they spoke about the last Quidditch game of the season right before the break.
"Might need to stop bulking up so much if you want to keep up that winning streak, kid."
Fleamont had said the words with a light-hearted tone, Euphemia giving a little laugh and gently smacking Fleamont on the shoulder.
James laughed too, ignoring the sinking feeling slowly making itself known in his stomach.
Then it escalated. Almost every mealtime, someone would make some sort of comment. Whether it be about the contents of his dinner, his portion sizes, his figure, or even the way he ate.
He had always been a little self-conscious, but never before had he started to hate himself as much as he did over break. And he knew it wasn't his parent's fault--they were just stating the obvious. Helping him realize.
His parents were fit people, too. Euphemia was known for her beautiful skin and model-like figure, and Fleamont had all the ruggedness of a retired sports professional. They must have been on to something.
Mealtimes became the most dreaded time of day for James. After the third day back home, he found himself stepping on a muggle scale, curious to see if his father really meant it when he had said James was 'chubbing' up.
He found he couldn't look away from the number that was glaring back at him. His mouth had gone dry, hands immediately finding the extra skin on his stomach and squeezing it harshly.
Things had spiraled from there. As often as possible, James would try to skip meals or eat as little as he possibly could. It had been difficult, going from eating a lot for Quidditch to eating significantly less.
He told himself it was worth it.
Outside of the food thing, his parents were perfect over break. They entertained his rambling and allowed him to spend hours a day roughing around outside. Really, if he tried hard enough, he could ignore the comments they made.
Until one night. It was around the end of the break, and James was proud to see he had already started looking a little thinner in the mirror. Sure, he was lightheaded and dizzy all the time, and sure, he found himself cold more often than not, but it was alright.
He had skipped dinner that night, but found his stomach aching intensely from hunger. As much as he hated it, James made the executive decision to sneak down to the kitchen and grab a protein bar, resolving to skip breakfast the next morning.
As he snuck down the stairs, he overheard his parents talking.
Talking about him.
"Did you see James's most recent scores?" Fleamont asked. From his position at the bottom of the stairs, James could see his father seated at the kitchen table, sipping from a glass of wine.
"I did." Euphemia sighed. James swallowed at how upset his mother sounded.
"I hoped our son would be smart, especially considering the way he's been letting himself go recently. I mean, if he won't commit himself to being good at sports, he should at least try to be less idiotic."
Fleamont nodded in agreement.
"Especially with those friends of his. Remus and Lupin are quite smart themselves, and Sirius is such a respectable young lad. I feel a bit bad that they have to been seen with our bloke-head of a son. Hopefully, James can pull himself together and be someone his friends actually want to be seen with."
It was at that point James decided he didn't want to hear anymore. He slowly crept back up the stairs, not even realizing the way his eyes were watering.
Maybe they were right. An itch made itself known under James's skin, and the razor on his countertop shone to him like a beacon. He hadn't even wanted it when he was younger, insisting he didn't need to learn how to shave the muggle way.
That night, he had been more than grateful for it.
He had gone to bed with bloody lines carved into his skin and a heavy weight on his chest. He had nothing to be upset about, was what he told himself.
School would be better.
Returning back to school, James found, was not better.
The words of his parents echoed in his mind almost constantly. When he had first arrived back at Hogwarts, he wanted nothing more than to see his friends. But as soon as he hugged them, he remembered.
"I feel a bit bad that they have to be seen with our bloke-head of a son."
It was fine, really. James was fine. He owed it to his friends to be there for them, to help them, to be a support system. Because obviously, he wasn't useful for much else.
He figured maybe, if he dedicated himself to everyone else, they would have less of a chance to notice just how disgusting he was.
And it had worked. James found himself constantly busy, aiding everyone in anything they could have possibly needed. Helping Pandora and Barty review, patrolling with Lily, going along with whatever tasks Mary needed done.
Maybe it had left James with barely any time to see his friends or eat at meals. And maybe he got barely a minute to spare with Regulus, who James started to miss more and more.
But it was okay. James made sure to spend just enough time with them for it to not be suspicious, fake smiles painted on his face. And he found himself piling up excuses on excuses when it came to Regulus, lying to his boyfriend right through his teeth.
It made him feel bad. It made him feel like he was less than the dirt on the ground. Because what kind of person do you have to be to lie to your friends? To lie to the love of your life? To be such a fucking disappointment that even your own parents couldn't help but notice?
He was determined to be better. To do better.
He would get smarter, thinner, become the perfect friend and boyfriend. Then maybe he would feel less like there was a huge, gaping wound right where his heart was. Maybe he would feel less like there was an anvil constantly resting on his chest, getting heavier and heavier each day.
And maybe, just maybe, he would feel like less of a burden on everyone around him. Maybe if he kept going like this, he would feel like he had a right to steal precious resources like air and water and food away from people who actually needed them.
And well, James Potter was known for being a risk-taker.
He was more than happy to take his chances on that maybe.
---------
It was getting harder and harder for James to hide it. He found himself slipping up more, going days without seeing his friends and cutting in more visible spots.
(He found, with the lack of presence his friends had in his life, his razor blade was proving to be a comforting substitute. Hidden away at the bottom of his satchel, like a soothing balm available for temporary relief.)
It had been a few weeks since the end of break, and James found himself exhausted more often than not. His friends had started to notice something was up. They hadn't said anything just yet, but James would've needed to be blind to miss the worry in their eyes.
It made him feel sick. He didn't deserve their kindness.
His grades were starting to dip, too. Despite the fact that he was studying harder than he ever had in his life, even reviewing with classmates outside of class hours. It just wasn't enough, somehow.
James was never enough. Never athletic enough, never smart enough, never fit enough, never kind enough, never worthy enough.
The bags under his eyes were getting bigger. It reached the point where even Professor McGonagall said something, stopping him in the hallway to kindly inform him her office was always open if he needed to talk.
James just pulled his lips up into a facsimile of a smile, nodding and thanking her for the gesture.
(He forcefully ignored the way her soft tone reminded James of how his mother used to be. Of when he felt like he could approach her with any problems he had, sure she would act as a comforting figure. Now though....
No. His mother was fine. His parents were fine. They didn't hit him, they gave him everything he could possibly ask for. It was him who was the problem.
Always the ungrateful son, wasn't he?)
He found himself moving on autopilot most days. If you asked him what he had done the day before, he doubted he would be able to remember. Everything blurred together all the time.
He was losing time, and he didn't know how to make it stop.
The morning after McGonagall's offer, James forced himself to wake up early, hoping he could get a head start in revision.
Unfortunately, his isolation in the corner of the common room did not last for long. Fully involved in his potions textbook (god, the words were swirling on the page, his head fucking hurt, he didn't know how much longer he could do this-) he didn't even notice someone standing in front of him.
