Chapter 7: Just For One DayChapter TextThe Slytherins fulfill a promise, Ophelia tells some of the truth.
CW: Internalized Transphobia, Child Abuse Mention, Depression, Self-Hate, Trauma
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
Just For One Day
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
December 10th, 1994
"And you're sure nobody will walk in on us?" Ophelia asked for what must have been the eighth time. Her anxiety was at a peak today.
"Absolutely, Ophelia. It's just friends here," Tracey assured her. "Now come on. Hermione set up tons of protective and silencing wards and charms, so nobody will walk in on us. Go ahead and use that corner." She gestured to the standing curtain that was set up in a corner of the abandoned classroom.
Ophelia took a deep breath and went behind it, still shaky. In the little corner there was a mirror, and in it she immediately zeroed in on the feminine parts of herself that her disguise couldn't hide. They made her happy, yet so, so painfully guilty.
Still, they said it would be safe… so…
She took off her outer jumper, ignoring the pain that came with moving her arms the wrong way in the binder. Then she unbuttoned her shirt and set both on the nearby chair.
She looked at herself in the full-length mirror again. Her waist looked incredibly feminine, and that brought a nervous smile to her face. Her left arm… the large, angry scar there served as a strong reminder of the Basilisk. And then there were… the scars.
Round burns on her arms. Parallel lines on her back and sides. Tons and tons of smaller scars from being thrown into the Cupboard. A burn scar that resembled an iron on her side…
She unzipped the binder and set it aside, forcing herself to take deeper breaths to combat the compression. She looked at herself in the mirror again and couldn't help the flush that came to her face. It felt… wrong to be seeing this, even though it was her body. Vernon's words seemed… muddled when they rose up in her mind.
She looked like a girl, no question. She took a deep breath and slipped her shirt back on, then put her sweater back on over top. After that she used the makeup wipes to clear the disguise makeup off her face, and magically canceled the Voice Altering Charm as well. She took another deep breath and exited from behind the curtain.
Hermione grinned at her, "You look a lot better, Ophie."
She flushed at the comment, "Ah… th-thanks."
Daphne took her hand and led her over to the beanbag chairs they were all sitting on, "Come on. Sit down. It's okay, you can relax here."
Ophelia nodded hesitantly as she sat in the chair. It was really comfortable, and oddly soft yet firm.
"I don't… look weird, right?" She asked hesitantly.
Hermione shook her head, "Not at all. Honestly you look like a girl who stole her boyfriend's clothes. Those look too big."
Ophelia winced at that, "Oh, I… I'd gotten them that way so they'd, um… help hide the binder." She shrugged weakly. Using thick clothes helped make sure people wouldn't notice the slight curve when she wore the binder. Though with the binder off, her chest was unmistakable.
"We should see about getting you some bras," Tracey mused. The boys seemed to make themselves busy playing Gobstones.
"I– wh–" Ophelia was pretty flustered at that. Bras… she really wanted them. She did. Especially because without the binder she had a bit of back pain, but…
"But I'm not allowed to–" A finger pressed against her lips. Hermione's.
"Yes, you are. You told me you want to be a girl, and I said I would help you. I meant it. The three of us will take you bra shopping over the Yule holidays - we're allowed to visit Hogsmeade all we want like that. I'm sure we can get a suitable disguise for you," her pseudo-older sister chastised.
"Besides," Daphne interjected. "Ophelia, you're pretty big. It would be better to have a bra if you can. They're good for support. I would know - I'm even bigger."
Tracey scowled at her, "Yeah, all of you are bigger than me. I'm not even bigger than Hermione! Stupid books hiding your chest…"
Hermione flushed, though Ophelia was fairly sure she was the only one who could tell. "It's a bit of a nuisance, sometimes."
Tracey shrugged, "I guess I wouldn't know. I have my own problems, I guess, being smaller. Too damn sensitive…"
"Can we please stop talking about this?" Blaise asked, his face visibly burning. Well, visibly from Ophelia's viewpoint - she was used to seeing the signs on Hermione, so for Blaise she could tell as well, since he wasn't quite as dark.
Theo was far more easy to see the embarrassment of. He was easily the palest there, but right now he looked like he was a deep shade of crimson.
Tracey grinned, "What's wrong, boys? Can't handle hearing girls talk about boobs and bras?"
"AAAAA– NOPE, LALALALALA I'M NOT LISTENING," Blaise declared childishly as he stuck his fingers in his ears, screwed his eyes shut and turned away. Theo just groaned and buried his face in his hands.
"Why did I let you all drag me into this? Shouldn't this be a girl's day?" He moaned into his hands. It came out a bit muffled, and Ophelia couldn't help giggling a bit.
"Oh my gods!" Daphne exclaimed as she looked at Ophelia, "That was so cute! Was that you giggling, Ophie?"
She was a bit startled, "Oh, um… y-yeah."
Hermione grinned, "I've only heard it a couple times, but that's definitely her giggling. Ophie, you don't notice it, but you make cute sounds."
Ophelia squeaked in surprise as her face burned, "I– what– n-no, I'm not cute!" She tried to protest, but nobody seemed to believe her. The girls just grinned while Blaise kept his fingers in his ears and his face screwed shut.
Hermione got a devilish expression on her face and shot a Tickling Jinx at Blaise's belly. He immediately doubled over laughing, "Heehee– hey, no– hehehe– no fai-i-i-i-r!" He could barely get his words out as his legs flailed and he held his sides. Clearly Hermione had made the Jinx high-power, though she only let it go for a short moment longer before canceling it.
Blaise was left gasping for air all the same, and Theo smirked, "I have to step up my game if Hermione's leaving you out of breath before I am."
Everyone laughed at that, with Ophelia trying and failing miserably to contain her own giggles. She saw Daphne beam at her, and shrank down while trying to hide herself. For some reason she felt like she didn't want Daphne to see her being so… out-of-sorts. Her disguise was one thing, since that was 'someone else' but…
Daphne suddenly sidled her bean-bag chair closer and wrapped an arm around Ophelia's shoulders. "I– Daphne, what–"
"You do realize skinship like this is normal for girls, right?" Daphne teased.
Ophelia flushed and nodded. She'd seen Lavender, Parvati and Fay be close like this quite a bit. Not so much with Olivia, but that was because Olivia was pretty standoffish to begin with. More than Hermione. Even Hermione was… prone to…
"Hermione, were all the hugs you gave me your way of trying to tell me you knew?" She asked with a bit of shock in her voice.
Hermione fell into a fit of giggles, taking a moment to compose herself before she answered. "Hehehe, yes, it was. I thought you'd realize I felt the binder ages ago. I thought it was even more obvious whenever I gave you a hot-water bottle when you were on your cycle, too."
Ophelia groaned and buried her head in her hands, "I'm an idiot."
"Yes, but you're our idiot and we love you," Daphne replied cheerfully as she squeezed Ophelia's shoulders. "I'm glad you're opening up to us. I promise we won't hurt you. We just want to see you happy."
Ophelia smiled weakly, but wrapped her arms around her middle. Happy…
Was she really allowed to be happy? Ophelia had her doubts.
Her relatives starved her because she didn't deserve to eat. It's why she struggled so much with eating for the first few weeks of school every year - the first few months during her first and second years, really. It felt like too much - it scared her. She'd always been thankful that Hermione ate quickly, because it made it easier to pick at her food or eat only a little before she made her escape.
They shoved her in the cupboard a lot, of course. Because she didn't do her chores right. She still doubted that detention was the worst it could get. Scrubbing cauldrons, writing lines and trimming hedges was nothing - she'd happily do that for hours. It wasn't nearly as challenging as the laundry list of chores she always had waiting at the Dursleys'.
Being happy meant… well. Yule wasn't too bad. She liked Yule, though her broken friendship with Ron meant she probably wouldn't be getting a knit sweater from Molly. That hurt. She pushed down the tears that fought their way up. Molly wouldn't want to talk to her, seeing as she'd royally screwed things up with Ron. Gods, she was such a mistake. Why couldn't she do anything right? Ron was her best friend.
…was.
She found herself curled up into a ball, hiccuping and sobbing while Hermione and Daphne held her. They both looked so concerned, but they shouldn't. She'd been the one to make mistakes. It was all her fault. She'd not tried hard enough to tell Ron the truth. Now he hated her, and he was fully right to.
She let out a cry and held onto the girls who hugged her, trying to mutter apologies but only able to continue her choked sobs. They were far too good for her. She didn't deserve their kindness, their friendship. She was such an awful person. A freak. Why were they so kind to her? What did she do to deserve them? Nothing. She hadn't. Why? Why did they still stay her friends?
She didn't understand, so she cried.
