Standing Alone (Harry Potter Eating Disorder Story)

One Shot

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It was summertime and that meant summer break for all the Hogwarts students.

And Harry Potter was on the ceiling of the Dursley's again.

Almost every night that summer, he had unlocked the lock Uncle Vernon had put on his bedroom window with a toothpick he had nicked from their kitchen to climb on top of the house and just relax up there and look at the stars.

He often did this to avoid his nightmares of Sirius, so he wouldn't have to sleep as much. Because when they got particularly bad, he often had small panic attacks, but Harry just thought they were normal. He didn't know he was starting to get a problem.

Harry laid flat on his back and watched the stars slowly move across the sky.

It was kinda how he felt, slow and hopeless.

It was kinda how Sirius died, slow and hopeless.

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes, while in his mind repeating, don't think of that, don't think of that.

He couldn't help but think about it, it happened so recently. Tears moistened in Harry's eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

His focus tilted to the edge of the ceiling. What if he could be reunite with Sirius?

Harry knew for that to happen, he could only have Sirius alive again, or Harry would have to be dead.

Death didn't seem like a threat to Harry anymore, but a relieve.

Harry shook that thought out of his head, he didn't want to commit suicide, plus it's gonna get better once he's back at Hogwarts, right?

Harry shivered, it was starting to get cold, so he decided to go back inside his tiny bedroom.

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A week later, Harry darted awake from the usual nightmare, Sirius' face swimming in and out of his dreams, usually ending in the revisit to Sirius' death.

He knew he should have gone outside, he knew it. He hadn't gone outside for the past three days because it got way to cold for him, for some reason he was always freezing now.

Harry felt his breathe get shorter, oh no.

Another one of his stupid attack things, and he didn't even knew what they were or why he got them, they were kind of random. Harry had been getting them all summer.

Harry felt the usual sense of nausea and he started hyperventilating, he really hated this.

He ran his fingers through his hair, maybe that could calm him? But surprisingly, it worked well.

Harry reminded himself to breathe in and out, how childish, he thought, having to remind yourself how to breathe.

Shame washed inside him, what had happened to him? Nightmares and those weird attacks every other night, barely having energy to eat from not sleeping, and maybe the most disturbing, his thoughts.