AN: So this is my first fic. I'd like to thank my twin for giving me the title and the rest of the 6th pd lunch people for being all-together awesome.

Control Issues

Staring up at the crimson canopy of her four-poster, Hermione sighed. Another day had passed, and Ron was still with Lavender Brown. I bet she's the kind of girl who never says no, Hermione grumbled. What does she have that I don't? Hermione mentally pictured Lavender, her chocolate brown hair perfectly framing her flawless face. Hermione watched Lavender brush her hair each morning; it amazed her how Lavender's hair lay flat and perfectly in place. She took a lock of her own hair between her fingers. Her ends were frayed and frizzing; they appeared as if they had been in some sort of horrible accident involving acid or flame. Sighing, she pulled her hair into a ponytail. Perhaps if I don't look at it, it will magically moisturize itself into something resembling a head of human hair rather than a bit of road-kill, Hermione joked bitterly.

She returned to her mental picture of Lavender, her mind's eye falling on Lavender's body. Her brow furrowed as she stood to look in the full-length mirror Lavender and Parvati had put in their dormitory on September first. She gazed critically at her reflection, pausing at each part of her. Hermione had never paid much attention to her figure; she had always been distracted with studying or saving the world. She examined each flaw for the first time.

Hermione made eye contact with her reflection, studying her features. Her eyebrows could do with a plucking, but aside from that her facial features were simply plain. She felt nothing but ordinary. Her gaze shifted down to her not-so-ample chest. She pulled her uniform shirt taunt around her form in an attempt to create nonexistent curves. She could just see Lavender, the first three of her shirt-buttons undone, leaning over a desk in the transfiguration classroom always "partnering up" with one of the boys. Hermione recalled tutting on those occasions as the boys ogled at Lavender. She remembered Ron's expression the first time Lavender had asked him for "assistance". Honestly, she had sighed, Ron will never transfigure his toad into a tea-tray if he doesn't concentrate. Looking back, she frowned at her naivety. She had seen Lavender as a mere threat to Ron's NEWT grade rather than the seductress she truly was.

This is ridiculous, Hermione sighed as she tried to snap back into her logical self. I shouldn't be comparing myself to Lavender. She took a deep breath as she smoothed the lumps out of her shirt. Hermione gasped; the puckering on her shirt had not been bunched fabric as she originally thought, it had been her stomach. Taking short, shallow breaths, Hermione examined herself from the side. To her horror, her stomach protruded, making her appear to be a bloated individual whose body she would be disgusted to have. This can't be what my stomach really looks like, she tried to convince herself. It only looks this way because I've just eaten. Her eyes wandered to the rest of her body, noticing fat in places she had never wanted it. Hermione brought a hand up to her cheek; her face had filled out so much. She looked at the photograph on her bedside table. It depicted the trio smiling and laughing at the lake. It was taken in the spring of their fourth year. My face was so much thinner then, she marveled. Hermione then began to examine the rest of her body. Her thighs rubbed together when she walked, her arms jiggled when she moved her wand. How could this have happened without my noticing? It was now clear why Ron had chosen Lavender over her.

Hermione's face darkened; she knew eating was the problem here. She had been so focused lately on studying for her NEWT's she didn't pay any mind to her diet. The rich foods at Hogwarts were so delicious, it was difficult for her to restrain herself. She often studied as she ate, not taking notice of how much she consumed. Thinking back to that night's dinner of smoked ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, buttered green beans, and sweet potatoes made her almost nauseous. She then remembered her desert of two slices of chocolate cake and several helpings of treacle pudding. Her stomach lurched. I can't let this food stay inside of me, Hermione panicked. She could only imagine what her stomach would look like tomorrow if she allowed that night's dinner to break down and store itself in her body. She quickly made her way to the Myrtle's bathroom, where she was sure no one would find her.

