Salt and Pepper Fest: You Are
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hp_goldenageTitle: You Are
Author:![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
christinchen
Characters/Pairings: Gen: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 2,135
Content/Warning(s): None
Summary/Prompt: Harry struggled his whole life with feeling different, just not right in his body. One day, by chance, he learns to put a name to this feeling.
PromptC15: Someone comes out as trans or nonbinary later in life.
Read on AO3 or below:
Harry knew that Sex Ed was taught in muggle schools. He had taken it in the primary school he went to. It had been catered to their age and mostly been: boy bits look like this, girl bit look like this, this is what they are called, when mummy and daddy love each other very much they touch their boy and girl bits, mummy gets pregnant and nine months later a baby is born. Harry knew that Dudley had a more in-depth class later on. That summer he had bragged about all the knowledge he had about girls now. Harry had felt innately jealous. Sometimes he wishes he could have taken that class since the Wizarding world had nothing of the sort to offer.
Sex and everything that came with it was not talked about, not at Hogwarts, not even really in the dorms between students. He still to this day gets flustered when he remembers a really awkward conversation he had with Professor Lupin, Remus, during his third year. It had been hushed, he had been told to not talk about these things with anyone else, and Harry had left feeling even more ashamed than before. He should have felt reassured that nothing was wrong with him and his body; apparently this was happening to everyone, but really he had just felt worse and even more alone in this.
Ginny and he never had sex before they got married. He had always thought that it had been because it was right after the war, they had all been traumatized. The wedding preparations had been rushed. Molly had thrown herself into planning a huge joint wedding for the four of them, Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Harry. Harry couldn’t even remember ever proposing. He does remember how excited Hermione had been about wedding dress shopping. And how he had wanted to come with her, just to look at those dresses, feel the lace and frills under his fingers. He hadn’t been allowed. “Girls only,” Molly had decided, and taken both Hermione and Ginny shopping.
On his wedding night Harry had found out that he didn’t really enjoy sex. At all. It was awkward, he didn’t know where to look, what to do with his hands, and worst of all, it involved being naked. Harry hated being naked. He was just uncomfortable when he wasn’t dressed, he hated other people seeing him naked, he hated catching glimpses of his own body in the mirror. Years later Ginny would joke that he’d take a shower fully dressed if he could. And she wasn’t exactly wrong. Showering was one of Harry’s least favorite things. He liked standing underneath the hot water. But washing himself and drying himself off was hell.
Over the years they were married, Harry could count the times they had sex on his fingers. Ginny once said they were lucky she had inherited the Weasley family fertility or they wouldn’t have had kids. And Harry was glad, he loved his kids. He had loved it when Ginny had been pregnant, all the preparations for the baby’s arrival, he had loved it when his children had been small and had needed him at any moment, and he had loved it as they’d gotten older and minds of their own. Now they were adults themselves and Harry had to admit he sometimes missed having them around so much.
After the divorce, he sometimes got lonely in his house all by himself. Ginny was off being happy with her new partner, her wife now; Harry remembered the card he had received just months ago. Harry was happy for her; she deserved to be loved and in a relationship that made her happy. It was something he had never been able to do for her.
And while the Wizarding world had changed quite a bit over the years when it came to sex, same-sex relationships were still a bit of a taboo. Ginny had gotten married in the Muggle world; same-sex marriage simply wasn’t a thing in the Wizarding world. Growing up Harry had been sure he didn’t know a single gay person. Now he knew that two of his best friends, Dean and Seamus, had been dating since fifth year, his ex-wife was bisexual, and he was—he was confused, mostly. Hermione kept prompting him to try dating a bloke ever since he had admitted to her, after he and Ginny had decided to get divorced, that he had never liked being intimate with her. But really the thought of being with a bloke was just as unpleasant to him as being with a woman.
Hermione, always being one for research, had found out about something the Muggles called asexuality; it meant that people simply did not desire sex at all. And Harry thought that maybe that was him, but really, he did want to have sex. In an abstract way he desired sex, it was just the actual act of it, of being naked and intimate with another person, that freaked him out.
