Fic: Trans, Part 1
Title: Trans, Part 1
Author: silverguivre
Summary: ‘Have I been lost inside myself for my entire life?’
Rating: PG-13
Note: This is the first part of I don’t know how many parts. There isn’t any real As/S in this part, but you’ll see where this goes. This story is about gender identity and being transgender, so if this bothers you, don’t click on the cut!
Al is sitting on the edge of his seat, swinging his feet underneath him. His hands and face are sticky with the cotton candy he has hastily consumed. The air is ringing with light laughter and bright conversation. The heavy scent of sweat, peanuts and animals permeates everything. Al breathes it in with delight.
He is five and he has never been to the Muggle fair before. There are swooping rides and delicious candy and funny games and now the best thing of all. The circus.
His mom has just dragged a crying Lily off to the bathroom, a giggling James following close behind, leaving Al with just his dad. His dad is sitting next to him, a bag of peanuts in hand, openly watching Al’s joy instead of the show going on before him.
Al squeals with excitement as a giraffe turns to tower above him. He looks up at the gawky neck, the strange lips and he kicks his feet with glee. His dad grins.
Next are the trapeze artists. In the dark gloom of the circus tent, their sequined outfits sparkle and gleam. Al’s jaw drops as the music starts and they begin some basic swings.
“Daddy,” Al says quietly, “I thought the Muggles didn’t have any magic?”
“They don’t,” Harry says fondly.
“But they’re flying,” Al replies flatly, in the tone of voice only a child can produce when they have caught an adult in a lie.
“They’re swinging between those ropes there. It takes a lot of practice and a lot of guts.”
“Why?”
“Because they aren’t using magic. One little mistake and they fall.”
Al looks down and blanches. “Would they be ok?”
“Maybe.”
Al watches the soaring men and women with new respect.
“I want to be like them when I grow up,” he declares.
His dad laughs. “Well, I guess you could be like him.” He gestures to a man reaching to catch a woman as she comes flying off of her swing.
Al frowns. The man looks so bulky, so unnatural there in the air. The women are sleek and beautiful; they are in their element and they shine.
“No, I want to be like her.” He gestures at a stunning woman doing back flips in mid-air.
His dad gives him a funny look, opens his mouth as though to say something, and then closes it again. Neither of them says another word until the rest of the family returns to their seats.
* * * *
Al is seven when he decides to rummage through his mom’s closet to see what he can find. Soon he is parading around the room in high heels, a dress robe and a lot of jewelry.
He pauses in front of the mirror to admire the assemblage.
“I like this,” he tells the mirror. Al is notably finicky when it comes to clothes shopping. For him to actually like clothes is a noteworthy event.
“That’s nice,” the mirror tells him.
“Maybe I’ll ask mom if I can get some clothes like this.”
He hears the door open behind him and he turns to see James staring at him. Al squirms in discomfort as James bursts into laughter.
“You little girl.”
“You’re just jealous,” Al returns, his face burning. He sticks his tongue out at his brother.
“You’re such a fag,” James tells him self-importantly. He laughs again and leaves the room.
Al doesn’t know what that word fag means, but he knows James considers it an insult. He wilts under the condemnation and begins to put his mother’s things away.
* * * *
Al is fifteen. It’s the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts. He is at Diagon Alley with his family, and he has just managed to give them the slip.
He hasn’t really thought this whole thing through; hasn’t even properly addressed the why of the plan. He’s simply following an urge so deep and strong he can barely think about it.
He slips inside of the “women’s” store, the Sultry Sorceress, and takes a deep breath. He feels awkward and yet strangely at home. The air smells of vanilla and something spicy. The walls are painted in a comforting shade of lavender.
A young witch behind the counter asks him, “Can I help you?”
A clears his throat and blushes. “I’m, ah, looking for a present, for my, uh, mom. But I don’t know what to, um, get her.”
