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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N: Much shorter than I intended, the next one will be longer, I promise! Also be warned that there's references to Mpreg in this chapter that may serve as a minor squick to some.
Chapter Six – Paralytic States

“Harry, it's so good to see you,” Healer Marion Lockley said, smiling warmly as Harry stepped from the hall and into her little office.

Harry liked the Mind Healer he'd been assigned to; Marion Lockley was not clinical and cold, but warm and genuine. She made him feel as though she genuinely cared for him, and he wasn't just another client. Marion was a petite woman, an inch or two shorter than Harry with a kind face and warm smile, her thick black curly hair pulled into a high bun, and she wore robes of a deeper shade of green than normal Healers, showing that she was part of the Mind Magic ward, and not the normal Medical wards.

“You too Marion,” he replied with a faint smile as he moved over to the small settee reserved for patients while she shut the door. He helped himself to a sweet from the dish laid out on the side table, and she charmed a scroll of parchment and quill to take notes during their session, leaving her to talk to him freely.

“Now,” she began, “when we saw each other last you were progressing nicely with your chest reconstruction, but I was still concerned about your extreme body dysphoria.” Harry frowned at her, though she ignored him. He didn't think his body dysphoria was that bad. “I'm sure you know that it's much worse than it should be for someone at your stage in transition. How has everything been going, and how is that coming along?”

“I don't know where to start,” Harry said with a weak smile, “a lot's happened.”

“Bore me,” she said, her smile widening when Harry laughed a little.

Harry did. He started from the beginning, telling her of Ron and Seamus's discovery and their assault, of Draco's pushy flirtations, Harry coming out to Hermione, the trainwreck of a date, and Draco's easy acceptance of his 'situation'. He mentioned Sirius's insistence that he meet Draco properly, and finished off with Ron's cursed letter and Draco's attempt at intimacy, and the subsequent panic attack that closely followed.

“That is a lot,” Marion said with a chuckle as Harry fell silent, and he answered with another faint smile. “I think first we must go back to your friends' negative reaction to your gender identity. I'm sure you know that you cannot hold yourself responsible for their actions. You have done nothing wrong Harry, it is they who are wrong in rejecting you in such a violent matter. Have you considered reporting the assault to the Aurors?”

“People keep suggesting that, but I really don't want to,” Harry said, not looking at her, “I'd have to explain about myself to them, and what if they tell me it's my fault for drawing attention to myself? Or...what if it somehow gets out? I'd never get a moment's peace!” Harry paused and took a slow breath in an effort to calm himself down, though it did little to help. “I just...after everything, I just want to be left alone. I don't want to make a big deal out of this.”

“I understand that Harry,” Marion said patiently, “but as you know, these things will spiral out of control very quickly if they're not dealt with. You can bring them before the Wizengamot in seclusion, and no one need know that you're trans. Mr Weasley already sent you a cursed letter, it will not stop here. It will only get worse.”

Harry bowed his head and scratched at the knee of the faded jeans he wore. He'd already talked about this with Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall, Sirius, Hermione, and Draco. He was so tired of discussing it.

“You don't need to make a decision right this moment Harry,” Marion said gently when Harry didn't answer straightaway. “Think about it, because things will only escalate from here if you don't make some kind of a stand.”

“All right, I'll think about it,” Harry said, his head bowed. The agreement meant that Marion would move on to other topics, though in his head Harry already knew his answer: no way.

“That's good to hear. Now...You have a boyfriend.” Marion's smile widened when Harry felt himself flush. “How is that going?”

“Remarkably well, all things considered,” Harry said with a faint smile, “I mean...it's weird because we spent so much time at each other's throats and now we're involved. But he's been amazing. I'm really surprised how well he's taken everything, considering only a few years ago he was a huge...bigot.” A number of other colourful nicknames for Draco were perched on the tip of his tongue, but he'd always tried to keep his vocabulary clean when he visited with his Mind Healer.

“Opposites attract, as they say,” she said with a faint smile, then jumped straight to the question Harry really didn't want to hear. “Have you two had sex yet?”

“Uhm, no,” Harry said, looking away uncomfortably, “I still have trouble with my, um, stuff, so we haven't gone very far. We haven't been seeing each other for very long either, so that's a factor.”

“Harry, we've talked about avoidance. Do you remember that muggle mantra I taught you?”

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference,” Harry rattled off at once, “yeah, I remember.”

“Then name it for me, if you would be so kind,” Marion said, her tone telling him that there was no room for argument.

“My...vagina,” Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, and he felt slightly ill. “I—I just...it's not right,” Harry felt his voice crack, and he pressed the thumb and pointer finger of his right hand against his tear ducts, bowing his head forward a little.

