Updates will slowdown a little because I'll soon have caught up on the French version and have a bit of a writer's block.
In the meantime, you can discover my latest translation of a finished fic I wrote a while ago, a guardian fic with Minerva and Harry.

Reviews? Please!

Enjoy!

When I enter my tower after lunch the next day, Ewald is there. I almost jump at the sight of him, waiting beneath my trapdoor, stiff as a board. My mind races as we stare at each other in silence for a moment. Have I messed up again? I must have made him angry… Has he read my letter? He looks very tense and isn't wearing his mask, unlike during our previous interactions. The urge to turn and run grips me, but I remain rooted to the spot, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Vivian…" Ewald begins but immediately stops.

I take a step towards him, trying to Occlude as hard as I can to keep my voice neutral:

"What are you doing here?"

The Slytherin flinches slightly, and I realise my question might have sounded aggressive.

"I think we need to talk," he replies, his tone more neutral now. I tense even further, feeling like

I've already made a misstep for him to shut down so quickly. What could he possibly want to talk about? Wasn't everything already said? Unable to meet his eyes or think of anything to say, I open the trapdoor with a flick of my wand and climb up. Ewald follows without a word.

I hand him a cushion to sit on—the one I use as a pillow—and sit down myself, instinctively pulling my knees to my chest before quickly letting them fall, remembering what's growing there. I fidget, trying to find a comfortable position, frustrated and angry with myself.

"Can you look at me, Vivian?"

I flinch. I freeze. I raise my eyes to the Slytherin.

"I'm sorry."

He looks back at me, his attention focused entirely on me, and gives a small, far-too-sad smile. The silence stretches between us for a few seconds before he speaks again.

"I read your letter."

I don't know what to say, so I stay silent. Seeing my lack of reaction, he continues, growing more confident as he finds his words:

"I told you I needed time… I also told you we were still friends. You… You hold an important place in my life, even though you hurt me. I don't want to break ties with you. I… I wasn't sure how to talk to you, but these past few weeks, you've been avoiding me a lot. I thought you needed time or were angry with me, and I would have understood. I've been sorting things out myself too. Vivian, please look at me."

I lift my eyes to him again, trying to hide the tears welling up in them, refusing to let them fall. My nails dig cruelly into the cuts from last night. It keeps me grounded as Occlumency slips away from me, overwhelmed as I am. A pained expression crosses the Slytherin's face as he continues speaking.

"No one has ever come as close to knowing the real me as you have. In a few months, you've become my closest friend. I've never invited anyone to the manor before. Arthur didn't know much about my mother, and he's my best friend. I grew up isolated, Vivian. I've always been alone, or nearly so. You have your own struggles, and you acted according to them. And that's normal. You're not doing well, and it would be unfair of me to hold that against you."

I draw a breath, ready to interrupt him, but he doesn't give me the chance to speak.

"It was reading your note that made me realise I'd projected my feelings onto you. I was stupid. I should have spoken to you sooner, but I was afraid of being rejected. That's the truth."

Inside, everything is in turmoil. Hope breaks through despite my efforts, while pain, hurt, and a nagging sense of loss fight to take centre stage. It hurts to see Ewald, so proud, being so vulnerable. I also feel stupid—for misunderstanding, for misinterpreting. And I don't want him to forgive me just out of pity, because 'I'm not doing well.'

I don't stay silent for long, though. I owe him that much at least.

"I'm sorry."

It slipped out on its own, the first thing that came to mind. Seeing Ewald's confused expression, I continue.

"I don't know what to say. I'm just so sorry for hurting you and for continuing to hurt you. It feels like I can never do anything right!" I clench my fist, and I see Ewald tense, as if he's about to react. "I don't want to lose you." I say it because it's important. I add, and the words begin to pour out of me despite my sense of helplessness and fear: "You've become vital to me. I love Arthur and Alphonse, but you've understood me far better than they ever have. You've never pitied me; you haven't sugar-coated or twisted the truth to protect me. I need that. You're attentive, you listen, and you're reliable. You... Every time I realise how much you've opened up to me, I feel flattered—genuinely flattered by the trust you've given me." And I don't know what to do with it. "I'm not trustworthy; I'm not a good person, and I hate myself for betraying you."

I can't look at him. I'm ashamed of my confusion, angry at myself for telling him he can't trust me when he seems ready to reconnect with me, but at the same time, I feel I have to say it.

"We all make mistakes, Vivian. And as I said, I should have taken who you are into greater account. Yes, you were wrong. But you didn't do it to hurt me—"

"I knew perfectly well it would hurt you." I interrupt him, replacing the end of my sentence in my head with "destroy." There's something in me that stops me from saying those words aloud, tempered by the fear of being wrong.