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
It took several minutes before Ophelia stopped crying and sobbing, and even then she was still hiccuping and shuddering. Hermione and Daphne had gotten a blanket and wrapped it around her, and both were holding her tightly with an arm around her.
Tracey and the boys had formed a sort of semi-circle around them, and they seemed visibly concerned. She didn't know why. She wasn't sure why any of them were so nice to her. Why? She sniffled and shuddered. It felt cold, so she was grateful for the blanket.
"Ophie…" Daphne murmured, "What's going on? You're safe here. Nobody's upset with you, I promise. Please. We want to help you."
"I…" Her voice died in her throat as it constricted. What was she supposed to say? How could she say something about Ron? It would sound so mean, she couldn't. She absolutely couldn't say anything about the Dursleys. The pit in her belly told her how stupid an idea that would be.
Hermione looked at her and her expression fell, "It's about Ron, isn't it?"
Ophelia shuddered, but forced herself to nod. She didn't want to. She hated it. Even if she wasn't saying it aloud, she was hurting Ron.
Tracey winced, "You… you don't want to say something hurtful about him, do you?" Ophelia shook her head. "Ophelia… you know it's okay to be honest. If he hurt you, you're allowed to say so. Bottling it up will just make it hurt worse."
Ophelia tried to find words, "I… but-but he's–"
"He's not our friend, Ophelia," Hermione said softly. "Friends don't hurt each other and refuse to apologize. They believe each other. I know I didn't believe you before, but I'm not going to make that mistake again. Ron still won't listen to you. It's not fair to you."
Ophelia felt like a screw was in her stomach, twisting and curling, "But… but he's done… so much to help me, I…"
"Sometimes the people who help you can also hurt you," Blaise chided. "Look at me. I've tried my best to help, but I really hurt you the other day. I know I did, and it was wrong. I'm not going to do it again, not if I can help it. Ron won't even acknowledge that he hurt you. He won't listen to reason, Ophelia."
Daphne gently rested her head against Ophelia's, "We care about you, Ophelia. We don't want to see you hurt - either by Ron or yourself. If… if you need to keep pretending to be a boy for your safety, I can understand that. But refusing to talk about how Ron hurt you is only going to make it worse."
"Plus," Tracey interrupted, "if talking about it makes you think we'll believe he's done something bad… maybe it's because you know he did, too."
Tears slid down Ophelia's face again as she sobbed.
Tracey was right. They were all right. Ron had hurt her. He… he was her first ever friend. It felt like betrayal to say the truth, but… but the Slytherins were the ones sitting with her while she was hurting. Hermione was the one who apologized and wanted to make things better. If Ron wasn't here to defend himself… maybe it was because he didn't want to.
She forced herself to speak, and even then her voice came as barely a whisper.
"I wanted him to believe me. He… he didn't listen… he never listens…" Another shudder ran through her and she couldn't stop the sob, but made herself continue. It felt like… like poison being drawn from a wound.
"He… he always gets angry… and-and he yells… I… I say I'm s-sorry, and… and he doesn't care," she sobbed, recalling how he'd yelled at her for not going with him to the Chamber. For getting McGonagall first. He'd yelled at her while she was sitting on the Chamber Floor, still in pain from the bites on her arm and leg, even as the Phoenix Tears purged the venom from her body.
"H-h-he keeps… t-telling me wh-what to d-do, and… and I don't l-like it, but– he just doesn't listen, I…" She took a breath and it sounded almost hysterical as she sobbed through it. High-pitched and shaky. "I keep tel-telling him I d-d-don't want to-to do things and-and he keeps making me– I– I just want to-to-to read and he-he wan-wants to goof off and-and–" She hiccuped again and couldn't speak anymore. She threw her arms around Hermione and continued to wail, trying hard to apologize - both to her and to Ron, but it just came out as warbled whines. Her hands bunched up Hermione's sweater, but her best friend just continued to hold her there.
"It's okay, Ophelia. It's okay. Just… I'm here. Let it out."
The dam she was trying so hard to build burst, and she let out another broken sob. "I-I-I'b zzo zzzorrreee– I'b zorry, I–" She hiccuped and buried her face in Hermione's shoulder as the sobs took over. Someone was rubbing her back - probably Daphne. Hermione held her tighter.
She didn't know why she was crying so much. It just felt like something she had to do. She felt safe and secure, like she wouldn't be hurt or in danger if she did this. It was such a strange feeling. It made no sense, but…
It felt safe.
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
It took a fair bit longer for Ophelia to calm down this time, but when she did, her eyes felt very heavy on top of feeling raw and sore. So much crying hurt, even with as much as she tended to do. She was exhausted. She was practically leaning against Daphne for support, and her throat felt very sore, scratchy and painful. She felt Daphne's arm behind her, helping support her and gently stroking her hair. She'd never had anything like this. It felt nice. Safe and… yeah. That was a strange feeling.
Safeness. Were people supposed to feel like this? Was it normal to feel safe around people? To feel protected and cared for? It was so strange.
On top of that, she felt… different. Not hollow or empty like she usually did after facing her feelings. More… worn-out and run-ragged. She felt utterly exhausted and tired. Everything ached and she felt like she'd run a marathon.
"I… thank you…" She managed, still taking heavy breaths as she tried to re-orient herself. She still couldn't put strength in her limbs, and felt much more thankful for the blanket that was keeping her warm - the room felt freezing cold on her face.
Daphne gently rested her head against Ophelia's. Everyone else was still around them. The boys had pulled up a beanbag chair and were sitting in it together, Tracey was laying on her front, supporting herself up by her arms, and Hermione had pulled her legs up to sit criss-cross while she held Ophelia's left hand in her right, gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand. It felt nice and was doing a good job of grounding her.
"How are you feeling?" Daphne asked.
"Um… tired…" She managed in response. Everyone smiled weakly at that.
"I'm sorry I never noticed how upset Ron made you, Ophelia," Hermione murmured, looking down to where she held Ophelia's hand. "I was so stuck in my books that I didn't pay attention. I'll do better."
Ophelia managed to shake her head, "Not… not your fault, 'Mione. I should have… have…" She frowned. What should she have done? Usually she had a decent idea of how to fix mistakes she'd made, but she couldn't think of any.
"Should have what, Ophelia?" Tracey countered. "It sounds to me like you did nothing wrong. Ronald did. He hurt you, and… that's not okay. Gods… I know we all seem put-together, but we've had our fair share of stuff like that." She sat up properly and took a slow breath. "Until I became friends with Daphne, I hung out with Thalia Halfdew. You know, the girl who went back to America in second year because of the Basilisk?" Ophelia nodded as she recalled the girl, Tracey grimaced. "After that but before Daph, I spent time with Parkinson. She treated me like shit - never listened, always told me what to do, I was treated like… like an accessory. It sounds like Ron kind of did the same to you. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
Theo clasped his hands together, "I was friends with Malfoy as kids. Kind of. He was a bully. When I broke things off when we were ten, he tried to guilt and threaten me into befriending him again. It almost worked - my Dad had to step in and outright cut ties with the Malfoy family altogether. The Nott Family's in higher standing, so we got away scott free, but still. Draco wanted me to be his follower, not his friend."
Blaise nodded as he sighed. "Guess we're sharing? Eh, I don't mind," he said with a shrug before brushing some hair out of his face. "When I lived in Italy, Mia Madre had me try and befriend some wixen kids. Problem is, in Magical Italy, kids of single mothers are looked down on - they're a pretty patriarchal society. I was considered 'second-class'. It was similar to how Malfoy treated Hermione for her blood status - though ironically they didn't mind Muggleborn kids as long as they had fathers. So stupid." He shook his head and scowled.
Daphne had a guilty look on her face, from what Ophelia saw through her bleary eyes. "I… was a loner til' I befriended these three, so… never really had a bad experience, just… loneliness. Sorry."
Blaise snorted, "Loneliness is bad enough, Daph. Besides, you've got nothing to be sorry for - you didn't do anything wrong." Then he looked at Ophelia, "None of us did. Least of all you, Ophie. You're trying to protect yourself, so we don't blame you for hiding your identity. We especially don't blame you for how Ron treated you."
Hermione nodded as she turned to the very-tired girl, "Ron hurt both of us, and… I'm sorry I never saw how it affected you, Ophelia. He won't bother us again - I promise I'll do what I can to make sure he doesn't try to push you out of your comfort zone again."
Ophelia blinked in a bit of confusion, and tried to think clearly. Her mind was foggy, and her focus was slipping. "I can… stop… Quidditch? Don't… I don't like it… it's really… scary…" With that, her eyes fluttered shut and she fell asleep.