“Because you have a vagina makes you no less of a man Harry,” Marion said gently, repeating what she'd told him easily half a dozen times during their past sessions. “Because you can get pregnant makes you no less of a man. In the wizarding world it is not an uncommon occurrence for even a cisgendered man to get pregnant—there are many potions and procedures available for homosexual couples who want a child but do not wish to adopt or use a surrogate mother. If you were to decide to utilize your reproductive organs, no one would bat an eyelash.”

“I—I know that,” Harry said, his gaze fixed upon his knees, “It just...feels wrong.”

“And that's what we need to work on,” Marion said, smiling faintly. “You told me quite early on that you had no desire to pursue SRS, given the options available in the wizarding and muggle worlds.”

Harry grimaced as his mind went to them at her words, and he felt a small stab of jealousy. All the available potions and charms that could give him the genitalia he so desired were temporary, and he would be stuck taking yet another potion for the rest of his life. Even then, the results were never as good as its natural counterparts. The muggle route was unthinkable. The two surgeries available were incredibly expensive and incredibly risky, and the results were not good enough nor safe enough for Harry to even contemplate it, at least for the moment.

“There is no rush for it,” Marion continued, “but when you feel ready, perhaps ask your boyfriend to help you work through your reluctance to acknowledge your body.” Harry went beet red, but Marion pressed on as though she hadn't noticed. “In the meantime, I want you to practice calling your vagina your vagina and not my stuff.” Marion's firm tone left no room for argument. “If you wish to use slang that's fine, but Harry, the medical fields of transitioning—both magical and muggle—can only take you so far. You will be miserable if you cannot get past this hump in your dysphoria, and I do believe that having a boyfriend will be very good for helping you to work through that.”

~*~

An hour later, Harry wandered out of his session feeling as though he'd run a marathon. He was drained, and all Harry wanted to do was sleep. This wasn't uncommon for him following one of his sessions, but this one felt particularly bad. Harry hated it when Marion got on him about his stuff. What was the big deal if he didn't look at it, or think about it, or even touch it unless he absolutely had to?

“Good session?” Sirius asked as Harry stepped outside, and he shrugged a little.

“I guess, she brought up a lot of things I didn't really wanna talk about,” Harry mumbled as they turned and headed down the hall and towards the lobby.

“Like what, or d'you not wanna discuss it?”

“They're supposed to confidential sessions Sirius,” Harry reminded him, and Sirius offered him an apologetic smile before he fell silent. This wasn't the first time Sirius had asked him, and Harry doubted that it would be the last. He knew that he was only asking out of concern, but it was still none of his business. Harry usually wound up telling him everything anyway, but out in the open like this he had no desire to discuss what they'd talked about, much less discuss his stuff in public.

The pair stopped at a muggle burger bar, as they always did following one of his meetings with his Mind Healer, and hidden away from the other patrons over plates of greasy chips and bacon cheeseburgers, Harry felt that he'd calmed down enough to talk about what they'd discussed in his meeting.

“I told Marion about everything about Ron and Seamus and then with Draco...” Harry began, punctuating his words with a huge bite of his burger, “but all she wanted to talk about was Draco and sex and...and...” Harry felt his face burn. He couldn't say it. He took a few shaking breaths, and tried again.

“She wants me to start, um, owning my body, I guess,” Harry mumbled, keeping his voice low, but the thought of what he'd been asked to do made him feel sick.

“She wants you to start acknowledging that you have a va—” Sirius broke off, and tried again, “she wants you to acknowledge your genitalia, is that it?” Harry nodded silently, staring resolutely down at his food. He suddenly didn't feel very hungry.

“Harry,” Sirius said softly, but Harry continued to stare at his plate, and crammed a vinegar-drenched chip into his mouth. “Harry, look at me, please?”

Harry looked up at Sirius, and his misery must have shown quite plainly upon his face, as any words of encouragement Sirius had been working up to seemed to die in his throat.

“She even said that it's okay for men to get pregnant,” Harry mumbled, looking back down at his plate. “It's not though. I've never even heard of, much less seen a pregnant man.” He grabbed his soft drink and chewed absently on the straw between small sips.

“I was,” Sirius said, just softly enough for Harry to hear. Harry choked on his soft drink and looked up to stare at his godfather.

“What?” Harry whispered back, and Sirius smiled a little sadly.

“It was just after you were born,” Sirius said, smiling, though there was a heavy sadness in his voice. “After seeing you, I wanted one. At those times with Voldemort at large, the time we had was precious, and many couples married and had kids young. I talked it over with...well, with Remus.” Harry's eyes bulged, though Sirius ignored his reaction a he pressed on. “We went through the procedures of dosing me up and finding a donor—Remus was afraid that werewolf...erm, genes might turn me.” Sirius looked away from Harry and picked up his own drink, and continued to ignore the gobsmacked look on Harry's face from learning that his godfather and his ex-professor had been lovers.