"That's why I still hold it against you," he replies calmly, and it feels like a blow. "But even so, I understand. And just because you made a mistake doesn't mean we can't still be friends. It took me time to process, that's for sure. I think it'll remain a sensitive subject for a long time, to be honest." At this, Ewald gives a slightly awkward, half-genuine laugh.

I stare at him, unable to laugh along.

"I'm sorry."

"I know, and that's why I can be okay with what happened," he replies, turning serious again.

"I'm not sure you can trust me," I add, just to be sure.

He looks me in the eyes, and his mind brushes against mine. Tears rise to my eyes again as I reopen the connection that has been dead for so long.

"I trust you."

His expression changes as the connection forms, even as my first tears escape. He's the one who takes the first step toward me because I never would, too afraid to touch him without his consent or to be rejected. But a moment later, I'm in his arms, and my tears flow freely as he holds me tightly against him. He's a bit stiff, and I quickly pull away, suddenly terrified I've done something wrong. He gently stops me, keeping me from moving too far away.

"I'm sorry, Vivian."

I don't understand why he's apologising all of a sudden, and it must show because he clarifies.

"I didn't realise how much my behaviour hurt you," he adds, as if talking to himself, with a hint of anger: "That was stupid."

I must still look confused because he continues: "I know you're afraid of abandonment. I didn't think you'd be hurt this badly. I was selfish. I'm really sorry."

That's when my mind finally connects the dots. It's been so long since we communicated telepathically that I must not have shielded my emotions well enough.

"It's fine. I deserved it," I reply with a small laugh.

"I don't think so," Ewald says softly. "I don't think distancing myself was wrong, but I was too caught up in my insecurities to think about what it was doing to you, especially when you'd opened up to me too. It was cruel."

"What's done is done. Wasn't that your message?" I ask with a touch of irony before he can apologise further. "I don't blame you."

He finally smiles, and I add:

"Thank you for coming to see me."

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

I snuggle into him, amazed in some corner of my mind that he doesn't push me away, and we remain embraced for a long time. I feel like I belong here.

Too soon, our embrace ends, and as we part, Ewald holds onto my hand, suddenly looking concerned.

"You've got blood under your nails."

I look at my hand, confused, before realising I must have reopened yesterday's cuts by digging my fingers into them earlier.

"I must have scratched too hard. I had big patches on my legs this morning," I reply, feigning embarrassment, using a joking tone, unable to meet his eyes.

"Vivian…"

I don't look at him, just shrug.

"Let's not talk about it for now, okay? It's been ages since I let off steam. How about a little duel?"

I can see he doesn't like it, but strangely, he says nothing, simply standing and pulling me along with him.

"I hope you haven't forgotten my lessons," he says in a mock-stern tone.

"You'll see!" I reply with a hint of provocation.

And we leave the tower together in search of an empty classroom to practice.

oOo

Renewing my connection with Ewald does me a world of good. We start studying together in the library again, duelling, and eating together every day. We are often alone on these occasions, as, and I realise this at the time, Alphonse seems to be avoiding the Slytherin a little. I wonder what's going on between them, but I don't dare ask my best friend straight away, especially as we've just reconciled. I'd have fewer qualms about questioning Al', but I rarely see him alone, and when we are, I often forget, as we're too busy enjoying ourselves broom-jumping. As for Arthur, he mostly eats with Cian whenever he can, and I think they want to be alone. Or perhaps, she doesn't like me. Considering Ewald used to eat with the lovebirds, that thought crosses my mind. Whatever the case, I'm not complaining. Ewald's presence is a balm on the pain caused by his absence. I don't know how long I'll be able to enjoy it, but as long as he wants me around, I'm making the most of it.

oOo

A few days after my conversation with Ewald, I'm surprised to see Arthur waiting for me after my Transfiguration class. I haven't had the best day, and it cheers me up to see a friendly face, even though I wonder what he wants. He suggests we take a walk outside, as the weather's nice and the sun is still quite high in the sky. We walk in silence, and once we're outdoors, away from the crowds of students, I feel I can breathe more freely. We lighten our school bags with a charm and head towards the lake, as if by mutual agreement.

Now that we're outside, Arthur chats away with small talk that further helps me relax. I complain about my class, which had far too much energy today, and about annoying professors, and I find myself appreciating the Hufflepuff's idea of coming to see me. I always tend to neglect him too much. The scenery is beautiful, and I realise I don't take advantage of it often enough. The clouds reflect in the Black Lake, blending their reflections endlessly in the ripples into a kaleidoscope of shadows and light. The surrounding hills are beginning to turn green after the frosts, and the dark mass of the Forbidden Forest adds an aura of mystery to the landscape. I breathe deeply, taking in the still-cool air filled with the lake's muddy scent, without finding it unpleasant.