Finally he had tried trauma therapy for what he went through with the Dursleys and the war. It had helped with his nightmares, it had helped with his divorce, it had helped with his relationship with his children. But it hadn't made him want to or be able to sleep with anyone any more than before. Maybe he just had to accept that he was broken.
It all changed when Harry found out what Draco Malfoy was working on. Draco had had a small apothecary, Harry knew that. He offered standard potions, a bespoke potions service, and had in recent years started to offer a range of anti-aging potions and creams that had taken the female Wizarding population by storm, the male one, too, if Draco was to be believed. Apparently all types of beauty products were the future of potion making, or at least Draco believed so.
Harry didn’t really care for potions that made his hair fuller and less grey or his skin smoother, but he liked to have a look around Draco’s apothecary every now and then. He liked to come by once a week or so, ever since he retired a few years ago. It gave him something to do, something to prevent the boredom and loneliness from taking over. It was relaxing watching Draco prepare ingredients and stir in bubbling cauldrons, he had come to quite enjoy his company. They were friends, friends who bickered and argued a lot, about absolutely everything, but friends nevertheless.
“A Knut for your thoughts,” Draco interrupted his musings.
“My life’s a mess but I like you?” Harry offered, trying to condense what he had been thinking about while watching Draco stir something bright pink.
Draco laughed. “Yeah, you’re tolerable, too, and I think your life is pretty average.”
Harry wanted to crack a joke about his life never being average but really, he was just so fucking tired of being miserable.
“Is it supposed to be that colour?” Harry asked, mostly to distract but also because he could swear the potion was starting to glitter.
“I’m trying to market it to women,” Draco explained. “It’s a Muggle thing, apparently, if it’s pink and sparkly, it’s for women.”
Harry snorted. “I’m pretty sure that’s only for little girls.”
“It’s not.” Draco protested. “I’ve done my research. Hair removal is a trend in Muggle women and all the products are pink.”
“So you’ve made a potion that removes leg hair?” Harry asked.
“Sort of,” Draco sighed. “I’m still struggling quite a bit with the changes to the recipe. Body hair and facial hair are quite different when it comes to removing them with a potion. Body hair seems to be far more difficult to target individually.”
“Right.” Harry offered, having no idea how to help with that. But Draco usually didn’t need him to help, he only needed for him to listen, ask a couple of stupid questions and then he would figure it out on his own.
“The original potion removed facial hair completely, permanently even, if desired.” Draco continued. “And it thinned out the rest of the body hair. But for women I don’t need it to do anything with the facial hair, well most of the time, but I need it to remove the body hair completely, and quite individualized. It’s just too complex a process for some reason.”
“Why not make individual potions? One for leg hair removal, one facial hair, one for uhhh...” Harry went through a mental list of his own body hair, “Arms? Hands? And so on?”
“Oh.” Draco smiled and Harry could tell he had just figured out a solution. “Wait? Hands?” he asked a moment later.
“Ummm, I have hair on my fingers?” Harry offered, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. Were people not supposed to be bothered by hair on their hands.
“I can remove it for you if you want,” Draco offered off-handedly.” But first, let me start this over.” And with that he vanished the pink glittering potion in front of them. He got a clean cauldron out and emptied in one of the large glass jugs he used to store potions he brewed in huge batches.
When he set it aside, Harry caught a glance at the label. And suddenly Harry felt his entire world shift. It was as if the floor had dropped out beneath his feet or rather as if suddenly there was a floor beneath his feet where before he had been dangling in open air.
He must have made some sort of noise because Draco was suddenly right in front of him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding incredibly worried. “You look flushed, and also pale. Do you need to sit down?”
Harry managed to nod, and let Draco guide him to a nearby chair. Harry was dimly aware that Draco was casting a series of diagnostic charms on him, rattling off questions as he went.
“Did something splatter on you? Did you inhale the fumes? Did you eat breakfast this morning? Are you allergic to anything?”
“Peanuts.” Harry attempted to answer at least one of the questions.
“You had peanuts for breakfast, or you’re allergic to them?” Draco demanded impatiently, “Or both? In which case, you are an idiot.”
“I’m allergic to peanuts, but I didn’t eat any,” Harry answered, trying to focus on Draco.
