Author's Note: Bit busy. Here I am.

"Each has a reason to believe he or she is responsible."

James rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe they should stop torturing themselves. There's no point."

"I quite agree; there is no point at all."

James was mid-way through his second session with Stephen White, and he had already learned to stop being surprised whenever he acted differently than anyone else James knew would have. For instance, if James insulted him, Stephen would merely laugh, smile, or simply show no change in expression. He was eternally calm.

"So, tell them that!" said James.

Stephen shook his head slowly, smiling in a way that made James want to throw something at his face.

"I am here to help you, James. Not them. You will be the one to help your friends and family."

"Oh?" said James, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was supposed to be helping myself."

"You are correct. You see, you get better, they get better."

James crossed his arms over his chest, speaking with insolence, "There's nothing to get better here, Sir."

James had spoken such words before, denying that he had any sort of "problem" that needed fixing. He had denied and denied and yet… The way he was now living his life did not seem exactly normal. He was not prepared to admit that he was doing anything wrong. And he did not want to be stopped, but…

James was now unable to get himself a minute alone. He was followed even to the bathroom (with attempted subtlety), which did not make it so easy to get rid of the food he took in. He knew he could have tried to do what he needed to do with company, but he was unwilling to break their…their… He may have seemed improved in their eyes. And he was not sure he wanted to bring that down.

So, James took the only time that he could see fit to rid himself of his food products of the day. It was perhaps not as efficient, doing it once a day, but he worked with what he had. Using his shower time. While he was in the shower, James did what he had to do, trying to be as quiet as possible, the sound of the water helping.

How could he possibly call himself normal when he was vomiting down the drain while he showered every night and hiding it from his friends? It didn't seem common.

James had allowed that he was not normal—not necessarily sick and not necessarily wanting to change, but not normal.

He squirmed a little in his chair, never wanting to keep still. He had to work extra hard with his meals and one purging session a day to keep his weight down. He tried to balance things out by moving—walking, running, whatever he could do without suspicion.

"Uncomfortable, James?" Stephen asked.

James studied the man that was so close James could grab his hand if he desired. His hair, James noticed, was slightly darker than it had been the previous week. It was still not as dark as James' jet-black hair. He also was wearing an earring, but James was not sure if Stephen had had this all along, unseen by him.

"Your hair changed," said James.

Stephen seemed impressed, flattered, or surprised. Or maybe some combination of the three. "You noticed that?"

"What hap—"

"Let's not waste our time together talking about me, James," said Stephen. "Now, I asked you a question. Are you uncomfortable?"

"I just don't want to be here," said James.

Stephen sighed. "You're lying, James. I told you not to." He pushed his glasses—James noticed these were also new—further up his nose.

James narrowed his eyes. "Do you know the answer, then? Because if you do, I really don't see the point in asking!"

Stephen smiled, as he did so frequently, before responding. "James. This is about you. It's all to help you."

"No, it's not to help me. It's to help my family and friends. Or to make them happy, calm them down. And I guess it helps me in the sense that I get to stay here at school. But I've already told you I don't—"

"Have a problem," Stephen finished.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Not at all, James."

"Stop calling me that," said James. "Call me Potter or something. Feels too personal and kind."

Stephen chuckled. "I will continue calling you James. Now, James, tell me about Lily."

"I don't want to talk about her," said James, avoiding Stephen's eyes.

"Are you embarrassed that you slept with her? Perhaps because she's a—a mudblood?"

James was at his feet immediately. "Never," he shouted, "speak about her that way. Never call her such a thing." He was nose to nose with Stephen. "She is the most wonderful woman alive. Beautiful, brilliant, angelic… I would never be embarrassed to—one could consider himself blessed just to spend a single moment with her."

"You love her," said Stephen. It was not a question.

James blinked. He found his way back to his seat. "You tricked me?"

"Gotta do what you gotta do. Even if it means using distasteful language."

"Well," said James, "be happy with what you got. Because you've revealed your tactics. I won't be fooled again."

Stephen did not respond to this. "So, you slept with a woman you love. What's the problem with that? Does she not love you? Doe—"

"First of all, I never said I was ashamed. And second, she had a boyfriend. It was cheating."

"Aha. So, you—"

"Don't," said James fiercely. "Don't you dare analyze this into something that it's not."