"You seem to be doing better."

Of course, that's when the Hufflepuff chooses to bring up the subject he's wanted to discuss all along. I sigh and sit down next to him on a flat stone overlooking the lake, where our steps have led us.

"Ewald told me you two talked."

Resigned, I don't even try to change the subject. Arthur will always be Arthur.

"It's true. Thanks for giving him the letter."

"Sorry for the delay," the Hufflepuff responds, slightly embarrassed. "But so, did you manage to sort everything out?" Hope is clear in his voice, and I decide to have mercy on him.

"Yes, don't worry. There are things that won't go away overnight, but we're friends again. I really missed him."

"I think he missed you too."

Arthur's serious tone sends me into my thoughts, and we sit in silence for a moment. I can sense he's about to say something, but before he can, I speak, an idea crossing my mind.

"Arthur, I have a question for you."

"I'm listening," he says, a little thrown off.

"Since you study a bit of healing magic... do you know if it's possible to stop breast growth?"

He lets out a surprised gasp, and I distinctly see my friend's face turn red before resolutely turning my own gaze away, embarrassed. I feel vulnerable. Thank Merlin, he doesn't let the awkward silence drag on and asks, in a rather unsure voice:

"Do... do you have a problem with your chest? I-I mean, um, you don't want breasts?"

I don't need to look at him to know for sure that he's even redder than me, and even more uncomfortable.

"Forget it, it's not important," I reply, regretting having asked the question.

"N-No, you were right to! Sorry for reacting weirdly! I'm listening," he stammers, a hint of panic in his voice.

I stand, nervously kicking at a stone before explaining, still not looking at him.

"I don't know exactly what I want, okay? But lately..." I sigh, the embarrassment gradually fading. "You know I burned some guy's robe for mocking me a few weeks ago."

"That's right," Arthur replies, meeting my gaze for the first time since I brought up the topic of breasts. There's a spark of anger in his eyes.

"He was part of a 'game' my dorm mates came up with, apparently fascinated by breast growth. Basically, the whole thing is to say 'Shh, it's growing,' while pointing at each other." I clench my fists at the memory of the humiliation I felt every time they said it, tinged with shame. "They figured out it made me uncomfortable, and I endured it for weeks. And that guy went too far, and the spell just went off."

I remain silent, feeling vulnerable for having admitted my weakness, and anger bubbles up within me once again. Arthur turns fully towards me, suddenly, and I see in his eyes a reflection of my own anger.

"So that's what it was. I should've realised something was behind it. At least the professors told him off," he says darkly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I sense that part of his anger is directed at me. I sigh.

"Because it wouldn't have changed anything."

The Hufflepuff looks ready to object, so I speak again before he can get more indignant.

"The professors dealt with him, okay? What more could you have done?"

"I'm not just talking about that idiot, Vivian! You just admitted that you were harassed for weeks!"

"And I told the professors about it. Look, Arthur, I don't want to argue, okay? When you give bullies attention, it only makes things worse. You just have to let it slide, and eventually, they get bored."

"Is that why some slime ball thought it was okay to grope you?"

I let none of my disgust show outwardly and reply calmly.

"Maybe I should've set someone on fire sooner—you're right. After that, they left me alone. But I'm not sure the professors would've let me off so easily."

The satisfaction is clear in my voice, and the Hufflepuff picks up on it. He sighs deeply before finally returning to the original topic.

"Is that why you want to stop your chest from growing?"

I'm proud of him—he manages to look at me while saying this, with only two red marks on his cheeks betraying his embarrassment. I pace nervously.

"It's more complicated than that," I sigh and then try to explain. "The bullying reminded me that I was going to grow a chest, and it forced me to think about it. And I don't like the idea of having one. I didn't like it when I was Aurore, and I hate the idea of it growing again in this body. I like my body as it is, and I… I know it's weird, okay? But when I think about it, I feel trapped in my body, condemned to endure a torture when, until now, I felt free in this body. It's just annoying to have a chest—I don't know, imagine having two weights hanging from your torso, which, as a bonus, make guys dream of assaulting you! I know it's natural, okay? But just, if something can be done, I'd really like to do something about it. Do you understand?"

The Hufflepuff stays silent after this outburst, pensive. It lasts long enough for me to regret, once again, having opened my mouth. I should've kept quiet. But at the same time, I needed to know if there was a solution, and he was the only one I could talk to. I pause at this thought. I've changed. Somewhere along the way, I've started to truly trust Arthur. Oh, he already knew a lot, but most of it I revealed under duress. This time, I did it willingly.

"I think there might be options, but nothing I've studied. If it's important, you'll have to talk to Madam Pomfrey."

I grimace and sit back down beside Arthur.

"There aren't any other solutions? Couldn't you look into what exists?"

