Imperfections of Perfection

Added note/disclaimer: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me.

"Tell me the one about the hand that holds you down

Because the bruise on your face, it always seems to stay around

And tell me the one about the hand that holds you down

Because you seem to be lost, with no intention to be found"

IX

Facing Your Problems

There he was, shivering in the night. He was trying to curl up on a park bench and it was the moonlight in his hair that caught my eye as I walked by that park on my way home from the office. The moonlight was the color of his eyes.

Fair hair, light eyes, fair skin to be alabaster. He wore the robes - his clothes would've made him stand out in the middle of a crowd even under a moonless midnight sky. He called out to me, silently, pulling a tie that I'd made myself at the age of seventeen and half.

I'd crept into his room, looking down at the crib. He had the look of our dear hell-sent Father.

From the day of his birth, he was better than me. He did not cry as I had screamed when I was his age. He did not fuss. He was quiet. He made a mewling sound when he needed something and aside from that he was silent. He was barely born and when I stood above him, his eyes opened, already silver like the moonlight. He smiled and made a sound that sounded like laughter.

I was flummoxed. He never laughed when Father was around. He followed Father with his eyes. He was six months and he was not openly curious. He was quietly curious, following things with his eyes. He could crawl, but he only crawled when he wanted to get something and no one was paying attention.

Then he learned to walk.

I was sitting there at dinner with Mother and Father when he figured out how to walk.

Mother had placed him in a little play area just for him. He had a toy wand, a toy broomstick. He had what a rich little boy of the magickal world was expected to have.

"Father, you do not understand. I said I do not wish to join him. I've heard things about him, you see. You are walking down a path of madness," I'd stated calmly.

"They are lies. The Dark Lord is a great and powerful lord. You shall see, son. You will see. Now enough of this foolishness - I see your grades are abysmal."

I sighed. They were average. I was nowhere near the top of my class or the Slytherin seventh years at all. And I had my eye on a certain Muggle-born's sister, who was a Muggle. I'd seen her the year before at the station, running through the station and shrieking as she grabbed her twin sister in a huge that made the Muggle-born twin yelp, but laugh and return the hug. I'd heard the witch telling her Muggle twin sister all about magick and then I'd heard the word 'wicca'.

What the hell was that, I did not know. I resolved to talk to the Muggle Studies professor during the next term after the Christmas holidays.

Suddenly, we heard a light laugh - a giggle. Mother, Father, and I turned to look toward the doorway where on unsteady legs was a tiny blonde. He laughed again and ran across the room and straight toward me.

I was so shocked I didn't move when he climbed up my leg and onto my lap. "Ack!" he said standing on parts of my lap that made me very uncomfortable. Then Mother laughed and said, "It looks like he likes you, Acheron."

My father did not say a word. He didn't react except for the muscle that twitched in his cheek.

Then that June, I left. But not before I crept into his room and he gave me the laugh along with the beautiful smile that he had only for me. I pointed my wand at him and whispered a phrase.

I don't know the language, but I know what it meant - a binding spell. I'd perfected it - it was usually a spell used between wizards who were twins, or so the book I'd found it in said. It was in order to protect. If one died, then their magick, everything - their memories would go to the other that survived.

It was a spell done between twins, best friends... and brothers.

So, when I saw him curled up in the park bench, shivering, frightened... alone, the spell activated itself.

"Hi," I'd told him. "My name's Acheron."

His head snapped upward and he said hoarsely, "What's your surname?"

I smiled at him and said, "Acheron Black... but you used to know me by Acheron Malfoy."

He stared at me. "I... don't remember you."

"No. I left when you were a child... Draco." I offered him my hand and took him home. I took him to the Haven.

I was glad I brought him home. The house was too empty without Margo, the Muggle girl I'd married. She was the Wiccan twin sister of my classmate, but she'd died and the day she died she told me as she went out the door, "Ash, if I don't come home tonight, remember I'll always be in your heart. If you want to feel like you've done something for me, follow your heart. I love you. I'll be home before five."

And she'd made it to her twin's up near Buckinghamshire, but she hadn't made it home. It wasn't her fault.

I thought Margo would've loved him.

The problem with Draco, though, was that he let people use him. He gave all the power to people. It made me furious with my father - he'd taken my brother and turned him into this - a boy who offered everything to everyone that got him.

I'd done my best to show him he had a say in everything, but he'd lived too long with our parents. It didn't help that unlike me, he didn't have friends.

"Draco?" I said this night, when I found him. He out by the lake, running laps, something he'd apparently learned when he'd gone to the Muggle school I'd sent him to. He'd had friends over at that school. He'd opened up and beat me at every single video game I could buy him.

He came to a halt when I called out his name.

"Professor," he murmured, then grinned at me. "How does it feel, big brother?"

"Horrible," I said, shuddering, but I laughed. "Have you learned anything new at all?"

"In your class?" asked Draco, and shook his head. "Sorry, mate, haven't learned a thing I didn't know since last year." He laughed lightly, "But then again, we lived with Muggles and like Muggles."

"Yes." I said, smiling at him. "Did you know McGonagall didn't believe me when I told her I was your brother? I had to remind her about my years at Hogwarts in Slytherin."

"Yeah," said Draco. "About that - I still can't believe you were in Slytherin. I'd've thought maybe Ravenclaw - or stretching it, Gryffindor."