The young lady smiles reassuringly at him and flips a lock of hair over her shoulder. “You’ve come to the right place. Here at the Sultry Sorceress we carry a full line of cosmetic charms, potions, creams and sprays to conceal, reveal, color, rejuvenate and revitalize. I can help you find anything you need.”
Al stares at her like a demiguise, willing itself invisible. The witch laughs.
“It’s ok, I’ll walk you through it.”
Soon there is a large pile of cosmetics on the counter and the assistant is giggling as she applies some base to Al’s face.
“See, if her skin is like yours, this will make her look better in low light conditions.”
Al nods and points to a bright blue bottle near his elbow. “And what’s that do?”
“Oo, you’ll see.” She begins to apply a light cream to his eyelids.
When she’s done he opens his eyes to look in the mirror and gasps. The face looking back at him seems somehow more familiar, more like it should.
“I… I look like a girl,” he breathes in awe.
“Not quite, but close. This cream emphasizes the eyes, makes them sparkle more. It’s subtle but very nice. So what do you think?”
“Uh.” Al has difficulty tearing his eyes away from the image in the mirror. “I guess I’ll take these two.”
“Good choice.” The witch beams at him.
Al pulls out his moneybag and begins counting galleons onto the counter. He’s been saving his allowance for over a year, without any clear idea of what he would buy.
He doesn’t regret a single coin that passes over the counter.
As he turns to go two things happen at once. The assistant says, “You might want to clean that off your face before you leave” and the door opens.
A beautiful woman with light brown hair glides inside, followed by a young, blonde man. He’s wearing simple black robes, with a high collar. His light hair brushes his forehead, creating a slight fringe over his blue-grey eyes. He’s striking and terrifying at the same time.
Terrifying because Al knows him. He’s Scorpius Malfoy.
In the length of time it takes Al to fill his lungs deeply, he runs through everything he knows about the other boy. Malfoy is a Slytherin; he is smart and generally quiet. Most of the school hates him, but he has a few, fanatically loyal friends. He has never been known to speak of Muggles or Muggleborns in anything but a neutral light. However, the bitter animosity his father was famous for has been transferred and rechanneled in his son. Scorpius Malfoy despises homosexuals with a rage previously unknown in the wizarding world.
Al stares at the boy, his face covered in womanly makeup, clutching his purchases tightly in one hand.
Malfoy sees him and blinks, cocking his head to one side as though puzzled by the sight.
Al rubs his face against his sleeve and dashes for the door.
“Is that the young Potter boy?” Mrs. Malfoy asks her son, her voice light and unconcerned.
“Yes mother,” Scorpius responds.
“His poor parents, having a son like that.”
Al has enough time to hear Scorpius spit out the word, “Despicable” before he makes it out into the brightly lit street.
He blinks back tears of shame as he heads for a dark corner to clean off his face.
* * * *
A year later Al is standing in his room, completely naked. He’s looking at himself in the mirror. The mirror initially sounded upset, asking him repeatedly to put on clothes. When Al didn’t respond it subsided into uncomfortable silence.
Now he’s just looking at himself.
‘How long have I felt like a stranger in my own skin?’ he wonders. He slides a hand over his chest, feeling a few, tentative chest hairs, his lack of breasts, and his tight muscles. It’s strangely masculine. Strange because he doesn’t feel like it should be.
‘Have I been lost inside myself for my entire life?’
This isn’t something Al thought one could feel. No one else seems to have problems being born a boy or girl. They complain about their height or their hair and their pimples, but never about their gender.
Al stares at the body in the mirror and hates it. He hates all of it because of how very he it is. The penis dangling between his legs, small and soft; the Adam’s apple jumping in his throat; the musculature that doesn’t come naturally to women; the body hair, especially the few tufts beginning to appear on his chin. He imagines himself with none of this. He thinks of himself soft and curvy, gentle and beautiful. He yearns for it with a longing that takes him by surprise and he realizes -
He has never wanted anything more than he wants to be a woman. And he has wanted this his entire life.
