Stronger Than Silver

Three and a Half Decades of Misery

Trigger Warning: Bulimia, Vomit, Intrusive Thoughts, Self-Harm, Mention of Suicidal Thoughts, Cursing

(Author's Note: Parts of this fic are based on my struggles with depression, self-harm, and bulimia in the past, so I hope none of this offends any of you. Just know that mental disorders like these manifest in different ways, so not every sufferer thinks and/or acts the same. I'm much better now. If you are struggling with these or similar issues, I send love, support, and hope along your way. Stay strong. <3 )

Lucius Malfoy peered at his willowy reflection in the mirror. Even though he and the other Death Eaters had gratefully succeeded in escaping from Azkaban a year ago, life had not been made any easier at all. It did not help that the Dark Lord had lost all faith in him that time he failed at the Department of Mysteries before getting thrown into prison. Not only that, but he had also destroyed one of the Lord's Horcruxes by accident. A myriad of other matters flew through his head as he gazed into those dull gray-blue eyes in the glass. The wrath of the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters. The war. The past. The future. His reputation. His family. Narcissa. Draco. Mistakes. Failures. Pain. Stress. Life. Death. Staying alive.

Lucius gritted his teeth into a small sneer at himself in the glass. He had fucked up again. He had fucked up his attempt to retrieve the prophecy at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. He had fucked up when they threw him into prison. He had fucked up what little he had ingrained into his reputation as a noble pure-blood Death Eater, he had fucked up his dignity and his entire future thereafter, but worst of all, he had fucked up whatever loyalty he had entrusted his family with. Narcissa and Draco's lives were at stake all because of him. But then he thought, wasn't the purpose of his life just fucking everything up? No matter how much he tried, whatever he did only backfired against him. No matter what he did, nothing ever proved to be good enough.

Lucius lifted a wet, quivering hand to brush the chunks of vomit from his thin peeling lips. He had just spent the past hour throwing up his "dinner" that could have fed three families plus a whole army of house-elves. What a waste. Burgundy eye bags formed below his bottom eyelashes, giving off the impression that he had not slept a wink in weeks. It was a shame that it was partially true. Lucius had not slept well in months due to his intrusive thoughts and this secret... diversion of his. His cheeks were bloodless and swollen from all of the forced puking and the dehydration that came along with it. If they got any worse, he could have easily passed for a blonde-haired Arthur Weasley with his two hundred-kilogram double chin. Lucius shuddered at the thought of becoming as horrendously obese as his archnemesis. He felt biting stomach acid seep up his esophagus again. Cursing under his breath, he clapped a hand over his mouth and forced his knees back down against the marble tiles near the toilet. Stinging stomach acid burned a hole in his throat as he gagged the yellow fluid into the porcelain bowl. Some of the acid must have gone up into his nostrils. They burned like hell, and black dots appeared before his eyes. Lucius draped his thinning light blonde hair over his left shoulder with one hand while he clutched at his battering heart with the other.

"F-Fuck..." he hissed at the burn that developed in his stomach and spread up his esophagus, through his nostrils, and up to his eyes, prying salty tears out of the corners. His heart pounded mercilessly in his ears, sounding as if it were an army drum of a mighty battalion. His heart marched on in an erratic pattern of very rapid beats, followed by one or two slow ones dragged out between each other, and then three or four faster-than-average beats. He tried not to panic as he affirmed in his head and prayed to the gods for his heart to slow down. When his arrhythmia finally settled down, Lucius propped himself up to flush the toilet once more. 

He turned around and leaned back against the green-and-silver tiled wall, bringing his knees close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Lucius exhaled and stared at the thin strands of blonde scattered all over the bathroom floor. His gaze then turned to the red and purple bite marks on his knuckles, and he buried his head in his arms, wondering what the hell had happened to cause all of this. What had started this all?