Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter, all characters belong to JK Rowling :)

Chapter warnings: eating disorders, mention of self harm,

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Harry was rudely awakened from his nap by a loud popping noise, followed by familiar voice shouting, "Just because you're allowed to use magic now, it does not mean you have to whip your wands out for everything!"

Harry chuckled to himself. Fred and George had learnt to apparate last year, and now that they were of age, and subsequently allowed to use magic at home, they had been routinely abusing that talent; mainly to annoy Mrs Weasley, which - by the sound of it - they had succeeded in.

Suddenly, Harry became aware of a dull, throbbing ache in his stomach. He felt vaguely nauseous, and his head was swimming. Just as the notion of a stomach bug or food poisoning (despite not having eaten anything) came to mind, his stomach growled loudly. Harry wrapped an arm around his middle, wincing. He was hungry. Painfully hungry.

Much to Harry's dismay, Remus chose that moment to appear with a plate of sandwiches.

"Harry, you're awake - Molly asked me to bring you up some lunch," Remus smiled, setting the plate down at the end of the bed.

"Oh, um- thanks," Harry said, absent-mindedly rubbing his aching stomach.

"Are you feeling okay?" Remus asked, glancing down at Harry's hand.

Harry stopped the circular motions, and sat on his hand. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, with as much of a smile as he could muster.

"I'll come up for the plate in a bit," Remus smiled, and left. Harry knew what he really meant, though. He'd be up in a bit to check on Harry.

With Remus gone, Harry turned his attention to the plate of food at the foot of the bed. The temptation to give in, to just scarf down the sandwiches and let himself feel full for the first time in months - it was almost too much to bear. Harry knew he could just eat and then purge - but his throat had been so sore lately, and he was in a constant state of acid reflux; he was worried that if he kept going, the side effects would just get more and more severe. That, coupled with the fact that he was more than a little self-conscious about his teeth losing their pristine white appearance, motivated Harry to take a little break from purging, and instead focus on either exercising or just not eating in the first place.

Harry pinched his stomach viscously. The flab he found there was enough to put him off the sandwiches. However, it did give him an opportunity to practice his vanishing spell, which Flitwick had wanted them to perfect over the summer. Harry grabbed his wand from the nightstand.

"Evanesco."

The sandwiches vanished with a faint pop, leaving the just plate, sparkling clean and devoid of any crumbs. In hindsight, he probably should have left some traces of food on the plate - to avoid suspicion.

Harry's stomach grumbled loudly, a painful reminder of the hunger gnawing away at his insides. He dragged himself over to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room and grabbed one of the plastic bottles from the bottom drawer. He screwed off the lid and gulped down a mouthful of Coke, then another, finishing the bottle within minutes. The hunger pains began to dissipate, Harry's stomach now being full of bubbly, carbonated liquid. He opened another bottle to drink slowly, and set it down on the nightstand. The next couple of hours were spent doing painful sit ups, trembling planks and sipping from a bottle of Coke. In Harry's mind, despite his aching muscles and extreme fatigue afterwards, it was time well spent.

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The next couple of weeks passed in a blur, and before Harry knew it, another year at Hogwarts was upon him. He had spent the past two weeks mostly on his own, either reading or working on the copious amounts of summer homework they had been given, which he had stupidly waited until the last minute to complete. He was grateful to the distraction, though, and it gave him something to do - an excuse for when he didn't feel like socialising and wanted to be on his own - which seemed to be most of the time nowadays. Unbeknownst to anyone else, Harry had been continuing to cut, using the metal strips Hermione's razor and keeping to his thighs. He tried to occasionally wear short sleeves around Remus and Sirius, silent proof that he was sticking to his promise, but felt uncomfortable with his scars on display around the others. His friends had yet to learn of his (admittingly, maladaptive) coping mechanisms, and Harry intended to keep it that way.

As for the issue of meal times, Harry had been attempting to increase the amount he ate in order to appease the constant eyes on him. He alternated between going for 'walks' and exercising into the early hours of the morning to eliminate the calories, not wanting anyone to catch on to what he was doing. It seemed to work, and particularly Sirius appeared to relax about Harry's eating. Remus, however, had not let up with the constant observation. Harry didn't mind, though - he had everyone fooled into thinking he was better, and that was enough for him.

The night before leaving for King's Cross, Harry was unable to sleep. His trunk lay empty at the foot of his bed, his unpacked clothes and possessions scattered around the floor. He had been meaning to pack for the last few days, but just hadn't gotten round to it yet. It was still dark outside, the rays from a half-moon seeping through the thin curtains and illuminating the room in a faint glow - but Harry couldn't sleep.

He wasn't sure exactly what he was worried about - Harry had always immensely looked forward to the new school year, usually counting down the days until he would return with immense excitement. But now, lying in bed in the early hours of the morning, Harry felt sick. That isn't to say he didn't want to go back - he did. It would be so much easier to skip meals and hide his bad habits when there wasn't anyone constantly watching and monitoring him. On the other hand, Harry was anxious about how the other pupils would perceive him. The Sumer holidays had given students a lot of time to think, and to replay the events of last year - namely the Tri Wizard Tournament, and specifically the final task. Add to that the lies the Daily Prophet had been spreading, and the fact that virtually no one was willing to believe Harry about the events of the graveyard, and that Voldemort was back… there was a good chance that everyone would turn their backs on him at school. And Harry had a sickening feeling that it would be far worse than other times - when everyone had thought he was the heir of Slytherin in his second year, when they accused him of putting his name in the Goblet of Fire during his fourth year - this would be different. Worse.

Deciding that sleep was an impossibility given his restless state of mind, Harry sighed, palmed his face and shoved his glasses on from the nightstand. He quietly padded over to the window and hauled himself up onto the sill. There he sat, hugging his knees and resting his head back against the wall, staring out at the meadows and fields beyond The Burrow's front yard. A half-moon shone brightly in the cloudless night sky, basking the trees in a faint silver glow and casting long, menacing shadows across the grass. He gazed at the stars, little pin pricks of light shining through the inky darkness. Nighttime had always been Harry's favourite time of day. He found peace in the quiet and the dark, when everyone else was asleep and it was just him, alone. At Privet Drive, the night had always brought him comfort - no nagging, no chores needing to be done, no getting beaten up just for existing; it was the only time that he could ever truly relax.

It was funny; for years, Harry had tried so hard to keep the Dursley's mistreatment a secret. He was petrified of anyone finding out, scared stiff of what his uncle would do to him if Harry ever told anyone. At the time, it had seemed such a real threat. Now that it was all out in the open, though, it felt to Harry as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was only now that he realised how misguided his fear had been. There were people in his life now who cared about him - truly cared - and they would never let any harm come to him. He was safe here. Loved.

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