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
She woke up with a slight groan as her head pounded and her mouth felt dry. She blinked in confusion, and panicked for a moment at the presence of people until her mind caught up with her. She was with the Slytherin kids and Hermione - nobody else was there. She didn't have to hurry to disguise herself. Her shoulders slumped as she dropped the tension, taking a slow breath. It was still hard to take proper deep breaths sometimes, even though her binder had been off… based on what she saw from the light coming through the windows, maybe four hours. It looked to be maybe two in the afternoon.
She gave a slight groan as she righted herself, before realizing with a start that she'd been sleeping on Daphne's shoulder the entire time. "Oh gods, Daph, I'm–" She ended up cutting herself off with a coughing fit. Her voice was raspy and her throat dry. Someone patted her back a few times, and when she settled she was offered a glass of apple cider by Tracey. She gave the girl a grateful smile before taking a few sips. It helped soothe her throat, though the first couple drinks stung. "Sorry, Daphne."
The blonde shook her head, "You're fine. You needed the rest. Feeling better?"
Ophelia shrugged, "A little." She adjusted how she sat and rubbed her thumb against the glass, "... Is it really okay for me to be… to be upset at Ron?"
Daphne wrapped an arm around her, "It is. I'm sorry he was so mean to you, Ophelia. But I promise it's okay. We'll support you. Just… don't let the upset take over your life. He's taken up enough of your time."
Ophelia felt a strong pang of guilt and shame at that. Not letting Ron 'take up her time'. He… he wasn't a friend anymore, but he had been her first friend. Maybe he had been a little fixated on her fame, but… he was a friend, at one point.
She took a slow breath, finding it was easier than usual. Her chest hurt a bit, but she figured it was just the coughing fit. She took another sip of the cider.
"I'll tell Angie that… that I want to stop practicing, and not play anymore… I feel so bad, but… it scares me, and… flying with a binder on, it… it hurts." She felt ashamed admitting to her weakness like that, but couldn't help it. It was the truth… and she didn't want to lie to her friends. They already knew her most-kept secret… she couldn't bear to lie to them.
"I think that's a very good idea," Hermione said with a small smile. "You're allowed to make your own decisions. Besides, I'm pretty sure Wood terrified you more often than not."
Ophelia shuddered, "He… he said I needed to catch the Snitch or… or die trying… it's why I didn't let the Twins pull me off the bucking broom… or call for Recess when the bludger targeted me in second year…" She shivered. "I… I wanted to quit so many times… it's just… wrong. I know I'm good at flying, but… I hate it. Everyone… they-they compare me to…"
"Your Father," Hermione finished with a whisper. "He was a Chaser… a good flier. You… you feel dysphoria whenever you fly, don't you?"
Ophelia nodded and sipped the apple cider again. It was doing a good job of helping her wake up. "I do. It… it hurts… I thought it-it was all… all physical, but… I guess…" She shrugged weakly.
"I've read a bit about it," Tracey mused as she gave Ophelia a sad smile. "Tried to research when you came out to us. Dysphoria can be social, too. Saying things that don't match how you want to say them, doing things that are stereotypically masculine - in your case, anyway. It hurts you. We'll see if we can do things like this more."
Daphne nodded, "Maybe next time you can dress up? It'll be private, like this. But I bet I can find some old clothes or we can even buy you new ones that fit."
Ophelia shrugged noncommittally, "You don't have to go so far for me. I haven't done anything to be worth so much effort."
Blaise snorted, "Ophie, you're the only reason any of us Slytherins have passing grades in History. You're a bloody good tutor. Better than Hermione–"
"Hey!"
"And you're patient, to boot. I know for a fact I'm helpless with Arithmancy arrays, not to mention Charms." He scowled at the admission. "Flitwick is nice, but a bit prejudiced against Slytherins."
"I'm still surprised you can tutor me on Care," Theo commented with a bit of awe. "Didn't you drop it?"
Ophelia nodded, "I stopped the classes. Not the studies. I'm ahead in all my courses, so… Magical Creatures interested me. I mean, we learn a lot about them in Defence, so…" She shrugged and flushed with embarrassment at the admission.
Tracey giggled at that, "Gods, Ophelia. You're unbelievable. How did you get so heavily into studying, anyway?"
She shrugged a bit weakly, "I… well, I um…" Her throat closed a bit. How was she supposed to tell them that it was because she wasn't allowed to when living with her relatives? How she would've gotten in trouble if she did better than Dudley, but since he didn't go to Hogwarts, she dove into it as an escape?
"I… I just wanted to," she mumbled eventually, not really able to look anyone in the eye. It wasn't a lie, but she couldn't bring herself to give them the full truth.
Talking about how she felt about Ron was one thing.
Talking about the Dursleys was another entirely.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your Kudos tell Ophelia she's doing really well, your Comments hope she'll be able to open up more, soon.
The Discord~: https://discord.gg/w5k4TfFRGG
Next: The Yule Ball
Chapter 8: Let It Be OverChapter TextThe Yule Ball. Sort of.
CW: Internalized Transphobia, Dysphoria, Panic/Anxiety Attack, Self-Hate, Self-Harm, Child Abuse Mention
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
Let It Be Over
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
December 21st, 1994
Ophelia looked at herself in the mirror and hated everything she saw with vehemence.
She'd taken three hours to get ready, and she looked… unmistakably masculine. It made her sick. She wanted to vomit, but she'd stuck some anti-nausea gum to the side of one of her teeth to prevent that, since she knew she'd hate what she saw. Even so, it was agonizingly disgusting.
Instead of her usual smooth, clear skin, it looked rougher and pock-marked. Instead of her normally full lips, she'd adjusted how she held her mouth and used makeup to make them look thinner. Her hair was re-trimmed to be short and ever-messy, unlike how desperately she wanted it to be long and have flowing curls. Instead the cut looked distinctly masculine.
Her chest had, of course, been flattened with a fresh binder. She'd used cologne that made her struggle not to gag every time she caught a whiff of it, and used a sort of padding alternative to a corset around her middle to hide the feminine curve of her waist.
Her robes were awful. The most awful, terrible, disgusting thing in the world. She'd cried for ten minutes straight before and after putting them on. They were bottle-green, with a high-collar and long sleeves. She was thankful for that part, at least. She couldn't wear a gown anyways, not with her hideous scars. Without clothes covering her, she looked like patchwork - covered in crosshatched scars from Vernon's belt, rounded scars from his cigars, and more than a few scars given by Petunia and Dudley.
She stopped at the door to exit the bathroom and once again fought not to gag. She had to do this. She wasn't being given a choice. She forced on the mask of 'Harry Potter', shoved the door open, and didn't waste any time bolting out of the dorm room and down the stairs. Daphne said she'd wait at the Great Hall, so she didn't wait for Hermione in the Common Rooms. She just wanted this to be over. She needed this to be over.
She shuddered and gagged twice on the way to the Great Hall, thanking the magic gum for preventing her from vomiting and her short stature for making people more easily look her over. She felt disgusting. She lookeddisgusting. She was garbage and she felt like it.
Eventually she made it to the Great Hall, and stopped in her tracks.
Viktor was with some girl from Durmstrang wearing a dress that was dark red and accentuated with furs. She looked stunning, and Ophelia's stomach lurched when she saw it. She wanted to run away.
Cedric was with Zhou Qiū. A pair of Seekers. Zhou looked nice in her black dress, and Ophelia wanted to cry. She looked horrible in comparison to Zhou, who was naturally pretty to begin with, and wasn't an abomination like Ophelia was.
Then there was Roger Davies. He wasn't a Champion, but his partner was. Fleur Delacour. She was… perfect. She wore a powder-blue dress that hugged her curves perfectly, and her platinum-blonde hair fell in a silky cascade down her back. The gown was long and flowy, and she looked like some sort of fairytale princess - maybe even just an outright fairy. Ophelia was immensely grateful for the gum at that moment, because if she hadn't had it she would have vomited immediately because she didn't deserve to be here. She didn't deserve to be around all these beautiful people when she was just… scum. The worst. She was a freak and a mistake. A boy wanting to be a girl but not even bothering to dress as one because she's such a worthless coward.
She leaned against a wall for support as she gripped her upper arms. It hurt, and that was good. It helped her focus. She gripped tighter and knew it would probably lead to bruises but she didn't care. Let it bruise. It'd just be another mark on her disgusting skin.
"... Potter… Mister Potter!"
Ophelia jumped when she heard Professor McGonagall call out to her, and the older woman had a stern expression on her face. Though, her eyes held a deep sadness to them.
"Oh… uh, hello, Professor," Ophelia mumbled numbly, still gripping her biceps tightly. She had to. If she didn't, she wouldn't be able to focus. So many girls were walking past in gorgeous gowns. She even saw Tracey in a deep orange dress, meeting up with Hermione in a dark red. They matched perfectly and it took every ounce of Ophelia's willpower to not break into sobs there and then. Her friend and sister looked so beautiful, and they looked really, really happy together. Who was she to be in the same building as them?
"Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall began, not unkindly, "are you not feeling well?"
Ophelia pursed her lips. She wanted to say 'no'. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide and be the coward she was. But she had to be 'Harry Potter' tonight, and 'Harry Potter' was not a coward. He was brave.
"'M fine, Professor. Just… just waiting for Daphne," she muttered, gripping her arms even tighter. It hurt. It hurt very, very badly. They would be sore for a while, she knew, but it was the only way she could stay calm in this situation.
Professor McGonagall looked at her arms and how she was gripping them so tightly her knuckles went pale. She looked Ophelia up and down twice more, "No, Mister Potter."
Ophelia was confused and it showed, "I– what?"
"I said no. You are not feeling well. I'll be taking you to the Hospital Wing, immediately," Professor McGonagall replied sharply. "Miss Greengrass? Please come with us. Mister Potter is not feeling well," she called out over her shoulder before wrapping an arm around Ophelia and making her walk in front of her.
"I– Professor, what–?" Her arms went slack in confusion and the pain immediately burst through them. She gasped at it. That hurt. Tears pricked at her eyes while her arms sagged, unable to muster any strength. How tightly had she been grabbing?
"You need to be looked at, Potter," McGonagall replied brusquely as they turned a corner. "I daresay your arms are terribly bruised. The Ball does not take priority over your physical and mental health."
Ophelia gaped in shock just as they entered the Hospital Wing.
"Poppy!" McGonagall called out, "I'm afraid I need you for an evaluation. Immediately."
Madam Pomfrey came 'round the corner and saw Ophelia. Immediately she looked concerned, "Oh, dear. Well, you're lucky - the Hospital Wing is empty right now." She paused and peered past them, "Miss Greengrass? May I ask why you have come?"
"I know her secret, Madam Pomfrey," Daphne's voice came from behind her. She sounded fraught with worry, and it caused Ophelia's stomach to twist. Daphne was missing the Ball because of her. "She told me that both of you know. I'm worried about her."
Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows shot up, but she nodded, "Good. Miss Potter, please go to the curtained bed. I'll be right there. Miss Greengrass, if you could wait just outside. I'll handle it from here, Minerva."
McGonagall nodded and gave Ophelia a sad look, "Do feel better, Miss Potter. I worry about you." She gently squeezed Ophelia's shoulder before she left, and Pomfrey took over and ushered Ophelia over to the curtained bed.
"Alright, Miss Potter. What seems to be the problem?" She asked kindly.
Ophelia grimaced, "I… my… my arms," she muttered, a slight shudder running through her. She didn't want to lie to the Matron. Not when she'd helped Ophelia so much with her transition.
The older woman nodded in understanding, "I'll need you to take off the robes, Ophelia."
Ophelia flinched and began to shake. She shook her head violently, "N-no, c-c-can't– I– I can't sh-sh-show, I–" Tears began to flow readily and she shook her head again. "P-please, I–"
"Miss Potter!" Pomfrey's voice was sharp, but not angry. She placed her hands on Ophelia's shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Dear, I'm afraid I must insist. I know you're upset about your body, I do. But I can't help you if I can't see your arms."
Ophelia hiccuped and sniffed. She couldn't move her arms. They hurt too much. She didn't want the mediwitch to see her scars. She'd be in so much trouble. But… but…
"I… c-can't…" She managed feebly, but this time tried to move her hands to explain. They barely budged, and she hiccuped again.
Madam Pomfrey's expression softened and she nodded, "I understand. If I may?"
Ophelia hesitated for a long moment as she bit her lip and closed her eyes. She wanted to say no. She wanted to say no and force herself to the Ballroom so she could get the awfulness over with, do her job as 'champion' and then head to bed. But… but Madam Pomfrey was offering to get these terrible robes off of her.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded as she opened her tear-filled eyes.
Madam Pomfrey gave her a sad smile and started with the outer robe. Once that was off and she undid the tie, she was swift with unbuttoning the vest. Ophelia was glad she'd chosen the white binder - it wasn't easily visible through the dress shirt, so if someone had seen her without her outer robe and vest, she'd have been fine.
Once the outer robe and vest were discarded, Ophelia shut her eyes. She didn't want to see Madam Pomfrey's expression of disgust when she saw the hideous scars peppering her body. The dress shirt was unbuttoned swiftly at first, but around when Madam Pomfrey undid the button at her navel, she slowed. There was a long pause until she continued, slower than before.
Ophelia kept her eyes shut as the woman slowly peeled the shirt off of her. Or at least, got partway. Once one sleeve was halfway down her arm, Madam Pomfrey stopped.
"... Ophelia?" Madam Pomfrey asked softly, her voice barely a whisper. "Ophelia, I… what happened?"
Ophelia shook her head. She didn't open her eyes. She couldn't speak - she wouldn't. She wasn't allowed. This was bad enough. She couldn't say more, and she couldn't bear to look down at herself. She knew how hideous she looked. Madam Pomfrey had to be overcome with disgust.
"Ophelia," Madam Pomfrey continued, slightly louder. "Dear, I need you to open your eyes. Please."
Ophelia pursed her lips as tears streamed. She desperately didn't want to do this. She should have told McGonagall she was fine more firmly. She shouldn't have let herself be so bothered by all the girls being happy wearing dresses. She was such a fucked-up failure.
She opened her eyes, a sob forcing its way through. "I'm sorry," she whispered before she began to bawl. Madam Pomfrey drew her into a gentle hug immediately, wrapping her in warmth that felt comforting and protective. Ophelia sobbed harder and harder, but her arms couldn't return the hug. She just sat there and bawled into the Matron's shoulder for what felt like hours, but was probably more like fifteen minutes.
When she couldn't sob anymore, she took a heaving, shuddering breath. Madam Pomfrey slowly pulled away, and finished taking the dress shirt off Ophelia. She noted listlessly that the woman didn't seem disgusted… she seemed concerned. She looked worried and heartbroken, not angry and dismissive.
She set the dress shirt aside, and Ophelia noticed with muted alarm that her biceps had deep, purplish bruises in the shape of her hands in how she had gripped them. She shuddered again while Madam Pomfrey carefully took her padding-corset off of her and set that with the rest of the clothes.
She then waved her wand a few times, and a potion accompanied by a small tray of food came over from around the corner. She gently sat it down on the bedside table before picking up the potion.
"Drink this, Miss Potter. It will help," Madam Pomfrey said reassuringly as she uncorked the potion and brought the opening to Ophelia's mouth. She made herself drink it all and swallow. It tasted… dull and muted, but a bit like cherries. Once she swallowed it all, she noticed as the bruises slowly began to fade. Her arms still felt really weak, but the bruises already looked more green and yellow than black and blue.
Ophelia knew the mediwitch saw them. The scars. The parallel lines from the belt, the scratch marks from where the buckle had hit. The circles from cigar burns, pressed deep whenever Vernon needed an ashtray. The V-shaped lines from where Petunia had - so far thrice - struck her with the clothing iron. The large, angry red mark that covered most of her left shoulder and upper arm from where she'd been bitten by the Basilisk. The bite marks on her arms from where Ripper had attacked on Marge's visits. The scratch marks on her neck, sides and wrists that… Well, those were self-inflicted. Dysphoria didn't make living in her body particularly bearable. Last were all the tiny scratches from being thrown into the Cupboard, or from Dudley whenever he used her as a punching bag and she couldn't run away.
Madam Pomfrey summoned something else - Ophelia recognized it as a set of clothes, sort of. A thin, short-sleeved white top that tied in the back, and white pants that were similarly thin. She set them down on the bed and looked at Ophelia.
"Ophelia," she began gently, "I won't ask you about your scars tonight. I'll secure this curtained bed, and only let in visitors who you agree to, but I need you to change into those clothes." She held up a hand when Ophelia went to reply, "But you cannot wear your binder. I know it provides you security, but I'll be wanting you to stay here for a couple nights at least. You and I both know how dangerous that would be for your health."
Ophelia felt her throat tighten, and she looked down at the binder. The only thing that kept her secure in her false identity and protected her from being outed to the school. She pursed her lips as tears fell, but after a long silence, she slowly nodded.
Madam Pomfrey smiled sadly and reached behind Ophelia. She was slow and gentle but not halting as she unzipped the binder, and carefully helped Ophelia slip her arms through the armholes. She helped Ophelia hold it protectively to her chest. While it was a bit awkward, eventually they got the medical top on her, and she let the binder slip out through the front. Madam Pomfrey added it to the pile of clothes, tied the back of the shirt tight, and said she would let Ophelia change into the pants on her own time.
