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“Henrietta! Get up, girl!” Aunt Petunia’s shrieking voice broke through the quiet of Harry’s cupboard.
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” He sighed to himself, dragging himself off of the much too small cot he was laying on.
The kitchen was bright when he entered, and Aunt Petunia was stood, arms folded with a frying pan in her right hand.
“Get to work, girl. Dudders will be wanting his breakfast.” The way she held the frying pan out at him told Harry that if he didn’t move quickly then he would be meeting it head on.
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” He started getting out the ingredients for a full fry up- Friday mornings meant a full English, no tomatoes, extra bacon, and essentially ensured Harry didn’t get anything at all.
He was just plating up an honestly ridiculously sized portion when his whale of a cousin waddled in, taking his seat at the breakfast table. “Hey, Potter, where’s my food?” He demanded, and Harry silently slid the overfull plate in front of him before preparing a second plate for Uncle Vernon, even larger than the last. Through a mouthful of food, Dudley called over to him, “Potter, you still going to be pretending to be a boy today?” just as Uncle Vernon walked through the door.
“Girl! Are you still doing that? I thought we told you to stop lying!” The obscenely fat man bellowed, his moustache trembling.
“I’m not lying.” Harry grimaced as he placed the plate at the head of the table.
“So you’re not pretending to be a boy anymore? Are you calling my Dudley a liar?!”
Harry took a deep breath and replied as calmly as possible. “No, Uncle Vernon, but I am a boy. I’m not pretending.” He had tried to tell them multiple times, tried to convince them to give him consent to start testosterone, but it never ended well for him.
“You’re a liar, girl! You were born a girl, and you will always be a girl!” Uncle Vernon stepped towards him and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling him out of the kitchen and shoving him to the ground outside his cupboard. He was only down for a second before the white-hot pain of Uncle Vernon’s belt lanced through his back, whipping him bloody and tearing at his shirt. He was glad he hadn’t put on his binder yet- he couldn’t afford to replace it if it was ruined- it had taken months of saving every bit of money he came across before he could even buy this one.
School was no better. Dudley, luckily, didn’t go to Stonewall with him, but some of his friends, Piers and Malcom, did, so they were always there to make his life a living hell in Dudley’s absence. None of the teachers cared, even when he was left with broken bones and concussions, and they refused to use his real name either. Only one of the librarians, Mx Greenfeld, ever treated him properly, but their co-workers never listened to them or used their correct pronouns either. He’d long since started carrying an old pocket knife with him so that he could at least defend himself against some of the more brutal attacks, but busted up knuckles and a rusty knife were never enough to really dissuade people from picking on him.
Normally the teachers ignored him, even when he got into fights, but apparently this Friday was going to be the exception. It was Piers and Malcom’s group who jumped him, fists flying amidst slurs against his gender and sexuality, and he managed to get a good punch in Piers’ face, busting his lips and splitting open his own knuckles on his teeth, and buried his knife in Malcom’s thigh as he tried to knee him in the stomach, when the headmistress, Mrs Umbridge, made her presence known with a little “Hem, hem.”
Piers and his friends all backed off, looking innocently at the toad-like pink monstrosity that was their headmistress.
“Oh, dear. Mr Polkiss, Mr Magnuson, I think the pair of you had better go to the nurse’s office. Miss Potter, come with me.” Her voice was sickly sweet and repulsive.
Harry dropped his head and looked down to the ground, trailing after her as she waddled through the courtyard.
He had expected to be led to her office for some sort of disciplinary action, but instead wen he looked up he realized they were in the reception area, and he looked at the Headmistress confusedly.
“Hem, Hem. Miss Potter, such a brutal attack on your fellow students will not be tolerated in this school. The only acceptable punishment for such a transgression is expulsion.” As she said that, Mx Greenfeld walked into the reception.
“What? He wasn’t the one who attacked them! They attacked him, just like they always do!” They said, outraged.
“Mr Greenfeld, that is enough. Henrietta Potter’s behaviour has always been poor, and you ought not try to defend her or you may find yourself out of a job.”
“HIS name is Harry, and he is perfectly well behaved when he isn’t being harassed!” Harry felt his eyes start to water at the way he was being supported for the first time ever.
“Mr Greenfeld, that is enough! Get your things and leave. You no longer have a place here. Now, Miss Potter, I will be calling your guardians so that they can come and pick you up.” She disappeared into the office.
Harry turned to Mx Greenfeld. “I’m so sorry! You shouldn’t have done that, now you’ve lost your job because of me!”
“Harry, don’t worry about it. I was going to hand in my notice soon, anyway, because I’ve gotten a job over at a boarding school in Scotland for next year, and I’ve got the savings to be alright for the next seven months until then. All my things are already packed up in my office. Will you be alright if I just go get them?” They asked, worried about leaving Harry to the mercy of Um-bitch, as they called her.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Thank you, Mx Greenfeld.” Harry smiled hesitantly at them.
“No problem, Harry.”
They had barely been gone for 5 minutes before Mrs Umbridge came back in, a sadistic smile on her ugly face. Harry gulped.
“Now, Miss Potter, it seems that due to your… behaviour, your relatives no longer feel comfortable having you in their house and around their son, and I cannot say I blame them, so you are no longer welcome to return there. I suggest you try to find somewhere else to stay, as you are also unwelcome here. Now, I would recommend leaving the grounds before security come to escort you away.”
Harry felt stunned, and just nodded, making his way in a shocked haze out towards the front gate. Once he was off of the grounds he just slumped against the wall. He couldn’t say he was upset about no longer having to live with the Dursleys, but he had no idea where he was going to go. It wasn’t as if he had any friends or family he could stay with.
He was trying to think of what to do when Mx Greenfeld pulled up beside him and leant out of the window of their car.
“Harry? Are you alright?” The concern in their voice was evident.
“Uh… I’m… not sure?”
“Do you need a lift home?”
Harry couldn’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that bubbled out of his throat. “Uh, I don’t have one anymore.”
“What do you mean?” They got out of the car and walked closer to him.
“M-my relatives have kicked me out. I mean, I’m not upset about it, because they’re abusive arseholes, but now I don’t know what to do.” He admitted.
“Do you not have any other family you can go to?”