The person tapped on his shoulder, and James flinched at the unexpected touch, jerking his head up to see who it was. He relaxed minutely when he saw it was just Remus, tiredly forcing a light smile on his face.
It didn't stop Remus's frown from making itself known on his face, eyes scanning James's hunched-up figure with barely disguised worry.
"Come to breakfast with us. Please. Peter and Sirius are waiting outside the common room." Remus left no room for objection in his statement. His expression was firm and resolute in a way James had rarely seen.
He hesitated, worrying his lower lip. He didn't want to burden them at all, and he really didn't want to fall behind any more than he already was, but he was sort of hungry, and he couldn't help the way his heart ached at the idea of sitting with his friends again...
Remus shoved his hand in front of James, offering it as a way to help him get up. The other boy had his eyebrows raised, eyeing James with a strange softness.
"Stop thinking so hard about it and just come sit with us, Prongs. If only just for breakfast."
James grabbed Remus's arm, forcefully pushing away the doubts that came to the forefront of his mind. Remus wanted him there. Remus was asking for him to be there.
It was just one meal. Just one short break, and then he would go back to work.
Remus had a small smile on his face as they started walking towards the Great Hall. Something inside James shriveled up when Sirius and Peter perked up as they saw him. They looked so surprised and happy to see him.
It just served as a reminder as to how bad of a friend James was. It only made him feel worse, because that was what he was meant to be good at. He was meant to be the good friend, the reliable friend, the one who was always there for everyone.
If he didn't have that, then what did he have?
Nothing. He had nothing.
Swallowing down the bitterness in his throat, James mustered up a lackluster smile. Sirius and Peter didn't seem to notice his lack of enthusiasm, too busy talking to him about the drama and gossip he had missed.
James didn't dare look at Remus. The person he considered a brother. He knew Remus would be able to see right through him. James wasn't sure if that reassured him or scared him.
The Great Hall was busy as always, everyone bursting with energy at the start of the day. James found himself mechanically following Peter, Remus, and Sirius to their normal spot at the Gryffindor table.
(He spared a glance at the Slytherin table, catching a glimpse of Regulus's perceptive gaze. Nausea arose in James's throat, and he fought the urge to dig his nails into his arms so hard that the skin started to bleed.
He was such a bad boyfriend. God, how could anyone even love someone like him?)
As soon as they sat down, Sirius and Peter started loading food onto their plates.
Remus took a more reserved approach, placing a few pastries and some bread with jam on his plate. Sirius frowned at how little Remus had on his plate, moving some food off his own plate onto Remus's. Remus smiled indulgingly at Sirius, eyes shining with affection.
It was routine for the couple, and it made James feel grateful that they had each other. Peter had gotten distracted from his meal, engaged in a conversation with Mary. It was nice that they all had someone.
They probably wouldn't even notice if you disappeared forever. They would probably be glad to be done dealing with your shit.
James blinked in surprise. Where did that thought come from?
He tried his best to shrug the thought off.
James was pulled away from the recesses of his mind by Sirius.
"You should eat something, mate. You're going to need all your energy for History of Magic-they should ban classes that boring so early in the morning."
Sirius looked earnestly at James, waiting expectantly for him to put any food at all on his plate. It was a nice gesture--nicer than James could ever deserve. He found himself nodding weakly in agreement, trying to pretend the thought of eating didn't make him want to vomit.
He assumed he had been sitting still for too long, as now both Remus and Peter were staring in addition to Sirius. The weight of their gazes felt heavy, and James was worried that if they looked for too long they would all see right through him.
"I suppose some toast wouldn't hurt." James tried his best to smile at them all as he put a piece of toast on his plate. Wordlessly, Peter passed him the strawberry jam. It was his favorite type of jam--he almost always ate it at breakfast.
(When he had breakfast, that is. He couldn't remember the last time he had strawberry jam. When he ate it on break, his mother had pursed her lips and tightly smiled at him.
He had only ended up eating half of his toast that morning, each bite like nails stabbing down his throat. He hadn't even been sure what he had done wrong, but it had been enough to put him off jam for a while.)
"It's your favorite, right?" Peter asked, shyness creeping into his tone. He had definitely gotten more confident as the years went on, but there were moments when his anxiety took over.
James nodded. His cheeks were starting to ache from how long he had been forcing himself to smile. Peter had been nice enough to remember his favorite jam, even passing it to him.
Taking a deep breath, he spread a thin layer of jam over the toast. As soon as the smell hit his nose, he fought the urge to gag. He stared down at the toast, vaguely wondering if he could even eat it without throwing up.
"Are you going to eat that, or just stare at it all day?" Sirius jokingly asked. James knew Sirius didn't mean to, but it made James feel even more pathetic. Here he was, in the house known for bravery, and he couldn't even eat a piece of fucking bread.
(You're so pathetic you should just fucking die honestly, no one would even notice or care so why don't you just throw yourself off the roof, really it would be a favor to everyone-)
Shutting his eyes, James shoved the toast into his mouth, taking a sizable bite out of it. The very first thing he noticed was how good it tasted.
He hadn't realized how hungry he had been. He never thought bread and jam would taste this good, but it did. He was hit with the sudden urge to shove the rest into his mouth. He swallowed the piece in his mouth.
James took a second bite. And another. And another. He didn't even realize he had finished the toast until he looked down at his place. He had just been so hungry.
Peter, Remus, and Sirius had all gone back to their respective conversations, content to see that James had eaten something. What they didn't notice was the way his eyes filled with tears as he stared down at his empty plate.
That was so many calories. So many grams of sugar. All the carbs would go to his hips, and then his thighs would fill in, and then people would notice, and then Regulus would break up with him because who would want an ugly fucking slob as a boyfriend-
Stumbling up out of his chair, James bolted out of the Great Hall. He could vaguely hear his friends shout his name in concern, but he paid them no attention. He ran right into the bathroom, locking himself in a stall as he tried to keep himself from hyperventilating.
The boys' loo was luckily empty. James didn't think he could handle another person witnessing his breakdown.
His hands made their way to his pair, pulling harshly as he tried to stave off the incoming panic. He had skipped out on his morning studying to eat breakfast, and now he was going to fall behind, and then the school would send a letter to his parents and his mother would be so upset at how much he had eaten today...
His breathing had gotten faster. He was so fucking nauseous and everything was falling apart and he didn't know what to do.
Lurching forwards, James threw up. He sunk down and rested his knees on the ground of the bathroom, hunched over the toilet seat. He heaved again, nothing but bile coming up. His chest burned, and his ribs ached from the strain of his current position.
To his absolute humiliation, he felt tears drip down his face. He felt so utterly pathetic, so unworthy of everything he had been given in life.
The sound of the bathroom door opening reverberated through the room, and James froze. His chest felt tight and his whole body felt cold. His throat felt like it was closing up.
He heard footsteps walking down, eventually stopping right in front of the stall he was in.
"James?" A voice called out. James recognized it instantly.