"Would you like me to send Miss Greengrass in, Miss Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked softly as she kept a steadying hand on Ophelia's upper back.
She looked down at her arms and disgust roiled inside her at herself, but the gum prevented her from vomiting. It hadn't dissolved yet, so she wagered she still had a couple hours to go before it would. She wasn't sure she was ready for anyone to see this… especially not Daphne. She wanted Daphne to see her at her best, not her worst. Daphne was in a stunning dress and should have been at the Ball, not sitting with a battered, bruised, scarred freak in the Hospital Wing.
…But she also didn't want to be alone. A sick, twisted, soft-spoken part of her didn't want to be alone now that someone knew the worst, most awful, terrible truth. She had scars. The Dursleys caused them. She was broken and ruined, and… she didn't want to be alone.
She couldn't make herself speak. The idea of trying to force words out of her near-closed throat felt painful. She especially didn't want to hear how shattered and broken her voice had to sound after so much sobbing and crying, and with how much revulsion she felt towards herself she wasn't sure she'd be able to say anything without her deep hatred of herself filling her voice. She had to either nod or shake her head? What was she supposed to do? What was the right answer?
Something Daphne said came to mind, unbidden. "We want to help you".
Almost against her will, she nodded her head.
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
Daphne slipped through the curtain, and the first thing that confused Ophelia was how she looked. Daphne always looked amazing, but… she wasn't in a gown. She didn't have more than her day-to-day makeup on. Actually, she was in a jumper and jeans.
"Did… change…?" She managed to croak out, her voice rasping and stinging her throat. She winced at the pain, but couldn't comprehend the idea of Daphne coming to the Ball - Daphne, easily the most beautiful girl in their year - and… not wearing a gown. She must have changed.
Daphne smiled weakly as she sat next to Ophelia, gently wrapping an arm around her, "No, I didn't. I figured dressing like this for the Ball would be better for you. I didn't account for Delacour… She's enough to make any girl jealous." She gently rested her head against Ophelia's, whose body felt so heavy that she couldn't really move out of the embrace.
"I'm… sorry… you're missing… the Ball," she managed.
Daphne gave her a gentle squeeze and reached over to the tray to bring over the glass of water on it. She helped Ophelia take a sip, and while it made her shudder and caused her throat to ache, it made it a bit easier to talk.
"Thank you," she rasped as Daphne set the glass back down.
Daphne sat back next to her and resumed the gentle side-hug. "I've been to plenty of Balls and Dances as a younger girl," Daphne replied, a smirk on her face. "They're not all they're cracked up to be. Honestly, when they realize you're gone, I expect our friends to come looking for us."
Ophelia shook her head, "They shouldn't… I'm not worth it."
Daphne pulled away and put her hands on Ophelia's shoulders, a stern look on her face. "Yes, Ophelia. You are worth it. It's our time, and we get to decide what we do with it. If we decide that means ditching a Ball to spend time with you? There are worse uses of our time."
Ophelia winced, shrinking back, but Daphne just hugged her again. "I… I'm sorry, Daphne."
"Oh, Ophie," Daphne murmured as she gently stroked her hair. "I know you've got a lot going on. I'm sorry you're hurting this badly… I wish I could do more, but I can at least stay by your side. You know I care about you, right?"
Ophelia hesitated before she nodded weakly, "You… you said that before… in the classroom…"
Daphne nodded, "I did, and I meant it. I…" She took Ophelia's left hand in her own. While Ophelia flinched, she didn't pull away. Partially because she didn't have the strength to. Daphne rubbed the back of Ophelia's hand gently, and looked at the scars peppering her skin. "I'm not going to ask you how you got those, because I think I can guess. Ophelia… why didn't you ever tell anyone?"
Ophelia shuddered as an image of Vernon throwing her into the cupboard for threatening to tell came to mind. His belt buckle flashing in the light as it came cracking down. Ripper, snarling as he bit her leg. Dudley sneering as he used her for a punching bag, Vernon cheering with every hit, and Petunia striking the back of her legs with a wooden spoon every time she dodged. Vernon shoving her headfirst into an overflowing sink filled with hot water for not doing the dishes fast enough. She looked at her hands, at all the burn scars on her palms and wrists from being made to grab the cast-iron barehanded while she cooked.
She looked at Daphne, and the girl's face fell as she must have seen how helpless Ophelia was.
"I'm not allowed," she whispered, tears sliding down her face.
She knew what this admission meant. Telling Hermione had already been a mistake, but this was worse. Daphne could see her scars - she could see Ophelia's fear. She could hear the terror in her voice, see the shake of her shoulders and body. Ophelia had all but confirmed that her relatives didn't let her talk about how she got the numerous scars on her body.
She had told someone, and come summer, Vernon would kill her. It had already been bad enough the last few summers.
Her first summer after Hogwarts, she'd been barricaded in her bedroom and starved for days at a time. She still had stretch marks around her belly from having to gain the weight back at the Burrow and Hogwarts.
Her second summer she'd been nearly killed by Vernon after she inflated Marge when he kicked her as hard as he could in the ribs and Ripper bit her calf so hard he drew blood. She'd had to spend two days at St. Mungo's as Stan Shunpike of the Knight Bus practically forced her to go there before he'd take her to the Leaky Cauldron. She was just thankful that Healers Insom and Grapelock would keep her secret.
Her third summer had been survivable only because Arthur was to come directly to take her to the cup, but before then she'd suffered a great deal for having the gall to return after her second summer. Still, they'd kept their damage away from her face and didn't do anything severe in the two weeks preceding, for which she was immensely grateful.
Still, Healer Grapelock warned her back during her visit to St. Mungo's that apparently she had several fractured and broken bones over the years that had healed wrong. Not to mention how he really, really wanted to notify her Magical Guardian, but she had no idea who that was and begged him not to say anything. He'd agreed, and she hadn't heard anything since, but she suspected he was working on contacting someone. She hoped he never had the idea to check the Muggle World for medical records - because he'd never find anything. The Dursleys were smart. They never let her go to the doctor's, and made sure nothing they did was life-threatening.
Daphne's embrace was warm and comforting as the taller girl gently rubbed Ophelia's back. She hadn't realized she'd started to cry. She wasn't sobbing, at least, but that was only because she'd begun to dissociate as the memories came back. She bunched Daphne's jumper in her hands as she pressed her face into her supposed-to-be-date's shoulder, a slow, shuddering breath slipping out of her as she hugged tightly.
Hugging Daphne always felt safe. Secure and… okay. Whenever Ron had slapped her back as a friendly gesture, it always made her jump. When their friendship was still early-days, she'd flinched every time Hermione hugged her. She had gone stiff as a board the first time Molly hugged her - she'd never been hugged by an adult before, and it felt wrong. But… she knew it was selfish and mad, but with Daphne hugging her she felt safe. She didn't feel like she would be punished or yelled at. Ophelia had no clue why it felt okay, but… it did.
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
"Ophelia?" Tracey's voice came softly from behind the curtain. It hadn't been more than a few minutes since she'd pulled away from Daphne, still shaking and shuddering. She'd barely had time to change into the hospital pants that Madam Pomfrey had provided. "Ophelia, it's Tracey. I'm– I'm with Hermione and the boys. Are you okay?"
Ophelia went to speak, but her voice wouldn't come. Part of it was the reformed lump in her throat, but part of it was just how sore her throat was. Her eyes ached terribly from all the crying, and overall she felt like she'd been run over by a double-decker. She looked helplessly at Daphne, and her friend nodded as she wrapped an arm back around the smaller girl.
Daphne turned to look at the curtain, "You can all come in. I'm with her. Just don't freak out."
Ophelia shot her a thankful smile as she rested her head wearily on Daphne's shoulder. She was still breathing a bit heavily, all the crying having left her exhausted.
Slowly, their friends trickled in. Hermione and Tracey were still in their gowns, which caused a pang of dysphoria and guilt to run through Ophelia. Theo and Blaise looked sharp in their suits, though they seemed to have shrugged off their outer robes and blazers, which were in their arms. All four of them paused when they saw Ophelia's bare arms, but perhaps as expected, Hermione was the first to draw Ophelia into a hug.
She returned it weakly, guilt washing through her, "I'm sorry. You should be enjoying the Ball. I'm okay."
"No, you're clearly not," Hermione shot back. Her voice sounded wet as she held Ophelia tightly. "You're in the Hospital Wing, behind a private curtain, and you were probably crying hysterically because of how upset you were. That's not 'okay', Ophie. Gods…" She pulled away and cupped Ophelia's face in her hands, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I can't enjoy the Ball if my little sister isn't able to be there and enjoy it, too." She gave a small, wet giggle and hugged Ophelia again.
