"Fidelio! Catch!"

"Dan!"

"Fidelio!"

"Teddy!"

"Dan!"

"Teddy!"

"Dan!"

"Dan, over here!"

"Teddy!"

"Dan!"

"Fidelio!"

"Teddy!"

Teddy caught the quaffle with ease for the final time, giving his whistle one last tweet.

"Alright, beaters, I want you to practice that new move we were trying Sunday, the Bludger Backbeat! Chasers, get in place, you've been doing a pretty rotten job with formation lately, so we need to work on that. I don't know who else, if anyone, listened to the Gargoyles- Stormers game yesterday, but Hawkshed Attacking Formation is serving them pretty well, we should try more of it. James…" his voice faded away. "You're doing great! But I want you to try the Double Eight Loop again, you've almost got it. Ten more minutes, then we'll scrimmage!"

Exhausted and more than a little dizzy, James tightened his grip on his broom and began to track a path around the goal hoops. Lately he'd been so tired, so out of breath, so cold. But he couldn't let anyone see. That was important. Now, should he add an extra loop there, for an intermediate precaution? His chest seared, but he pushed the pain away. Focus. He had to go faster. Faster. He looped around the goal posts until the rest of the pitch was a blur, until he was beyond dizzy, until his head seemed separate from the rest of his body, until he wasn't sure his body was on the broom anymore.

WHAM!

"James!"

He was falling… falling, his back felt like it had burst into a million pieces and he was beyond pain, but apart from it too. Part of him wondered why he was screaming.

And then he collided back-first with the ground, and that bit of his brain was knocked out of him with his breath.

"James? You alright?"

He forced himself up off the ground to face Teddy, gasping for air.

"Bludger," Teddy explained. He helped him the rest of the way up.

"HI'm…. Hokay…" James panted.

"Go hit the locker rooms," his god brother said firmly. "And maybe Madam Pomfrey, I don't know. Is anything broken?"

Not that hadn't been before. He hoped. He was nearly bent double with pain, but no way was he going to see Madam Pomfrey. "Fine."

"Go on," Teddy said, so James shouldered his broom and headed for the locker room.

He pulled his training shirt, which was practically stuck to his back with sweat, off over his head, wincing, then craned his neck to see his back. His spinal cord rose in ridges and lumps out of his back, and he could see nearly every rib, rising to form hills and leave canyons between them. When had that happened? It made it fairly easy to see that one of the ribs broken before appeared dislocated; it was sticking up in the wrong direction, but he'd essentially grown immune to rib pain, and there wasn't much he could do about it. He muttered a spell causing a jet of ice-cold air to numb the pain, then pulled a clean sleeveless undershirt on over so he didn't have to look at it anymore. He had bent over the sink and was washing sweat off his face when he heard the door to the locker room swing open and Aaron's voice call, "James? Teddy sent us to make sure you were still breathing…?"

There was no time to do anything; no time to hide. Aaron and Dan were standing there, staring at him. His arms were fully exposed. One gripped the edge of the sink at an angle, giving his best friends a perfect view of the fresh slashes, scabs, and scars making their way up his arm and over his shoulder. And a fair amount of fading bruises to boot.

Aaron's eyes had widened; his expression bewildered, but Dan knew. And his eyes were just as wide. Because Dan was pretty brilliant with arithmancy. It came from a muggle mother who put him through years of arithmetic, he said. He knew how to put two and three together to get five. And one and four. And two, two, and one. And probably two and a half and two and a half as well. Like the knife that had once fallen out of the pocket of James's robes. And the set of cuts on the back of his right hand James had failed miserably to shield from view. And James's odd behavior that year was a pretty good indicator as well.

So, mentally, James applied some of his mother's favorite words in such situations. Merlin's pants, Merlin's Pants, Merlin's Pants-,

"James?"

Shit.

Dan crossed the room in a flurry of movement, Aaron just behind him.

Dan grabbed hold of James's arm, turned it over, then looked up into his friend's eyes. James couldn't meet them. He ducked his head, staring away.

"Why?" Aaron asked.

James was so completely not in the mood, it wasn't even funny. "Look, I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Not alright," Aaron replied. "Talk to me now."

"No, look, the rest of the team will be here soon. I'll talk to you later."

It was amazing how quickly his mouth could go dry; how fast his heart could pump. He turned away from them, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Alright, just tell me how long you've been doing it," Dan said. Aaron gave him an odd look.

"September, maybe," James replied. "I don't really know."

"What do you use?" Dan asked.

"What's this going to turn into, twenty questions?" James shot.

"What do you use?" Dan persisted.

"A pocket knife. Happy?"

"No, James, I'm not. I don't get it. What's been going on this year?" Dan asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Aaron asked. "He's been bloody cutting himself!"

"Cutting is a symptom, Aaron," Dan informed him, "Of something else."

"What… you don't mean… James, do you want to kill yourself?" His voice came out strangled.

"No!" James said, and it was true. He didn't. He'd be of no use to anyone, then. "It just helps me, alright? Now, shut it! They're coming."

James slipped out of the changing room, ducking around Teddy, who had opened his mouth to inquire about his well-being, and through the door.

Dan and Aaron took one look at each other before they followed him, but once outside, Dan grabbed Aaron's arm.

"What are you doing?" Aaron asked, surprised. It surprised him more how shaky his voice sounded as his mind reeled. "We aren't going after him?"

"Give him some time," Dan replied, his voice sounding distant. "Besides, Aaron, there's something we have to do."

"We have to shower and get dressed for Transfiguration?" Aaron suggested.

"Obviously, but after that." Dan said.

"And… what's that?" Aaron said.

"We're going to tell a teacher," Dan replied.

"Tell a…you're kidding!"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Dan asked.

"But… we can't do that to him!" Aaron said, sounding panicked. "He'd kill us! It's his secret, we're not betraying him like that!"

"We will," Dan said.

"But what if he gets in trouble? What if they tell his parents… or- or put him in some sort of an institution or something? We can't do that to him!"

"No," Dan said readily, "He can't do that to himself."