“No. There’s only Aunt Marge left, and she’d be more likely to set her dogs on me again than let me in to her house.”
Mx Greenfeld was growing more and more concerned for Harry as he spoke. “Just how bad are your relatives?”
Harry let out a bitter laugh and turned, pulling up the back of his school shirt until layers and layers of scars and fresh wounds were on show. They gasped. “Harry, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Come on, get in.” They ushered him over to their car.
“Where are we going?” He asked warily.
“The police station. They might have another guardian for you on file, and if not, they will at least be able to do something about your relatives.”
“Miss Potter, it seems-”
“Mr.” Mx Greenfeld corrected the police officer.
“Of course, my apologies. Mr Potter, it seems your actual guardians were initially declined custody of you due to their being a homosexual couple, however they are still listed as your primary guardians in the system, so if both you and they are amenable, they will be able to take you in.”
Harry was stunned- he’d always been told the Dursleys had been the only option, when his entire life he could have been living with someone else entirely? “Can- can you call them, please?” He asked.
The officer smiled at him kindly- he was a pleasant black man with an incredibly soothing voice who had introduced himself as Officer Kingsley Shacklebolt. “Of course, if you would just wait here a moment-” he cut himself off with a nod of his head and disappeared into his office.
Mx Greenfeld turned to Harry, who grinned. “Thank you.” He said, his voice earnest.
“Of course, Harry. Hopefully this will work out.”
“God, I hope so.” He was about to say more when Shacklebolt came back out of the office. He blinked at him. “That was quick.”
Shacklebolt smiled reassuringly. “As soon as I told then you were here, your godfather burst into tears and his husband said they would set off immediately to come and get you.”
“Oh! Really?” Harry’s eyes were wide- no one had ever wanted him as much as it seemed these two men might.
Shacklebolt sat down across from Harry. “Harry, I went to school with Sirius and Remus. They’re good men, and given what you’ve been through it’s a damn shame you weren’t put with them to begin with when your parents were murdered.”
“Wait- what? Murdered?!” Harry’s eyes bugged almost out of his head.
“Yes…. Were you unaware of that?”
“Yes! I was told they were driving drunk and died in a car crash!” Harry was angry- not at Shacklebolt, of course, but at the Dursleys for lying to him.
“No, not at all. Neither of your parents drank much, and certainly wouldn’t have been driving after drinking. Lily and James were murdered by a drug lord who your father was investigating.” Seeing Harry’s blank look he elaborated, “James Potter was a detective in London.”
“I- Wow. The Dursleys said they were unemployed. Do you know how I got this then?” He gestured to the lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead. “They said it was from the crash.”
Kingsley frowned, and silently turned back to the computer. A few moments later, he looked back at Harry. “There is no record of you having any scars prior to the Dursleys gaining custody of you, but that scar looks like a Lichtenberg scar. From electricity.” He added.
Harry was suddenly reminded of a conversation he’d overheard a few years ago but not understood- Aunt Petunia had been complaining to Aunt Marge that “the electricity didn’t even kill her, so I’m not quite sure what will.” And he gasped, jerking back violently.
“Oh my god.”
“Harry, what’s wrong?” Mx Greenfeld hovered worriedly.
“I- Aunt Petunia- I just-” he took a deep, steadying breath. “Once I overheard Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge talking about someone not even being killed by the electricity, and I’d assumed they were talking about someone on the telly, but now…”
Shacklebolt leaned forward in his seat and Mx Greenfeld clasped a hand over their mouth in horror. “That certainly seems incriminating. While we wait for Mr’s Lupin to arrive, I think it best if we work through getting as much information and evidence against your relatives as possible, if that’s alright with you, Harry? You won’t be required to come to the trial, but we need as much evidence as possible along with your statements.”
“Y-yeah, alright.”
Harry had been at the police station for almost 9 hours when his godfathers showed up, and it was almost pitch-black outside. Shacklebolt had sent officers to take pictures of his cupboard at the Dursleys’ for his file a few hours ago, and, feeling exhausted by his statement, he’d fallen asleep not long after, curled up in his hard plastic chair. Mx Greenfeld was still with him, and they had insisted that they would stay until his godfathers arrived.
“Harry?” Harry awoke to his shoulder being shaken gently by a tall man with amber eyes and heavy scars criss-crossing over every inch of skin Harry could see.
“Who’re you?” His voice was groggy and he felt disorientated until he realized where he was.
“I’m Remus Lupin. I’m your godfather’s husband. He’s just signing the paperwork for us to get full custody and adopt you with Kingsley.” The man, Remus, was soft spoken and kind, with a welsh accent and light brown hair.
“You- you’re adopting me?” Harry felt almost as if he’d fallen into an alternate universe.
“If that’s okay with you, yes, absolutely.”
“You- you really want me?” Harry’s eyes were damp, and at that so were Remus’.
“Yes. Yes, Harry, of course we do. We wanted to adopt you when you were a baby, but the authorities wouldn’t let us.” Remus pulled Harry into a hug, but the movement made him suddenly very aware of the pain in his back and chest- he’d fallen asleep in his binder.
“I- thank you. I’m sorry to bother you with this, but is there any chance you have an extra shirt or something? I need to take off my binder but I can’t in this one.” He looked down at his feet- it was almost unfortunate that he had picked that day to wear his only fitting shirt.
“Oh! Of course! Here.” Remus pulled off his own sweater and handed it over unquestioningly, leaving him in a thin-seeming black long sleeve.
“Oh, you don’t have to-” Harry began to protest, but Remus cut him off.
“Harry, it’s no trouble. Go change.” He smiled kindly.
Harry looked back down at the sweater in his hands and smiled hesitantly before quickly making his way to the bathroom Officer Shacklebolt had shown him to earlier.
When he came out, his school shirt and binder clutched in one hand and dressed in the far too large sweater Remus had leant him, Remus was standing with his arm around the shoulder of a much shorter man with long black hair and a leather jacket who seemed to be crying into his chest. Mx Greenfeld was engaged in conversation with Remus, and seemed excited about something.
“Uh, thanks, Remus.” Harry said, his voice a little quieter than usual. As he spoke, the black-haired man looked up at him, pinning him with his silver-grey eyes.