“Hmm, your blood sugar is fine, your pulse is too high, but otherwise you seem fine,” Draco mused.
“I am fine,” Harry told him. “I just—I think I realised something.”
“You realised something?” Draco repeated incredulously. “Having a realisation should not be painful, you know.”
Harry took a deep breath.
“That potion.” He gestured toward the potion base Draco had just put into the cauldron. “How does it work?”
“The hair removal potion? It removes hair.” Draco was looking at him as if he had gone insane and honestly, Harry couldn’t fault him. Maybe he had simply gone insane, that surely would be the easiest explanation, because the alternative seemed just, well, absolutely insane.
“I mean,” Harry nervously licked his lips, “because of what it says on the label.”
“Male to Female Hair Removal. The name is for internal purposes only; I, of course, don’t sell it as that.” Draco was looking at the empty jug sitting next to the cauldron. “It isn’t poisonous to ingest, if you did. You might lose a few hairs, though, but they’ll grow back in no time. It’s all non-permanent.”
“Could I try it?” Harry asked tentatively, his heart pounding a mile a minute.
“The potion?” Draco frowned.
“Yes.”
“You want your hair to fall out?” Draco sounded confused.
“Well, not the hair on my head,” Harry clarified, hoping Draco would understand.
“No, no, that’s not affected at all. In fact, there is a slight accelerant to make it grow faster. But why would you—?” Draco rambled, then trailed off. “Oh. Oh, wow. Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Harry looked anywhere but Draco’s face. He was almost certain he would be laughed at, called insane or worse. Instead Draco sounded almost gentle when he asked: “Did you just—Did you just now figure that out?”
“Yeah,” Harry answered. It was sort of true. He had known something was wrong with him, something was different. He just had never been able to place what it was, or had the words to describe it.
“That you’re trans?”
“That I’m what, now?”
“A woman?” Draco clarified.
“Yes. Maybe. I want to be?” Harry asked, unsure.
“Oh, but you already are,” Draco said softly. “The rest is just cosmetic.”
“I am,” Harry repeated. “I’m a woman.”
Harry wasn’t aware she was crying until Draco carefully wiped the tear off her face.
“You are.”
Author:
Characters/Pairings: Gen: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 2,135
Content/Warning(s): None
Summary/Prompt: Harry struggled his whole life with feeling different, just not right in his body. One day, by chance, he learns to put a name to this feeling.
PromptC15: Someone comes out as trans or nonbinary later in life.
Read on AO3 or below:
Harry knew that Sex Ed was taught in muggle schools. He had taken it in the primary school he went to. It had been catered to their age and mostly been: boy bits look like this, girl bit look like this, this is what they are called, when mummy and daddy love each other very much they touch their boy and girl bits, mummy gets pregnant and nine months later a baby is born. Harry knew that Dudley had a more in-depth class later on. That summer he had bragged about all the knowledge he had about girls now. Harry had felt innately jealous. Sometimes he wishes he could have taken that class since the Wizarding world had nothing of the sort to offer.
Sex and everything that came with it was not talked about, not at Hogwarts, not even really in the dorms between students. He still to this day gets flustered when he remembers a really awkward conversation he had with Professor Lupin, Remus, during his third year. It had been hushed, he had been told to not talk about these things with anyone else, and Harry had left feeling even more ashamed than before. He should have felt reassured that nothing was wrong with him and his body; apparently this was happening to everyone, but really he had just felt worse and even more alone in this.
Ginny and he never had sex before they got married. He had always thought that it had been because it was right after the war, they had all been traumatized. The wedding preparations had been rushed. Molly had thrown herself into planning a huge joint wedding for the four of them, Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Harry. Harry couldn’t even remember ever proposing. He does remember how excited Hermione had been about wedding dress shopping. And how he had wanted to come with her, just to look at those dresses, feel the lace and frills under his fingers. He hadn’t been allowed. “Girls only,” Molly had decided, and taken both Hermione and Ginny shopping.