“I lost the baby at twelve weeks,” Sirius said, his voice catching a little, “the fallout from that tore us apart. Eventually he had little Teddy with Tonks.” Sirius cleared his throat, smiling a little at Harry as he spoke in a more neutral tone of voice, “so you see, it not that strange in the wizarding world for men to have the babies just as often as women do.”

“It just feels wrong to me, I mean...” Harry trailed off with a grimace, and again Sirius filled in the silence.

“No one is telling you how to use your body Harry,” he said gently, “all I'm saying is that it's not as cut and dry what you should or shouldn't do within your gender identity. Does that make sense?” Harry shrugged to Sirius's question, though he was still doubtful that there was anything normal about a man getting knocked up.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Harry didn't know whether or not Sirius's words actually made any sense at all, his mind still stuck on Sirius and Lupin dated, which he could picture much more easily than he would have liked to. This segued to a mental image of his godfather, heavy with child, and he shuddered involuntarily.

~*~

Harry got back to school early enough to make his afternoon lessons, which involved a mock N.E.W.T exam in Charms. It gave him a perfect excuse to avoid Hermione's invasive questions, for which he was grateful.

Despite Harry's ongoing mantra of, 'she doesn't mean to be insulting, asking questions is what Hermione does,' he still struggled to not be offended by her questions. There were only so many questions regarding his sex drive, whether or not he still got his period (or shark week, as he called it), and questions regarding clitoral growth he could take before he had to come up with more creative ways to tell her, It's none of your business. That, and he had a feeling that if he answered the latter question, he was fairly certain her follow-up question would likely be, 'can I see?'. After the morning he'd had, the last thing he wanted to do was explain to his over-inquisitive friend why he would not let her look at his genitals. Plus, the idea of Hermione looking at his stuff when he thought of her like a sister was just weird.

“Any sketchy post show up for me while I was out?” Harry asked conversationally as they gathered up their bags at the end of the period.

“Just this,” Hermione said with a grin, and she lifted up a tightly would scroll to show him. Harry recognized the neat handwriting on it at once, and he mirrored her expression and she handed over the note. Harry broke the seal and unrolled it quickly.

Harry,

Meet me after dinner in the Entrance Hall.

x
Draco

“Why does he want to meet you?” Hermione asked curiously as she leant over Harry's shoulder to read the note.

“So we can practise our crochet skills, what do you think?” Harry asked as he cocked a brow at her, and laughed as she went rather pink.

“Well I didn't think he meant...” Harry said nothing to her comment, and only raised his eyebrows higher, and she shook her head, “I swear,” she said with an amused huff as they stepped into the hall, “gay or straight, cis or trans, you boys are all the same!”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” He asked while he tried to not laugh.

“I mean sex, sex, sex, that's all you boys think about!” she said, and Harry shrugged noncommittally as they reached the Fat Lady.

“Philadelphus,” Harry said and the portrait swung forward. He slipped inside and waited for Hermione before he continued. “It's not sex if it's just snogging.”

“Still,” Hermione said with a sly smile. Harry did his best to return it, but after the sex talks he'd had with his Mind Healer and Sirius that day, sex was the last thing on his mind.

They split up to drop off their bags, then picked up their conversation when they got back into the passageway.

“Seriously Harry,” Hermione said, “why does Draco want to meet you?”

“It's Date Night,” Harry said, choking back a laugh at the dubious look that crossed his friend's face. “He promised to take me somewhere nice.”

“Are you going to ever answer me seriously?” Hermione asked with an annoyed huff, and Harry grinned.

“No, probably not.” Despite the fact that he was telling the truth, the irritated reactions his obnoxious answers incited were too entertaining to dispel with a casual explanation.

Later that evening, Harry wandered out to the Entrance Hall, and found Draco leaning up against the wall near to the broom cupboard. His mouth stretched into an easy smile when he caught sight of Harry, and he pushed himself off the wall and strode over to him. Draco cradled Harry's cheek in his hand and Draco brushed his lips against Harry's lightly.

“Hey lover,” he purred against Harry's mouth, and it took a great deal of effort to swallow a laugh.

“Really struggling to meet your quota on cheesy nicknames, aren't you?” Harry asked, and Draco replied with a smirk. He reached down and took Harry's hand before he tugged him toward the doors.

“C'mon, it's a beautiful night,” Draco said by way of answer, and gave Harry's hand a second tug when he didn't immediately move.

Giving up, Harry followed Draco outside, and his breath caught at the sight of the full moon. His mind went back to Remus at once, and he felt a pull at his heart. Draco seemed to sense Harry's distress, and offered his hand a gentle squeeze.

Buoyed by Draco's presence, Harry followed his lead across the grounds and towards the Forbidden Forest. He fixed his gaze resolutely upon the approaching wood as he tried to keep his eyes from straying to the swell of the moon. The sight of it brought only guilt and bad memories to his mind, and Harry didn't want to be miserable when he was with Draco.

