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Black Me Out	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12998 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
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Chapter Four – The Ocean

Harry did not stop running until he'd made it back to Gryffindor Tower. He barricaded himself in his new room and rushed over to his bedside table and yanked open the drawer with shaking hands. He sifted through all the junk he'd filled it with, hissing a curse as he went.

“Come on, where is it?” he grumbled, just as a soft knock sounded on his door, and Hermione's muffled voice followed.

“Harry, are you in there?”

“Go away Hermione,” Harry called out, grimacing at the trembling quality of his voice. He did not look up from what he was doing, and he heard her break the locking charms he'd placed on his door easily. She slipped inside, just as Harry fished out the tiny vial he was looking for, containing a lavender potion.

“Harry, what—” Hermione cut herself off as she watched Harry unstopper the vial and knock back the potion with his eyes shut, his hands shaking so badly it was a miracle he hadn't spilled any of it. He sat down on the end of his bed with a deep sigh, and buried his face in his hands while he waited for the Calming Draught to take effect.

“Harry,” she said gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him, “what happened? You came rushing into the tower and you looked like you'd seen a ghost. Did Malfoy hurt you or something?”

“No, it was me, not him,” Harry mumbled, at last turning his head to look at his friend. “I just...it sort of clicked for me that he'd want...and I—I can't. I can't do it. The idea of anything sexual and I feel like I'm gonna throw up. And it's not a virgin thing either, it's a body dysphoria thing.”

“What do you mean Harry?” She asked, her brow furrowing and Harry felt his stomach clench. He hated this part of telling people about himself.

“I mean, when you look down at yourself, you just...see it, and accept it. For me, it's like being afraid of heights, and constantly standing on the edge of high-rise building or something. I can't look at myself. I don't feel like my body is really mine. I'm sort of...disconnected from it, almost. And the prospect of intimacy, it means I have to acknowledge myself...I have to deal with what I have and don't have, and I just...I can't do it.” Harry looked down and saw that his hands were still trembling slightly, and when he looked back up he saw that Hermione's eyes had become rather glassy.

“Oh Harry...you've always felt like this?”

“It comes and it goes,” Harry said, feeling a little self conscious as he spoke, like he was under a stage light. “Sometimes I feel more...er, okay with myself, and sometimes I just want to crawl into a hole where no one can see me. But I've never felt completely okay. And—and Malfoy would want to do things, see me and I just...I can't.” Harry felt himself flush as his voice cracked and his vision swam.

“But then...” Hermione said thoughtfully, “maybe trying things with Malfoy might help you.”

“Help me how? I'm not exactly keen on getting beaten to a bloody pulp again.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, her tone of voice making it clear that she was close to losing her patience with him, “he likes you. More than likes you. He came and asked me how to get to know you better. And to say we don't get on would be putting it mildly,” she paused when Harry laughed weakly. “But it's obvious that his feelings are genuine. Maybe I'm too much of a romantic, but I don't think Malfoy will react like Ron did if you choose to tell him. I think he might be really good for you.” She stood up as she finished, leaned in, and gently pressed a kiss to his temple. “Think about it, all right?”

Without another word, she slipped out of his door and fixed his locking charms before her footsteps faded away.

The following day, Harry woke up late, dressed, and was preparing to head to the Great Hall for lunch, given that he'd slept so late he'd missed breakfast.

Harry stepped through the empty common room, but stopped short once he'd reached the portrait hole when he heard voices coming from the other side of it.

“...Don't know what I did Granger, he just bolted.”

“Harry's got a lot of stuff going on, he's really stressed. If you want to know why, ask him, not me,” Hermione said firmly, and Harry smiled in spite of himself.

“As if he'll talk to me Granger. He doesn't trust me, and he panicked yesterday when I took him out, I haven't the foggiest idea what I said or did to spark that...reaction. If you spoke to him on my behalf...”

“I'm not an owl Malfoy,” she snapped before he could finish, “I'm not getting in between you two. If you have an issue, talk to Harry.”

The distinctive rustle of Hermione turning to head back into the common room made Harry rush back to the stairwell leading to the Boys' dormitories, and he strode across the common room as casually as he could, pretending he hadn't heard her talking about him not thirty seconds earlier.

She climbed back into the portrait hole with a scowl on her face, and Harry cocked an eyebrow in what he hoped was a questioning expression. Upon seeing him, her scowl deepened.