Stephen did not continue with his sentence, but he did not drop the subject. "Did you two speak about it after it happened?"

"Not talking about this," said James, staring past Stephen.

"Did she tell you what it was? Did she say it was a mistake? Did she avoid you entirely?"

"Stop," said James. "Stop, stop, stop."

"James," said Stephen gently. "I just want to talk. Just answer my questions, please. What can it hurt?"

James' eyes were filling with tears that he attempted to keep from falling.

"You cannot block everyone out, James."

Some tears had escaped James' eyes. He did not bother to wipe them away. "Watch me."

"I will get in eventually," said Stephen. "You may not think so, but I will. Wouldn't you rather save some time? Not spend the rest of your year visiting with me?"

"Nothing you need to know, Sir."

Stephen shook his head. "These lies are not fooling me, James. Next week, we will again try to break the seal, yes?"

James shrugged. Knowing this meant time was up, he rushed out of the office without another word.

He had cried. He had started crying in front of Stephen. Nothing would change that. It was ironic that at the time when his defenses were highest, not allowing anyone access to his head, he was also so easily breakable, so easily tricked into confessions.

Breaking down into tears after talking about Lily for what may have been less than a minute.

James calmed himself down before starting his journey to Gryffindor Tower. He would not start crying in front of anyone else.

The walk proved rather arduous; it exhausted him. He was happy for the exercise opportunity, but it was kind of difficult to keep moving. Every few steps, he found himself taking a break, leaning on the nearest wall.

When James finally made it to the Common Room, he was dizzy and shaking.

People watched him as he carefully walked to the dormitory staircase while the room spun before him every once in a while.

Almost there.

When he pushed the door open to their bedroom, his friends were cheerful for a moment, but the moment was very quick. Almost immediately, it became concern.

"James, what ha—"

"—are you oka—"

"What the hell happened to you?"

James was guided to his bed and didn't bother trying to shake off the hands that were doing it. He was shaking and sweating profusely. He wanted to be safely in bed under his covers, and he didn't object when the blurred Sirius helped him lay down and took his shoes off for him. He rested his head on the pillow; it felt so much better.

"Covers," James mumbled.

"No, don't," said a voice from across the room. James recognized it as Remus'. "He could burn up."

Sirius kneeled beside James' bed. He laid his hand on James' forehead. "I don't know if he has a fever. But he seems to be having a cold sweat. What happened, James?"

"Nothing," he said. He felt nearly back to normal. "I was just out of breath. I just…" If James admitted to having trouble walking the distance, he knew his friends would get involved. They would request that his meetings be arranged elsewhere or even help him get to the meetings and back.

"I just got a bit nauseous in Dumbledore's office and wanted to rush back here, so I got…well, it didn't go well."

That seemed like a pretty good story.

"You still feeling nauseous?" Sirius asked gently.

"Nah," said James, giving him a small smile. "I'm feeling much better."

Sirius smiled and ruffled James' hair a bit before going back to his bed. Once there, he asked, "So, you want to tell us about the meeting?

"I mean," said Sirius quickly as James was opening his mouth, "seriously want to. If you don't, no problem. It's your business."

"Absolutely no pressure," Remus added.

"I don't," said James.

James did not want to say to them that he felt the man asked stupid questions, which James answered some of the time, that weren't going to help anyone. If he did, they may have been discouraged about James' improvement. Though they did not know, to James' knowledge, about the vomiting, they perhaps still did not see him as the James they once knew.

He was fragile, they believed. And with the state they saw him in when he came back from his meeting, could he really blame them for thinking so?

Saying that he didn't want to talk about it could have made his friends believe that he was getting some deep analysis that was painful to talk about, but would fix him.

"You finish your homework, James?" asked Remus quietly.

"Yep."

"Just checking."

James had once been the leader of their group. Now he was the child who needed to be taken care of and checked up on. Sirius helped him to his bed, took his shoes off, checked for fever, ruffled his hair, asked if he was okay. Remus and Peter watched from the other side of the room, and Remus checked to make sure he had done his homework.

"I suggest you get some sleep, James. I know it's early, but—"

"Good night," said James, not bothering to object.

….

"Sirius, can I ask you something?"

Sirius seemed baffled. "'Course, James," he said. "Always. What's up?"