Regulus. Why was his boyfriend here? How did he know James would be here? Why did he even come, why did he even care at all? James wasn't even a good boyfriend. He had been ignoring Regulus, and he was stupid and ugly and the worst partner anyone could ask for.
The feet shuffled closer. James could tell by the sound, even though he was angled towards the side of the stall and could barely see the gap underneath the stall.
"I know it's you--your shoes still have that crude drawing of a penis that Sirius drew. Can I come in, darling? The stall isn't locked, but I understand if you would prefer I remain out here."
The soft, affectionate tone Regulus had made James want to cry even harder. His Regulus, his whole universe, was so so kind, so soft to him.
He did not deserve it.
He deserved the sharp edges of a razor blade, the biting stings of his parents and minds mocking words, the aching pain of pushing his muscles past their limit. Not the gentle, soothing words, not the little actions that softened his aching heart with temporary relief.
"Dear, I know I said I would respect your privacy, however, if you do not respond soon I will assume the worst - that you are either unconscious or dead. And I have to say, I am not particularly interested in encountering either of those outcomes." His tone was mostly dry, though there was an undertone of worry that bled into each of the words.
Most wouldn't be able to notice it, with Regulus rarely injecting emotion into his words. To James, it was all he could notice.
He was worried. About James. Some sick part of him felt happy that Regulus was worried, that someone cared about him, that he was ill enough to be noticeable.
Swallowing, James leaned his head against the wall.
He was just so tired. He shut his eyes, exhaling slowly. Maybe...maybe it would be okay to get some help from someone else, just for a moment. A small, weak moment, and then he could go back to being strong and okay and smart and healthy.
"Come in," James said weakly, coughing at the strain it put on his throat. His voice was hoarse, making it obvious he had just thrown up.
Regulus slowly pulled the door open. He peered down at James, who tried his best to weakly smile up at his boyfriend. He was pretty sure it only made Regulus more concerned, considering the dried tears on his face and snot running down his nose.
"Shall I escort you to Madame Pomphrey? You seem unwell."
Unwell. Unwell didn't even begin to describe how James had been doing. Breaking, perhaps. Melting from the inside. Tearing, burning, ripping himself to shreds.
Madame Pomphrey could not see him. Because she would see him and then speak to his parents, perceive how broken he is and report to Dumbledore. She would attempt to fix him, and James knew deep down he was unfixable.
"No, no Madame Pomphrey-" James abruptly stopped speaking, leaning to the side to cough heavily, chest burning at the strain. "I'm fine."
Regulus his eyebrows at James, absolutely incredulous at his boyfriend's stubbornness.
"Yeah, love, and I'm full of sunshine and rainbows. Now are you going to start being honest, or would you like this to continue until another student inevitably comes in? Not that I don't enjoy speaking with you, considering how much you've been avoiding me, but it would be significantly more enjoyable if I perhaps knew why my sunshine had a panic attack and threw up in the boy's loo."
White hot guilt shot through James like a bullet. The reminder that he had been avoiding Regulus made him feel really shit. And here he was again, making Regulus stand in the stall of the boy's bathroom while he sat on the floor like a fucking idiot.
James scowled down at the ground. Regulus did have a point about leaving the bathroom before anyone else came in. Fuck, why did his boyfriend have to make sense?
"I hate when you use your logic-talk on me."
The edge of Regulus's mouth curled into a smirk.
"You mean common sense?"
James sighed tiredly.
"Fuck off. I really am fine, promise. Help me up."
Regulus sighed, holding his arm out for James to grab. James leaned forward a little, weakly grabbing Regulus and trying his best to stand up. Regulus ended up having to do most of the work.
He pulled James up and said boy stumbled forward a bit into Regulus. He steadied himself, taking a small step back, face pink as he realized how close he was to Regulus.
"I will not be letting this go, by the way." Regulus hesitated a moment, softening his voice. "I know you, and I know you are not fine. But I can wait for you to come to me. Just...tell me, before it gets really bad. Alright?"
James swallowed, heart pounding out of his chest.
"Alright."
His mouth felt like it was full of ash, tongue heavy. Disgust with himself settled deep in his stomach, absolute and utter self-hatred filling his body.
Somehow, he felt like they both knew the promise was a lie.
---------
James found himself drifting through the days following the incident, as he had dubbed it in his mind. Regulus had yet to corner James so they could speak, though that was partly due to James not even giving him the chance.
He couldn't remember the last time he had seen any of his friends for more than five minutes at a time. Every time they approached James he would dutifully avoid any and all questions about his well-being before escaping away with half-hearted excuses.
They were worried after he had abruptly left breakfast the other day, but James could tell they were getting tired of his excuses. Tired of his avoidance.
Tired of him.
James understood. He was tired of himself, too.
He had created this fragile secret routine, every morning mentally keeping track of how many calories he had eaten, the assignments he had upcoming, the number of cuts on his arms and thighs, and every way in which he had failed his friends, parents, and partner.
That morning was shaping up to simply be another tedious day in his weeks of mechanical subconscious self-destruction.
He had gone to breakfast with everyone else, sitting quietly in the Great Hall as his friends socialized with each other. They knew better than to try to engage James, after the first few days of him dodging conversations and providing single-word responses.
Most days he would leave the Great Hall having eaten little to nothing, and he couldn't ignore the way his chest would ache at the lack of notice or comment from his friends.
James knew he shouldn't feel upset. He was the one who pushed his friends away in the first place, he had no right to feel disappointed that it actually worked.
Maybe they hadn't been saying anything because they thought James needed to cut back on what he was eating. The thought had popped up in the back of his head a few times, but he was unable to prevent it from crawling to the front of his mind.
He had been trying really hard to be better about his health.
He had been practicing for Quidditch nearly non-stop, and when the weather didn't permit it, he would do push-ups and sit-ups in his room when no one else was there.
Sometimes, even if he had Quidditch earlier that day, he would still quietly work out in his room late at night. There were days when he would get back from practice and look down at the way his stomach bloated out and immediately feel upset that practice hadn't been enough.
Plus, he had been really conscious about diet as well. His mother's voice was ever-present in his head, almost always there whenever he dared to even think about food. Neither of his parents had reached out to him since term had started, and James wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
He tried not to think about it too much.
James felt his head start to ache the longer he sat in the Great Hall. It was his own fault for choosing to come to breakfast that morning, but the idea of skipping out on his friends once again made him nauseous.
Hesitantly, he loaded a bit of egg and sausage onto his plate. He stared down at the food on the plate, half-heartedly pushing it around with his fork.
Suddenly, everyone's attention was drawn to the two owls flying toward their group. One was a larger owl, with a letter holding the Black insignia clutched in its talon.
Everyone was on high alert, watching Sirius as he tried to disguise his apprehension. He grabbed the letter out of the owl's claws with a trembling hand, staring down at it with his lips pressed together.