On his wedding night Harry had found out that he didn’t really enjoy sex. At all. It was awkward, he didn’t know where to look, what to do with his hands, and worst of all, it involved being naked. Harry hated being naked. He was just uncomfortable when he wasn’t dressed, he hated other people seeing him naked, he hated catching glimpses of his own body in the mirror. Years later Ginny would joke that he’d take a shower fully dressed if he could. And she wasn’t exactly wrong. Showering was one of Harry’s least favorite things. He liked standing underneath the hot water. But washing himself and drying himself off was hell.
Over the years they were married, Harry could count the times they had sex on his fingers. Ginny once said they were lucky she had inherited the Weasley family fertility or they wouldn’t have had kids. And Harry was glad, he loved his kids. He had loved it when Ginny had been pregnant, all the preparations for the baby’s arrival, he had loved it when his children had been small and had needed him at any moment, and he had loved it as they’d gotten older and minds of their own. Now they were adults themselves and Harry had to admit he sometimes missed having them around so much.
After the divorce, he sometimes got lonely in his house all by himself. Ginny was off being happy with her new partner, her wife now; Harry remembered the card he had received just months ago. Harry was happy for her; she deserved to be loved and in a relationship that made her happy. It was something he had never been able to do for her.
And while the Wizarding world had changed quite a bit over the years when it came to sex, same-sex relationships were still a bit of a taboo. Ginny had gotten married in the Muggle world; same-sex marriage simply wasn’t a thing in the Wizarding world. Growing up Harry had been sure he didn’t know a single gay person. Now he knew that two of his best friends, Dean and Seamus, had been dating since fifth year, his ex-wife was bisexual, and he was—he was confused, mostly. Hermione kept prompting him to try dating a bloke ever since he had admitted to her, after he and Ginny had decided to get divorced, that he had never liked being intimate with her. But really the thought of being with a bloke was just as unpleasant to him as being with a woman.
Hermione, always being one for research, had found out about something the Muggles called asexuality; it meant that people simply did not desire sex at all. And Harry thought that maybe that was him, but really, he did want to have sex. In an abstract way he desired sex, it was just the actual act of it, of being naked and intimate with another person, that freaked him out.
Finally he had tried trauma therapy for what he went through with the Dursleys and the war. It had helped with his nightmares, it had helped with his divorce, it had helped with his relationship with his children. But it hadn't made him want to or be able to sleep with anyone any more than before. Maybe he just had to accept that he was broken.
It all changed when Harry found out what Draco Malfoy was working on. Draco had had a small apothecary, Harry knew that. He offered standard potions, a bespoke potions service, and had in recent years started to offer a range of anti-aging potions and creams that had taken the female Wizarding population by storm, the male one, too, if Draco was to be believed. Apparently all types of beauty products were the future of potion making, or at least Draco believed so.
Harry didn’t really care for potions that made his hair fuller and less grey or his skin smoother, but he liked to have a look around Draco’s apothecary every now and then. He liked to come by once a week or so, ever since he retired a few years ago. It gave him something to do, something to prevent the boredom and loneliness from taking over. It was relaxing watching Draco prepare ingredients and stir in bubbling cauldrons, he had come to quite enjoy his company. They were friends, friends who bickered and argued a lot, about absolutely everything, but friends nevertheless.
“A Knut for your thoughts,” Draco interrupted his musings.
“My life’s a mess but I like you?” Harry offered, trying to condense what he had been thinking about while watching Draco stir something bright pink.
Draco laughed. “Yeah, you’re tolerable, too, and I think your life is pretty average.”
Harry wanted to crack a joke about his life never being average but really, he was just so fucking tired of being miserable.
“Is it supposed to be that colour?” Harry asked, mostly to distract but also because he could swear the potion was starting to glitter.
“I’m trying to market it to women,” Draco explained. “It’s a Muggle thing, apparently, if it’s pink and sparkly, it’s for women.”
Harry snorted. “I’m pretty sure that’s only for little girls.”
“It’s not.” Draco protested. “I’ve done my research. Hair removal is a trend in Muggle women and all the products are pink.”
“So you’ve made a potion that removes leg hair?” Harry asked.
“Sort of,” Draco sighed. “I’m still struggling quite a bit with the changes to the recipe. Body hair and facial hair are quite different when it comes to removing them with a potion. Body hair seems to be far more difficult to target individually.”