“Harry!” That was all the notice he got before the man flung himself at him, crushing him in a hug that seemed much tighter than the man looked like he could manage- he was slim and around 5 inches shorter than Harry, who wasn’t particularly tall to begin with. “Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe its you! You look just like your dad!” The man sobbed into his shoulder.
“Uh, hi?” Harry shot a panicked look at Remus and tried to adjust the way he was being hugged so that the man wouldn’t touch his chest.
“Sorry, sorry.” The man seemed to notice what he was doing and pulled back, resting his hands on his shoulders and peering up into his face instead. “I’m Sirius. I’m your godfather. Christ, you’re even more handsome than your dad was at your age. You’ve got your mum’s eyes, though.” He babbled.
“Harry.” He tilted his head in an awkward nod, not sure how to respond.
“Are you alright with us driving home tonight? If you’d rather we can get a hotel, but Moony said he’ll be fine to drive, though it’s about 9 hours back to Hogsmeade. You’re fine to sleep in the car though, I know I will be.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s… that’s fine.”
“Okay, great! Kingsley just needs you to sign a bit of paperwork, stating your change of name and gender- if you want- and your adoption.”
“My- my change of name?” Harry’s breath hitched in his throat.
“Yep, so you can officially be Harry Potter. Or Harry Lupin, if you’d rather.” Sirius grinned at him, and when he looked over to Remus, he saw a soft, fond smile on his face.
“O-okay. Yeah. I can do that.”
He was about to head into Kingsley’s office when Mx Greenfeld stopped him. “It turns out that the same school I’ve got a job at is the one Remus teaches at and you’ll be going to, so I’ll see you in September, Harry.” They smiled, and Harry grinned back.
“See you in September, Mx Greenfeld.”
Mr Harry James Lupin walked out of Kingsley’s office with copies of his change of name and change of gender paperwork and the adoption certificate stating him as the son of Sirius and Remus Lupin, and a massive grin splitting his face in two.
In the car, Remus sat in the driver’s seat, but instead of sitting in the passenger seat as Harry had expected, Sirius sat in the back with him, encouraging Harry to lay down and use his lap as a pillow. Between the simple comfort of the contact and the gentle, rhythmic feeling of Sirius’ angular hands threading through his long curls over and over, it didn’t take long for him to fall fast asleep.
Harry woke up tucked in a huge bed, still wearing Remus’ sweater and his boxers and wrapped up in a heavy, downy duvet. He smiled to himself, stretching like a cat and rolling his neck before padding barefooted out of the room. The floors of the hallway were rustic stone and he felt a shiver run through his whole body as he made his way towards what he thought might be the living room. He was right, and when he entered, he saw Remus curled up on one of the armchairs, a large cup of coffee in his hands.
“Uh- good morning.” Harry wasn’t quite sure how to greet people politely so early, as he was used to being woken and expected to cook immediately.
“Morning, Harry. You’re up early.” Remus smiled tiredly at him.
Harry looked at the clock in the corner- 8:30AM. “Yeah, I guess. So are you.”
“Yes, but I haven’t been to sleep.” Remus laughed warmly.
“Why not?” Harry frowned.
“I’m not great at sleeping, I’m afraid. Insomnia.” He added at Harry’s confused look.
“Oh, right, sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Harry. Do you want a cuppa?”
“Oh, uh, yes, please. I can-”
“Nonsense, I’ll make you one. Coffee or tea?”
“Tea, please.” Harry mumbled playing with the sleeves of his sweater.
“Milk and sugar?”
“Yes, please.”
“How many?”
Harry wasn’t sure how to answer- he usually had 6, because it was almost all he could get away with stealing at the Dursleys to keep him going, but he supposed he didn’t need to do that anymore. “Uhm, two?”
“Alright, do you want some toast? We’ll have to go food shopping later, all we’ve got in ins bread and butter right now, but we need to take you to get some clothes and things anyway.”
“Oh, you don’t have to-”
“Yes, we do, Harry. You’ve only got your school uniform, and besides, we want to. So, toast?”
“Yes, please.”
Sirius finally dragged himself out of his and Remus’ room at 10:30, moving zombie-like into the kitchen and pouring himself a large mug of coffee from the pot Remus had left. He downed it, ignoring the way it burned going down, and refilled his cup, feeling marginally more awake as he made his way into the living room.
As soon as he opened the living room door, he was met with the sound and sight of Remus and Harry, each curled up almost identically in the two armchairs, holding their mugs in the exact same way, which made him smile softly.
Harry was wearing a pair of jeans he vaguely recognized as his own and assumed that Remus had come in and taken them out of his drawers- sharing a room for 24 years had made him a master at not waking him up- and a green sweater he knew was Remus’ from their third year at Hogwarts- his husband almost never threw out his clothes, so even though the sweater was far too small for him now, it had been in a box in the attic since they had moved in. He supposed it was a good thing, now, seeing as it meant Harry had something to wear while they went shopping today. His jeans were clearly a bit too short for Harry, but they seemed to otherwise fit okay, and he figured it was better than nothing.
“Morning, Harry. Morning, Moonpie.” Sirius sat down on the arm of Remus’ chair and took a sip of his coffee.
“I told you not to call me that, Pads.” Remus rolled his eyes.
Sirius gasped dramatically and clutched one hand to his chest, “Betrayed! And by my own husband! You don’t love me anymore!”
Remus raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Never marry a Black, they’re drama queens of the highest order.”
Harry pressed a hand over his mouth to contain his sniggers and Sirius drained the rest of his coffee, standing, placing the empty mug on the table and dramatically pressing his hands to his chest as if he had been shot, slowly dropping to the ground.
“My son and my husband, both turning against me! The betrayal!”
“Sirius, just go and get dressed. We need to take Harry shopping.” Remus sighed, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips was impossible to miss.
“Fine.” Sirius mock-pouted, then hopped up gracefully and disappeared back to his bedroom.
Hogsmeade was a nice town, and a gorgeous area to live, but the options for clothing were limited to one store and a tailor, and there wasn’t even a hairdressers, so Sirius and Remus instead drove Harry to the nearby city to shop. There was a huge shopping center, and even a smaller store about 10 minutes from it which stocked things like binders.