The second owl was significantly smaller, and it held a letter with the Potter insignia on it. Thankfully, everyone's attention was on Sirius, so James was able to grab the letter and quickly shove it to the bottom of his bag without anyone noticing.
He didn't need to take all the attention away, especially when one of his closest friends was going through a difficult time. His abusive mother had sent him a letter likely full of disgusting vitriol, and James had seen firsthand how damaging the Black matriarch could be.
The last thing Sirius needed was for James to be a selfish asshole, taking the focus away and onto how he felt about his own parents when he had no right to even compare their situations.
"You don't need to open it." Remus said softly. Sirius just nodded minutely, still staring down at the letter. Swallowing, he glanced up at Remus, leaning a bit into the other boy.
Sirius's knuckles were white around the letter. Swiftly, he lifted up the wax seal, pulling out the parchment. Everyone was quiet as he read through the paper, only making a move to comfort him once he set the letter down.
He wasn't crying - Sirius never liked to cry in front of other people, but his lips were pressed thinly against themselves and his hands shook quite badly.
Remus immediately took charge, grasping Sirius's hands in his own. Peter murmured a spell under his breath, and the offending piece of parchment lit up in flames.
It seemed as though Regulus had been clued in as to what was going on, as the Slytherin was keenly watching Sirius from across the Great Hall. James had no doubt that his partner's hands were clenched tightly around his silverware, muscles tense and aching.
Regulus would probably come to the Gryffindor dorms later. It was obvious how much the brothers cared for each other, though they both did their best to hide it from the rest of the students.
(The thought of Regulus in the dorms made James feel heavy. Almost immediately, he felt guilty for feeling that way. Normal people were happy to see their partners. Normal people didn't panic and throw up in the bathroom at a little bit of jam and toast.)
Though Peter had destroyed the letter, it didn't make a difference. None of them had to read the letter to know what it said anyways. Her words had never changed, not in the many years they had been at Hogwarts. She always hated how independent Sirius was, how rebellious he was, and the way he wasn't afraid to be himself.
James worried his lower lip between his teeth. Reaching into his bag, he dug around a bit before pulling out a sick pass. Holding his arm out, he offered it to Sirius.
He had gotten the sick pass at the beginning of the year, when he had developed a high-grade fever following multiple all-nighters (not that Madame Pomphrey had known that was the reason).
James had never ended up giving the pass to any of his professors, deciding he could sacrifice his health if it meant proving he was good enough to his peers and professors.
It certainly seemed like Sirius would benefit from having it, though. He was normally pretty shaken up after coming into contact with anyone from his family other than Regulus, and being in class would only make him feel worse.
When Sirius eventually noticed what was in James's outstretched hand, he made a little noise of surprise. James tried not to feel hurt at the fact that Sirius was surprised that James would offer any sort of reassurance.
"Are you sure I can have this?" Sirius asked. It was blatantly obvious that he wasn't in his normal mind, because any other day he would be snatching up the pass and cracking some sort of joke about him and Remus sneaking off to a broom closet.
James weakly smiled and nodded. He briefly thought about speaking, but abandoned that thought as soon as his throat dried at the idea.
Sirius grabbed the pass. He tried his best to smirk at James.
"Thanks, Prongs. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone."
There was a slight tremble to his words like he was holding himself back from breaking down right then and there. James didn't say anything. He knew how it felt to hide his deterioration, his disappointment, his aching yearning for someone to hold him and comfort him.
"C'mon love, we would never get into trouble. Don't you know we're all strict rule followers here?" Remus joked. He was obviously trying to cheer Sirius up and distract him, and he was certainly succeeding judging by the way Sirius's lips tilted up in a small genuine smile.
"Of course, how could I forget?" Sirius said dryly. He slowly pushed himself up, with Remus supporting him. All the other students had started finishing up breakfast as well.
"Speaking of rule-following, you should go to class early to give Professor Slughorn the pass before the classroom gets crowded," Peter suggested. The boy made an effort to be on time to every class, something Sirius absolutely avoided like the plague.
This time though, he seemed to be in agreement.
Nodding to himself, Sirius shrugged his messenger bag over his shoulder. Remus smiled at Peter and James, interlocking his fingers with Sirius's.
"I'll go with you, yeah? Don't really want you to be alone after that," Remus said to Sirius. The black-haired boy smiled softly at Remus, nodding in approval. Remus turned back to face James and Peter.
"We'll see you later at the dorms."
With that, Remus and Sirius started walking towards the exit of the Great Hall, blending in with the crowds of students who were already making their way to the first class period. Peter followed quickly behind them, saying something about how his first class was in the same direction that they were walking in.
Now, it was just James, alone at the table. He stared down at his plate of half-eaten food. Sighing heavily, he stood up, dutifully ignoring how lightheaded he got at the sudden movement. He blinked a few times to get rid of the black dots that clouded his vision.
Sliding his arm through the strap of his school bag, James rolled his shoulder back a few times to adjust to the weight.
The bag felt heavier than normal. James had a sneaking suspicion that it was because of a certain letter weighing down the bottom of the bag, something James was trying desperately to forget about.
Slowly exhaling, he steeled himself for the rest of the day.
God, he felt so pathetic. He hadn't even opened the letter and it was already overtaking his mindset. Really, how could he think of himself as anything other than a weak, annoying, and sensitive person that did nothing but weigh down everyone around him?
Clenching his fist tightly, his nails dug deeply into his palm. The stinging pain immediately relaxed him. It brought him back to reality in a way nothing else could.
He would do this. He would get through his classes, and everything would be fine and normal because nothing was wrong in his life and he had no reason to complain or feel upset or crumble under the weight of his own mind.
With that, he left the Great Hall, ignoring the looks he was getting from other students. He could only imagine what they were thinking. The Golden Boy, falling apart at the seams.
James found himself counting the minutes down in almost every class of the day. The time passed by like molasses, everything happening in slow motion.
It was odd, the way he knew what was going on but felt like he wasn't fully there to experience it. He felt like he had been a ghost shadowing his body the whole day, watching himself through someone else's eyes.
He had managed to remind himself to dutifully make two copies of his notes, one to give to Sirius later on after classes. The way his vision started to blur and his wrist started to ache didn't alarm him in the slightest.
James had gotten used to little aching pains - the way his hands would tremble, the way his body would feel cold even under blankets, the way his vision was spotty more often than not.
The pain was almost comforting to him. It was there all the time. The one thing James knew would never abandon him.
And, it was worth it if it meant he was able to give something of value to his friend. Even if it was just class notes. It was the least he owed Sirius, considering how horrible he'd been since the start of the year.
He was so thoroughly annoyed with himself and the fact that he had lost so much time. There were so many things he could have been doing during classes and instead, he had gone up in his head, spending hours instinctively taking notes and thinking about the letter in his bag.
By the last class of the day, James was berating himself non-stop.