James and he were walking back to the Common Room alone after a late lunch, as Remus and Peter had left lunch early to go to the library, so that Remus could help Peter with his Transfiguration essay.

"What happened with Lily and Gavin? I know they've broken it off, but… Is it because of what I did?"

James could not read Sirius' expression. He knew that bringing up what had happened between himself and Lily could be opening a can of worms.

Sirius shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. She says they weren't right for each other…or something?"

James felt a slight jump to his heart. It was a happy feeling…and so different. Lily had slept with him and decided she and Gavin were not right for each other.

"I don't know if had anything to do with what you did," said Sirius, his expression still not telling, "but even if it did, that's not your fault. It was not a one-sided act."

James nodded.

"She won't tell me what happened between you two, by the way. I've asked. She refuses to discuss it. Any way of getting it out of you?"

James checked Sirius' face again. This time, he could see what was there. Kindness, affection, and a bit of teasing.

"No," said James solemnly. "I can't talk about it. It was just some stupid night."

"Wasn't stupid for you," said Sirius, all teasing gone. "I know it wasn't. He placed his hand on James' shoulder. "I'm sure it hurt you, James. You being in love with her, things happening how they did. I could try to help."

James shrugged Sirius' hand off. "No."

If Sirius was hurt, he masked it well. "When you're ready, we'll be there."

"And I don't love her," said James. "Just a crush that was effectively…crushed."

Sirius sighed, but did not answer.

"Vitality," he muttered, before the Fat Lady could ask.

James could feel his eyes on him. "Think I'm going to start patrolling with Evans again."

"If you think that's wise."

James didn't question what this meant.

He looked around the Common Room, seeing many separate groups of students, some on the couch, some sitting in the corner, laughing, some at a table working. His friends had been trying to persuade him to spend some time there and get back into the swing of things.

But people stared and talked.

"James?"

James had remained still, standing near the portrait hole while Sirius had gotten halfway across the room.

"You coming?"

James beckoned for Sirius to come back. Which he did. Quickly.

"Why don't we stay down here?"

"Sure!" said Sirius enthusiastically. He led him to a corner of the room that was unoccupied, practically bouncing the entire way.

James could hear the whispers.

….

"We're all really proud of you, you know."

James looked up from his nearly-finished Transfiguration essay to see Sirius watching him. "Are you?"

Sirius nodded, grinning. "Yeah. I know things are really hard for you, but you seem to be getting better. I can't imagine what you've gone through."

James looked back down at his essay. He didn't deserve praise.

"It's nothing."

"No, it's not nothing," said Sirius. "You deal with all our precautions, our following you, without a complaint."

Because I've found a way around it.

"It's nothing," James repeated, avoiding his eyes.

They fell into silence, James finishing his essay, Sirius watching. Until the other marauders joined them, Lily by their side.

"Surprised to see you here, mate," said Peter, sitting down with Remus. Lily remained standing, looking uncomfortable.

"Well, thanks for your help, Remus," she said, looking around the room. "I'm going to get going."

"No problem, Lily. You can join us if you want?"

Lily shook her head. "No, I really—I'm expected upstairs."

"I'm doing rounds with you tonight," said James. His eyes were on her, but she was looking at everything but the marauders.

Lily nodded. "Okay, I'll meet you here at ten."

She left without another word.

When she was far enough away, James turned to Remus. "What did you help her with?"

Remus waved his hand dismissively. "She had Transfiguration confusion. No big deal."

James nodded slowly. "I could have helped her…"

"James, we were just there. She was in the library, so she asked me."

"I know," said James. "But she wouldn't have asked me anyway…"

James got back to work, ignoring the looks of pity from his friends he was sure he was receiving.

"So," said Remus. "I'm so glad you're doing this, James. Sitting in the Common Room, doing patrol with Evans tonight."

"Don't say you're proud of me," said James, dropping his quill. "Please, just don't."

James gave up on his essay, knowing that he would no longer be able to concentrate. He looked at Remus, who seemed startled.

"Sure, Prongs," he said. "I was just…" he paused, "pleased."

James decided to hold back his "don't be" and instead said, "Good."

Remus nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. "Yes. It is."

Perhaps it was paranoia, but when James looked into Remus' eyes, he thought he saw, if only for a tiny moment, suspicion.