Tears streamed down her own face as she returned the hug, "I… I'm sorry, 'Mione… I'm sorry…"
Hermione sat next to her and shifted so her arm was wrapped around Ophelia's waist, "You've done nothing wrong, Ophelia," she insisted, taking Ophelia's right hand in her lap and holding it tightly. Tracey sat in the visitor's chair while the boys stood, visible concern on their faces.
"Ophelia… your arms," Theo whispered, tears in his own eyes. She'd never seen Theo cry before, but… well, she couldn't blame him. Her arms were a terrible sight. He must have been disgusted…
Or at least, she thought he would be. But instead he gingerly took her left hand in his own, carefully turning it over, "... It must have hurt," he whispered.
Tears slid down her face again, and Hermione let out a small sob. "I… I didn't imagine this was… this was what you meant when you said they hurt you, Ophie," Hermione whispered as she held Ophelia's hand tightly and securely. "Ophie… this is not okay. I can't believe they did this to you…"
Blaise seemed tense, but his eyes looked wet as well. "Ophelia… who did this to you?" He asked gently, looking her in the eyes. She saw the concern in his, and knew he saw the shame and self-hate in hers. She shook her head. She didn't want to say anything. Vernon would be killing her as it was. If she said more, she'd get the Dursleys in trouble. The Dursleys were much worse than Ron could ever be. She could avoid Ron, mostly. But… she had to go back to the Dursleys. There wasn't another option. She'd be forced to live with them again. She would die. Worse, they might hurt her friends just because they knew. Because Ophelia was the idiot who'd gotten close to them and put them at risk by letting them find out the truth.
But she didn't have to say anything.
"Her relatives," Hermione whispered as tears streamed. She looked at Ophelia, who couldn't hide the pain, fear and betrayal on her face. "I'm sorry, Ophie, but this can't stand." She squeezed Ophelia gently, and Daphne did the same from her other side. "Her Aunt, Uncle and Cousin did this to her."
Theo looked stunned as he made himself sit on the far end of the bed. He looked green, as if he was about to be sick, "I… what self-respecting wix would ever lay their hand on a child? She– nevermind that she's a heroine, everyone around the world knows how precious kids are! Nobody would ever raise their hand to a child!"
Hermione shook her head, "They're not wixen." The Slytherins froze as they looked at Hermione in disbelief.
"Muggles did this to you, Ophelia?" Tracey asked, her own face wet with tears, voice thick with emotion as she covered her face in her hands. "Oh my gods… that's…"
Blaise looked very, very sick, "That's wrong. I– you have so many families that would have raised you better, I–?"
Ophelia frowned as she looked at him, "But… who on earth would want me?" She asked genuinely, utterly confused. The Dursleys always told her what a burden she was. How much work, money and effort it took to raise her. How when they beat her, it was to vent their frustrations because of how much of their valuable time she wasted.
Daphne gave a small sob, "Oh, Ophelia…" She wrapped her arms around Ophelia, who had tears start to prick at her eyes as she looked around in confusion. She didn't get it. What was going on?
"Ophelia…" Tracey forced herself to say, voice so thick with emotion that her name had come out as a sob, "who wouldn't want you?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your Kudos give Ophelia the hugs she deserves, your Comments tell her friends how awesome they are.
The Discord: https://discord.gg/w5k4TfFRGG
Next Chapter: Ophelia's Thoughts.
Chapter 9: Why Do You Care About Me?Chapter TextCW: Child Abuse Mention, Self-Hate, Deadnaming (Unintentional), Internalized Transphobia
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
Why Do You Care About Me?
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
December 22nd, 1994
Ophelia couldn't sleep much. She managed to get some rest after she'd tired herself out from all the crying and sobbing, but she was awake again sometime around 2 in the morning. Not alone - Daphne was in the visitor's chair, and after she'd changed into something comfier Hermione had gotten another chair behind the curtain as well. The boys and Tracey had probably left while she slept, and she didn't blame them. It would have been crowded. But… she didn't think they believed she was a waste of time. Daphne's words about them knowing how they want to spend their time rang clear in her mind.
She'd carefully slipped out of the bed, cautious not to wake Hermione or Daphne. She didn't want to disturb their sleep, but she had so much on her mind that she couldn't sit still and think about it. She needed to stand. It would help - it usually did.
The floor was cold, but it helped her think. Besides, she was used to walking on cold floors - the Dursleys made her do it often enough that she almost found it relaxing, since the cold focused her and cleared her mind. Well, usually anyway - tonight all it did was cause a shudder to run through her body as her mind raced a bit slower.
'Who wouldn't want you?'
Why had Tracey said that? What… What on Earth did she mean?
Why did everything the Slytherins said seem to directly oppose what she'd been hearing all her life?
She looked out the window onto the snow-covered grounds, her breath frosting in the air. She rested her arms on the sill, grimacing at the numerous scars. Some pinkish, some silvery, some simply a different shade of her own skin - either lighter or darker by a tone or two. Each and every one was painful and made her shiver as she remembered how she got them. Some of the cigar burns only left her with a vague memory of Vernon's disinterested, bored expression as he held out his cigar and she lifted her arm for him to press it against.
He'd bought an actual ashtray after she started going to Hogwarts, but she was still expected to keep an eye on whenever he smoked, and offer her arm up whenever he was finished. She always did it because the alternative was much, much worse - days without food, maybe a broken bone. They'd threatened Hedwig once during her second summer, and she'd sent the owl away and told her to wait at the Burrow for three weeks, just to be safe. The Dursleys always seemed to forget their threats after two weeks, but she'd added an extra one just to be safe.
She tapped another scar with her finger. The one on her upper left arm - the only scar on her body that was a dark, angry red besides its partner on her left knee and thigh, the lichtenberg marks adorning her forehead, and the three long scratches down the length of her right thigh. The one on her forehead had, of course, been from Voldemort. The ones on her thigh an unintentional gift from Professor Lupin when she'd gone looking for him on the Full Moon - it was by sheer miracle that she'd escaped before he'd bitten her, but the man refused to even exchange letters with her as he practically fled the school last year after she was scratched. He didn't want to be in her life anymore. He claimed it was because he'd hurt her, but she guessed he just didn't want to waste his time on her anymore.
But the ones on her arm and left leg… she'd gotten them when McGonagall was distracted duelling the memory of Voldemort. She'd been trying to pull Ron and Ginny away, but Voldemort had called a Basilisk. McGonagall was able to cut out its eyes immediately, but the beast could still smell them. She shivered as she remembered the loud hiss the giant serpent had made as it opened its maw. She had been lucky and aimed a Bombarda into its mouth, blowing its brains out. Unfortunately it had also bitten her both from above and below. She still had nightmares of the inside of its mouth as she screamed, a burning, scorching pain running through her entire body. The pain had apparently been so intense that it caused the scar on her forehead to reopen, and that was why she'd had to clean blood off her face. Stabbing the diary with one of the fangs was her reasoning for why there was blackish goo to wipe off her forehead as well.
The scratches… Those were different. They were on her sides, her ankles, her wrists, her neck. The only self-inflicted scars she had, from before she'd started her hormones. When the Dursleys told Dudley about 'puberty', she'd overheard it from the Cupboard, since they had the conversation in the living room. She'd probably have learned about it in Muggle School if they had ever actually let her attend. But the changes had disgusted her, and that was when she began scratching. It was also why she always buttoned to the top of her collar, always wore her sleeves fully buttoned, and always wore tall socks with her uniform. Most of her scars from the Dursleys were at least a bit further up until that point, but when they noticed her scratches, they'd been quick to add a few more closer to her wrists and ankles, as well as her upper collar. Honestly, the older she got, the less they bothered her - they were just scars.
The real issue was what they signified. While she'd come to give up on loathing her body - her dysphoria was more mental when she wasn't disguised - she couldn't stop her shame at what it all meant.
She'd heard the word 'abuse' before, and knew what it meant. At least, logically. She knew that most would say she had been abused. But… the question she kept struggling with was why? Why did her Aunt and Uncle treat her this way? She'd stopped wondering that when she was eight, actually. But now the thoughts were back.
As a small child they'd been clear that they did not love her. 'Nobody could ever love a freak like you' was Petunia's favorite phrase every time she made a mistake while Dudley was at school and Vernon was at work. If she had an especially egregious mistake - accidently pulling up a flower or breaking a dish - then… well, that was where the V-shaped marks from the clothing iron came into play. Her impeccable balance was a result of hard-earned practice and a lot of effort to prevent those marks from growing in number.