“You need to talk to your boyfriend,” she said simply, and Harry sputtered.

“He is not my boyfriend,” Harry snapped, and Hermione grinned in an infuriatingly knowing sort of way.

“Is that wedding bells I hear? Malfoy would look so good in white.”

“Shut up,” Harry said with a glare, “There's nothing going on between us. We had one date. One. And it was a spectacular failure, might I add.”

“Harry,” she said with a heavy, frustrated sigh, “You like him, he likes you. You've been obsessed with each other for years,” Hermione raised her voice when Harry opened his mouth to argue, “and it's about time you two got together and stopped obsessing over what the other is doing twenty-four hours a day.”

“I am not obsessed with Mal—” Harry began hotly, but Hermione was quick to interrupt him.

“—Sixth year,” she said simply, and Harry felt his face burn.

“I thought he was a Death Eater. That's different. I'm not in love with the git. I thought he was up to something. A couple stolen kisses and one catastrophe of a date doesn't make up for seven years of being an utter prat.” Harry knew his face was likely bright red as he spoke, and his jumbled explanation did little to wipe the smile off Hermione's face.

“Go put on something nicer, and go find Malfoy—Draco. Talk to him. Harry, I really believe that you're making a huge mistake in giving up before you two even got started.”

Harry stared her down, but she stared right back unblinkingly.

Knowing he wasn't going to win this one, he turned and shuffled back up the stairs, Hermione following behind with a triumphant grin on her face.

“You know,” Harry said as they both stepped back into his room and she closed the door behind her before standing in front of it like a Hellhound guarding a Devil's Gate, “generally it's not good form to force someone to come out to someone they really don't want to come out to.”

“I'm not forcing you to tell Malfoy about your...situation. That's entirely up to you, Harry. What I am forcing you to do is to go and explain yourself to him. Because you need to do it, and so that he'll stop pestering me about it.”

“You don't have to listen to him, just...I dunno, hex him, turn him into a giant blueberry, something,” Harry mumbled, turning his back on her to look over his clothes choices. Why did he need to change to talk to Malfoy? Malfoy knew what he looked like.

“I'm not hexing him just to keep him from talking to you. Now, do what I say, change, and go find your boyfriend.”

Harry glared at her, and she responded with an innocent smile.

~*~

Harry felt extremely uncomfortable.

He wasn't used to talking about himself, not in such an intimate way, and now he somehow had to explain to Malfoy, of all people, why he freaked out the day before.

Harry was dressed in the same jeans from the day before and one of his nicer long-sleeved shirts, in the same shade. Hermione had been quite pleased with the outfit she'd chosen for him, but Harry wasn't so sure about it. He tugged awkwardly on the sleeves as he made his way down from the tower.

After a quick bite in the Great Hall, Harry wandered about the castle, looking for Malfoy halfheartedly. He really didn't want to find him and talk, but neither did he want to get back to the common room and face Hermione's wrath for having not done it. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, but he could not tell which was worse: Malfoy or Hermione. He'd come to the conclusion that he might as well sack up and tell Malfoy the truth, as coming up with and maintaining a plausible cover story was too exhausting. He had his wand handy just in case Malfoy reacted like Ron or Seamus, and with the curse in place, it wasn't like Malfoy would be able to go running to Rita Skeeter or anything.

Harry had wandered out into the courtyard, intent on giving it a cursory glance before heading back to Gryffindor Tower, but his plans for a feeble, “I couldn't find him,” were dashed when he heard a familiar, drawling voice call his name.

“Potter!”

“Damn it,” Harry hissed, and turned to see Malfoy, who was running up to him with a strange look on his face. It was a far cry from his usual casually confident swagger, and if Harry was to put a name to it, he'd say that Malfoy looked worried. The expression was enough to make Harry falter in his burning desire to bolt, and he cast nervous glances to the few other students that occupied the courtyard, openly staring as Malfoy ran up to him.

“You took off fairly quickly yesterday,” he said, his usual drawl returning to his voice. “Not very Gryffindor-like to run away like that.” Malfoy reached forward to take Harry's hand, but froze and allowed the arm to drop while he watched him uncertainly. Harry hated that he felt disappointed that Malfoy hadn't followed through with the small gesture.

“I...er...Fuck, this is hard,” Harry looked away as he felt himself go red. “I...er...don't date a whole lot, and I, uh,” Harry broke off his stammers when he felt a warm hand slip into his. Harry squeezed it gently.

