Work Text:
He stopped talking.
“Cat got your tongue?”, they asked him.
He just laughed and dismissed them.
He was fine.
He was walking down the hallway.
He was back in the bathroom.
One cut.
He was laughing at dinner.
He was back in the bathroom.
Two cuts.
He was pulling pranks.
Then, he was back in the bathroom.
Three cuts. Four cuts.
He was winning the Quidditch match.
He was in the changing rooms, alone.
Five cuts.
He was kissing Regulus in the broom cupboard.
He was still hiding in the cupboard.
Six cuts. Seven cuts.
He was acing his N.E.W.T.s.
Eight cuts.
He was failing his N.E.W.T.s.
Nine cuts. Ten cuts. Eleven cuts.
His head was clashing against the bathroom wall.
Once, twice.
He was studying in the library.
He was alone.
Twelve cuts.
He was graduating.
He was saying goodbye to Minnie.
He was crying.
He was alone in the prefect’s bathroom.
Thirteen cuts. Fourteen cuts. Fifteen cuts.
His head hit the wall.
He didn't count how often.
Myrtle appeared.
He pulled down his sleeve.
He was in the car.
The others were in the small store by the road.
Sixteen cuts, or was it seventeen? Fifteen?
One more.
Two more.
Three more.
“James?”
His mother took his wand away from him.
No more cuts.
He cried out.
His mother held him.
He cried into her shoulder.
He sat in the backseat as they drove home.
“It's not an addiction”, he said.
Again and again.
He shouted it.
He cried it.
But in his mind, he was back in the bathroom.
One cut, two cuts, three cuts.
It felt good.
He needed his wand.
Why wouldn't they give him his wand.
He cried out.
He was walking out of the house.
He had forgotten to put on his jacket.
They looked at him.
“Cat got you?”, they asked him.
He just nodded.
He was back in the bathroom.
One cut...