“Right.” Harry offered, having no idea how to help with that. But Draco usually didn’t need him to help, he only needed for him to listen, ask a couple of stupid questions and then he would figure it out on his own.
“The original potion removed facial hair completely, permanently even, if desired.” Draco continued. “And it thinned out the rest of the body hair. But for women I don’t need it to do anything with the facial hair, well most of the time, but I need it to remove the body hair completely, and quite individualized. It’s just too complex a process for some reason.”
“Why not make individual potions? One for leg hair removal, one facial hair, one for uhhh...” Harry went through a mental list of his own body hair, “Arms? Hands? And so on?”
“Oh.” Draco smiled and Harry could tell he had just figured out a solution. “Wait? Hands?” he asked a moment later.
“Ummm, I have hair on my fingers?” Harry offered, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. Were people not supposed to be bothered by hair on their hands.
“I can remove it for you if you want,” Draco offered off-handedly.” But first, let me start this over.” And with that he vanished the pink glittering potion in front of them. He got a clean cauldron out and emptied in one of the large glass jugs he used to store potions he brewed in huge batches.
When he set it aside, Harry caught a glance at the label. And suddenly Harry felt his entire world shift. It was as if the floor had dropped out beneath his feet or rather as if suddenly there was a floor beneath his feet where before he had been dangling in open air.
He must have made some sort of noise because Draco was suddenly right in front of him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding incredibly worried. “You look flushed, and also pale. Do you need to sit down?”
Harry managed to nod, and let Draco guide him to a nearby chair. Harry was dimly aware that Draco was casting a series of diagnostic charms on him, rattling off questions as he went.
“Did something splatter on you? Did you inhale the fumes? Did you eat breakfast this morning? Are you allergic to anything?”
“Peanuts.” Harry attempted to answer at least one of the questions.
“You had peanuts for breakfast, or you’re allergic to them?” Draco demanded impatiently, “Or both? In which case, you are an idiot.”
“I’m allergic to peanuts, but I didn’t eat any,” Harry answered, trying to focus on Draco.
“Hmm, your blood sugar is fine, your pulse is too high, but otherwise you seem fine,” Draco mused.
“I am fine,” Harry told him. “I just—I think I realised something.”
“You realised something?” Draco repeated incredulously. “Having a realisation should not be painful, you know.”
Harry took a deep breath.
“That potion.” He gestured toward the potion base Draco had just put into the cauldron. “How does it work?”
“The hair removal potion? It removes hair.” Draco was looking at him as if he had gone insane and honestly, Harry couldn’t fault him. Maybe he had simply gone insane, that surely would be the easiest explanation, because the alternative seemed just, well, absolutely insane.
“I mean,” Harry nervously licked his lips, “because of what it says on the label.”
“Male to Female Hair Removal. The name is for internal purposes only; I, of course, don’t sell it as that.” Draco was looking at the empty jug sitting next to the cauldron. “It isn’t poisonous to ingest, if you did. You might lose a few hairs, though, but they’ll grow back in no time. It’s all non-permanent.”
“Could I try it?” Harry asked tentatively, his heart pounding a mile a minute.
“The potion?” Draco frowned.
“Yes.”
“You want your hair to fall out?” Draco sounded confused.
“Well, not the hair on my head,” Harry clarified, hoping Draco would understand.
“No, no, that’s not affected at all. In fact, there is a slight accelerant to make it grow faster. But why would you—?” Draco rambled, then trailed off. “Oh. Oh, wow. Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Harry looked anywhere but Draco’s face. He was almost certain he would be laughed at, called insane or worse. Instead Draco sounded almost gentle when he asked: “Did you just—Did you just now figure that out?”
“Yeah,” Harry answered. It was sort of true. He had known something was wrong with him, something was different. He just had never been able to place what it was, or had the words to describe it.
“That you’re trans?”
“That I’m what, now?”
“A woman?” Draco clarified.
“Yes. Maybe. I want to be?” Harry asked, unsure.
“Oh, but you already are,” Draco said softly. “The rest is just cosmetic.”
“I am,” Harry repeated. “I’m a woman.”
Harry wasn’t aware she was crying until Draco carefully wiped the tear off her face.
“You are.”