Multiple hours had passed. He had lost so much time, so much knowledge, so many minutes and seconds that could have been spent differently. No wonder James was such a subpar student. He couldn't excel at anything, even if he tried.
The amount in which he hated himself was almost exhausting to some degree. His own mind wouldn't let him rest. Nothing James did was ever free from scrutiny, and god if it didn't make waking up in the morning impossible.
Even his own mind was working against him, and James was fucking tired of it, but he genuinely wasn't sure if he could make himself stop. He was never doing enough - always eating too much, sleeping too much, getting too distracted, being too loud, being too quiet. It was always something.
He was never enough, not even for himself.
Sluggishly, James started packing up his notes, haphazardly shoving them into his bag. His hand brushed against something that felt distinctly like wax, and James forced himself to pull his hand away.
The letter could wait. Sirius came first.
James walked out of the classroom, limbs weighing him down with every movement. Everything felt heavy. Someone had tied an anchor to him and slashed a hole through his skin, and now he was sinking down down down.
There was a point, he thought to himself, where this must become unsustainable. Living underwater, taking up valuable space and oxygen that would be better suited for anyone else but him. Maybe he should just...
Someone bumped into his shoulder. James's eyes widened as he stumbled back. He hadn't even realized there were other people in the hall. In fact, he couldn't even remember walking from the classroom to the hallway.
It was Snape. Because of fucking course it was Snape. It was like the cosmic powers were entirely against James having a single moment of peace.
At one point in his life, he might have felt bad for the boy. Having no friends and facing prejudice due to a muggle parent sounded difficult. But that was before James had found out from Lily that the greasy git was bigoted and oddly obsessed with Lily.
James had no time or patience for bigots. Lily had taught him a lot about racism in the muggle world, and James had experienced it firsthand the few times he had gone with her to Cokeworth.
The number of sneers and glares he had gotten was bizarre. He had even had a number of people call him a 'dirty Arab'. No one in his family spoke Arabic, nor did they identify with the label of Arab. The majority of his ancestors were from India, with some distant relatives tracing back to Pakistan and Iran.
It turned out that both wizards and muggles shared ignorance regarding anything related to both the Middle East and South Asia. Occasionally James would hear comments from students about how wizards from the Middle East and South Asia must be 'lesser developed'.
Bold words, coming from students who were learning from a curriculum that contained knowledge stolen from the countries Britain had colonized. But James sincerely doubted the Ministry would ever make an effort to fight against discrimination, considering how they felt about bloodlines and creatures.
Lily had confided in James when Snape had called her that horrendous slur, talking about how the boy had been pulling away from her and acting concerningly more interested in things related to the Dark Arts.
So yeah, James could firmly say he wasn't a big fan of Snape. Especially not on a day like today, where his chest was heavy and his heart was tearing in half and his skin felt like it was being pulled over his bones in the worst way possible.
Snape sneered at James. James didn't even have the energy to react. He just felt fucking tired. The idea of even speaking to Snape was exhausting, much less coming up with an insult or getting defensive.
James was hoping Snape would let it go and he could just walk the rest of the way to the dorms in silence, but of course, things could never go his way.
"Of course, Golden Boy Potter doesn't even bother to grace a lowly peasant like me with an apology. What, busy thinking about classwork?"
James didn't bother with a response. He'd had enough experience to know that Snape wasn't looking for an answer. Even if he did respond, James was sure Snape would barrel right past it.
"You don't even have a good reason to work so hard in class, since everything gets handed to you anyways. Born with a silver spoon. Bet you've never even thought about money, much less where your next meal was coming from. I hate people like you. You think your life is so hard but you don't realize that other people have it so much worse. I don't understand how Regulus can tolerate you."
James's heart dropped. He went from feeling detached and numb to distinctly feeling every single sensation in his body and the air around him. It was like someone had forcefully yanked him back into his body.
He felt like he was frozen. Distinctly, he registered Snape scoffing at his silence before walking away, checking James on the shoulder as he walked past.
Not even the light pain could get him to move. All James could do was replay Snape's words in his mind over and over again, like the world's worst television show.
It was like Snape had taken all of the thoughts James had about himself and verbalized them. Now, instead of just being in his head, the words had been drawn out and transformed into venom, injected right into his bloodstream.
The worst part about it was that Snape was right. James was born into a wealthy family, he had two parents who cared for him, and he never had to worry about money or a roof over his head. He had no reason to feel bad or upset.
Guilt crawled up his throat like bile. His life was so easy and yet he still felt sorry for himself, convincing himself he had problems and difficulties when in reality other people had it so much worse.
James found himself agreeing with Snape. He, too, wondered how Regulus could even tolerate being around him. James could barely even tolerate himself.
Sirius, Remus, and Peter all had real problems and here James was pitying himself because his parents wanted him to be smarter and more fit. A problem he was sure Sirius would love to have, rather than having to deal with his abusive mother.
Hell, Remus's parents had abandoned him, and James was upset that his parents were a little overbearing with what he ate and when he exercised. He couldn't believe he had the audacity to even feel bad for himself when his parents were stellar in comparison to his friends.
Really, James didn't deserve the family he had. He was stealing this position from someone who deserved it more.
In a daze, James walked back to the dorms. The air was thick around him. His skin felt oddly restricting, and James had to resist the urge to scratch at it until it bled and peeled away.
He was so angry. Angry at himself, more than anything. He was so fucking annoyed that his brain couldn't understand that James had no reason to feel anything other than grateful. He hated himself for being born into a family that he didn't deserve.
Sirius deserved to have good parents. Remus deserved to have good parents. Peter deserved to have good parents. They were all so unique, so genuinely kind and good. James was sure his parents would feel proud to have sons like them.
To have a son who didn't take them for granted, to have a son who worked harder, to have a son who wasn't fucked up in the head, to have a son who was normal and special in their own way. Not James.
His whole body felt cold as he entered the dorms. The itch under his skin was getting unbearable, and his stomach felt uncomfortably distended despite the little amount of food he'd eaten that day.
The dorms were largely empty, with a few younger Gryffindors scattered around the common room. Regulus, Remus, and Peter were on the couch, surrounding Sirius while being distant enough to not be suffocating. Sirius had his head resting on Remus's shoulder, with Peter reading a book against the arm of the couch, and Regulus doing homework seated near Sirius.
They barely noticed when James walked in. It was something that he felt both thankful and upset by. He wasn't worth their attention. They deserved someone better than him.
Mechanically, James walked up to Sirius. Remus asked about his day, but James didn't bother to respond, instead ignoring him. Fishing through his bag, James pulled out the class notes he had written down.
He handed them to Sirius. As soon as the other boy grabbed the notes, James turned around and walked right toward his room. Sirius thanked James and asked him to join their motley couch crew, but James forced himself to keep walking.
