Title: Disorder

Characters: Lily Evans (OCD), James Potter (ADHD), Peter Pettigrew (Schizophrenia), Sirius Black (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) and Remus Lupin (Borderline Personality Disorder).

Notes: Surprisingly, the most interesting to write, for me, was James, and least was Sirius. Huh. I have a close connection with all of these disorders, as I've been diagnosed with two myself, my girlfriend has a chronic condition of another, and our two of our close friends have problems with the others. (As well as going to the same school, we all also go to a support group. Our other friends are partially normal).

This partly was the reason I particularly chose these five, as I know I can write them, but I mostly chose them because they fit the characters so well, in my mind. I sincerely hope you enjoy this little insight!

Lily Evans is obsessive.

She is compulsive.

She spends approximately sixteen minutes and seventeen seconds making sure that her Gryffindor house tie is perfect each morning. She has to turn the light switch on and off five times. There are thirty two steps leading down from her dormitory, and she must take -

"Mary, wait, your shoelace is undone. Now the bows aren't even. Let me-"

- she must take exactly one second on each step.

Lily sometimes feels a twitch in the back of her mind that says - "Just in case." Just in case what, she doesn't know, but she has a feeling she most definitely wouldn't like to know.

Her fingers twitch when she's nervous, because everything must be perfect, perfect and -

"Marlene, there's - there's paint on your jumper. No, paint. Yeah, there. Can you wash it off? Change it, then? Yeah, 'course, wear my one. I don't care, just don't stretch it. And make sure it's not the green one. I wear that on Sundays."

- and everything must be right, because that is the Lily way. Without that, without straightening pencils or having her skirt exactly two inches above her knee, Lily fears she might just have to go insane, like her mother, who doesn't have the privilege of St. Mungo's, and so rests in Latnem's Home for the Incurably Insane (though it's really just Latnem's Medical Home).

Or maybe Lily already is insane. After all, it's all -

"Dorcas, can you stand to the right? No, the right, Dorcas. A bit more. Perfect, thank you. And, maybe just move your foot a little, so it's symmetrical, I mean - brilliant. Cheers."

- it's all just a matter of opinion.

Sometimes Lily feels more than an itch. Especially once she's Head Girl, and, wait, is that girl looking at her oddly? Surely that boy's not just randomly scratching his left forearm, is he? Careful, Lily, careful. You've got a family, Lily.

She needs to protect them, and hey, what if that wobbly desk falls over, onto the foot of Remus, so that he falls into Sirius, who fires a wordless spell, because they've been working on those, that hits the ceiling above Lily's head, so that it all collapses -

"James, your glasses are lopsided."

- so that it all collapses, and then, Lily is no more. It's really as simple as that.

Lily Evans is compulsive.

She is obsessive.

James Potter is alive.

He is hyperactive.

He has a constant melody going on his head - so, naturally, he taps his foot along or plays a background beat with his fingers, because that's normal, right? - and sometimes he runs a few laps of the Quidditch field at four am, because hey, didn't you know that that's the best time to see the sky?

James forgets to hand in his Transfiguration homework - "No, I swear Professor, it completely slipped my mind," - and yes, the window is very interesting this time of year isn't it?

After all, it's not -

"Hey, hey, Sirius. What do you think of Evans? Eh? Do you think I should ask her out? She's by the willow tree. Oh, willow tree! Full moon in three days, lads. Not that you'd forget, right, Moony? Moony. Still don't know why I'm Prongs. Why am I Prongs? I'm not a fork. What's for dinner again?"

- it's not all because he can't concentrate. It's not his fault. Really.

Maybe James doesn't understand the simple things, and yes, maybe there isn't a filter from his brain to his mouth, but hey. That's normal, right?

Completely normal. Not as if -

"Hmm? What did you say, Lils? I was away with the pixies and all that. No, sorry, what? No, I didn't mean - I am listening! Wait, wait - I'm sorry, I just... hey, do you know where my quill went? My new one, you know. What do you mean, check in the dorm?"

- not as if it's any disease or anything. James Potter is normal, thank you very much, and - "James? James, stop tapping your foot. No, James, please - just, stop it. Yes, you can stop. Stop it!"

I mean, if you ask any member of school who the most normal seventh year is, they will most likely answer, James Potter.

He is Head Boy, Quidditch captain; funny, rich, smart, handsome, with a beautiful, intelligent girlfriend and a close group of friends. Who wouldn't want to be James Potter, after all? He doesn't have problems. He has it all.

So what if he has a little too much energy? Who cares if, sometimes, his pranks cross the line of cruel? He's James. He's normal.

Nobody is -

"Sweetie, I can't - Lily - no, Lily, please, I can't - just help me unscrew the lid would you? It won't come off. I know you're busy, love, but - no, Lils, please- please! Merlin, please! I can't - oh. I was turning it the wrong way round. No harm done, right?"

- nobody is perfectly normal anyway, apart from him, of course. It's really as simple as that.

James Potter is hyperactive.

He is alive.

Peter Pettigrew is paranoid.

He is scared.

Maybe it's just a natural fear; you know, spiders, and death, and paper cuts, because those are the worst. But it's not.

He's scared of heights - so scared that, at first, it takes him two hours to gather the courage to work his way to the Gryffindor tower, and even then, he shields the window closest to his bed. He throws up after the first Gryffindor Quidditch match, and can't really explain why.

Peter is afraid of jelly, and cats, and Sirius Black's hair, but of course -

"It's not natural!"