* * * *
Al knocks on Lily’s door. His chest is tight with pain and his breath is coming fast.
The heavy beat of Dumbledore’s Army - a new band Lily is absolutely in love with - shakes the door under Al’s fist. When his sister fails to respond he opens the door slightly and calls in. The volume of the music lowers slightly.
“What do you want?” she asks, not unfriendly. She’s lying belly down in her bed, kicking her feet lightly in the air as she reads a Muggle comic book entitled Tunnel of Love. Al catches a glimpse of a picture he doesn’t think Lily is old enough to be looking at.
Lily is obsessed with anything Muggle. She’s currently into Muggle-“punk”, and it shows. The showdown between her and their mom over dying her hair and piercing her nose had been epic. In the end Lily had partially won. She was allowed to dress however she wanted at home, but she would look perfectly normal when out and about in the wizarding community.
Lily has taken this allowance to the extreme.
Today her hair is turquoise and spiky. She’s wearing a black t-shirt with ripped off sleeves. On the front, in gothic lettering, it says “Ticket to Hell”. Her jeans are dangling ridiculous amounts of chains. She has at least 20 random bracelets crammed onto her wrists and a barbell in her nose. Al thinks she might be in a cult for something called “Hot Topic”.
Al has never been afraid of his sister before. Annoyed, yes, but never this crippling terror. He steps inside and closes the door behind him, leaning against it.
Lily sits up and gives him a concerned frown. “You ok?”
“Do you think people can be born wrong? Like, they’re someone different inside.”
“Of course. I’ve always felt taller than I am. I think my body better learn to catch up.” She blows a bubble with her gum and lets it float up to the ceiling.
Al shakes his head. “Not like that. Like if someone had a girl’s brain, but a boy’s body.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Boys and girls are just different; we’re born like that. It’s the way we’re wired. It sucks but it’s just a fact of nature. It’s also tragic. I mean I would love to be a big, dumb guy who could get away with pretending emotions are for sissy’s and never cry in public.” She looks annoyed and punches her pillow.
“Er.” Al looks uncomfortable. Lily had some sort of awful relationship at school, but Al doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know the details.
“But what if a guy was a sissy and did cry in public and wanted to dress like a girl and be a girl and has never ever felt like a guy his entire life…” He pauses to breathe and Lily raises a hand to stop him, cocking an eyebrow.
“This is not hypothetical,” she says.
Al’s shoulders slump. “No.”
“Did someone cast a spell on you?”
He shakes his head miserably. “I’ve always felt like this. It’s like my brain is broken or something.”
“Hmm.” She looks thoughtful. “Are you gay?”
Al yelps, “Lily!”
“Well?”
“I… I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Hmm. We should tell mom and dad, they should be able to figure out what’s going on here.”
“NO!” Al yells, blocking Lily’s access to the door. He finds that he’s sweating profusely and trembling. “You can’t tell them.”
“Why ever not?” Lily looks honestly confused.
“Whatever this is, its wrong and… despicable, and they’ll hate me for it, I just know it. Please, promise me you won’t tell them.”
“Oh Al. Mum and dad’s love isn’t something you can win or lose. You’re their so… child. They’re never going to stop loving you. You really should tell them. They might be able to help.”
“No, no, no, no. I couldn’t bear it. I can’t.” Al thinks he might burst into tears.
“Ok, ok. I get it.” Lily holds up her hands placatingly. “We’ll figure this out ourselves. We’ll go out to the Muggle library tomorrow, look for non-magical reasons. If that doesn’t work, we might have to wait till we get back to Hogwarts. We’ll find the answer Al, I promise.”
Now Al is crying, in little hiccupy sobs. “Thank you Lily.”
Lily gives a fake, exaggerated sigh. “I will never know what I did to deserve a brother more girly than me.”
Al grins tearfully.
Lily holds her arms out. “Come here you big sissy.”
Al hugs his sister like he’s never going to let go.
TBC.