He came away from the shopping day with bags and bags of clothing, from sweatpants to jeans to t-shirts to hoodies, and even his own leather jacket that looked just like Sirius’, which Sirius had insisted were all completely necessary whilst Remus shared commiserating glances with Harry, new bedding and blankets to “make his room his own”, two new binders (which were far nicer quality than his old one) and a haircut. He didn’t really want to cut his hair short, because he liked being able to tie it up when it got too unruly, but he had it cut into a sort of undercut style which meant he could tie it up on the top, and it was a more masculine style, plus it had the added bonus of thinning out his thick curls a bit.
It was at dinner that night, which turned out to be a takeaway because apparently neither Remus nor Sirius could cook particularly well, something Harry had found out and been horrified by when they went food shopping (and had insisted that he would start cooking dinner so they weren’t all living on ready meals), when Sirius brought up the idea of booking Harry in with a doctor.
“I was just wondering if starting testosterone was something you might be interested in?” He said around a mouthful of pizza.
“Really?” Harry almost didn’t want to get his hopes up- it hadn’t even occurred to him that Sirius and Remus might consent for him to start T.
“Yeah, of course, if you want.” At Harry’s vehement nod, he continued. “Alright, well, I’ll see if we can get you booked in with a doctor privately this month, yeah?”
Harry put his pizza down and wiped his hands on his- Sirius’- jeans and practically flung himself at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“No problem, kiddo.” Sirius smiled, wrapping his arms around Harry tight.
Sirius managed to get Harry in to see Dr June, a private specialist in HRT and gender confirmation, on February 23rd. Remus was back at work, teaching English at Hogwarts Boarding School, so it was only Sirius with him for the appointment.
Dr June was a kind-faced Pakistani woman who smiled a lot and who Harry liked immediately.
“So, Harry, your father said you were interested in starting testosterone?” Sirius beamed from beside him when he was referred to as such, placing his hand on Harry’s back proudly.
“Yeah- yeah. Sorry, I’ve never seen a doctor before, I’m a bit nervous.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Yes, I noticed your medical records were rather lacking. Not to worry, today we’ll just be having a bit of a chat about how long you’ve known you were a boy, your plans for your transition, things like that, and then you’ll have to book in with a regular doctor for a full check-up before I can prescribe you any hormones, but if everything goes smoothly it shouldn’t take more than a week or so until everything is sorted, alright?”
“Okay, great. Alright. So, I’ve known I was a boy pretty much forever? I didn’t really know what that meant until I was about 12, but I remember telling my relatives that I wasn’t a girl when I was about 7.” Harry grimaced at the memory- Uncle Vernon had beat him so hard with his belt that he hadn’t been able to leave his cupboard for 3 days. Sirius noticed and rubbed his hand gently up and down his back, which made him smile to himself a bit.
“Okay, that’s great. And your plans for your transition? Socially, medically, anything like that, but don’t worry if your answers to that change, its perfectly fine.”
“I’ll be starting at Hogwarts in September, so I don’t really plan on telling anyone there or anything about my being trans, but I will be on the books as Harry, not- not my deadname.”
“Okay.” She made a note on the computer in front of her. “And medically? Obviously, you’re wanting to start hormones, but what about top or bottom surgery?”
“Yes, both. Yeah.” Harry felt flushed and was sure his brown skin would be stained red.
“And is that alright with your parents?”
Sirius seemed almost startled. “Of course, me and my husband- we just want him to be happy, whatever he needs.”
Harry felt his eyes prick with tears and he turned, hugging Sirius hard. “Thank you.” He whispered against his shoulder.
“No problem, kiddo, whatever you want.” Sirius kissed the side of Harry’s head and hugged him tight until he started to pull away.
“You will have to wait until you’re 16 for the surgeries, and I’m afraid the surgeon I work with, Dr Jones, doesn’t offer them at the same time, but once you have been on hormones for 6 months you will be able to book in for both. I would recommend top surgery first; however, it depends on which would be most necessary for alleviating your dysphoria, and of course, your personal preference. In 6 months if you want to book them in, you will have the options for which surgeries you would like, and I’ll provide you with some information on the different options you have. If you want to just book in a general check-up with your GP and call me afterwards, I’ll get your prescription sent through. Would you prefer pills, injections, patches or gel, do you think?”
“Uhm, injections, I guess.” Harry remembered seeing somewhere that pills, patches and gels were all daily options, and he had a feeling he’d be likely to forget them, so injections seemed far more sensible for him.
“Alrighty, then, you’re free to go.” She smiled at him and shook Sirius’ hand when he held it out.
As soon as they were out of the practice Sirius called his GP and set up an appointment for ‘his son’, a title that made Harry smile goofily to himself, for a few days later, and within the week Harry was on testosterone, a shot every 2 weeks, which Remus tended to help him with. Sirius was too squeamish to be helpful, and Harry was always worried he’d do it wrong, so the job tended to fall to Remus. It also meant that once he started at Hogwarts, he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping up with it because Remus would still be there with him.
Harry had been on testosterone for exactly 6 months the day before he was to start at Hogwarts, and so Sirius had booked him another appointment with Dr June, which was to double as a consultation with Dr Jones. The appointment was far longer than his last, but he came out beaming, booked in for a double mastectomy on August 1st the summer between his 6th and 7th years at Hogwarts, and then a phalloplasty on December 21st so that his catheter would be out before the end of Christmas break of his 7th year.
In the 6 months Harry had been on testosterone, his period had stopped entirely, something he was incredibly thankful for, his voice had lowered, not much but enough to be noticeable, his body had generally begun to look more masculine, which in turn made him feel far more confident, and he had even started to grow a bit of wispy facial hair. He was hoping that the facial hair would start to thicken soon- he was sure he would look fantastic with a full beard.
“Mr Lupin?” A stern-faced Professor addressed him as he walked through the front doors of Hogwarts Boarding School, which apparently Sirius and Remus had forgotten to mention was in the fucking castle he could see from the back yard of their cottage.
“Y-yes.” Harry gulped- this was a woman not to be messed with.
“Excellent to meet you. I’m Professor McGonagall, and I’ll be your head of house. Please follow me.” She turned and made her way up the stairs.
