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It's raining today, the fat drops splattering against the formerly dusty window. I can taste the rain in my mouth and I feel it in my mind, cool nothing. I reach up and put my hand up against the window. Wash me away and leave me as sprinkling drops of water in the grass. The rain always puts me in a dreary mood, it reminds me that all I have can so easily be swept away.

All the girls are at dinner, picking carefully at their food and wondering out loud if their robes make them look too fat. I only make a quick appearance, bile rising in my throat, and then I laugh and pretend that I forgot something in the library. Or I'm doing some research. Forever doing research on a project that leaves me hunched over tomes larger than my head. My back always aches now, a slow steady ache that makes me wince. I refuse to see Madame Pomfrey about it. She tries to get me to go and I always turn my face away and say that maybe I'll go another day. If only.

She slips into my room, all red hair and brown eyes. Her smile gleams at me for an instant, it makes the world bearable. If only for a few moments. The door shuts behind her with a clang and then she is making her way to the window. To me.

"I missed you at dinner today," she says. Every day she says the same thing, perhaps hoping to cajole me to join her at the tables with the rest of the Gryffindors. I pretend that I haven't heard her, my hands are twisting together in my lap. They itch to touch her.

She speaks again, "I wish that you would eat. A salad even." I look up and I smile, reaching out a hand to touch her. It looks like a claw, all bones and angles. I know what I'm doing.

"I can't," the words come out in a half whine. I remember the sharpness in Professor Snape's eyes today when I left. Perhaps he suspects.

"Yes, you can." She smiles but it doesn't even touch her eyes.

"I don't want to. I know what I'm doing." Then I kiss her, darting my tongue into her mouth. She gives in, just this once. I think she knows she won't get anymore out of me. Her mouth opens up underneath mine. Our tongues touch and I am lost. I can smell her scent in the air, heady. It makes me feel faint. Our mouths move together in a familiar mating. She moans into my mouth and I smile against her lips. The kiss grows feverish and all I can sense is her, so soft underneath me. Her curves against my bones. I move my mouth from hers down to her neck. I taste the salt of her wrists. She has her eyes closed and her mouth is slightly open. Her lips are red and swollen, ruby red. I kiss them again. Her arms, so soft, go around me and explore my back. When she feels the bones of my spine she twists away from me, breathing heavily.

"You told me you were going to try," she says raggedly. Her eyes are accusatory. I can feel my mind breaking apart and drifting away from me in sharp shards. I feel my wrists, making sure they feel the same. I laugh, the sound off key and harsh in my ears. I wince away from it and close me eyes. I want to weep but the tears won't come. They are stuck behind my eyes.

"Please," I whisper. I want her to make me feel real again. There is a body and I am connected to it. Please, let me know there is. I take her into my arms and whisper into her ear, my breath cold, "Please."

Her voice is wet and clotted, "All right." I live through fantasy.

I whisper again, harshly, "Pretend that you love me." She only responds with a high, shuddery cry. Her visits keep me alive and she knows it. She is my prisoner and I am hers. She needs my love and I need her touch. I crave it the way that I can't crave food.

I lay back upon the bed, I see that the window is fogged up, the rain shut out by a transparent sheet of white. Her hand parts my robes and I can see the tears making her eyes wet. My skirt is now bunched up around my waist and her hand is between my legs. She slips her hand into my panties, I look down and see my lily white thighs. I feel like throwing up for a moment. Then her thumb is on my clit and everything is all right. One finger is slipped inside of me and I can feel it, so cold. I moan because I should moan. It hurts. We are only two frightened girls offering the only comfort we know. Then another finger is inserted. I moan again, this time it is real. I reach down and feel my ribs. Her thumb is rubbing, rubbing against my clit. I don't want this to last. I come in a sharp jerk and cry out. Then the tension recedes.

I can feel her fingers still inside of me and I smile. "Do you want me to..." I ask her. She removes her fingers and her hand and shakes her head 'no.' Her hand goes up to her mouth and she licks her fingers clean.

Her eyes are wounded and I know why. I sit up and push my skirt back down. I am wet between my thighs. Then I cup her face in my hand and kiss her on the cheek, deliberately missing her lips. I don't want to taste myself in her mouth. Perhaps it would add calories to my carefully constructed charts. Swinging my legs over the edge, I sit next to her. She leans her head on my shoulder. I can see her wince and I know she is not comfortable. My hand reaches out and takes hers, I kiss her palm and breathe, "Thank you."

My mind, which had been drifting away from me, is clear. The rain is still splattering against the window

There are shouts downstairs, I recognize Ron's voice. Ginny starts, then deliberately moves away from me. Our hands are no longer joined. There is a clattering up the stairs and my roommates pour into the room. Parvati is fussing about her robes and Lavender is reassuring her that they look fine. They look over at me. Lavender offers, "Professor Snape was asking about you. The greasy git! Probably wants someone else to take house points from."

Lips stretching into a facsimile of a smile, I say, "He already takes enough from Harry and Ron." Lavender smiles hesitantly and says, "Yeah." She sits down on her bed, picks up a brush and starts brushing out her long, brown hair.

Ginny excuses herself and makes her way out, the door half slamming behind her. I feel the emptiness in my stomach, it invades my mind.

----

That night, after spending most of the evening taking notes, my eyes automatically scanning the thin pages, I retreat into the Prefect's bathroom.

The girl I see in the mirror is all eyes and hair. The robes hang from her body in large folds, hiding the wrists and shape of the body. It strips away the lies my mind tells me. I look like a wraith. When I lift up my robes and look down at my arms I can see how big they are. I feel them and I can feel the bones. I strip off my clothes and robes and stand naked before the mirror. My hand reaches down and pinches the fat on my stomach. It looks too big. Bigger than yesterday.

I promised her I wouldn't let go. That I would cling to life with white knuckled hands, body over the edge of a cliff, hands gripping the edge.

I cough, it is a deep cough and I double over. When I look down my hands are covered with specks of blood. I put one hand shakily to my mouth and close my eyes. There is no blood. There is no blood. There is no blood.

With a sharp laugh I hurriedly put my clothes back on and turn away from the mirror. My teeth come down sharply on my bottom lip. I pick up my bookbag and leave the bathroom.

I run back to the common room on legs that feel too weak to support my weight, the bookbag is a heavy weight across my chest.

"Miss Granger," the sharp voice cuts into my confused mind the way a knife cuts through butter, "No running in the halls."

I stop awkwardly and force my mind to focus on Professor Snape. I stumble a little and put one hand to the wall, holding myself upright.

His face is inscrutable. All I see in him is condemnation. Is it his condemnation or my own? "Sorry, sir. I'll be sure not to." I turn my eyes away, holding my hands together so they won't shake. I sense his eyes on my face.

"Miss Granger..." he starts but stops. I look up curiously and see the indecision in his eyes. I have never seen him look at me that way before. Then he says dismissively, "To your common room." I turn my back to him and press my hands to my mouth. I am shaking.

I don't know how I was able to make my way to the common room but I managed it. When I get to the portrait I struggle to speak but close my mouth. My knees give out and I fall to the floor, my bones hitting the floor sharply. The hunger is loud in my ears, a heavy dull throb I can see, feel and taste. Blackness touches the edges of my vision lightly, everything coming out of focus. I put my arms around my stomach and start rocking.

Maybe I should let myself fall.