James could feel Regulus's perceptive eyes digging into his back. He knew if he stopped walking, he would find it near impossible to start again. Part of him yearned to be with his friends, to laugh with them and fool around.
A much bigger part of him knew that he was undeserving of their friendship. If they knew how much James had been taking his luck for granted, they would hate him. They deserved to have a better friend. Someone who didn't wallow in self-pity and feel sorry for themselves despite having no real problems.
So he continued to his dorm room.
It was thankfully empty. The feeling of something under his skin was unbearable, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. His hands twitched at his side. All he could think about was his nails in his arms, digging up the skin as he dragged them up and down.
Shutting his eyes, James exhaled deeply before deciding to sit on the edge of his bed. His bag sat crinkled up next to him, strap still around his shoulder.
Shrugging it off, James worried his lower lip between his teeth, trying his hardest to ignore the temptation that was making itself present. He knew he shouldn't read the letter, especially when his head was like this.
He knew that the letter would only make him feel worse, no matter what it said. But a deeper part of him held this visceral morbid curiosity. The need to know was creeping up on him, spreading throughout his whole body. His fingers twitched.
James tried to shut his eyes. Maybe not seeing the bag would help. Dutifully he started going over potion ingredients and their uses in his mind, attempting to distract himself.
It wasn't working. He had gotten through seven ingredients, but his mind was only halfway there. The other half was imagining the most bizarre worst-case scenario for what could be in the letter.
What if a family member was injured? What if someone had died? What if the letter was actually something extremely important and James was purposefully not reading it? What if something had happened to his mom? What if something had happened to his dad? What if-
Snapping his eyes open, James reached into the bag, impulsively pulling out the letter. His mind wouldn't stop coming up with the idea after idea of what the letter could be, each thought more panic-inducing than the last.
He was willing to risk feeling worse if it meant his brain could shut up, at least for a few seconds.
James stared down at the letter. There was no coming back from this, no way for him to forget his parents' words once he read them.
You're just being dramatic. Fucking open the letter, stop being so weak.
Peeling the seal off, James opened up the envelope. The paper was rough and coarse against his fingers. One of his nails scratched against the paper, and James couldn't help the shiver that ran down his back. Pulling out the letter, James slowly unfolded it.
He was immediately met with his mother's loopy, perfect lettering all across the page. He could almost see it, his father and mother seated together at the table, discussing what should be dictated to their son.
Dear James,
I and your father have been recently informed that your academic and athletic performance has been below par. Safe to say, we were not expecting this from you. It is, perhaps, an understatement to say we are disappointed, but not surprised.
James felt his heart drop. Bile rose up his throat, and he swallowed it back down. His lower lip started to tremble, and he bit down so hard on it that he tasted blood welling up in the divot his teeth had left.
He forced himself to keep reading.
You are the current heir to the Potter name and thus hold the responsibility of representing our family in the Wizarding world.
We had been under the impression that you would be able to handle this responsibility, but obviously, we were wrong. We should not have expected so much of you, since you seem to have a lack of care towards us.
If you cared about your parents and friends, you would have put in the effort, but you did not. We ask that you do not return home until you feel you have become a son worthy of the Potter name. Other children would kill to be born into a family like ours, with wealth and love. We should have known you would take it for granted.
We are not doing this out of hate, but out of love. We hope this will teach you responsibility and the value of our family name. And remember, indulgence is okay every once in a while, but gluttony is a sin for a reason.
Sincerely,
Fleamont and Euphemia Potter
James didn't even realize he was crying until a teardrop fell on the letter. His eyes remained blurred, no matter how hard he blinked. All he ended up doing was causing more and more tears to fall.
He honestly felt like he couldn't breathe. His heart must be in a tight grip, because there was no other way to explain the weight on his chest and the coldness in his sternum.
James wasn't even good enough for his parents. He wasn't good enough for his last name. All he had been doing was spending hour after hour trying, studying, exercising, starving himself, and it still wasn't enough.
Bringing a hand up to his mouth, James let out a quiet, choked sob.
The letter fell to the ground. James bit hard into his hand, trying to remain as quiet as possible. He wasn't quite sure if he was succeeding, considering his sobbing had mutated from little cries to choked-off gasps of air and salty tears dripping onto the floor.
James futilely wiped at his eyes with his free hand. He was a horrible son. So horrible that his parents didn't even want him home for the holidays. Not until he got his act together.
But he had been trying so hard. That's all he had been doing every hour of every day. James didn't think he could try any harder without an extra hour in the day. Why was it never enough? Why was he never enough? Nothing he ever did could be good enough for himself or his parents.
Reaching over, James shoved his hand under his pillowcase, rummaging around for a few moments. He managed to find his razor blade, shoving it in his robe pocket before removing his hand from his mouth.
He took a few shuddering breaths, salt staining his tongue. Standing on trembling legs, James walked towards the dorm bathroom, shoving himself into the single-stall bathroom and locking the door behind him.
Sitting on the closed toilet seat, James pulled the razor out of his pocket.
The glint of metal against his palm served to soothe him somewhat. He deserved to feel the same pain he felt within him on the outside as well.
James slashed the razor against his skin so many times that he lost count. He was entranced in the way the blood welled up before slowly spilling over. He had started with his upper arm and then switched.
The tears had started up again, but it wasn't because of the pain of the cuts. All he could do was replay the words in the letter over and over and over again, each one accompanied by a slight sting of a razor against skin.
Looking down, James cringed at the way his thighs bulged out, skin pressing against the seat in a way that accentuated the size and fat of his thighs. Carefully pulling his pants down just below his knees, James hiked his boxers up slightly.
He had cut his thighs before, at one point delusional enough to think maybe losing blood would make them thinner. He had been wrong-of course that's not how that works-but he had never really shrugged off the habit.
There was just so much scarring, and the temptation to cut over it again was hard to resist. So he started again.
In the back of his mind, James knew he should be more careful. He knew he needed to start assessing the damage, knew some of the cuts on his arms and thighs were too deep for him to treat on his own. But...
Just one more.
Right as he was about to bring the blade back to his skin, someone knocked on the bathroom door. Startled, James flinched, quickly shoving the razor back into his pocket.
"James, is that you in there? I just need to use the loo real quick, Sirius insisted I try his coffee and then wouldn't let me get up for a bit. Swear he was stuck to me like a leech, not that I can blame him though."
It was Remus. James swallowed down his panic.
"Yeah, I'll be out in just a minute! Sorry." James called out. He prayed Remus wouldn't suspect anything was off.
"No worries mate, just don't take too long. Be back in a few."
James could hear footsteps getting further and further away from the door and finally allowed himself to fully panic.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
He looked down at his arms and thighs, starting to process the damage he had done. There were numerous deep gashes across his shoulders and upper thighs, some cuts shallow but some actively spilling copious amounts of blood.
Grabbing at the toilet paper, James balled it up, wiping at the blood spilling down. No matter how much he sopped up, it wouldn't stop the blood.
