The bathroom floor is harsh, arctic cold, and Al can feel it through the thin fabric of his favorite trousers, the ones from Aunt Fleur. The U-bend is even colder than the floor, but, then again, Myrtle's still hanging around, and ghosts do tend to do that. Al has no idea why she hasn't left yet, even though he asked her politely to please do so; he even bothered to tell her that she'd regret it if she stayed, that she wouldn't like what he was there to do. But, as he should've expected, that had only served to make her insufferably curious. Now, every time she gasps, he wants to say, "I told you so," but he knows better than to hurt Myrtle's feelings. After all, she's sensitive, like he is, and, as annoying as she can sometimes be, Myrtle understands things, most things anyway.

This thing, though, she doesn't understand. She further doesn't understand why Al has to do it. He tried to explain it to her once, nearer the start of term, but she didn't follow then, and she likely won't follow now. No one understands it. Not her, not Rosie, not Lily, not Maddie – not even Scorpius understands why Al needs to go hungry, or why he needs to vomit when he eats too much, or any of it. But they have to trust, eventually, that all of Al's efforts will be worth it. It escapes him how they can be so close-minded about this. Maybe Scorpius hasn't ever made direct comments about his weight, but Al knows that he's thought about it. How can he not think about it? It must be Hell for him, snogging a beached whale and having to lie all the time about how "beautiful" Al is. Then Rose and Lily have no room saying anything. They've both as good as called Al fat before.

Like on the train home from school at the end of last year. After a nap, Al had needed to stretch his legs, and he'd taken a few sweets with him for the walk. They hadn't meant anything – they were just sweets. So what if there were a few of them (meaning two slabs of Honeyduke's best, a bag of Peppermint Toads, and a Cauldron Cake)? Al hadn't really been thinking about how much there was; just that he was hungry, and depressed, and his favorite sweets eliminated both problems. Besides, Scorpius had fixed his trousers for him. No worries.

James saw things differently. He always did.

They'd met by chance entirely, coming out of their compartment at almost the same time and intersecting paths with each other by random happenstance. James's eyes narrowed when he saw the sweets in Al's hands.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" he sneered.

"But, I – I was hungry-"

"Have an apple! Merlin, Al, I hope you weren't planning on eating at Gran's tonight."

"Well, I was, but… but, I guess – depends on how hungry-"

"You bloody well shouldn't be hungry, at this point! I bet you bought out half the sweet cart!"

"D-d-did not-"

"I mean, really! In case you haven't noticed, your trousers from Aunt Fleur are barely closed."

Al hadn't noticed, actually. He hadn't felt the need to look. But, at James's admonition of him, he peered down to find that the waistband of his trousers had grown incredibly strained against his stomach, some of which was now pressing over top of its fabric prison. …But the magic couldn't have worn off! And he hadn't eaten that much! How on Earth-

Al gasped in pain as he felt James pinch his side.

"James-" he whined.

"Look at that," James huffed. "This was hanging out there, Al. You're going to bloody well bust out of these trousers, you realize."

"Stop it-"

"Why should I? These were a gift, you little ingrate, and they're ready to split! Because of you-"

"James, please-"

"'James, please!' Listen to yourself, Al! And look at yourself! Honestly, you're such a Slytherin, trying to blame me for this when you're the one who can't bloody control himself-"

"Because I'm hungry-"

"Oi!" Lily's voice piped up.

Al and James looked back in unison, and not a second too soon; honestly, Al hadn't ever been more pleased to see his little sister. He was acutely aware of the fact that his eyes had started to mist over, and the less that James saw of that, the better. As it stood, Al was already a fat, gay Slytherin. He couldn't be a bloody crybaby as well. Like James always liked to say, one more demerit, and Al would have to turn in his Potter family membership – and his Weasley family membership. Luckily, though, Lily and Rose had stuck their heads into the corridor just and time.

"James," Rose sighed, shaking her mass of bushy, brown hair. "Cut it out. Some people are trying to have civilized conversations-"

"Yes, we are, thank you, Rosie," James huffed. "You and Lily are talking about your girly rubbish, and Al and I are having a brotherly discussion."

"Actually, it looks like you're being a bully."

