When I get back to school, I put on an air of confidence. I continue to tutor the younger students. One of them is getting quite good— even though she started out below grade level, now as a fifth year, she is working on sixth year potions. I am really proud of her progress, and even tell her parents that she should consider going for a mastery. They say they hope their daughter becomes half the potioneer that I am, and the girl tells me that when she's a seventh-year, she wants to be president of Potions Club like me.

The rest of the year rolls by in a blur. I am 5 foot 3 and 94 pounds of useless waste. Sometimes, I use the razor that I have never had to use on my face to cut my forearms. The pain feels good— it numbs the inner turmoil in my brain. Watching the blood seep out of the cuts stabilizes me. I deserve to suffer— I'm ugly, I'm stupid, I'm fat, and everything is always my fault. I only do that a few times before Evan finds out and takes away my razor. When my friends and I sit in our dorm at night, talking in whispers about our future as Death Eaters, Evan holds me close. Sometimes we wake up early to "study" on the couch or in the empty classroom, but as I eat less and less, I find it increasingly harder to wake up in the mornings, even to spend time with Evan.

On the Saturday morning before the Quidditch Cup game, I feel somebody shaking my shoulder. I roll over and shading my eyes from the light.
"Sev?" Evan asks, hand still on my shoulder.
"Mmm," I groan.
"Are you coming to the game today? I tried to wake you up before breakfast, but you wouldn't wake up. Everybody's already eaten, and I'm supposed to be at the pitch in an hour."
"Yeah, I'll be there, just lemme sleep for a bit."
"You don't have time, Sev. You have to get up! I need to leave! Don't you want to watch me play?" he's raising his voice, and I know he's annoyed, but I can't help it.
"Yeah, sorry. Can you help me up?" I mumble. I have to try to be strong. I can't let him see how weak I've become.
"Sure, but then I need to go," he sighs, standing up, grabbing my hand, and pulling me up. As I stand up, my head swims and my muscles give out. I reach my hand out to catch myself, but Evan puts his arm around my back and gently lowers me to the floor, "You've stopped eating again, haven't you?"
I shake my head. My heart is beating as slowly as it did that time before my father accused me of stealing his leftovers and beat me so badly I had to go to St. Mungo's for over two weeks. My brain is foggy, and my limbs feel heavy.
"Why are you like this?! Why don't you just eat?!" he's raising his voice again, and I can't help but smile.
"I dunno," I mumble, "I guess I just forget."
"That's bullshit, and you know it. You were doing so well before Christmas break when you went back to the manor! I guess I should have realized we still had to make up eachother's plates, but I figured you were doing so well… What do I need to do to help you right now? Do I need to miss my game to bring you to the Hospital Wing, or will you start eating again if we start making each other's plates again?" Evan says, propping me up so I'm sitting.
I think for a minute in silence, then I nod.
"We're grown adults, Sev! Use your words! Do you need Madame Pomfrey and me to force potions down your throat, or are you going to eat?!"
"I'll eat, but you need to go to your game," I say.
"Don't treat me like I'm stupid. I'm not an idiot— I know you're lying. I'll sit here while you eat this apple, and you'd better eat fast because I have a game to win."
"Okay," I say, and he hands me a big apple from his cloak. I go to take a bite, but just can't. I feel as if there is ice in my bones, and my muscles start to shake. A little voice in my head tells me that if I eat, I'll be fat, and nobody will pay attention to me anymore. Evan will think I'm ugly, and he won't like me anymore. Craving warmth, I cuddle in close to Evan.
"You wanna make a bet?" he says quietly. I glance up. He's not smiling.
"What are the terms?" I say, eyeing the apple.
"If Slytherin wins, you start coming to meals with me and eating again. I promise I'll make your plates again and you can make mine."
"What if we lose?"
"I take you to Madame Pomfrey and get you more potions."
"What if I don't agree to the terms of the bet?"
"Then I drag you to Madame Pomfrey right now and tell her you need to be admitted back to St. Mungo's."
"You wouldn't dare," I snarl, putting the apple back on my bed and grabbing my wand from my bedside table.
"I would," he says, and when I look into his eyes, I can see that they are wet.
Slowly, I set my wand down and pick the apple back up. Before I can convince myself to put the apple back down, I take a slow, painful bite, chew, and swallow,"Thank you," I whisper, leaning back into his chest, "Thank you for caring about me."
"Of course, Sev. I— I really really like you. I don't think I could ever stop liking you."
"But someday you'll have to get married and have kids and everything!" I say, finally voicing what's been on my mind since my birthday party.
Evan shakes his head, saying, "I don't know, Sev. I don't want to think about it. I just want to be with you. Who knows! Maybe there's two witches out there who are together, then we can get married to them for show, and they can be together, and we can be together!"
"Maybe. It sounds like you've thought a lot about this," I can't help but smile at how enthusiastic he sounds, then, seeing the apple still in my hand, I say, "But if I eat, then I'll get big, and you won't want to be with me anymore! You'll find somebody newer, and cuter, and more interesting, and I'll be all alone again!" The words just seem to slip out, and I cover my face with my hands, not wanting to see his reaction.
"Is that what this is about?" Evan says incredulously.
I nod, still not taking my hands off my face, "'Cause I'll get fat and you, and Lucius, and Narcissa, and all my friends— none of you will pay attention to me anymore! Nobody will care about me, and I'll be all alone again like when I was little!"
"Oh, Sev, that's not true!" Evan's voice shakes, and he wraps his arms around me, "I don't like you because you're skinny, I like you for who you are! You're the most incredible person I've ever met! I love how weird, and funny, and sarcastic you can be, and how you see the world, and how good you are at everything you do! I love your big black eyes and dark hair! And I love your long legs and how your pants are always too short, and… and I love everything about you! You're not going to get big from eating an apple. Even if you ate a normal, healthy diet, you still wouldn't get fat! Remember how good you looked and felt before break? You were so much happier, and you looked better, too! I hate seeing you so sick! Your cheeks get all hollow, and your hands get all bony, and whenever we have sex, I feel like I'm going to break you because your bones stick out so badly! And besides, I know you'd feel better if you were healthier."
"I guess. I am pretty tired of feeling like shit all the time, but it's hard! You don't understand how hard it is, Evan! I don't wanna lose you or any of my friends!" I exclaim, remembering how Lily and I drifted apart over the years, and how I finally destroyed our friendship once and for all with one, stupid little word.
"That's just your brain telling lies to you, Sev! You have to fight it! Don't you understand? You have to be strong! You're never going to get better if you don't try! I don't want to lose you, Sev! I don't want you to die!"
I peek around my fingers to see Evan. He has actual tears in his eyes. Suddenly, I feel better. This isn't Lucius telling me to eat just to control me. This is Evan telling me to eat because he really really likes me. This is Evan telling me to eat because he cares about me. This is Evan telling me to eat because he needs me just as much as I need him. I snuggle into his arms, mumbling, "I'll try."
"Don't try. Just do it. You always want to do what I want, right? Well, I want you to be strong. I want you to fight whatever's in your brain telling you not to eat. I want you to be happy, okay?" Evan murmurs, holding me tight.
"Okay," I smile, and he pats my back before letting me go. While I work on eating my apple, Evan rubs my back and tells me stories of all the fun things we used to do together when we were still kids at Hogwarts. I don't remember a lot of the things he tells me about, so it's fun to hear them from his point of view.