-:-:-

As Hermione kneeled on the floor in front of the toilet, she could hardly believe what she was about to do. She had read books about girls with eating disorders and always thought they had been silly. But this is different, she argued, It'll only be for a short time. I mean, when I have to compete with someone like Lavender, there's really no alternative. I'll just pay more mind to what I'm eating from now on, occasionally doing damage control, she reasoned. Her mind flashed to images she had seen in medical books of stick-thin girls, sickly and pale. Anorexia-Nervosa, read the captions below each image. She pushed all that out of her mind; she knew she was in control here. She wouldn't stop eating altogether, just some things. Hermione knew she would be as smart about this as she was with everything else. She knew her limits. It will only be for a short time, she reassured herself, just until my stomach flattens. How long could it possibly take?, she asked, dreading the answer. She brought herself back to the moment and why she was kneeling where she was.

The tiles were cold on her legs. She stared into the porcelain of the bowl, marveling at how clean it was. Concentrate, she scolded herself. She stuck her finger to the back of her throat, waiting to gag. The reflex never came. How incompetent am I that I can't even do this right?, she sighed. Perhaps I wasn't sticking it far back enough, she reasoned. She tried a second time. Immediately, she knew when she had hit the right spot. Vomit erupted from her, leaving a burning feeling in her throat and a bad taste in her mouth. She flushed the toilet and walked out to the sink to wash her face. She gazed in the mirror as the water ran, hot tears stinging her cheeks. "This isn't for forever", she whispered to her reflection, "Only for a little while".

-:-:-

It had been two months since the first purge and she had already started to see results. Hermione began to feel genuinely pleased with herself. She would eat three light meals every day in the Great Hall with everyone else. To stop eating entirely would be too risky, and she didn't want to draw attention to herself. She knew that even though she was in complete control, others might not see it that way. Hermione loved the way things were and she wasn't going to let anyone ruin that for her. Ron was still with Lavender, but he didn't matter anymore. Since she started losing weight, she had gone out with Dean, Seamus, and every boy on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Every weekend she had someone new to please her. Hermione wasn't used to getting this sort of attention, but she reveled in it. No one seemed concerned with how her body had gotten the way it was, and she was glad for it. Harry and Ron were both too preoccupied with their own lives to notice, but Ginny had given Hermione many a concerned glance whenever someone mentioned how good she looked. Even Lavender and Parvati were being friendlier. Hermione assumed it was only because of the male attention, but it didn't matter, she had female friends for the first time in her life.

Her euphoria started to wear off towards the third month. Hermione noticed her teeth looked different; they were decaying and looked almost dead. She didn't think much of it and cast a calcifying spell on them. That problem was taken care of for the time being. The real issues began when Hermione realized she could no longer keep food down, even if she tried. No more than an hour after meals, Hermione would find herself vomiting. She began to get scared; when did she lose control? This is my body, and I can still control it, Hermione insisted. She was finally thin, she didn't have to purge anymore. I'll just slowly stop, she decided.

Despite her best efforts, Hermione found herself in Myrtle's bathroom that night after dinner. She tried desperately to hold back the contents of her stomach, which were threatening to erupt. Her body finally won the battle; she was violently sick just as she heard the door to the bathroom open and shut.

Hermione started to panic, her mind was racing. Who could possibly be using this bathroom? Did she hear me? Silently, Hermione peeked her head out of the stall. She saw Ginny Weasley looking in the mirror, combing green slime out of her hair. Puzzled, Hermione collected herself. She probably didn't hear me. If she did, I can always think of an excuse. Being sick isn't a crime. Hermione emerged from the stall, trying to act nonchalant.

"What happened to your hair?" Hermione inquired.

Ginny pouted, "Fred and George sent me a package. I hadn't known it was from them until I opened it and a bat-shaped water balloon started flapping around my head. Apparently, it wasn't full of water." Ginny explained dryly, gesturing to her hair.