"No, I'm a Malfoy as much as you are," I laughed. "The Hat wouldn't dare put me in with the Gryffindors, though it said that I could do very well in Gryffindor, but Slytherin... well, that was my choice."

Draco nodded at me, smiling and I grinned back at him. Until I noticed the moonlight falling on him.

He was so thin. Painfully thin, but he didn't seem to realize it. I'd noticed it that he didn't eat, so I'd taken him to a doctor. They'd told me that if he didn't eat well enough, he was going to die.

The doctor told me he suspected an eating disorder - bulimia or anorexia or both.

They'd told me that he was damaging his body. Already, he was developing a heart abnormality. His body was slowly shutting itself down and if he didn't try to pull back anytime soon... he'd die.

He wore a glamour spell - I knew he did, but glamour spells don't stop a person from feeling what was really there. Besides, I was his brother; glamour spells didn't work on me. Not with the spell I'd put in place.

"So did you come because you wanted to just see me," Draco asked, "or did you want to talk to me about something?"

"Actually," I said seriously, "I wanted to talk to you about something." I put my arm around his shoulder and led him into the castle.

Draco was shorter than me, but he was seventeen so he might still grow a little more.

"Draco..." I sighed. "Listen to me. Do you remember when I took you to that Muggle doctor?"

"I'm fine," Draco said, instantly closing up.

Except he wasn't fine. He'd spent a week in the hospital for malnutrition, but he'd seemed to be getting better so they'd let him go home. Bad idea, in my opinion... but Draco knew how to convince people he was fine.

"No... you're not," I told him bluntly. "Do you know what cardiac arrhythmias are?"

Draco stared at me then said, "In the biology class at that Muggle school you sent me I found out the word 'cardiac' means something to do with the heart."

"It's an irregularity in the rhythm of your heartbeat, Draco. That's what the Muggle doctors told me. You've got that and sooner or later it'll develop into a more serious heart condition. When it does, Draco, you'll almost certainly die. Is that what you want? Do you want to die?"

"No," said Draco. "Look, even if I have a heart problem you can just take me to a Healer and they'll cast some healing spell or give me a potion and it'll go away. Magick does wonders, you know."

"But that's not the problem!" I yelled at him. "The problem is you - it's what you want, Draco. I can't help you if you continue doing this yourself. You're not -"

"I eat!" Draco yelled at me. "I do."

"Yeah... and then you go and throw it up?" I said it like a question, but my tone was bitter despite myself.

Draco was silent.

"Listen Draco... you're going to die." I ran my hand through my hair. "If you don't get help, you'll die. You're sick whether you admit or not. The heart problem you have right now is the least of your problems." I ticked them off on my fingers. "You're anemic, your liver is showing signs that it will fail you eventually, your kidneys weren't looking so good either." I looked at him in the eye. "You've lost some muscle mass. Muscle atrophy, that's what the Muggle doctors told me."

"Well, all of that can be fixed with magick," Draco said furiously. "You can't tell me -"

"I'm not," I interrupted him wearily. "I'm just telling you... you need help. I'll take you to a Healer and see if they can help. Thing is, Draco, even magick can't heal everything. The Healers at St. Mungo's might not be able to help you at all." Draco started to say something but I held up my hand. "Look, Draco, I'm not telling you all of this as the Head of your house, or as your Muggle Studies professor... I'm telling you this as your brother. You've got a problem and if you don't get help soon, you're going to die."

I turned around and left him standing there, alone in the dark. I didn't want to argue with him. I was tired of trying and trying, but... I think he was too far gone even then.

He was sick... and he was going to die if he didn't get help. It was out of his control, but Draco didn't realize that - that his problem was controlling him, not the other way around.

When I went to bed that night, I felt the slow despair in my soul.

I couldn't help my own brother. It was beyond my control. Draco was on his own in this one.

Problem was, I didn't think Draco realized it.

- Shinedown

A/N: I was actually going to cut Acheron's things out. But I'm leaving it in there for the hell of it. I'm bored, tired, and besides this chapter serves a purpose... more or less.... It gives you some information, anyway. See the "Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference" thing I've got below if you really want the explanation of this chapter.

Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:

1. Again, continuing with the eating disorder Draco's got. In a lot of the fan fictions I've read that a character has an eating disorder, they don't really stress just how bad it is. Again, to the victim of the disorder, it makes perfect sense; it makes them feel better. It makes them feel happier. And as with Draco, it makes him feel like he's in control. That's actually one of the causes of anorexia or things like that. The stereotype is that anorexics believe they're fat. Not all of them, though. Some of them just have a need for control. Also, another thing, in some fan fictions the process of an eating disorder goes too fast. Anorexia, bulimia, whatever it is NOT cured in a day or a few weeks. It takes years. It takes years for it to be cured. And depending on how severe it is, it can take years before anyone notices the eating disorder. Especially when talking about a male with an eating disorder. If they don't realize it themselves, they won't catch it. The morality rate in males is higher than in females due to eating disorders like anorexia and bulimia because it's stereotyped as a "girl problem" and most doctors don't suspect it in a male. Ironically enough, the first person to ever be diagnosed with anorexia was a boy in England.

Again, I'm going to tell you as I write this, a lot of what I know might be outdated. Some of it might've been proven wrong. Medicine is changing constantly, and I haven't looked at anything about eating disorders in over a year. Most of this I already had, so... if you want to know, research it, because I'm NOT an expert on these things. I might be wrong in some of these things I'm saying. I'm just going with the research I've got.