"Fuck." James muttered to himself.
He abandoned the paper towel, instead searching his pockets for his wand. He didn't know many medical spells, that was more Peter's area of expertise, but he figured he could muck up something that could at least momentarily stop the bleeding.
His wand was nowhere to be found. He vaguely remembered setting it down next to his messenger bag and cursed himself in his mind. James could feel himself start to become light-headed, panic fully taking over.
He hadn't meant to cut that deep, nor that much, but obviously he had and there was nothing he could do now. He had never cut that deep before, especially not deep enough to cause blood loss side effects.
There was another knock on the door.
James stopped moving. He honestly felt like he had stopped breathing, too.
"I'm back, James. I brought Regulus with me, too. He seemed to be getting a bit worried about you, though he would never tell us, the little emotionally stunted snake." Remus spoke with a smile in his voice.
Normally it would bring James comfort. Right now, all he wanted was for everyone to *leave*. And Regulus being there only added another problem to the situation. James knew he wouldn't be able to pretend to be okay in front of Regulus.
The boy was the only one who could see through his mask of happiness. The only one James trusted enough to truly let his guard done, to relax and abandon any façade he had with him.
"Oh, fuck off Remus. Not like I'm any more emotionally stunted than my idiot older brother, and you seem to like him just fine." Remus snarked, before changing his tone to address James.
"Anyway, love, are you alright in there? I know we haven't had the chance to speak about what happened a few days ago, and I won't mention the details because I'm sure you don't want Remus to know, but it has me quite concerned about you."
The way Regulus's voice gentled made James's chest ache. His arms hurt. His legs hurt. His head hurt. His ribs hurt. His heart hurt.
God, he was just so fucking tired.
Stray tears dripped down his face. Slumping against the toilet seat, James allowed his head to hit the wall with a quiet bang.
He didn't want to do this anymore. He didn't want to be alone anymore, didn't want to be in pain anymore. He didn't want to be tired all the time, cold all the time, to get lightheaded every time he did something as minuscule as standing up.
James missed his friends. He missed hanging out with them, laughing with them. He missed Regulus and everything that came with him. His calmness, his soothing aura, his snark, his sarcasm, his kindness.
"If you don't respond, we're coming in, yeah mate?" Remus said. His soft voice now held an undercurrent of worry to it.
James's head was starting to hurt. His mind felt like it was melting, thoughts swimming around at a rapid pace.
He needed help. He didn't fucking want to do this alone anymore.
"Just come in." James said, defeat lining his every word. He watched the door through half-open eyes, barely able to stop himself from pitching forward and falling asleep.
Something in his tone must have indicated some sort of distress because almost immediately a spell was being whispered and the sound of the door unlocking reverberated throughout the bathroom.
Regulus was the first to walk in, and James could see the moment he realized what was going on. The way Regulus's face dropped made James feel like shit, but his exhaustion was significantly stronger than his self-loathing.
Remus followed Regulus in, freezing when he saw James. James weakly smiled up at them, head lolling back.
"Shit." Remus muttered.
Regulus was the first to move, tearing off pieces of his own robe and tying them tightly around the cuts that were bleeding the most. He glanced back at Remus, who was still frozen.
For some reason, Remus looked....sad. James wasn't quite sure why, and honestly, he was too drained to care.
"Go get Sirius and tell Peter to contact Madame Pomphrey and McGonagall," Regulus spoke to Remus without looking at him, focusing on treating James as best as he could.
Remus nodded and left the room briskly. Probably didn't want to see the horrific sight that was James, not that he could blame the other boy. He was sure the gruesome scene wasn't easy on the eyes.
A cool hand cupped his cheek, and James couldn't help but lean into the touch. He struggled to bring his unfocused eyes up to meet Regulus's face.
"You know we're going to have to talk about this once you're all healed up, right love?" Regulus asked, gently brushing his thumb across a stray tear.
James sighed, leaning into Regulus.
"Figured as much. Doesn't mean I want to though. Would've been easier if I had just killed myself, to be honest."
The last part was mumbled, and James barely even registered that the words had come out of his mouth. He didn't mean to say them aloud, much less in front of Regulus.
Things were made worse by the fact that Remus and Sirius showed up at the bathroom door at that exact moment, obviously soon enough to hear what James had said, judging by the shock and pain on their faces.
James weakly waved his hand.
"Was just a joke. Joking! Funny, haha, you know, not like I was bein' serious or anything." James rambled on, well aware he wasn't convincing anyone in the room that he had been joking.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. Regulus sighed. Remus frowned.
Somehow, James had managed to screw things up yet again. Was all he was good for, innit?
"Is that what this was? Were you trying to-to die tonight?" Remus asked, looking at James with a serious expression. The mood in the room sobered up even more at the question.
"Nah, this was an accident. Didn't mean to cut that deep this time. Silly me, you know, can never do anything right. Horrible son, a horrible friend, really just bad all around."
Sirius and Remus both winced at the nonchalant tone the words were spoken with. Regulus just continued gently stroking his thumb across James's face. It helped keep him grounded because otherwise, he would be hyperventilating by now.
"Jesus fuck, 'this time'? How long has this been going on for?" Sirius asked. James just shrugged. He figured the answer would upset everyone even more, so he made the executive decision to stay silent.
"Okay, well Madame Pomphrey should be here soon, yeah? Me, Remus, and Reggie are going to hang out here because honestly, I don't think any of us feel comfortable leaving you alone right now." Sirius sounded tired.
"Don't call me that." Regulus muttered, scowling a bit. Sirius just offered a grin, trying to conceal the way his hands trembled with fear and his eyes shined with worry.
James felt bad. Sirius had a hard day too, and here he was pulling all the attention away. Sirius should be cuddling with Remus and resting. Not dealing with James and all of his own shit.
"M'sorry. You don't have to stay. I know I'm jus' burdening you all." James could hear the way his words slurred into each other despite how hard he had tried to make himself sound legible. He really was exhausted for him to be speaking like that.
Sirius raised his eyebrows in surprise. Walking over, he settled himself against the wall next to where James was sitting. Not too close, but near enough to offer a sense of security and comfort if James decided to seek it out.
For now, he was content to lean against Regulus. Said boy was periodically checking on the strips of cloth tied around his cuts, having pulled out his wand to put the larger wounds in stasis. James knew Regulus didn't feel comfortable with medical spells, but he was doing his best.
"Why the fuck would you think that? You aren't a burden to us at all. Really, seriously, I mean that. If mine and Regulus's freakout over our mothers craziness isn't a burden, then you breaking down on the bathroom toilet isn't either." Sirius spoke genuinely. He was blunt, as always, but it was reassuring to James.
Helped him know Sirius wasn't lying.
"S'different. You guys have real problems." James mumbled, sighing into Regulus.
Remus snorted, staring at James.
