#trans!draco

To Be Seen

“Papa, look!” The small child dashed away, already out the door before Draco had a chance to react. 

“Wait for me!” He called back, then  apologised to the witch at the till before hurrying  after the youngster who was determined to get a free sample from Honeydukes before they were all gone.

“Easy, young man,” a voice said, and Draco froze, a chill going down his spine.

Just to the left of the door stood Scorpius staring up into the face of the tall man who had stopped the child from running across the busy path.

“Papa?” The boy looked confused as he looked back to Draco, then up at the man again.

Draco cleared his throat. “Father,” he greeted coolly, before scooping his son up, settling him on his hip. “I trust you are well.”

Lucius frowned. 

He had been released from Azkaban a year earlier and hadn’t seen or heard from his daughter the entire time.

Adalinda had been a beautiful child. Very much the miniature of her mother, every bit as lovely, every bit as intelligent and sure of what she wanted. 

Unfortunately for Lucius she had wanted to dress as a boy.

She stubbornly refused to wear dresses or hair ribbons, and insisted on robes and short trousers. Even going as far as talking the house elves into transfiguring her clothing for her the moment his back was turned.

She could always be found taking things apart trying to learn how they worked, or climbing trees and chasing the peacocks and garden gnomes. Coming back filthy with scabbed knees.

The morning they had planned to take Adalinda to get her Hogwarts supplies, Narcissa had spelled their daughter’s hair into soft curls. Adalinda had disappeared into the bathroom and had promptly cut the shoulder length hair off and slicked it back and then faced them both with a look that dared them to say anything about it.

In the end Lucius had refused to be seen with her so Narcissa had taken her alone.

Much to his displeasure the child had adopted a masculine persona whilst at school, choosing a name that, at least, had a similar meaning to her own. 

The professors and Headmaster indulged her, and for Lucius  it had made it quite difficult to make a marriage contract when his daughter insisted she was a boy. 

But then the war happened.

Voldemort had been immensely amused by little Adelinda Malfoy playing at being a boy, and to his shame Lucius couldn’t stop what happened. The task, the Dark Mark, she might have been spared them had she just stayed in her place. 

Then they had lost the war and Lucius had been sent to Azkaban. After eight years he was released and another full year had passed, yet his child never contacted him. Not once in nearly a decade.

He knew from Narcissa that she had married, and had children and still lived as a man.

But to see her now…

It was shocking to see this person who had once been his baby, his lovely little child with the blond curls, freckles and dimples. They were now tall and solid, looking so much like himself that it was like looking into a mirror to the past.

“Papa, who is this?” The child stage whispered and Draco sighed.

“I am your Grandfather,” Lucius said softly, and Draco stepped away, shaking his head.

“No, you’re not.”

“I-”

“No,” he said firmly. “His grandfather is my husband’s father. You are the man who was supposed to be my father, but was never there for me, and I do not care to subject my children to you.” He made to step past him again, but Lucius blocked his way. “I have my wand,” Draco warned.

“Please.”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“I’ve been home for over a year.”

“I’m aware.”

Lucius started looking frustrated, “It’s been almost ten years since we last spoke.”

“We haven’t communicated in far longer than that,” he replied wearily. “You have never spoken to me, Father. you have never seen me.”

“I’m seeing you now, Draco, ” Lucius replied fiercely, “And I have never been more proud of you.” 

His father had never called him Draco before. Never.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve had a very long time to think of things that I should have been focusing on all along. Like what truly would have been best for your mother, and for you. And I’ve come to realise and accept that I have made a great deal of mistakes, and I am determined to honestly make reparations.”

“Merlin help me,” Draco whispered, “I want to believe you, but I can’t.”

“I may not have understood you, my son, but I have always loved you,” Lucius swore. “All I ask is the opportunity to try and show you that.”

“There he is, daddy!” Another voice called out and Lucius turned to see a red-haired girl standing a ways back, holding Harry Potter’s hand.

“Are you ok?” Harry asked cautiously, wand in hand.

Lucius stepped back, putting a touch of distance between Draco and himself.

Draco gave a subtle nod and Harry relaxed.

“Cassie, come here please,” Draco asked of their daughter, and the little girl let go of Harry’s hand, walking to her papa.

“These are your grandchildren. This is Scorpius,” He nodded to the child still in his arms, “And this is Cassiopeia. Children, this is my father, Lucius.”

End

Adalinda means Noble Serpent 

He looks at Harry, his open and honest expression. Everything about him is patient and just so gentle as he waits for Draco to continue.

Draco doesn’t know how his own face looks like. He hopes the panic, he’s feeling, doesn’t show too plainly.

