He wasn't doing it on purpose. Just like he wasn't putting his body under so much stress on purpose. He had to be here, he had to do this. He had thought about putting his training at St Mungo's on hold for a year, give him time to give this project the attention he wanted to, but he couldn't. What if he learnt something there that was integral to his work here? What if something that he learnt in that hospital could help him save his little brother?
He had realised soon after he had accepted the job from Macmillian just why he had been the one chosen. In fact, he had worked it out the very next day, when he had pretty much moved into the Hogwarts library, beginning the research he knew he would need to do before he even thought about ingredients or the potion itself. Unlike alot of the other people Kenneth could have asked, he wasn't doing this for the glory. He wasn't doing it for the fame, or prestige of working for the Ministry, or to get his foot in the door. When it boiled down to it, he was doing this for his brother. So that his little brother could stay exactly that. His little brother.
In a way, it made him feel played. Like Kenneth was using Dam's grief, his little brother to get what he wanted.
But would that be enough to make Damocles stop?
Not a chance in hell.
When it came down to the wire, between choosing between his sanity, his social life, hell his own life, and that of his brother, he would choose Marseille everytime. And in Dam's mind, this potion was about saving Marseille's life. About giving him the chance to be normal. Going to Hogwarts, getting a job, not becoming a monster for three days every month and possibly killing someone. That last reason especially. His little brother's innocence was his motivation.
And with that motivation in mind, Damocles pulled his wand out, pointing it at his chest. "Enervate." He had to shut his eyes for a second and his body lurched forward, his wand falling to the floor as his hands caught a hold of the desk to keep him upright. He knew there wasn't too many more times he could do that without rest before he started to do damage. But he needed to do as much work as he could, as fast as he could. If he didn't value his mind quite so much, he would have looked at some of the more illegal ways to keep himself awake, but if he broke himself, then there was no way he could help.
Finally supressing the dizziness, Damocles opened his eyes and picked up his quill before picking up his wand. There were books floating all around the small room, all at varying heights. The table in front of him was covered in more books, ranging from medical journals, both wizarding and muggle, to creature books, to even a couple of fiction novels. Damocles was being as thorough as possible. He had even bought muggle notebooks to work in, not wanting to clutter up the room with parchment, and risk not having the book he needed.
He would sleep soon, really he would.