“Are you going to say you don't date much because you're afraid people only want you because of your fame? Because that's not why I'm interested in you,” Malfoy murmured softly, and Harry felt his stomach turn over, panic and desire fighting for dominance, and for the first time since all of this had started, Harry genuinely didn't know which instinct was stronger. Damn Sirius and Hermione for being right, Harry thought, hoping none of his conflicting emotions showed on his face.

“It's not just that,” Harry said, unable to look directly at Malfoy, “I, er...it has to do with some very personal history that no one really knows about, and save the teachers, Sirius, and Hermione, and a few people have reacted...badly to the information.”

“Am I about to find out why your lollygagging ginger turned on you?” Malfoy asked, arching an eyebrow.

“C'mon,” Harry said, ignoring his question as he tugged on his hand. “Let's find somewhere private so we can talk.”

Malfoy had a hopeful smile in place as he followed Harry's lead, while Harry did his best to ignore it as he led him out onto the grounds and under the same beech tree where he'd talked to Hermione. He cast the same secrecy charms around them, ignoring the now quizzical look his companion shot him, and he conjured a blanket for them to sit on while Harry worked. He joined him on it a moment later, not missing how Malfoy had deliberately made it smaller than necessary, and the size caused their thighs to brush together as they sat side-by-side upon it.

“So what's this all about? Have you joined some covert Ministry Death Squad or something?” Malfoy smirked when Harry snorted at his comment, just barely managing to hold back a hysterical giggle.

“No, nothing like that. It's just really private information and I don't want it getting out, but I...I don't dislike you, which is weird when you consider our history...but, if we're to go forward with this there's some things you need to know, things about me,” Harry said, feeling a flush begin to creep up his neck as Malfoy pressed a hand against the small of his back, clearly in what he thought was a comforting gesture.

“I...” Harry paused again and raked his fingers nervously through his hair. “I was born...er...differently than other m-men,” Harry silently cursed his stammer, and as he stared resolutely ahead at the lake, he saw Draco's brow knit together in confusion in his peripheral vision.

“Different like...some sort of birth defect?” he asked, and Harry almost laughed. That certainly was one way of putting it.

“Er—something like that. I—I...” he trailed off again. Like with Hermione, he found that he couldn't bring himself to actually say the words. This is ridiculous, Harry thought, I'm supposed to be in Gryffindor, when did I become such a bloody coward?

Instead of growing impatient with Harry's feeble stammers, Draco trailed his hand up his spine, curled it around the back of his neck, and coaxed Harry's head to turn. He captured Harry's lips in a gentle kiss, and pulled back to smile at his companion.

“Whatever it is,” Draco murmured softly, “I liked you before, and I'll like you after; I promise.”

Harry seriously doubted this, but he smiled and nodded in gratitude all the same, and took a deep breath to steady himself, then opted for the blurting-it-out method.

“I was born female. I'm transgender.”

It became clear at once that whatever Draco had been expecting, it wasn't that. The silence hung heavily between them, and Harry extricated his hand from the blond's and curled both into tight fists in an effort to conceal his trembling.

“As in...you were born with...er, different...bits?” Draco asked, wincing before Harry could react, making it clear he was trying to speak delicately, but it was obvious that this wasn't something he had encountered before. Draco had at least not reacted in anger, for which Harry was grateful. Turning away from him, Harry nodded meekly. His heart was pounding so hard and fast in his chest, Harry was amazed that he wasn't vibrating on the spot from it. He kept his eyes fixed on his lap, and blinked a few times in surprise as Draco's hand slipped into his and offered it a small squeeze.

Harry looked up, and any question he had for his companion was silenced when he cupped his chin with his free hand, and ghosted his lips across Harry's in a light kiss.

“You are still a man to me, whether you have a cock, a gnome, or...something else down there,” Draco murmured softly, and Harry laughed a little, grateful he hadn't voiced his actual genitalia. Things were always easier when he didn't have to acknowledge it.

This time, it was Harry who initiated the kiss, and a single tear dripped down his cheek, his relief and joy completely overwhelming him. Draco did not comment on it, but brushed it away with his thumb as he kissed Harry back.

They lay down side by side, and Harry was content in the silence, but one question still burned in him.

“Why now? I mean, when did you...you know, figure out that you, er, liked me?” Harry felt his face grow warm as he spoke, and Draco chuckled, choosing to kiss Harry again instead of answering straightaway.