He has been going out with Harry for only a few weeks after years of traipsing around each other. And it’s going really well. They decided to take it slow, but the few times they have kissed now, have been glorious. Harry is perfectly attentive and gentle and always makes sure Draco is comfortable and Draco might be a little in love with him. Okay, he’s heads over heels gone for the man, if he’s being honest.

Now, though, he’s afraid, that the next thing he says, might ruin everything. This might very well be the little thing, that’s finally too much. The little thing, that breaks Harry’s patience and gentleness. The little thing, that’s not so little really, that could drive Harry away. The little fact, that he’s a trans man.

Draco shifts to sit on his knees, sideways on the couch, so that he faces Harry properly.

“Draco? It’s okay. You can tell me anything. Whatever it is.” Harry turns as well, pulling a leg under himself.

“If we’re going too fast, if you want to slow down, that’s fine. Or if you changed your mind. It’s okay. If – if you don’t want to be with me-“

“NO!” Draco yells. Harry flinches.

“Too loud, sorry.” Draco takes Harry’s hand. He gently rubs circles on his palm, knowing it will calm them both. “But, no, that’s not what it is. I didn’t change my mind about this. About you. I … I want you.” Draco feels himself blush scarlet, the blood hot in his cheeks and down his neck.

“Good,” Harry almost purrs with that crooked smile, that has the power to make Draco swoon. He squeezes Harry’s hand and feels a wave of reassurance wash over himself as Harry squeezes back.

“It’s just that,” Draco takes a deep breath, then the rest of the words come rushing out of his mouth, “before we go any further, before anything more happens between us, I need to tell you that I’m different.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. His eyes flit over his face, searching. He doesn’t understand.

Slowly Draco extricates his hand from Harry’s.

“Let me show you,” he barely whispers. Draco starts unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers. Harry watches on patiently.

“I’m different,” he repeats, letting his shirt fall open over his bare chest and exposing the crescent scars there. “I’m trans. I’m a trans man.”

Harry’s eyes turn impossibly wide behind his glasses. He’s transfixed on Draco’s top surgery scars. His gaze is intense, but his expression is unreadable.

Draco has no idea what’s going on in the head of this beautiful, perfect man, sitting across from him. So he does the only thing he can think of. He rambles.

“I can see how this changes everything.” He swallows hard. “It’s okay, obviously, when you’re not attracted to me anymore. It’s my fault really. I should have told you earlier, I assume. To clear the air. Make sure we’re on the same page. Alas, I’ll be going, then.” The words tumble out of Draco’s mouth uncontrolled.

He can’t look at Harry anymore, afraid of what he might see there now. Instead he watches his own quivering hands, as he begins to rebutton his shirt.

Suddenly Harry’s hands are encircling his wrists, holding them gently, but determinedly away from the buttons.

“Don’t,” Harry says softly. “Don’t leave.”

Draco looks up to find green eyes incredibly gentle. But there’s also a heat there, hidden in the depth, that reminds Draco of earlier kissing sessions. The desire is instantly so clear, it makes Draco’s heart flutter in a new burst of hope.

“No?” he asks quietly.

“No. Draco you’re beautiful. You’re so, so beautiful. I want to … Can I kiss you again?”

Dumbstruck Draco leans forward. Only when he feels Harry’s lips stretch into a big grin, does he register what’s happening. Harry’s kissing him. He knows and he still wants to kiss him.

“So,” he pulls away a little, resting his forehead against Harry’s and just barely managing not to poke himself with Harry’s glasses. “You’re okay with this? With me being trans?”

“What? Yes, of course!” Harry lets go of his wrists to gently place his palms on either side of his face instead.

“You’re brilliant! You’re so beautiful.” A soft kiss emphasises his words.

“Are you sure? Even now that you know my body is … not like yours?” Harry makes a little outraged sound in the back of his throat.

“Draco. Your body is perfect because it is yours. I meant it, when I said you’re beautiful. You are. Darling, you’re perfect. And I think, I’m falling a little in love with you.”

At that, Draco sits back on his heels. He searches Harry’s face, and finds nothing but genuine honesty and a slight vulnerability.

“Harry,” he breathes, and they’re kissing again. Soft, tender press of lips turn to hot, open-mouthed kisses, hungry and demanding.

“I think,” Draco says between kisses, “I might be falling for you, too.”

Harry chuckles, then sucks at the skin right under Draco’s ear, making him gasp. “I’m glad,” he murmurs.

“Now,” Draco pants, “take me to bed?”

Harry stands, taking Draco, who somehow found his way back into his lap, with him. He carries him, as if he weighs nothing, and without breaking the kiss, out of the room.