A/N: I originally posted this on my old account and I transferring over to this new one. This was written when I was having some issues as a way to vent. I don't think it's very good, but you guys might enjoy it.
He doesn't know exactly when it started. Maybe it was sometime around the fight with Harry in fourth year, maybe he's just always had these little thoughts.
They started out innocent enough. The usual self doubt and insecurity that comes with being a teenager. However, somewhere along the line it became more than that. It became more than just a fleeting voice in his head telling him that he's not good enough.
Somehow it became a constant mantra, a broken record of not good enough, never good enough, not special, not anything, you arenothing, you are-
He feels uncomfortable in his own skin. Like he doesn't belong, like he's not special enough for these people who surround him. Harry is the golden boy, Hermione is the brightest witch he's ever met, he isn't the oldest in his family, nor the youngest or brightest, the the most cunning or sly. He's not the first, he's not the last. He is nothing.
And it makes him feel so empty, hungry to be something, someone.
So he eats.
It's all laid out in front of him. Ham and pudding, mashed potatoes with gravy, cakes and sweets. He eats and eats and eats until he is full, his stomach heavy. He eats until he no longer feels this emptiness inside of him.
He's too full, and he can feel it all trying to push it's way back out of him. He's going to explode.
So he does, he explodes.
He forces a smile and excuses himself, then makes haste to the bathroom. There he goes into one of the stalls, locking it behind him. He drops to his knees, hunches over the toilet, and takes his two finger, forcing them down his throat.
He pushing and moves them around and gags as the bile from his stomach makes it's way up his throat and out of his mouth. He coughs it all up, every single content of his stomach until he's empty. When he's done he inhales and exhales deaply, his eyelids closed. His quivering hand, covered in saliva and vomit, reaches up to pull the lever of the toilet seat, flushing the evidence of what he's just done away.
It's his little secret. His way of coping with not being good enough. No one has to know. No one ever finds out.
And if his eating habits start to get a bit better after the war-his trips to the bathroom less frequent after he finally wins Hermione... Well, maybe he just doesn't feel as empty.