Even so… Petunia had said that so often that Ophelia had never doubted the veracity of the statement. Yet Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, Theo, Blaise… even Hannah and Phoebe, who still didn't know her secret yet but had been her strongest allies during the time she was called 'Heir of Slytherin', all seemed to care about her, despite how much it beggared belief. But why? What made her so special that people as amazing as them cared about her?
Hermione was a genius. Surely she should spend time with… Ophelia frowned. Did… She didn't want Hermione to stop spending time with her, did she? Hermione had said she wanted to be Ophelia's sister. That was something she wanted. So… should… should she really deny that? Wouldn't that be a bad thing to do, as a friend?
What about her other friends? Theo, Blaise and Tracey said they appreciated her help with studying, and liked spending time with her. The boys had been… unkind at first, but when they learned she was trans, they apologized and worked hard to help her. The day in the empty classroom where she could be undisguised was proof enough, not to mention how they'd left the Ball early to come check on her. Was that… something they wanted to do? Besides, who should they spend time with instead of her? They hated the other Slytherins, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were largely reclusive, and by spending time with her they also spent it with each other. She found she actually had no argument for them to abandon her, and it made her feel… odd.
Ron had been quick to abandon her for Seamus and Dean. Hermione, whenever they stopped talking, usually spoke to Lavender and Fay - though she was more subdued, and always seemed happier around Ophelia. That was odd enough in and of itself, too.
Phoebe and Hannah…
She frowned. They were probably her best, most loyal friends until recently, and she'd been spending more time with the Slytherins. Because…
Oh. Because Phoebe and Hannah didn't know she wanted to be a girl. They didn't know about her scars…
"Harry…?" A voice called out from behind her. Ophelia froze. Was she some kind of prophet or something? That was Hannah's voice. But how–
Then she remembered how she'd lent Hannah her Invisibility Cloak last year so she could make it to her Commons without being seen after they'd spent a late night studying in the Library to try and rescue Buckbeak - an endeavor that ultimately failed, much to Hagrid's remorse. Ophelia had just used the Marauder's Map - it was her first and only time using it, as she'd appreciated the Twins' gift but found the notion of running off to enjoy sweets and tricks utterly stupid. She still didn't have a signed Hogsmeade form, though that didn't bother her much.
But now she was, for lack of a better word, screwed. Hannah - and, knowing Ophie's luck, probably Phoebe - were behind her. While she didn't have makeup on or her Charm active, she didn't have her binder on, and most importantly, her arms were bare. What was she supposed to do? Run? Yeah, that'd work. Hide behind the curtain? No, they sounded too close. Tell them to leave? Yeah, because Hannah listened to what people told her to do.
…But she was just recalling how she'd grown distant from them because of what she'd hidden, and how the Slytherins knew the truth. Did she want to keep hiding it from them? A grim part of her realized that… no. She didn't. Everytime she hid, she ended up crying and sobbing and only feeling more hurt. That feeling that resembled having poison drawn from a wound when she talked about how she felt… it hurt worse, but she'd felt better afterwards.
Besides, there were already five people and an adult who had seen her scars. What were a couple more? Especially when they'd been some of her closest friends for so long. If she couldn't trust them… who could she trust?
Still, she wasn't ready to turn around.
"Hi, Hannah," she replied softly. Her voice was still a bit hoarse, but not as bad as it had been before she'd fallen asleep. Still, it definitely didn't sound how it normally did.
"Harry, are… are you alright? You… you seem different," Phoebe's voice called out softly and tentatively. Ophelia heard their footsteps, but they weren't close yet. Though she was fairly certain that they had another person.
"Just… not having a good night," Ophelia answered with a slight shrug. It was the truth. Still, the cold and the sight of the starry night sky made her feel… more calm than usual. "Is someone with you?"
"Uh… yeah. It– it's Susan," Hannah answered, sounding confused. They'd gotten a bit closer, but the footsteps stopped.
"Hey, Harry. Sorry, I just didn't want Hannah to be alone. And… well, I was a bit worried, too," Susan spoke up, their voice a bit chagrined. Ophelia had known Susan was enby for about a year now - they got along well with her and Hannah, and she found that Susan was a bit of a calming presence… though, they were also sort of a ditz, but never spread secrets. She at least knew that Susan would probably not share her secret.
Ophelia took a deep breath. She needed to do this on her own. When Hermione had found out, she'd been utterly unaware of it. Alicia's barging in on her changing had been an accident. McGonagall had to be begged not to tell the truth and to restore her clothes and bandages back in the Chamber. The Slytherins had found out by accident as well, when Blaise got so angry he lifted her and felt the binder under her clothes.
…She was a Gryffindor, wasn't she?
Ophelia turned around, arms gripping her elbows tightly, but not painfully. She kept her chin high as she looked at the three girls. Susan and their short honey-blonde hair, Hannah and her brighter blonde twintails, and Phoebe with her chocolate brown locks flying loose. All three were in pajamas.
"Hi," Ophelia managed, her voice a bit shaky as a small shudder ran through her. "I'm Ophelia."
All three friends stared at her for a moment, and with a slight flush she noticed that Hannah was focused on her chest while Susan looked at her face, though Phoebe's eyes were on her arms.
"You have… uh… how the hell did you hide those?" Hannah asked incredulously with a shake of her head and visible disbelief.
"Gotta say. Not the weirdest thing I've seen all night," Susan commented dryly. They gave Ophelia a smirk, but it was Phoebe's words that caused Ophelia to shudder.
"What… your arms…" She whispered, crossing the distance in two strides as she grabbed Ophelia's hands and pulled them gently, looking at her arms with a pained expression. "No… oh, Ophelia… what happened?" She seemed utterly heartbroken as she drew Ophelia into a hug. The smaller girl stiffened, but returned the hug after a moment.
"I see you're not surprised that I'm… this," Ophelia replied softly. She wasn't ready to talk about how her scars came to be. That… no. That she wasn't ready for. But she could try and talk about… her transition.
Phoebe snorted softly as she pulled away, "I've known for ages, silly." She tilted her head and gave Ophelia a lazy smirk, "Why do you think I approached you to begin with? I'm trans, too - though I just stealth my way through."
Ophelia blinked several times in surprise as she tried to reconcile that with what she knew about Phoebe. It certainly didn't change how she felt about her friend, but…
"...I'm sorry," she whispered softly as tears slid down her face.
Phoebe looked alarmed as she put her hands on Ophelia's shoulders, "Ophelia?! Wha– what are you sorry for, silly?" She gave a nervous laugh, but her expression fell quickly, "What's wrong?"
Ophelia sniffled, "I– I've th-thought so-so many m-m-mean th-things ab-about myself be-because I'm t-t-trans, and-and it– I– I didn't knnnnow I was-was…" She broke into sobs as Phoebe drew her into a tight hug. Whenever she'd called herself a freak, she'd inadvertently been insulting Phoebe. Her friend. She… she shouldn't do that anymore. She couldn't. Not when words like that hurt someone she cared about.
Phoebe stroked her hair gently, "Hey, hey, Ophelia, I understand you've got a lot going on. It can be hard to be kind to yourself, so I understand." She gently squeezed the smaller girl's shoulder as she sniffled. "I'm sorry you're hurting so bad, but I promise I'll help you do better, okay?"
Ophelia hiccuped softly. "I… o-okay… I'm s-so-sorry," she blubbered while Phoebe continued to stroke her hair.
"I know, Ophelia. I know." She gave a soft chuckle, "You know, the name you chose is really pretty. I like it."
Ophelia gave a wet giggle as she pulled away, "Thanks, Phoebe. I… actually picked it in second year. Remember when you s-saw that lis-list of names?" She sniffled and wiped her eyes dry. "Y-you said O-Ophelia was the prettiest one."
Phoebe chuckled, "Yeah, I remember." She sighed softly and pulled away so she could look at Hannah and Susan. "Well, you two?"
Both jumped in a bit of surprise, but Hannah pretty quickly came over and hugged Ophelia, to her surprise. "Hey. Sorry, I was a bit shocked there. Didn't know you could be so emotional," Hannah admitted nervously as she gave her a tight squeeze. Hannah's hugs were different from most. They were tight, but nice. The pressure was relaxing. "I promise I don't think differently of you, and if you need me to keep this quiet, I will."
Ophelia returned the hug, "Thanks, Hannah. I… for now, yeah. I just…" Her eyes drifted to her own arms, each scar acting as a reminder and an alarm of what she has to keep hidden. "I can't let anyone know what I am, yet. What-wha-what they-they…" She shuddered and Hannah just hugged her a bit tighter before she gently pulled away.
"It's okay, Ophelia. I'm not gonna rat on you or anything," Hannah reassured her, though the grin she gave seemed a bit forced. "I'm sorry you missed the Ball, but tell you what? Whenever you're ready for it, my family hosts a Summer Ball on Lammas every year." She beamed, "As long as I get to help you dress shop, you've got an invitation."
