Chapter 1

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione over lunch in the great hall, where he was again trying to convince his friends of Draco Malfoy's status as a death eater. Ron and Hermione, who had their fingers laced together, looked at each other and rolled their eyes, without even bothering to comment. Harry's theories were getting old, especially because they were all he talked about these days.

"Harry, aren't you going to eat something?" Hermione questioned. Harry had been pushing around the small amount of food on his plate all of lunch, but Hermione had yet to see him take a bite. He was getting too thin, and she was worried. In fact, he probably even weighed less than she did.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Really. I'm just not that hungry today." Harry responded, even though it was a complete and utter lie. He was starving, and would give anything for a bit of that treacle tart. But he thought of all the calories it contained, and shuddered. He was so heavy. Well, technically, at 120 pounds, he was severely underweight for someone of 5"11, but he wanted to lose at least 20 more pounds. He was fat. No girl would ever want him.

Thanks to his uncle, Harry was covered in bruises and cuts. There were dark bags under his green eyes, due to many sleepless nights. He had scars on his wrists from his recent suicide attempt over the summer. Fortunately, though, this was all hidden with a concealment charm. He could not hide the fact that all that remained of the-Boy-Who-Lived were skin and bones, though.

Hermione suspected the truth. A girl she had known in the muggle world had been diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa before she had started her third year at Hogwarts. Of course she had gone to the library and researched the topic thoroughly after that. But while she was extremely well-informed on the disorder, Hermione did not really understand it. For once, she had no idea what to do.

Harry, who had been looking blankly around the Great Hall, realized that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Excusing himself from Ron and Hermione, who gave him bewildered looks in return, Harry raced out of the Great Hall and pulled out the Marauder's Map. Malfoy's name was not on the map, which only confirmed Harry's suspicions. He began heading towards the Room of Requirement.

When he arrived, Harry stopped and thought. He had already tried this so many times before. But he was desperate. He had to get in. Lives could depend on it.

And apparently, that was enough. The door appeared, and Harry took a minute to get over his shock before entering. The room seemed completely different from what it had been when Dumbledore's Army had been using it. It was very cluttered, and filled with various odd wizarding objects, most of which Harry had never seen before.

A loud sobbing filled Harry's ears. Was Malfoy crying? He followed the sound, and then stopped in his tracks when he reached his destination. Malfoy was sitting on the floor, leaning against what looked like a cabinet of some sort. Both of his sleeves were rolled up, and sure enough, the dark mark was branded on his left arm. Bu that wasn't what caught Harry's attention. Malfoy was bleeding. Surrounding his dark mark were several small, yet deep, cuts. When Harry looked even closer, he saw that here were faint, white scares covering almost every part of his arm.

"Malfoy…" Harry hesitated. What could he possibly say? Wait. Why did he even need to say anything? He hated Malfoy. He was a death eater. Shouldn't he just turn him in to Dumbledore?

Malfoy looked up and saw his enemy before him. Without thinking, he picked up his wand and tried to curse Harry. He wasn't fast enough though; his wand had been blasted out of his hand by Harry's disarming spell. He resorted to giving Harry the most menacing look he could muster. Shit. Harry was going to tell everybody like any Gryffindor would. He knew it. He attempted to roll down his sleeve, but once again, Harry was faster than him.

"Why?" Harry demanded. He wasn't exactly sure why he did. The only time Harry had ever taken a blade to his own skin was when he had tried to take his own life. While Malfoy's act didn't appear suicidal, he still felt that in a way, he understood.

At Harry's question, Malfoy fell apart. He was now bawling uncontrollably, and Harry had no idea what to do. He awkwardly placed his hand on Malfoy's back, and muttered things like "It's going to be alright", hoping that it was reassuring.

A glint of silver then caught Harry's eye, and he pocketed the razor blade. Malfoy might have been his sworn enemy, but there was no way Harry would let him continue to hurt himself.