“I've known for ages,” he said at last, “but I didn't know how to say it. I mean, how do you make up for years of harassment and bullying to admit to that same person that you've been interested in them all this time?”

“So you chose the 'be a pestering pain in the arse until Harry caves' method?” Harry asked, grinning a little as he spoke, and Draco merely smirked. That was answer enough, and Harry choked out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Well, it worked didn't it? Besides, you've been into me for ages, you just didn't know it,” Draco said, his voice regaining its confident drawl, and Harry laughed again.

“That's what Hermione said, but I think it's just as likely one of you slipped me a love potion,” Harry said, watching as Draco's hand trailed down his side and paused at the bottom of his jumper. He tensed, but Draco did no more than casually drape an arm across his hips and draw Harry closer.

“It's possible, but using a love potion would be cheating, don't you think?” Draco asked as he rolled onto his back, and Harry pressed his cheek to his shoulder. It was strange to him how comfortable he felt with his once-rival. They'd gone from being at each other's throats to cuddling under a net of secretive charms. It was weird, rushed, and confusing, but Harry had absolutely no desire to stop.

“For you, that's awfully...well, noble,” Harry said, and Draco chuckled softly.

“It's been known to happen.”

They whiled away the afternoon in comfortable silence, punctuated with gentle kisses, tentative touches, and snatches of conversation. Draco had steered clear of Harry's revelation, which both surprised and confused him in equal measure. The scant handful of people he'd told had been painfully curious about certain aspects of Harry's biological history that was definitely none of their business, but with Draco...he'd said nothing. Harry was sure it was to come, but perhaps he was still working through his shock.

“Pott—Harry,” Draco amended, drawing Harry's attention from his thoughts and to his...boyfriend? The word sounded strange in his head. Harry wasn't sure if it was too soon to call him that, having never been in a relationship before, but he didn't know what else to refer to Draco as, after spending most of the afternoon with him.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, swallowing thickly when he saw the troubled look on his face. Was Draco about to admit that he couldn't handle dating someone like Harry, and was about to take off? He braced himself for the emotional blow.

“You should know, I've never been with someone—er, like you before. If there is something that I say or do that distresses you, please tell me so I don't screw this up as we go forward. I've hurt you enough over the last seven years, I don't want to add any more trauma to the...trauma.” He winced at the phrasing, and Harry chuckled, leaning in to kiss him gently instead of answering straightaway.

“Believe me, you'll know,” Harry murmured, “should I give you a list of trans do's and don't's or something?”

“That might help,” Draco said, and pulled himself up into a sitting position, much to Harry's disappointment. He cocked his head to the side, and waited for Harry to speak.

“You mean right now?”

“No, on Tuesday,” Draco replied sarcastically, “yes now.”

Harry laughed again, aware that he hadn't felt this light and happy in a very long time. He racked his brains for what to say. Given that he could count the people he'd come out to on one hand, he'd never had to worry about people (save perhaps Hermione) asking awkward questions before.

“Erm, well, I mean, there's no one way to be trans, some people are totally comfortable with certain parts of their bodies, and some hate their...parts so much that they're a big mess. I sort of fall into the latter category.” Harry paused, chewing the inside of his cheek as he thought, and tried to ignore the sad, sympathetic look that crossed Draco's face. It was an extremely strange expression to see on someone who was normally so aloof.

“The golden rules are mostly...use the person's preferred pronouns always—he, in my case—never ever call them by or ask about their birth name, and unless you're intimately involved with the person, what they have between their legs is absolutely none of your business,” Harry paused again, “I mean, I've met some people like me who totally accept the genitalia they were born with, and have no desire to adjust them to match their gender identity, but others can't deal with it; it's a really touchy subject. I'd say unless they bring it up, the best course of action is not to ask.”

“And for you, what do you feel comfortable talking about?” Draco asked softly, reaching out to thread the fingers of his left hand with Harry's. He felt his face colour in response to Draco's question, and he was silent for several minutes as he thought how best to phrase it.

“I've never...I mean, I've never been involved with anyone because I couldn't deal with my...er, stuff. I still kind of can't look at myself when I'm showering or whatever. It'll be a learning curve for both of us. I mean when I told Hermione she asked me a lot of really inappropriate questions, but it's sort of...different with you, since you're...I dunno.” Harry trailed off, unable to say the word boyfriend. What if he was reading too much into it, and Draco didn't think of him like that? He didn't want to muck it up that quickly. He liked how Draco made him feel, and he didn't want it to be over yet.