"I'd say feeling so upset to the point where you'd self-harm is a pretty real problem, unless you're about to tell me all that blood is an elaborate prank, which I sincerely doubt. I'd bet real money that when Madame Pomphrey gets here, she's going to tell you that you have a real problem."
Remus sounded harsh, but it was in his nature to joke about darker things. He didn't exactly grow up posh like the rest of them, so his humor was much more dirty and grimy. It was refreshing to all of them for him to bring a sense of humor to more grim situations.
James knew Remus was being purposefully obtuse. James was sure that the other boy knew that compared to all of them, his problems were nothing.
"No, I know you know what I mean." James said firmly. Remus and Sirius both narrowed their eyes in confusion.
"Right, I'll bite, because I really don't know what you mean," Sirius said curiously.
James made a frustrated sound. To his embarrassment, he could feel tears welling up in his eyes again. At this rate, he was going to pass out from dehydration, forget the blood loss.
Regulus ran a hand through his hair, shushing him. He glared at both Sirius and Remus before bringing his attention back to James.
"Calm down, darling. I know it's scary to talk about things like this in front of other people. But we're all here, and none of us are going anywhere. As my brother brashly put it, we all have our own issues and you've been here to support us. Now it's our turn to support you. Take a deep breath and take your time, love."
James shut his eyes, Regulus's voice washing over him. Inhaling deeply, James opened his eyes, tears now gone. Sirius and Remus both looked a little guilty, though Sirius looked more confused than anything.
"Well, it's just, you guys all have big problems. Like abusive family members, discrimination, and poverty. I was born into a rich family and according to everyone have perfect parents and *sure*, sometimes they make comments about my body and my academics that make me uncomfortable, but it's not like they ever hit me. I have a roof over my head, food, and education, I never have to worry about anything. And here I am feeling sorry for myself when you guys have it so much worse."
James felt slightly winded after he finished speaking, but he was glad he managed to get his point across. Though he couldn't help his slight fear at the thought that they would all leave now that they had figured it out.
"Shit, that's...a lot to unpack. First of all, you can't compare our problems, because our situations are different."
Before Remus could continue speaking, James made a noise of frustration. Had they even listened to him at all?
"That's my whole fucking point!" James exclaimed. Regulus ran his hand through James's hair again, and the boy took another breath. Remus just raised an eyebrow.
"If you had let me finish speaking, I would've said that our situations being different doesn't make our problems any less valid. Your problems are just as real and difficult as anyone else's problems. Someone could break their arm falling down stairs, and another person could break their arm in a fight, but at the end of the day both people have to deal with the pain of a broken bone. Being born into wealth, or even having wealth, doesn't mean you suddenly are exempt from the shit show that is life."
Remus was looking at James with this soft, gentle look, and it made James want to sink into the ground.
"But-"
James didn't have the chance to start speaking before Sirius cut him off.
"Remus is right, mate. The Black family is wealthy as hell, and me and Regulus still have a shit ton of problems. And, uhm, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your parents don't have to hit you for them to be not-so-great parents."
James blinked up at Sirius a few times, tilting his head.
"What do you mean? How can they be bad if they don't hit me?" James asked, genuinely feeling a little out of his element.
This time it was Regulus who started talking.
"Well, if they insult you or belittle you. Speak down to you like you're less than them. Make you feel afraid of them, of what they could do, what they could take away. If they make you upset and then try to convince you that it was your fault, that they're actually the victim. Insulting your body image, your intelligence, making you feel lesser."
James froze.
That....that kind of sounded like his parents. But they didn't actually insult him, or anything like that. They made comments that were maybe less than nice, but it's not like they could be held responsible for the way James reacted. Right?
"Do they do that kind of stuff? I always thought your parents were good, but I'm guessing you've been doing this since the holiday, so they must have done something. Especially since you mentioned comments about your body, and you've been getting like, scarily skinny since the start of term." Sirius assumed
Remus smacked his arm. Sirius winced.
"Ignore Sirius's lack of tact, but if you want to tell us about them, we're here to listen. Like Regulus said, your parents don't have to hit you to hurt you."
James made a wounded noise.
"They...my mom makes a lot of comments. About how I eat. What I eat. When I eat. How much, how sugary, how many calories it has. Over the holiday she kept on talking about how I was getting-well, thicker, I guess, from bulking up for Quidditch. And it just made me feel so upset, and eating just got so hard and scary because I *knew* everytime I would reach for something she would say something."
James paused, worrying his lower lip. He was thankful that everyone in the room was staying quiet, giving him the chance to gather his thoughts before continuing to speak.
"And I heard them talking about how they were upset about how they had someone stupid for a son. How they were upset that their son wasn't good at anything at all, and how his friends were so good and he isn't worth them. And I guess I already wasn't doing well, and it just got worse and worse, and then I guess I just spiraled. Today was just-especially bad. The letter from earlier was from my parents, about how they don't want me home till I can get my act together."
"That's fucked up." Sirius said. He sounded really angry and upset, and James couldn't help his little flinch.
"Sorry, sorry," Sirius gentled his tone. "I'm just really upset that they would treat my best friend like that. You're so amazing, James. You didn't deserve that at all."
James made a noise of protest. Sirius glared at him.
"I'm serious. You are one of the kindest, smartest people I know. You were the first friend I've ever had, and I'm so honored to have you as my best friend. I brag about it to everyone. I don't understand how your parents don't see that."
Regulus tilted James's head up, resulting in James's eyes meeting his own.
"Darling, your body is perfect. *You* are perfect. You deserve food, you deserve rest, you deserve everything good and more than that. None of us could ever forget everything you've done to give us a comfortable safe space. You are smart, you are strong, you are loved, you are *love*."
Regulus sounded so resolute and sure of himself that James felt his breath catch in his throat. He maintained eye contact with Regulus, a tear trailing down his face.
"Do you really mean that?"
Leaning forward, Regulus shared a chaste kiss with James. It was full of care, full of love, full of everything James had missed these past few months.
"I never say things I don't mean."
Remus cleared his throat.
"I doubt me and Sirius can word things as eloquently as Regulus did, but we love you so much. Watching you pull away was one of the most difficult things for all of us, and we will do everything we can to help you see yourself the way we see you."
James swallowed, throat feeling like it was full of nails.
All he could feel was gratitude. Getting help was hard and tiring and part of him still felt extremely guilty and selfish for it, but that part of him didn't matter when Regulus was looking at him with such love, and Remus and Sirius were standing securely and strongly for him to lean on, and Peter was running all the way to the Hospital Wing and back just to get him help.
As Madame Pomphrey and Peter finally arrived at the open bathroom door, James relaxed. Peter and Madame Pomphrey were both speaking quickly, exchanging questions and information with Remus and Sirius, but James couldn't bring himself to care.
He finally allowed himself to shut his eyes.
James could rest.
He had let himself fall apart, but now he knew there were people to help put him back together in the morning.