Remus quickly squeezed Harry’s shoulder and said “I’ll take your stuff to your dorm.” Before giving him a slight shove in McGonagall’s direction. He had to run a bit to catch up with the Professor, but he had always been quick and even his binders had never gotten in the way of that.
They finally stopped walking on the third floor, besides a large oak door flanked by gargoyles. “This is the Headmaster’s office. Come along.” She pushed the door open and he wasn’t really able to do anything but follow her up another, smaller set of stairs and into a large, round room, where an old man was sat at a heavy antique desk, the modern computer sat atop it looking entirely out of place. A macaw was perched on the man’s shoulder, and it tilted its head at Harry as it saw him.
“Professor McGonagall.” The man greeted, his voice creaky and old, but kind. “And this must be Harry.”
“Yes, Albus, this is Harry Lupin.”
“Hello, sir.” Harry smiled, hiding his nerves as best he could.
“Excellent to meet you, Harry. Now, your father has signed his parts of your entry paperwork, so if you could just sign these, I’ll give you your timetable and Professor McGonagall can show you to your dorm.” Harry leaned over the desk and scrawled his signature on the papers he was given. “Fantastic! Thank you, Harry. Here is your timetable, you will have all of the same classes as your roommate, one Ronald Weasley, so I’m sure he will be glad to show you around.”
“Okay, thank you, sir.”
“Right, Lupin, follow me.” Professor McGonagall led him back out of the office and up to a literal tower, which made him seriously wish Remus and Sirius had told him Hogwarts was in a castle, because now he was gawking at everything like an idiot. “This is Gryffindor Tower. Boys’ dormitories are on the left and girls are on the right. Your dorm is room 6C and you will be sharing, as Headmaster Dumbledore said, with Ron Weasley. Your father should still be there, as I know he was planning on putting your things away for you.”
“Thank you, professor.”
As Professor McGonagall nodded and turned to leave, Harry made his way up the stairs to the boys’ dorms. 6 floors up, and the room at the end was marked as room C. He pushed open the door to see Remus folding his clothes into a big wooden chest of drawers, his bedding and blankets from home already laid out on his bed, and there was a gangly red-headed boy laid out on the other bed.
“You must be Harry! I’m Ron, Ron Weasley.” The boy- Ron- stood up and walked over the greet Harry, who had to practically crane his neck to look at him.
“Yeah, I’m Harry. Harry Lupin. Its nice to meet you.” Harry smiled.
Apparently finished with putting Harry’s things away, Remus made his way to the door. “Be nice to my son, Ron. Harry, I’ll see you later. Love you.” He pulled Harry into a quick hug and left, shutting the door behind him.
“I will!” Ron called through the door, and Harry could hear Remus’ warm chuckle as he walked down the hallway. “McGonagall told me you’d have the same timetable as me, mate, so if you want to stick with me I’ll make sure you don’t get lost- I used to get lost all the bloody time in 1st year.”
“Thanks, Ron, yeah, that- that sounds good.” Harry flopped down on his bed and Ron did the same.
“So, Professor Lupin’s your dad?”
“Yeah, him and Sirius adopted me nearly 7 months ago.”
“Brilliant! He’s the best teacher here by far.” He seemed to be about to say something else when the door was pushed open and a petite black girl bustled into their room, her timetable in her hand.
“Ron!” She walked over to his bed, not even noticing Harry, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before continuing to talk quickly. “How are you? My parents just dropped me off, I-” she finally seemed to catch sight of Harry and he waved awkwardly. “Hello, my name is Hermione Granger, what’s yours?”
“Erm, Harry. Harry Lupin.”
“Lupin as in Professor Lupin?” She asked.
“Yeah, Remus is my dad. Him and Sirius adopted me.”
“Oh! He did mention him and his husband having adopted a son last year. Its good to meet you!”
“Uh, yeah. Cool to meet you too.” Harry still wasn’t quite used to actually conversing with people.
“Well, you’re welcome to sit with us during classes and meal times, isn’t that right, Ron?” She phrased it like question but Harry had the feeling that Ron had to agree or he would face the consequences.
“Yeah, ‘course. I already told him I’d show him around and that, ‘Mione.”
“Good. Do you suppose there’s for me to visit the library before the feast?”
Ron groaned, and Harry suddenly gasped, remembering that Mx Greenfeld would be working here this year. He checked the time and the time of the feast quickly and saw that there were another 3 hours yet. “Yes! We have 3 hours, Hermione. I actually want to visit the new librarian.”
“There’s a new librarian?” She leaned forward interestedly.
“Yeah, Mx Greenfeld. They used to work at my old school but they left the same day I did.”
“Wonderful, shall we go then?”
Hogwarts was far better than Stonewall had been. Of course, that didn’t mean much, but still. He liked it. He had actually become rather close with Ron and Hermione in the two months since term started, and he had even joined his house football team. Of course, he couldn’t wear his normal binder to play sports, but Sirius had bought him one specifically made for sports before term started so he could do PE. The captain of the team, Angelina Johnson, had almost immediately picked Harry at try-outs- she’d told him later on that she barely even wanted to watch the others after seeing him play.
Being taught by Remus was brilliant as well- as Ron had said, he was definitely the best teacher, and had them doing fun activities like acting out scenes from the plays they studied, which all the Gryffindors enjoyed but most of the Slytherins rolled their eyes at or acted too cool for. Plus, with Mx Greenfeld in the library and Hermione as his friend, he never had to worry about not understanding the homework. His chemistry teacher, Professor Snape, seemed to dislike him, but he was rather good at chemistry, and he was definitely used to teachers hating him at Stonewall, so it didn’t particularly bother him.
There was only one thing, or rather person, that caused him any problems at Hogwarts. His opposing striker, Draco Malfoy of Slytherin house, tormented him every single time he saw him. Sometimes it even sounded almost as if he was trying to complement him, but doing so poorly, when he made his comments, but Harry brushed the thought of it off. Malfoy was a dick, something Ron and Hermione confirmed, and a bullying arse at that. Apparently, he’d bullied Ron repeatedly for is family being poor, and had made derogatory comments about Hermione’s hair and teeth. He didn’t seem to do that as much anymore, but it just reinforced the idea in Harry’s mind that he was trying to be a twat, so he tried to focus on that and not on the way his arse looked in his football shorts, or the way his hair would fall into his face when he was studying, making him look soft and approachable and kissable.