Hermione smiled at her friend, marveling at how even with her hair full of green slime, she was still stunning. Hermione envied her. I've seen how she eats too, and it's not pretty. How does she stay so thin? Hermione became lost in her thoughts as she washed her hands and face. She didn't notice Ginny's expression shift to deep concern.

"Hermione, I've noticed that you've lost a lot of weight" Ginny said evenly.

"Oh, thanks" Hermione chimed, smiling.

"I'm worried about you Hermione", Ginny stated as she turned towards Hermione, concern written all over her face.

Hermione felt her cool demeanor begin to melt away. "I'm fine Ginny, really."

"No, you aren't", Ginny insisted firmly. "I've been following you here after meals for a week now. I know what you're doing to yourself. I would've confronted you sooner, but I didn't want to say anything until I was sure that you were doing this. Hermione, don't you understand how dangerous this is?" Ginny finished, almost pleading.

Hermione's face contorted, "I don't know who you think you are, Ginny Weasley. You can't possibly understand what I'm going through right now. My eating habits are just as healthy as anyone else's. And they certainly aren't any of your business" Hermione snapped, her temper rising.

She began to stride purposefully towards the door when she felt a hand reach gently for her elbow. She stopped mid stride and turned to face Ginny, surprised by the gentleness of her gesture.

"Hermione," Ginny was nearly whispering now, "You can't do this to yourself anymore. It's out of your control. We need to get you help. I'll go with you. I'll help you through this. I'll do whatever you need me to. What I won't do is stand by and watch you do this to yourself." Ginny lifted her gaze to meet Hermione's.

Hermione stood facing her friend, shocked into silence. Should I let Ginny help me? Hermione battled inwardly. Allowing Ginny to help her would be admitting that she had been wrong and that she was no longer in control. The silence was broken when a sob escaped Hermione. Ginny embraced her friend. Hermione sobbed heavily onto Ginny's shoulder, her frail frame shaking. Hermione cried until she was sure she had nothing left in her. She washed her face in the sink and turned to Ginny.

"Now what?", Hermione inquired uncertainly.

"I need you to tell me what you've been doing for the last few months. I have to know what you've been doing after meals." Ginny responded steadily.

"But you've been following me. You already know." Hermione sounded small.

"But I need you to tell me." Ginny said patently.

"Why?" Hermione was now confused. If Ginny had been following her, she knew what was going on.

"I need to make sure you know what you're doing is wrong. Before we can find someone to help, we have to make sure we're on the same page. You know when we get help, you're going to have to tell Madame Pomfrey. It will make things easier to tell her if you've already addressed it." Ginny stated plainly.

Hermione started to speak, to admit her problem, but she couldn't find her voice. Hermione began to understand what Ginny meant. It was hard enough telling Ginny, she would definitely need to practice before telling Madame Pomfrey.

"I ..." was all Hermione could choke out before the words got caught in her throat again.

Ginny took her friend's hand, nodding encouragingly for her to go on.

"I'm bulimic". Hermione stated. She was finally free from three months of denial, justification, making excuses, and false re-assurances.

Ginny smiled a sad but triumphant smile. The girls left the bathroom, stepping into the warm light of the hallway. Hermione smiled her first genuine smile in three months as she and Ginny headed towards the infirmary. Hermione knew that the worst was over; there was nowhere to go but up. She would never be perfect, but no one ever is. Hermione looked around at the rest of the Hogwarts population. There were girls in every size one could imagine. Some stick thin, some morbidly obese. Hermione knew that somewhere out there, there was someone thinner than even the thinnest girl and another girl fatter than even the fattest girl. Almost everyone in the world was in-between. Hermione now knew better than anyone that striving for the impossible is fruitless. All a person can do is try for her own personal best. Be it with her schoolwork, with her weight, or with anything else, it doesn't matter. All that mattered was that she was taking the first step on the road to being happy again. It might be a long road or a hard road, but Hermione was sure that it would never be a lonely road.