CHAPTER 58 - BREAKING

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TW: PTSD; anorexia

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Harry's technique for relief, though, wasn't the worst way to hurt himself, didn't serve him as productively as it should have. It was a bandage for a bleeding-out limb. But it was the only thing that he had for a crutch right now, so he had to use it.

And he did his best to try not to live in that reality for too long of a time, but the alternative to denial was destruction.

Harry had two more flashbacks while on a break from researching; one when he was walking to the bathroom, and one when he went to put one of the plates of food that Ron and Hermione got him back in the kitchen. The first was of the war. But the second was worse.

He was back at the Dursley's. Uncle Vernon didn't pay attention until he'd almost finished a plate of food. When he did, it was a blind rage. Uncle Vernon gripped the back of his shirt and dragged him. His fingers dug into his collar bones, bruising them. His heels scraped against the floor as Uncle Vernon dragged him to his cupboard, spewing, "You think you can get away with wasting our food, can you? Making the rest of us starve!"

Dudley had already had half of a second portion by then, as well as Uncle Vernon.

Uncle Vernon threw him in his cupboard, Harry hitting the back of his skull against the stone wall as his door locked.

Hot tears running down his face, he thought 'They get angry when I eat. So if I don't eat, then they'll treat me with the love they give Dudley.' Because that was what he wanted, wasn't it? He was just a child who was never given any love.

The following day, Harry didn't eat anything, and it was the kindest they'd ever been to him. He got his wish. Aunt Petunia even gave a pleased nod, which, at the time, Harry thought the world of.

And so Harry's dangerous thoughts returned as he went to the kitchens. If I don't eat, Draco will come back. If I just suck it up for a few more days...

And he'd thought this way before. But when he was much stronger and more sure. He used to be able to get rid of these thoughts, or at least ignore them.

Then he thought of Draco. Draco bought him clothes and held him tight when he told him his darkest secret.

But Draco left you. Draco forgot you. Draco doesn't want you anymore.

He'd want you if you didn't eat.

"Potter."

Harry looked up from his book. His eyes were sore and bloodshot, accessorized by dark, puffy circles. McGonagall came into focus.

"I heard you live in the library now," she said. "Ever so studious, but yet I haven't seen you in class."

Harry blinked slowly. He simply didn't care.

"Dr. Valerie reports you haven't attended the past few sessions."

Harry hadn't had frequent flashbacks before he met with Dr. Valerie. He swallowed and looked back at his book.

"Have you been able to connect to some of your classmates again? I know the war must've been alienating for you. I should hope you've been able to have a bit of fun."

Harry's lips pressed in a line. "I'm trying my best." And then he furrowed his eyebrows. "You're throwing the parties."

"You've missed out on a lot of childhood."

Stop talking to me about my childhood, Harry thought. My childhood was fine, everyone was alive. "I'm aware. Can I go now?"

"No, I actually found myself wanting to escort one of my students to Dr. Valerie's office for his appointment."

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