It was early November and Harry was showering in the locker rooms after practice- his teammates had all finished up and headed back to the castle, so he was able to use the showers, and he was washing the mud and grime from his skin and hair with his eyes closed when Zacharias Smith looked in, having heard the shower running on his way to shower himself after a run around the grounds.
Smith’s eyes were wide as he saw Harry’s body, and he forewent his shower completely in favour of running back up to the castle to tell his friends what he had seen.
When Harry made his way in to the great hall for dinner, once again fully dressed, he was confused at the stares and snickers he was receiving. He took his usual seat between Ron and one of the other Gryffindors, a chubby blond boy called Neville, and leaned over to his best friend.
“Mate, what’s going on? Why’s everyone staring at me?”
Ron leaned in close and whispered “Fucking Smith saw you showering and told the whole school you’re trans.”
A look of horror passed over Harry’s face. “What the fuck?!” He choked out.
“Yeah. Fucking arsehole. I got a good punch in for you though, mate, and McGonagall pretended she didn’t see even though I know she did.”
Harry let out a strangled laugh at that and cast his eyes over to Hermione, expecting her to have disapproval all over her face, but instead she looked proud of her boyfriend. She saw him looking and shrugged. “He deserved it. Next time I see him, I can’t promise I won’t hit him as well.”
“’Mione!” Both Harry and Ron spoke at the same time, and her dark skin flushed.
It was then that someone dared actually say something to him. The guy was a Gryffindor from the year above, Cormac McClaggen. “So, Lupin, I hear you’re secretly a girl then?”
Harry just rolled his eyes- he’d heard far more inventive comments at Stonewall. “So, McClaggen, I hear you’re secretly a bigot, then?”
“What? No. But you shouldn’t pretend to be a boy if you’re not one, I can’t imagine your roommate is too happy about it.”
Harry didn’t even have a chance to reply before Ron cut in. “Actually, I’m perfectly fine with Harry being my roommate. Maybe you should look into not being a prick, eh, mate?”
McClaggen just sneered and walked off, but half way back to his seat he tripped over seemingly nothing, and Ron’s younger sister, one of the girls on his team, Ginny, had a smug smirk on her face and shot a brief wink at him before continuing her conversation with the odd blonde Ravenclaw she was dating, who never seemed to sit at her own table.
Harry felt a warmth in his chest at that- maybe even now, Hogwarts wouldn’t get as bad as Stonewall had been.
It turned out Harry was right about that- all of the teachers, even Professor Snape, continued to use his correct pronouns and address him as Mr, and they would give detentions to and take points from any students they saw being transphobic towards Harry, even, with the exception of Snape, if those students were in their own house. Plus, Ron and Hermione, along with a small group of other students including Ginny and her girlfriend Luna, Neville, Seamus Finnigan and his boyfriend Dean Thomas, Hermione’s roommate Lavender and her girlfriend Parvati, Parvati’s twin sister Padma and the entire Gryffindor football team, took it upon themselves to become what they called the Harry Protection Squad.
It was nice, having people support him, and when the taunts got too much he could just go to Remus’ suite and spend time with him. Plus, McGonagall continued to turn a blind eye to his friends’ actions against the people making transphobic comments, and barely followed up when Smith was hospitalised after being beaten bloody and having both arms broken (Seamus had confided in Harry that it was “So the wanker can’t wank”, which made him laugh loudly in the middle of Spanish class.)
Harry was surprised, however, that Draco Malfoy said nothing. Certainly, he wasn’t about to join the Harry Protection Squad, nor was he being even close to nice, but his sneering comments and taunts remained the same as always, with not even a hint of the transphobia his housemates displayed. Harry was suspicious of this, wondering if it was all some joke leading up to something terrible, but Hermione told him he was just being paranoid, and he tried to make it a rule to listen to her.
Probably the worst person for transphobic comments was Marcus Flint, a 7th year Slytherin who Hermione had told him had had to repeat both his 6th and 7th years once already, so he was 2 years older than the rest of his year. He harassed and belittled Harry every single time he saw him, and had even once threatened to rape him to “prove he was really a girl”, which had earned him a detention from his own head of house, and the only instance anyone had ever seen of Snape taking points from Slytherin.
It was a Tuesday, and everyone was on their way to lunch when Flint decided to harass Harry again.
“Oi, Lupin!” Harry sighed, rolled his eyes and continued walking, Hermione and Ron flanking him like bodyguards, if a 6’4” lanky ginger and a 5’ nothing teenage girl could be called such. “I’m talking to you, he-she!”
Harry clenched his hands into fists as he turned to glare at the ugly 19-year-old. “What do you want, Flint?” He spat.
“Well, me and my mates, we was wondering- what’s your real name?”
Harry raised his eyebrow. “Harry.”
“No, like what’s your name according to the law?” Flint moved his mouth, showing off his horrible, filthy teeth.
“Harry James Lupin.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“Fine, then what’s the name you was given when you was born?” Flint huffed, irritated.
“Oh. I’m not telling you that.”
“Why the fuck not? It’s not like we all don’t already know you ain’t got a cock, tranny.”
“I most certainly do have a dick, it's 10 inches and purple, and it'd certainly do a better job of satisfying someone your little shrimp, and I'd be happy to use it to fuck your mum and your dad, although on second thoughts if they look anything like you, I doubt I could keep even my strap on hard for long enough to get it in them.” Harry retorted. He wasn’t even lying- since Sirius had started giving him an allowance, he had bought himself a strap on. He hadn’t used it, of course, but sometimes he liked to wear it, the curtains closed tight around his bed, just to see how it looked.
The corridor around them went silent for a second and then erupted with whispers and giggles. Flint’s face got redder and redder until Harry vaguely thought he might explode, but instead of waiting for a response he just turned and headed into the great hall.
As he turned, though, he caught sight of Draco Malfoy, his eyes slightly glassy and his high cheekbones spotted with pink as he clutched the arm of his best friend, a short Filipino girl with a severe black bob called Parkinson. Harry didn’t want to dwell on it, but he thought that Draco, his silver eyes glassy and his face flushed, might be the most gorgeous sight he’d ever seen.