They bypassed the lake completely and Draco slipped into the trees. Harry opened his mouth to ask him where they were going, but his partner seemed to sense the question, and stopped it with a warm kiss.

“You'll see,” he murmured, and gave Harry's hand another gentle tug.

Draco did not take him very deep into the wood, and stopped when they reached a small clearing, completely invisible unless you were looking for it. The pair manoeuvred through the twisted branches and over the brier patches, their robes catching minutely on the thorns, as they went. Inside, the small clearing was bathed in moonlight, as warm as a summer night, and the forest floor had been adorned with a thick blanket and two steaming mugs sat under some kind of protective charm.

“What is this place?” Harry asked, his voice just barely above a whisper.

“My place,” Draco replied, untangling his hand from Harry's as he stepped behind him, wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, and perched his chin against his shoulder. “I found it in sixth year, a little place hidden away from the world, and for a short while I could pretend that my problems didn't exist. Now, I'm sharing it with you.”

Draco urged Harry forward, lifted the charm on the mugs. He handed one to Harry, then the pair sat on the blanket that had been laid out. He sipped on the hot cocoa he'd been given, and a smile came unbidden to Harry's face. After the emotionally draining day he'd had, this was nice—beyond nice. Harry leant against Draco's shoulder, and they watched the stars in companionable silence. With Draco at his side, and the warmth of the drink lifting his spirits, the sight of the moon did not pain him nearly as much as it had mere moments before.

The mug vanished the moment Harry finished, and he suspected it had gone back to the kitchens. Draco's had gone too, and in an instant he had his arm around Harry, pulling him in for a kiss.

Draco tasted sweet, of chocolate and sugar, and that indefinable thing that was simply Draco. Harry's hand moved to rest at Draco's back as he shifted closer, his lips parting as Draco's tongue darted out to taste him. Clumsily at first, Harry reciprocated, then as his confidence grew he responded with more enthusiasm.

They slowly eased down onto the blanket, sprawled out somewhere between side-by-side and in a tangle of limbs. Harry felt as though his brain and body had melted away, and he was left with nothing but blind sensation. This was beyond good; it was wonderful.

Draco's hand trailed down from Harry's shoulder to his hip, but stopped there and made no move to go further. In his blind haze of desire, his unease concerning his body did not leave him, but Draco's decision to stop instead of push forward kept from breaking the spell. Harry wasn't keen to tease Draco unintentionally however, and he reluctantly broke the kiss.

“Are you all right?” Draco asked softly, his hand shifting up Harry's side to rest against the side of his throat. Draco's thumb brushed over his adam's apple, and Harry took a moment to enjoy the sensation before he answered.

“Fine, I just...I don't want to get you worked up when I'm not ready to, y'know, go further,” he replied, but the explanation was met with a soft chuckle, and Draco leant in to brush his lips over Harry's softly.

“You needn't worry about that Harry,” Draco murmured, “being around you gets me worked up just fine. That doesn't mean I'm going to pester into something you're not ready for. I know you've got more baggage than most, so I'm taking a step back, so to speak. When you want to go further, we will.”

“How come I never noticed before how much of a cornball romantic you are?” Harry asked, grinning a little when Draco turned his head away to stifle an undignified snort of laughter.

“Probably because we were both too busy being at each other's throats constantly,” Draco said, and leant in to press a soft kiss to the side of Harry's neck, “though I do enjoy this version of being at each other's throats much more, don't you agree?”

“And I find myself repeating: cornball romantic.”

“You love me and you know it,” Draco replied, and moved to kiss Harry again before he had a chance to answer. Harry shifted closer and returned the kiss, letting out a soft, contented sigh at the dizzying whirlwind of sensation the simple act caused. He allowed himself to be enveloped in Draco's arms, and for the first time in a very long time, Harry began to feel as though there was a brightness to his future. After Voldemort, after Ron and Seamus, after everything, there was a brightness in his life that hadn't been there before. Maybe, Harry thought, maybe I'll get a normal life, after all.
A/N: The 'muggle' surgeries Harry is referring to in this chapter are Phalloplasty and Metoidioplasty. While trans women are very lucky and SRS (Sex Reassignment Surgery) for them results in genitalia that looks and functions how it's supposed to (overall), trans men aren't as lucky. Phalloplasty is done by constructing a penis out of the existing nerves down there, and skin grafts from the back of the legs or the forearms, resulting in really, really bad scarring. Metoidioplasty is not as popular, and it's more or less a procedure to lengthen the existing genitalia. It looks more or less how it should, but you usually wind up with a much smaller than average penis. I know more than a few trans men who opt out of bottom surgery, because of the price tag (In my country it's 20$K for Phalloplasty) and because so much can go wrong.

'Muggle mantra' is from the Christian Bible, Psalm 29:11.
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