After about 10 minutes, Evan takes my half-finished apple, throws me some clothes, and tells me to get changed. After I've changed, I walk to the Quidditch pitch with Evan. I finish my apple on the way there. For some reason, it's easier for me to eat while we're walking. I don't feel as pressured or watched. I can focus on other things and forget what I'm doing. When I'm done with my apple, my stomach growls. Evan smiles at me, then pulls out a wrapped-up piece of toast and a hard boiled egg from his Quidditch bag.
"I figured you might want this. Enjoy the game, okay? I'll be looking for you in the stands!" he says, handing me the package, "And don't you dare throw this out. I know your weird games."
I smile, and say, "I'll be there, and I promise I won't throw it out. Evan?"
"Yeah?"
"I really really like you too," I say, looking at my feet.
He pulls me into a tight hug, then quickly kisses my head. He smiles, then he walks into the Slytherin changing rooms.
I glance around, then make my way to a secluded tree near the pitch. I turn my back to the pitch, sit down, and eat the toast and the hard boiled egg. I try to make myself eat slowly, but when I ate that apple, my body seemed to have realized it was hungry, and I seem to inhale the food. As soon as I'm done, I wish I had more. I lightly punch myself in the stomach as punishment for eating so quickly, get up, and walk back to the Quidditch pitch to find my friends and watch the game.

Unfortunately, even though our team is good, Ravenclaw's is better today, and we lose by just a few points. When I meet Evan outside of the changing rooms after the game, he says, "Well, let's go to the Hospital Wing before we do anything else, I guess."
"What?" I answer, perplexed.
"Slytherin lost."
"Evan, I never agreed to our bet, and even if I had, I could just use that one coupon you made me," I smile up at him, "But regardless, you're gonna need to pack more snacks in your bag if that toast and egg was all you brought," he looks at me perplexed, and I give him a big hug, "I promise I'll try to eat more for you from now on."
"I wish you'd eat more for yourself, but so long as you're eating, I'm happy," he grumbles, and kisses the top of my head. Some of girls walking past us giggle. He laughs and ruffles my hair. Somehow, even though Slytherin lost the Quidditch cup, neither Evan nor I seem to feel too sad about it.

At the end of the year I get Outstandings in everything except Ancient Runes. As if I care about that class, anyways. I've gained five pounds back, and as much as I hate to admit it, since I've been eating enough with Evan again, I've been able to study much better. I've actually had the energy to practice my potions and spells, and I know my mood has improved as well. On the few days I've felt a bit more depressed, I know I didn't eat as much as I should have, but in general, I think I've been doing a good job. At least Evan says I have. When I receive the news that I not only achieved Mastery of Potions, but also set the new record score, Lucius and Narcissa, my friends, and the students I tutor throw me a party. I take a few bites of cake, then stop when I feel Lucius' eyes on me. When he looks away, I set my cake down and don't pick it back up again. After graduation, I collapse onto my bed as my friends pack their trunks up. None of us speak. I think we all know that nothing will ever be the same again.