Ophelia gave a wet giggle, "Thanks, Hannah. You're the best." She initiated the hug this time, and Hannah only paused briefly before returning it.
"Of course. You're my best friend, Ophelia," Hannah replied, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
Ophelia gave a wet-sounding giggle at that, "Pretty sure I've been a terrible friend. I've been neg-neglecting my friendship with you and Phoebe for a month now."
Hannah snorted, "Yes, because you're going to be sensible during a crisis." She pulled away gently and poked Ophelia's forehead, causing her to blink in surprise. "Just because you make other friends and spend a bit less time with us doesn't mean we aren't friends anymore. We've still been spending time together twice a week with our study sessions, and we still chat. I'd say you're fine."
Susan smiled a bit hesitantly as they stepped closer, "Hey, Ophelia. Don't worry, I won't share your secret - you've had enough problems without me making a mess of things for you." They looked at her arms, and their gaze became a bit pained, "But I don't think any of us are going to ignore that… If you don't want to talk about it to us, then that's fine. But… how about my Aunt Amelia?"
Ophelia tensed while Hannah gently wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I… I'm not– It just– I–" Ophelia stammered, fear creeping into her heart. Amelia Bones was the Head of the DMLE. Vernon and Petunia told her what would happen if she ever went to the police or anything - that they'd laugh in her face and tell her it's exactly what she deserves. "But– why-why would they c-care?" She managed, utterly lost. The Dursleys hadn't done anything wrong. She deserved what happened to her. After all, she was a burden.
Susan looked a bit shocked, and Phoebe's face fell. The brunette girl stepped forwards, gently taking Ophelia's hand into hers, "Because the people who did this?" She gently touched one of the cigar burn scars, causing Ophelia to shudder. Nobody had ever touched her scars like that before, and it scared her. "Were doing something wrong. Nobody should ever do this, Ophelia. Least of all to someone as kind and good as you."
Ophelia struggled with that, her face screwing up in confusion, "But– I– no, I'm-I'm a burden. I know that- I do, I really do. I mean…" She gave a nervous chuckle, "I've always been a burden."
All three girls seemed stunned when she said that, and Phoebe looked down for a moment before she looked back at Ophelia. She noticed with some alarm that Phoebe had tears in her eyes.
"Who told you that? Ophelia… you're not– gods, I'm sorry, I'm just really upset for you," Phoebe said, her voice thick with emotion as she wiped her eyes dry off on her sleeve. "Ophelia, you are absolutely not a burden. Not at all."
Hannah gave Ophelia a strong side-hug, "She's right." Her voice sounded shaky as she looked at Ophelia. "You're our friend. Whoever said you're a burden is wrong. I don't care who it was, they were wrong."
Susan nodded, but they didn't seem sure what to say. Though they did give Ophelia a sad, supportive smile.
Ophelia felt lost. She… she wasn't a burden? But… but she'd always been told she was. It was the only reason that made sense. The Dursleys always called her a 'burden they had to bear'. Why would her friends say she wasn't? Were… were Vernon and Petunia wrong? Was…
"Am… am I– I– I'm r-really n-n-not?" She sobbed, tears sliding freely down her face again. Phoebe immediately enveloped her in a hug. Not for the first time that night, Ophelia sobbed into someone's shoulder.
Her friends said she wasn't a burden. They kept saying things that sounded so not like what the Dursleys always told her, and it hurt… but in a good way. Hearing that she wasn't the burden she'd always assumed she was, that they weren't mad at her for struggling. How the Slytherins and Hermione abandoned the Ball to make sure she was okay, told her she was worth it, that she was allowed to not be okay… that how the Dursleys treated her wasn't okay.
"You've never been a burden, Ophelia," Phoebe whispered as she held her close, her arms keeping her safe and secure. "I promise. My family, Hannah's family, Susan's family… they'd all happily take you in. You're nota burden, Ophelia. Not at all."
Ophelia hiccuped and sobbed harder while her friends held her. Hannah seemed to be hugging her from behind, she thought, based on how she saw the honey-blonde hair on her shoulder. Her friends… what had she done to deserve them? They were such amazing, wonderful people. They put up with her, they spent time with her, and they told her they liked being her friends. They told her she wasn't a burden, that they cared about her, wanted to talk to her, and wanted to help her. They held her whenever she cried, cared for her when she needed to recover, kept her secrets and promised to protect them. They did so much for her.
They acted like…
"Do… do I matter…?" She asked softly. She'd never been told if she did. The Dursleys never commented on it, but the way they treated her, she always assumed she didn't. The world would keep spinning without her. People's lives would continue without her. But… but what if… what if that wasn't all that determined whether someone mattered?
Phoebe hugged her closer than ever before. "Of courseyou matter, silly. You've always mattered. You especiallymatter to us. Your friends." She rested her head against Ophelia's as the smaller girl hiccuped again, burying her face in Phoebe's shoulder as another wave of tears and sobs broke their way through. "Yes, Ophelia. You matter. I promise."
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
Eventually Ophelia fell asleep again, but when she woke up this time - again in the bed, as Phoebe and Hannah had helped her lie back down - it was morning. Susan seemed to have left, but Phoebe and Hannah were still there, and so were Daphne and Hermione. Absently, Ophelia realized her closest friend from each House was with her. If she wasn't so tired, she would have giggled.
They all seemed to be awake, too, albeit just barely in Hannah's case. She was nodding off a bit, but seemed determined not to fall asleep.
"Morning," Ophelia croaked as she sat up, wincing. She reached to the bedside table and grabbed her glasses, slipping them on carefully. She blinked a couple times as her eyes adjusted to having them back on, and managed a weak smile.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Hermione replied as she stood and stretched. Ophelia was a bit surprised at how flexible Hermione was when she started doing her stretches. Then again, her friend had mentioned she used to take gymnastics lessons as a kid, and still took them every summer.
Daphne seemed a bit disoriented, but yawned only once as she looked at Hannah and Phoebe, "Guess you two visited during the night?"
Phoebe shrugged, "Never saw Ophelia at the Ball. We looked all over for her, and after midnight struck and the Ball ended we went back to our dorms. Though, Hannah grabbed Ophelia's Invisibility Cloak and we eventually checked the Hospital Wing. Not sure why this wasn't our first stop - Ophelia's danger prone."
"Mmm… am not," Ophelia shot back groggily. She groaned softly and rubbed her forehead - her face ached terribly, especially around her eyes. "I'm such a crybaby…"
"You're emotional," Phoebe countered. "It's part of being a girl - plus you're confronting a lot of emotions I'm betting you usually repress." Ophelia became a bit sheepish and nodded, to which Phoebe nodded as well. "Besides, with everything you've got going on in your life, pretty sure nobody here judges you for crying."
Hermione nodded just before she descended into a full split, "She's right, Ophelia. Honestly, it's a miracle you lasted this long. You're pretty amazing."
"I would've gone with stubborn," Hannah muttered before she yawned again. She scowled a bit and shook her head, "But as long as you keep helping me pass my classes, I don't mind."
"Hannah!" Phoebe chastised.
"Kidding! Kidding," Hannah said with a laugh, smiling as she looked at Ophelia.
Ophelia couldn't help it as she giggled, a smile on her face. She couldn't help but think it was nice to be able to just… be herself like this. With all of her closest friends. To be able to laugh, talk, and not hide anything. It felt so… so freeing and completely natural. It was the best feeling in the world.
She laid back and looked up at the ceiling, thoughtful. Susan had mentioned talking to their Aunt Amelia. Phoebe said that there were families who would care about her. Tracey had told her she was wanted. Hermione said they were sisters. The boys swore to protect her.
…She didn't want to be with the Dursleys anymore. She didn't want to be afraid of them anymore. She didn't want to get more scars and potentially be killed. She didn't want to keep hearing so many awful things being said to her, not when her friends said things that felt so… nice. She didn't want to risk being caught and being hurt for who she was. She didn't want to go back.
She didn't want to go back.
"Hannah?" She asked softly, looking at her friend. She felt oddly determined, in a way she'd never felt before. She was utterly terrified of what she was about to say, but… she wanted to say it. Hermione had let her say what she wanted before… so she felt like she could try it one more time.
"Yeah, Ophelia? What is it?" Hannah asked, seeming to focus herself as she heard the seriousness in Ophelia's voice.
"Can… can you tell Susan I'll do it? I'll… I'll talk to Amelia Bones."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your Kudos tell Ophelia she's doing amazing, and your Comments tell her to keep relying on her amazing friends.
Next Chapter: The Best Friend
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