Collarbone Control

1

Draco threw up. He knew it was coming, he felt it deep below the surface. His dinner sitting inside him, it's the only thing that was in his stomach. No breakfast or lunch, just the remains from an hour ago, half of it sitting in the toilet.

Regurgitating his food was easy now, he'd had enough practice. It used to take at least an hour of crouching by the toilet trying to getting anything he could out. Shivering, sweating and crying until it was over. Chills moving like a breeze across his tired and frail body.

Malfoy was now crouched with his forehead on the bowl of the toilet, tears dancing in the corner of his eyes, secretly willing himself to stand. He pushed up with the balls of his feet, extending his shaking knees until he was at full height. Once he got there his eyes clouded over as black spots began to form, pale hands suddenly grabbing the cubical wall for support, his knuckles turning white from the strength of the grip as he steadied himself.

Nothing unusual, if he hadn't just thrown up so violently he could have probably walked it off. Another thing he was used to; pretending not to be faint every time he stood up, living empty did that to him.

Staring down, Draco clutched his stomach, it groaned and cried to him, so neglected and abused. For a second Draco felt pity, he felt shame, for hurting himself in such a way, but soon pushed that far away repressing it down to the darkest depths of his mind. He didn't need his own self pity - or anyone's pity at that, he deserved this.

Opening the door sheepishly, he looked around, it wouldn't matter much if anyone was there, he always put a silencing spell on the cubical when he purged his stomach is such a way. Still, he'd rather not step out the door, looking as ghostly as he did right now, to be met with someone like Potter for example.

Thankfully no one was there, and Draco continued his slow walk to the sink. He washed his hands thoroughly, quickly splashed water onto his pale face and used his favorite charm to make his breath minty fresh. Looking at himself in the mirror he gulped.

You look like actual shite he thought to himself

It was almost funny how much of a mess Draco was. Back at Hogwarts for the special 8th year, they'd all had the opportunity to return for, forced here by his Mother - equally as much as a mess as him.

She didn't want him 'locked up in the house' like she was. Silly how much she'd changed since Father got himself carted off to Azkaban. His mother had rather come out of her shell, brightening up the house, cooking herself and actually talking to Draco like a mother should.

Underneath, this was just her way of covering her pain, as Draco himself was doing and had been for so many years. Not being able to control one's own life takes its toll.

It was about 6th year when Draco's eating issues had begun to take shape. It started quite innocent really, just skipping a few meals here and there, mostly too anxious to eat. Until he'd weighed himself one morning and realized how much he'd been able to lose without really thinking about it.

This hooked him.

He was weighing himself every day, on the scales he'd transfigured from a pair of old shoes. Willing the number to go down, getting a jet of excitement whenever he lost more than normal.

It was an addiction. It was control. Control of his own life he'd never had before.

People noticed he was skipping meals, Pansy and Blaise gave him worried looks every time they saw him.

'Oh please eat Dray' Pansy would pester.

'Yeah mate, I know shits kinda hitting the fan but you've gotta get something down you' Blaise would chime in.