"Oh, here it is again. I look out for my baby brother, so, clearly, I'm a bully."

"Yeah," Lily retorted, rolling her eyes. "They way you 'look out for him,' you are."

"What? Pointing out that he's busting out of his bloody trousers is being a bully?"

"Actually," Rose said dryly, "yes. It is."

"But I've got his best interests at heart! He is busting out of his bloody trousers!"

"That notwithstanding-"

"Rosie, he's half-a-foot shorter than I am, and he'll probably outweigh me by the end of the week."

Although this would later turn out to be very true, Al still protested, "No, I won't, James!"

"You will, and you know it, the way that you've been eating-"

"I'll be done after these sweets, I swear it!"

"No, you won't," James hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You know that those won't be it, and don't even try to deny it because you know I'm right. You've been losing it ever since you got sorted into Slytherin-"

"James, honestly! This is it, I swear, I only had a bit-"

"Sure you did! If by 'bit,' you mean completely engorging yourself." He pinched hard on the roll of fat he was still holding. "Here's a little bet for you: prove me wrong. You weigh less than I do at the end of the week, and I'll back off. But if you lose, I will make your life Hell."

"Yeah, because you totally don't do that already," Lily huffed.

James didn't respond to that, but gave Al one of his Looks and sulked off in the other direction. Although Al didn't know it at the time, James had a plan in mind – a plan so low and vile that even a Death Eater would've questioned its morality. By the end of the week, he would've outweighed James by five kilos, with almost another three added on before Al would even think to stop himself.

But, now, he only felt as though this cause were lost and slumped, accordingly, against the wall by Rosie and Lily's compartment door and stared blankly down at his stomach. Sure, it had never been flat, but it had never been this bad, either. It was visibly round and soft, and the trousers' waistband just seemed to cut in tighter by the second. And, to think – just a month ago, he'd been able to fit into these trousers with no bloody problems. A month ago, the fact that he wasn't muscular hadn't mattered because at least he hadn't been fat. A month ago, James had only turned to more tired methods of mocking him – Slytherin, gay, crybaby – things that Al couldn't ignore, but that he didn't get so upset about. A month ago, the only attention drawn to his stomach had been drawn there because Scorpius had seen fit to tickle him.

Biting his lip to keep from crying, Al briefly rested a hand on his stomach (it was far softer than he remembered), and then he promptly proceeded to start shoveling the bloody chocolate down again. It was then that Maddie stuck her head out of the next compartment, followed closely by one, Tommy Davies.

"We heard," Maddie commented with an obviously forced lightness in her tone. "The fight, I mean."

Al made an indistinct, but very sad, noise, and had another piece of the chocolate.

"Kinda missed the end of it, though?" Tommy always talked like everything was a question. "What'd James say before he left?"

"Bet Al that he'll weigh more than him – him meaning James," Rose explained, "by the end of the week."

"He did not!" Maddie gasped. She looked to Al for a sign and, tearfully, he nodded. "Oh my – that bastard."

"Tell me about it," Lily huffed. "That said, though – Al? Eating your Honeyduke's like that isn't going to help."

Al had already started opening the second slab of Honeyduke's and replied, through a mouthful of chocolate, "'eesafuckin'pillock."

"That aside, Al," Rosie sighed, "compulsive overeating isn't the best solution when you want to weigh less than James."

"Especially since this is James," Maddie added, "so he'll no doubt have some scheme or other with which to beat you."

Al swallowed before speaking again. "I've got time. Saturday's a while off yet."

"Yeah, it is," Lily said cautiously, "but if Aunt Fleur's trousers are any indication-"

"Shut up," Al pleaded, shoving another piece of chocolate into his mouth.

Maddie sighed and Al knew immediately what was coming: another episode of, "Maddie Boot-Goldstein Tells It As It Is." Pushing her long, brown fringe back behind her ears, she moved to stand in front of Al and motioned for eye contact. Begrudgingly, he gave it to her. …She had her hands on her hips. Not a good sign.