Draco was on his way to lunch with Pansy when he heard Flint spouting more transphobic bullshit at Harry. He sighed and exchanged a look with his best friend.
“Honestly, when is he going to grow up?” Draco muttered and she laughed lightly.
“Never, most likely. Besides, bigots like him don’t ‘grow up’, they turn into your father.” Draco shuddered. He used to look up to his father, used to think he was the greatest man in the world and do anything he could to please him, but when he’d came out to his mother when he was 13 and she’d told him, his response had been to denounce Draco as his son and assure him that he would be disowned as soon as he left school, so Draco had learned very suddenly that his father was not some wonderful, powerful man like he’d always thought.
“…It’s not like we all don’t already know you ain’t got a cock, tranny.” Draco flinched at the disgusting drivel Flint was spouting.
Harry took on that almost cocky look he always had before he made a funny comment, and as always, it made Draco’s knees feel a little weak. “I most certainly do have a dick, it's 10 inches and purple, and it'd certainly do a better job of satisfying someone your little shrimp, and I'd be happy to use it to fuck your mum and your dad, although on second thoughts if they look anything like you, I doubt I could keep even my strap on hard for long enough to get it in them.” Draco’s jaw almost dropped, and it was only years of training to hold up his neutral mask that stopped it, although he could feel heat rising to his face. He grabbed Pansy’s arm to steady himself while he tried to think of anything but Harry wearing a 10” purple strap on and-
“Dray! You’re going to bruise me!” Pansy’s whine broke through the daze he was in and he realized Lupin had disappeared at some point.
“Sorry.” He loosened his fingers from where they were digging into her arm and saw the slight red marks and crescent moon shaped indents his nails had left. “But why was that so fucking hot?” He asked.
“Because you’re a gay mess who’s head over heels for Harry Lupin?” She suggested teasingly.
He nodded, faking solemnity. “Mhm, that must be it.” He tried to make his statement sarcastic, but it came out far more genuine than he intended.
“Oh, darling, you really are gone over him, aren’t you?” Her face was full of sympathy.
“Yep. And yet every time I try to talk to him, I end up acting like a fucking arsehole.” He groaned and dropped his head down on her shoulder, bending his back severely to do so due to their height difference.
“WE both know that’s Lucius’ fault. If he’d taught you how to process emotions instead of just how to be a bastard to everyone, maybe you’d actually be able to flirt instead of just insulting him.” She petted his hair gently.
“He’s too good for me anyway, Pans, so its not like it’d matter either way.” At that she smacked him around the head, hard, and he leaned back. “What the fuck, Pans?!”
“What the fuck me? What the fuck you! Draco Lucius Malfoy, I’d better never hear you say anyone is too good for you again!” she reprimanded him.
“Whatever, Pans.”
“Not whatever! You are a wonderful person once you get past all of Lucius’ bullshit, and you deserve the whole fucking world! Lupin would be lucky to have you!” He didn’t believe her for a second, but it did make him feel better. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head.
“Thanks, Pans. Love you.”
“Love you too, idiot. Now let’s go get something to eat, because I’m starving.”
Slowly but surely, more and more people started leaving Harry alone. It wasn’t as if he was somehow making people less transphobic by diffusion or something, but people were just starting to lose interest, which meant that his friends started letting him spend time alone more and more.
It was after curfew, but Harry couldn’t sleep and he knew that sometimes just being outside was nice at night. At the Dursleys’ he used to sometimes sneak out and lay in the yard in the dark, so he decided that he was going to sneak down to the football field and hang around out there, breathing in the fresh night air.
He was almost out of the castle when he heard voices, just off to the side of him down the hallway to the Slytherin dungeons.
“I don’t understand why you’re sticking up for it, Draco, you used to be better than this.” One of the boys, Nott, Harry thought, said.
Draco’s drawling voice answered. “Better? I used to be ignorant. And he’s not an it, you disgusting cretin.”
“If it lies about what it’s got in its pants, it can be an it.” The boy sneered, and Harry suddenly realized they were talking about him- he was confused about why Malfoy was standing up for him though. He stuck his head around the corner just in time to see Malfoy’s fist connect hard with the side of Nott’s face. Nott went down like a sack of potatoes and Malfoy, posh, pristine Malfoy, spat at him.
“Talk to me when you get over your vile bigotry, Theo.” Draco turned and headed out towards the pitch, and Harry quickly tucked himself into an alcove so he wasn’t seen. As Draco stormed past, colour high on his cheeks and an almost exhilarated expression on his handsome face, Harry could see the blood welling up from his split knuckles.
Harry made an impulsive decision and quickly jogged to catch up with Draco as he went out of the door and onto the pitch.
“Why’d you do that?” He asked, and Draco flinched so violently he almost fell over.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Lupin! You scared the living shit out of me!” Harry couldn’t hold in a bit of a snigger at that.
“Well, why did you do that? With Nott?” Harry pressed and Draco rolled his eyes, somehow managing to make the motion inhumanly elegant.
“Because the way they treat you is fucking disgusting?” He raised one pointed, perfectly shaped blond brow.
“Well, yeah, I know that. What I don’t know is why you care.”
“Because its shit! Being mean is fine, I’m mean, and so’s Pansy, but bigotry is just plain wrong. People like Nott, or Flint,” He spat, “End up like my father, and there are already too many people like him.”
“Okay. Wow. So, you hate your father, so you stuck up for me?”
Draco groaned. “No. I stuck up for you because you don’t deserve to be treated like that, and because maybe if their stupid fucking ideas are challenged, they might end up semi-decent people. And I hate my father. Separate point.”
“Oh. Huh. Why do you hate your father?” Harry asked, very aware he was being nosy.
“For fucks sake. Fine.” Draco sighed dramatically. “I hate my father because he’s horrible. Simple as that. I used to idolise him, then when my mother told him I was gay he denounced me as his son and promised disownment as soon as I finish school, and I realized that he wasn’t the person I thought he was. Happy?”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Harry felt like an arse for bringing it up.