- but of course, those things are natural, everyday things. Peter is scared of heights because he is convinced he'll fall. He's afraid of jelly because he once heard a fake story of a man who drowned in it. Peter's petrified of cats because one clawed Lily once - a girl he doesn't even like.

Sirius Black's hair, much like the person, simply confuses him. He doesn't trust Sirius, not one bit. He doesn't trust his Black side. And that scares him as well.

And maybe, just maybe, some people -

"Did you say something, Moony? No? Are you sure? Huh. That's funny; I swear I thought I heard... nevermind. Nevermind."

- some people only have one voice in their head.

Peter just hears voices, sometimes. Voices that he convinces himself are just his marauder-side, but, really, he is his marauder-side, not some separate being with a different mind. They are the same. And besides; no one but Peter could have these thoughts.

Maybe he's simply a little bit -

(Come on. Pick up the knife. It'll make you feel better. The hurt can stop. That Ravenclaw won't even know. Cut, stab, kill...)

- a little bit paranoid. It's possible.

After all, it's natural, isn't it? Common sense, and all that. Natural, that's what Peter Pettigrew is. Maybe he doesn't trust Sirius, or Remus, or James, or, god forbid, Lily, even though they're his closest friends, but that's natural, right?

But if they all turn against him... then, it's only natural to join the other side, isn't it? It's really as simple as that.

Peter Pettigrew is scared.

He is paranoid.

Sirius Black is a narcissist.

He is beautiful.

There's not really another word for it. Grey eyes that are always a little bit mischievous, a little bit arrogant. Black hair, casually styled and perfectly in place. A more-than-adequate ability at Quidditch, with the tanned, toned body to prove it.

A close group of attractive, intelligent friends (but not as attractive or intelligent as him, of course). Top grades, professors that adore him, and a one-way ticket to fame. A rebellious personality that screams motorbike.

Sirius Black is, without a doubt, beautiful.

But then again, what would you expect from -

"Come on, Evans. I know you're a little disheartened, but what would you expect? Oh, an O in Charms, do you say? Sorry, ma'am, I'm afraid that's mine. Go take your little Exceeds Expectations and go cry in a pillow, hmm, okay?"

- from the Heir to the Moste Ancient and Noble House of Black? Sirius has practically been born and bred to be beautiful, in every sense of the word. Special too.

So what if he's a little arrogant? He has a right to be, after all. He's popular, pretty, pre-destined to be powerful, and perfect. He's best mates with James Potter, Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, and what girl wouldn't want to be with Sirius Black?

And if anyone dares to be a little smarter - "So, you got higher in Defence this time, Moony. Don't expect it next lesson. Plus, don't you know it's Potions now?" - or a little bit more handsome - "No one's going to want to date you with that hair or those glasses, Prongs, especially Evans." - or even get a girl a little faster - "Sure you didn't slip her a love potion, Wormy? Oh, you studied with her, sure. We all know it's me she's after." - Merlin help them, because Sirius will rip them to shreds.

And no, of course it's not jealousy. Why would you think that?

Yes, he's not as special as -

"Well, obviously it was a perfectly aimed bludger, Aimee - Sarah, Martha, whatever. I've got incredible arm strength; and no jokes from you Potter. My right hand and I aren't as well acquainted as you and yours."

- as special as he is continually led to believe, but he's still special, right? It's really as simple as that.

Sirius Black is beautiful.

He is a narcissist.

Remus Lupin is borderline.

(Borderline what?)

Well, that doesn't matter. He's just... borderline.

The first nickname he receives at school is -

"Loony Lupin. Loony, loopy Lupin. You going to snap at us, Lupin? Tear our heads off? Oh, sorry, Lupin, is my ink the wrong colour for you? Sorry, Loony, it just slipped my mind. Let me correct it, Loopy, I really don't mind. Don't kill me, Lupin, just the wrong colour ink. Isn't that right, lads?"

- is Loony Lupin, after, in second year, he completely snaps the day before the first moon because some Hufflepuff forgets her homework and Professor McGonagall is keeping them all late because of it.

Remus has a habit of doing that.

It's not his fault, really. Sometimes he blames his mood swings - or moon swings, as Sirius calls them - on the wolf. But most of the time, he thinks it's just him. Loony, loopy Lupin.

But they say the world isn't split into -

"Lily. Oh, no, there's nothing wrong. Nothing, alright? Will you just leave me alone? Well, why not? Because of James? Aren't you horrible enough to him already? He's in love with you! Oh, you didn't know that, stupid girl? I'm sorry, it's just - no, Lily, I'm sorry - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you away. Sorry."

- the world isn't split into good and bad, and Remus knows that, but sometimes, he looks at a person and thinks good, or sometimes he thinks bad, but it's always one or the other.

The problem is, it changes.

The one thing that doesn't change is his opinion when he looks in the mirror. Bad. Ugly. Dark to the core.

Why would James and Sirius and Peter want to be friends with him? A werewolf. A prefect. A skinny, ugly, nosy little boy who tells them, don't do this, and don't do that; no wonder they don't listen to him.

It's only a matter of time before -

"I hate this! I hate it! I hate me! I'm worth nothing; deserve nothing. I'm empty inside. Empty and dark, dark to the core, and you know it! If I'm not, why am I so angry? Why do I hate so much? Because I'm a werewolf? Tell me, in any of those stupid books you've read, do they mention werewolves having chronic hating disorders, or some other such rubbish? I thought not."

- it's only a matter of time before they all leave him anyway. It's really as simple as that.

Remus Lupin is - what?

He is borderline.

They are, they are, children in love. This is their disorder.