"Listen to me, Al," she said simply. "You're one of my best mates, I trust you with my life, and I'd never intentionally hurt you. I don't care what you look like, or if you're fat, or skinny, or whatever, but, Merlin's pants, take care of yourself. So you gained weight during OWLs – big deal; it could've happened to anybody. So you're going to gain more, by the looks of it – again, big deal, as long as you're happy. But I know you, and, right now? You're not at all happy. So you've got two options: you can either love yourself as you are, get happy, and gain as much weight as you want, or you can address what's making you unhappy, handle it like an adult, and stop stuffing yourself on rubbish to be happy. Or continue to be miserable, which I am not going to allow."

"Nor am I," Rosie said softly.

"I won't either," Lily huffed.

"Either way," Maddie concluded, "you probably will want to change your trousers. I have no idea how you can breathe in those."

Al swallowed again and said bluntly, "Promised Aunt Fleur I'd wear these tonight, and 'm gonna wear them tonight."

He couldn't have been expected to know then that he'd bust the button of the trousers off at Gran's welcome home supper that night, or that, at the end of the week, James would have him humiliated yet again. He'd protest the scale, say that it was clearly bewitched, and James would dare him to get the trousers on and, in so doing, prove it. He'd squeeze them over his thighs with difficulty and find the flaps inches apart, exposing his pale, fleshy stomach and where the elastic waistband of his pants cut sharply into it. He'd try them around his waist, and hips; he'd try them under where he'd have a noticeable roll of belly fat; he'd try them sucking his stomach in with all his might.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of writhing, struggling, and grunting, he'd be on his back and sucking in all his disgusting flesh, and the button would go in. Slowly, the zipper would come up, fighting his new girth the whole way. The trousers would be uncomfortable, and there'd be enough fat spilling over the waistband that his t-shirt would fail to conceal it – but the trousers would be on. They'd be on and James would be wrong… until Gran gave Al more food and the button bloody well burst off again.

It's almost strange, now, having to wear a belt with them. Feeling increasing free space between his skin and the fabric. Knowing that he's come so far, but that he has so far left to go. He's been here, in Myrtle's loo, for nearly an hour, he's flushed the toilet five times, and he still isn't done yet.

Hand trembling, he picks his wand up off the floor and points it at his stomach. Weakly, he murmurs the incantation for the Vomiting Hex; he sets his wand down before he starts retching. Myrtle gasps again, even though she's already seen it. When he looks up from this round, his entire body's shaking, and Myrtle's waiting for him, her face halfway between reproaching him and sympathizing with him.

"You really should go to the Hospital Wing, you know," she advises softly.

"What?" Al huffs. "And explain to Pomfrey that I made myself sick on purpose? Do you have any idea what they'd do to me?"

"No. But, from the looks of it, you probably need them to do something."

It's so hard to be mad at her when she's so damn sweet, but she's not even trying to understand.

"You really don't look well at all, you know."

"Really, Myrtle? I've just spent an hour vomiting. So surprised to know that I do not look well."

"Well, there's no reason to be cruel. I was only being honest." She pauses, looks him over. "You're so skinny. It's really rather frightening."

"Well, if I'm skinny, then I'm hardly skinny enough-"

"How much weight, exactly, have you lost since term started?"

"Not nearly enough."

"How much? You can tell me, remember? My lips are sealed, and it isn't like anyone would want to listen to me anyway."

"Fine," Al snaps. Pausing, he takes a few deep breaths before replying, "Nearly seven kilos. As I said, not enough."

"How on Earth can you-"

"A Seeker has to be skinny, Myrtle!"

"Your brother's hardly what I'd call skinny. I've seen him, you know-"

"In the Prefects' bathroom, I know! And he's tall, he's lean-"

"And you're too skinny-"

"I am not!" For how much he's raising his voice, Al is so glad that he thought to cast a Silencing Charm on the loo first. He's less so for the tears that have started to come down his cheeks. "I'm not, so I haven't eaten. But people noticed that, so I have to do this instead!"

She pauses again, and her voice is more mournful when she asks, "How much longer?"

He considers for a moment, but answers, "Until I'm satisfied."

"I'm not leaving-"

"Suit yourself-"

"Something could happen to you-"

"Unlikely-"

"And then you'd need me."

He shrugs. She settles in to watch, and he picks up his wand.