Draco just sighed and flopped down onto the grass of the pitch, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. “It’s fine.”
Harry laid down beside him, mimicking his position. “You’re not being as much of a prick as usual tonight.”
Draco turned his head and cracked his eyes, staring at Harry’s handsome features, from the way his hair curled sweetly where it had fallen from its knot atop his head, to the unique zig-zagging patterns of his scar, to his strong nose, to his defined jawline dusted with dark hair. “I don’t always mean to be cruel. Not to you, anyway. Remnants of my upbringing, I suppose. I’m sure Pansy will be proud of me for actually managing to have a civil conversation with you.”
Harry laughed at that, and Draco was entranced.
“You’re not actually that bad, you know?” Harry tilted his head and opened his eyes, pinning Draco with his green gaze and smiling crookedly.
Draco moved one of his hands, pressing it against his forehead theatrically. “My entire reputation, my years of hard work and carefully cultivated cruelty, shattered! All by one cute boy!” He spoke with a level of drama Harry was sure even Sirius would envy.
“You think I’m cute?” Harry was a little stunned at the admission.
Draco’s face heated up and his eyes opened wide with panic. “I- I didn’t mean- shit.” He tried to stand and run off, but only got halfway off the ground before Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, causing him to awkwardly overbalance and end up perched straddling Harry’s hips, his cheeks flushed almost red.
“You’re cute, too.” Harry smiled gently and Draco somehow blushed even harder and dipped his head, avoiding Harry’s eyes. Harry used his thumb to tilt Draco’s head back up slightly, his eyes trained on the blond’s perfect lips. “Can I kiss you?”
“R-really?” Draco looked up into Harry’s eyes then flitted back down to his plush lips.
“God, yes. Please.”
Draco nodded, leaning in shyly, and Harry pressed up, hungrily capturing Draco’s lips with his own. Draco had always assumed that earth-shattering kisses were works of fiction, simple flights of fancy in the flowery romance novels his mother liked, but he had been wrong. God, he had been so wrong. Kissing Harry was like fireworks going off against his lips, like a tectonic shift when their tongues touched, and he was breathless.
The next morning, Draco and Pansy waited outside the great hall until Harry, Ron and Hermione showed up. Harry’s face broke into a big grin as he saw his boyfriend, and he pressed a kiss to his lips.
“Morning.”
“Good morning, Harry.” Draco’s cheeks were once again stained pink. “We thought we might eat breakfast with you today, if you’d like.”
“Good idea.” Harry pressed a second kiss, this time to Draco’s sharp, pointed jaw.
Pansy was smiling smugly at the couple, whilst Ron gawked gormlessly at them and Hermione did her best not to laugh at Ron’s face- it had been clear to her for months that Draco was somehow, poorly, trying to flirt with Harry, and it had been even clearer that Harry most definitely had a crush on Draco too, regardless of how much he tried to ignore it.
Later that day, in their dorm, Ron sat across from Harry and stared at him as if he didn’t recognise him.
“You’re dating Malfoy.”
“Yes.” Harry wanted to laugh at the pained expression on his best friend’s face when he confirmed that fact.
“Have you got a concussion or something, mate?”
At that Harry did laugh. “No, Ron.”
“Right, well, in that case, why in the bloody hell are you dating Malfoy, of all people?”
“He’s not that bad, and you’ve got to admit he’s bloody gorgeous.”
“Ew! You think- ew!” Ron looked faintly green.
Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. “Oh, honestly, Ronald.” She shook her head and turned to Harry. “Harry, we’re very happy for you.”
“Yeah, sure, but… Malfoy, Harry, really?”
Harry and Draco’s relationship went public very quickly after Draco had sat with Harry for breakfast and then again at lunch. Neither of them were interested in hiding it, nor were they inclined to deny it, so by dinner time everyone in the castle was aware that Harry Lupin and Draco Malfoy were a couple. This, however, meant that Remus also knew before they had even been together for a whole 24 hours.
“I thought I warned you not to date a member of the Black family.” Remus joked, prodding Harry with his elbow that evening when he went to get his testosterone shot.
“Wait, what? Draco’s related to Sirius?”
Remus laughed. “You couldn’t tell? Between the eyes and the melodrama, its pretty obvious.”
Harry thought for a moment and then conceded with a shrug. “Actually, yeah, now you’ve pointed that out, its pretty obvious.” Just then, a thought crossed his mind that made him cringe. “Wait, that doesn’t mean this is some kind of incest, right? Since Sirius is my dad?” He shuddered at the thought.
Remus burst out laughing then, shaking almost uncontrollably as he tried to catch his breath. “Oh my god, Harry. No. You and Sirius aren’t related by blood, and besides, even if you were, you’d still only be second cousins, and so were Sirius’ parents.” Remus teased.
“Ew! What the fuck!” Harry physically recoiled.
“Yeah, rich people are fucking weird.”
“You thought this was incest?!” Draco’s face was twisted with horror.
“Only for like, 5 seconds! Hey, I didn’t know!” Harry tried to defend himself.
“Oh my god. You’re an idiot. I’m dating an idiot.” Draco dropped his head into his palms with all the drama of his ancestors.
“That’s not very nice! I’m not an idiot!” Harry feigned offence, but then burst out into a fit of giggles, pulling Draco’s hands away from his face. Draco let him, and smiled against his mouth as he kissed him softly, standing in the hallway.
They were still kissing when a wholly unpleasant voice came from behind them.
“We should have known you were a faggot, Malfoy! Is that why you stood up for the fucking girl?” Nott called, his face twisted into a sneer that made his usually honestly fairly attractive features into a grotesque visage.
Draco turned to them and raised a brow, leaning back into Harry’s strong arm which was still wrapped around his narrow waist. “So, am I faggot for being attracted to Harry, or is he a woman? You’re not particularly consistent, Theo, and consistency is a virtue.”
Nott’s face went red and blotchy. “I- you-”
Draco hummed. “Okay, good talk…. And for the record, you’re right, you really ought have known I were gay- I’ve never been particularly subtle about it.” He looked Nott up and down with one of his patented sneers that always made Harry’s heart flutter and whoever it was directed at cower back slightly, and turned away, walking into the great hall with Harry’s arm still firmly around him.