Chapter 2
The time for dinner rolled around much quicker than Sirius had anticipated, and suddenly he was seated in front of the most enormous Hogwarts feast he had ever seen. Sirius could have sworn there never used to be this much food.
This much temptation.
But the more he considered just a taste, the more the guilt overtook his body. Beside him, James had piled his plate high with helpings from several different dishes, and Peter was already onto his second plate. In a twisted sort of way, watching them eat so much made him feel better about himself, and he glanced down at his empty plate, relishing the pride it brought.
Across from him, Remus was watching, his brow quirked in a way that Sirius knew he was intensely contemplating something. His heart leapt in a panic, but before he could think of something to blurt out to bring the attention away from his empty plate, Remus spoke,
"Alright, Sirius?" Sirius. Any feeling of pride long gone, he averted eye contact as his mind scrambled for an excuse.
"Yeah, just not very hungry," He tried to play it off by reaching for a salad, which wasn't convincing Remus at all as he watched the pathetic amount Sirius set on his plate.
"You hate salad."
"Change of heart?"
"You feeling okay, mate? You didn't eat anything on the train." James added, also eyeing the odd pieces of lettuce lying on the plate. Before Sirius could object, James had picked up his own plate and shovelled some potatoes onto the one in front of him. "Maybe just something plain then. Try the potatoes."
"Err,"
"Go on. You'll be hungry later."
It was James's 'no bullshit' tone, and now he and Remus were watching him suspiciously. Sirius had two options: Run or eat the damn potatoes.
Hesitantly, he lifted his fork to poke at the potatoes. They glistened as he moved them around, reflecting the candle lights glowing on the ceiling above. Sirius chewed anxiously on his lip as he considered all the butter and oil they must have been soaked in. All that extra fat wouldn't do him good at all. If he were at home, there's no way his mother would have allowed this to be served, not to him, at least.
His hand trembled as he tried to scoop up a potato, missing several times and sucking in his breath as he finally got one. He could feel the intense burn of his friends watching beside him, and he almost had to blink back tears as he shoved it into his mouth.
Chew.
Swallow.
It shouldn't be this hard, Sirius knew that, but he couldn't shake the insufferable fear that passed through him with each bite. The potatoes were good, much better than most of the food he'd eaten all summer. But Sirius didn't deserve nice food; that much was made clear to him every day. His chewing slowed to a stop, the mush of potatoes sitting uselessly inside his mouth.
Sirius felt sick.
He dropped his fork hurriedly and gulped down his mouthful. What was he doing? He didn't have anything to prove to them.
"I actually do feel a bit off, might turn in early tonight." He announced as he stood, accidentally knocking his plate in the process. All eyes were on him again, but he ignored them the best he could and slipped out from the bench, all but running towards the door. He choked on a sob as he fled up the stairs, letting his legs carry him instinctively to the common room. His heart felt like it was in his throat, and all he could think was why?
Why couldn't he hide it anymore?
Why did it hurt so bad?
Why wasn't he good enough?
He grasped his wrist with one hand, letting his fist clench down hard and forcing his nails into his skin. It stung, but he only pressed harder and tore his hand down his arm, dragging his nails along painfully. Maybe he'd draw blood. He didn't care.
Sirius blinked to ward off oncoming tears and looked around. He was in the bathroom in their dorms. When did he get there? How did he get here so quickly? His knees gave way beneath him as he collapsed onto the toilet bowl, barely lingering a second before the sickening feeling of the potatoes coming back up had him gagging them into the toilet. He felt beads of sweat collecting around his hair, dripping down his forehead as he heaved up a familiar acidic substance that burnt the back of his throat.
Somehow he was both hot and cold at the same time. A shower might do him some good, he thought. Still seated on the cool tiled floor, he shrugged off his clothes, working carefully as he pulled the sleeves down his arms, eyes lingering on the new marks he had left there, seemingly settling in against the sea of pinkish-red streaks. Gashes left by his own hand when his life became too much. He deliberately ignored the aching to add more, to take away from the pain he was feeling and repurpose it somewhere else.
No.
He had promised himself. Not at Hogwarts. Not anymore.
Glancing away, Sirius placed his hand on his forehead, it was hot and clammy, yet he shivered as though he was standing naked on the quidditch pitch in the middle of a snowstorm. This was getting ridiculous; he knew his body was falling behind, unable to keep up with him, yet he kept pushing it further, almost as though he wasn't afraid of the consequences. Well, he didn't know if he was scared or not; he hadn't given it much thought. Somewhere deep down, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.
After a few more moments, Sirius struggled into the shower, using the wall to brace himself as black blobs invaded his vision. The water rushed over his body, almost causing him to yelp in pain, stinging like a thousand needles stabbing at his skin. After a few seconds, the feeling was unbearable, and Sirius had to step out.
His gaze flickered over to the mirror, where the unrecognisable boy stood still, staring back at him with wide eyes. His eyes shifted to his arms again, and he almost wished it had been his mother to leave those marks, so he could have an excuse readied for if anyone saw. Sirius sighed; there was no use thinking about it too much. It only tired him more. One foot in front of the other, he dragged himself to his bed, shimming into long pyjamas, despite the weather and tumbling into the welcoming blankets.
With a flick of his wand, Sirius drew the curtains tight around his four-poster. He tossed and turned as he waited for the others to return; with each second, a sickening feeling in his stomach grew stronger and stronger until he feared he might throw up again.
He had really fucked up this time.
Sirius bawled up a fistful of sheets in his hand, clenching tightly at it as he shoved his face into the pillow to stifle an audible cry. His breathing had quickened in a matter of seconds, and suddenly he was gasping for air, hugging the bedspread to his chest as sobs wracked his body.
He didn't know what to do.
What should he do?
He gagged on a strangled breath as he attempted to steady his breathing, resulting in a muffled hiccup-like noise. He raised an arm to swipe at the tears streaming down his cheeks roughly.
Breathe in.
Everything is fine.
Breath out.
Sirius choked.
He wanted his friends. He needed his friends. He needed James's lack of judgement and compassionate gaze. He needed the way he could tell him anything, and it would only bring them closer. He needed Remus's gentle words and easy understanding. How no matter what, he always felt safer when he was with him. He needed Peters's practical outlook, the voice of reason even in the most challenging circumstances.
He needed them, and he had pushed them away. Now he was all alone, with no one to save him from himself.