Draco watched Harry in silence after he'd stopped speaking, absorbing the information he'd been told, and processing it. Instead of offering up a verbal response, he leaned in and kissed Harry again.

This wasn't like their earlier kisses, chaste, sweet, and brief. This was slow and languid, he coaxing Harry's inexperienced mouth open with his tongue, and tasting him so thoroughly that it left Harry feeling like he'd been reduced to a pile of jelly.

“Don't feel obligated to tell me anything just because we're involved,” Draco murmured, looking at him so intensely that Harry felt his breath catch. “You're allowed to have your privacy, and it's not like we need to jump into bed tomorrow.” Harry felt the flush rise in his cheeks at the implication, closely followed by a cold, nervous sweat. Draco stroked Harry's cheek with his thumb as he continued, “I want you, I think you're hot, and brave, and stupid. But I'm not such a prat that I'd try to pressure you into going to bed with me sooner than you'd feel ready for. I mean, I can't say I have a lot of experience with someone who has...” Draco broke off and shook his head. “As I said, I think of you as a man, your anatomical differences from...er...I just mean either way, nothing could make me see you as a girl.”

Harry didn't know what to say. He had never expected Draco Malfoy of all people to be so...accommodating. He'd even shown more tact than Hermione had, and he found that he had absolutely no idea how to react. Instead of answering verbally, he leaned in and kissed him again.

“Who would've thought I'd find prince charming in Slytherin House,” he murmured against Draco's mouth, and the blond chuckled.

“Shut up.”

~*~

“Not a word,” Harry said the moment he'd climbed through the portrait hole feeling warm and flushed, and was immediately confronted by a very smug-looking Hermione.

“I don't have to say anything, it's written all over your face,” she said with a smile, “but I did come up with a nice 'I Was Right' dance that I can show you later.”

Harry snorted, and jerked his head in the direction of the Boys' Dormitory staircase, and she hastened to follow him up to his room.

“So?” Hermione prompted the moment Harry had closed the door behind her, “details. What happened? Did you tell him?”

“It was...” Harry paused when he felt his face grow warm, and he sat down heavily on the end of his bed, then flopped back. Hermione sat in the nearby desk chair, watching him while Harry tried to come up with the right way to express what he was feeling. “Weird. I mean, I kind of expected him to punch me and take off, but he didn't.”

“What did he do?”

“Mostly? We snogged,” Harry said, his attempt to keep the colour off his face failed spectacularly when Hermione grinned. “Not a word. He's an amazing kisser though, so there's that.”

“I told you so,” Hermione said with a warm smile, “Like I said, he's changed. For the good, as mad as that sounds,” she said, leaning forward against the back of the chair as she reached over to touch the back of his hand with hers. “I'm happy for you Harry, really I am. And er—this came for you while you were out.”

Flushing a little, she handed Harry a tightly wound scroll. When he broke the seal and unrolled it, he bit back a groan when he recognized Sirius's handwriting.

Harry,

Hermione has informed me that you're seeing a young man by the name of Draco Malfoy. As your guardian, it is my sworn duty to embarrass the hell out of you in front of him. That said, I insist you and he join me for lunch at your next Hogsmeade weekend so I can meet him properly. Be warned that if you ignore this letter I'll just send your new boyfriend embarrassing baby pictures of you. You know I have quite the collection.

Sirius

Harry crumpled the letter in his hand and glared at his friend, who was finding the minute indentations in the wood of his desk chair incredibly fascinating all of a sudden.

“We haven't even been together twelve hours, why'd you go running to Sirius?” Harry demanded as he glared at Hermione, who flushed a little.

“Well I—I was excited for you, and I didn't really have anyone to share it with, so I thought I'd tell—”

“—Sirius,” Harry finished for her. She nodded meekly. Harry wanted to be cross with her, but something in the implication behind her words made him stop short. I didn't really have anyone to share it with...Harry frowned sadly. It had completely skipped his notice that now Harry was more or less Hermione's only friend. Ginny hadn't spoken to either of them since Ron's expulsion, and Neville and Luna had both opted to not return after Hogwarts' reconstruction. Harry forced a small smile, though he felt an ache in his chest for her. “It's fine, I just wish you would've waited a bit.”

“I'll be more patient with your engagement announcement,” she replied with a grin, and Harry snorted.

“Yeah, right.”
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