The Hufflepuff sighs.

"I could. But even if there are spells or potions that could help, I wouldn't risk administering them myself, assuming I could even cast or prepare them properly. It's something that could have serious consequences if I got it wrong."

And I have no right to ask that of him—I know that. I'm frustrated and disappointed, but I can admit that it's his right.

"Fine, but could you look into it anyway, just to see what's possible? There's no point in me going to the nurse if there's nothing that can be done."

Arthur nods before replying.

"I will. But why are you so against talking to the nurse?"

"My private life is my own business," I reply firmly. "I don't want her asking questions, and I don't like talking about all this."

"You mean the bullying?"

"No! Well, that too, but about my chest—" I shoot a furious glance at my torso, "—it's not all about that. I don't like talking about how it makes me feel to think about it growing."

"Oh." Arthur blushes slightly again but manages to focus as he says, somewhat timidly, as if afraid of my reaction, "I know it's your decision, but I think you shouldn't let what's been done to you or your fear of being sexualised influence it. If you stop the growth, it should be for you, I think."

He falls silent, seeming to wait anxiously for my reaction. I take time to weigh his words before responding.

"You're right."

Nervously, I dig my nails into the fresh cuts on my wrists. The pain helps me focus. My words come out slowly, but I manage, though I avoid looking at Arthur.

"I can't stop those reasons from influencing my decision, no matter what. I'm too broken for that. But if it helps, I wouldn't even consider it if it didn't bother me beyond that."

I feel Arthur's worried gaze on me.

"You're not broken, Vivian."

I laugh, a hollow sound devoid of joy.

"No matter what you think, I know the truth. But I also know that I'm still here, no matter what happens. I know I'll keep surviving, because I have no choice, and because I'm strong. I grew up alone. I stand on my own two feet even as the world has never stopped crumbling." I smile bitterly, feeling both the strength and the pain inside me simultaneously. "I'm broken, and I'm still standing."

I see Arthur struggling to find something to say, but I don't think there's anything he can say anyway. Yet he surprises me. After a long silence, he finds words.

"I don't think I can truly understand. But thank you for trusting me."

I look up at him, caught off guard, before giving him an ironic smile.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

He shakes his head with a touch of amusement, then puts on an overly dramatic weary expression.

"Don't mock me. That's never stopped you before when you wanted to hide your problems."

"Some habits die hard," I reply with a smile.

"Except when you're friends with a Hufflepuff."

I give him a playful punch on the shoulder, and we continue talking, moving on to lighter topics as we make our way back to the castle.

That evening, I catch myself smiling as I think about the moment. I enjoyed talking with Arthur, and in the end, I'm glad I did. I hope he can help me.

oOo

A week passes quietly after my conversation with Arthur. During Quidditch practice on Saturday, I play particularly well, earning Alphonse's praise and a particularly frustrated look from Jenkins, who isn't sure he'll play against Ravenclaw. Speaking of the blue and bronze, it seems Lily Potter has launched a harassment campaign to convince Al' to let me play against them. She still has a score to settle with me. I admit, I find it a bit amusing, and I have a rather funny meal in her company one day when I sit with Scorpius and his friends.

The following Wednesday, Arthur pulls me aside after lunch to tell me he has news. I appreciate that he doesn't mention the subject in front of Ewald, as I haven't spoken to him about it, and like many other things, I'm okay discussing it with one person at a time but not with several. We settle in the common room, and I cast a confidentiality charm to the best of my ability—something the Slytherin taught me. Arthur barely waits for me to finish before announcing, his eyes shining:

"I've got good news for you! It's possible!"

"Really? Thanks so much, Arthur. What did you find out?"

The Hufflepuff squirms a bit in his chair before replying.

"Apparently, it's a more common issue than I thought. There's a potion treatment that can permanently stop breast growth and spells that can put puberty on pause if necessary."

"Oh, wow…" I reply, somewhat impressed.

"Madam Pomfrey knows how to do it."

I sigh before asking:

"Will you come with me?"

My friend looks up, surprised.

"Uh, of course! Are you sure about this?"

I smile at him.

"Yes. Well… I don't want her to know about my cuts. Can you tell me if there's a chance she'll cast a diagnostic spell?"

Arthur grimaces.

"That might be hard to avoid. I don't know how much information she'll need. But I don't think it should target your skin specifically if it's a general diagnostic spell, so it should be fine, I imagine… Anyway, you haven't done anything recently, have you?"

Arthur's suspicious look stings a little.

"What does it matter if it's recent?"

The Hufflepuff sees through my half-dodge but kindly answers first:

"It'll probably show up if your wounds aren't healed, especially if they're deep. Have you been cutting again?"

I shrug. I don't want to answer, but he already suspects the truth. Even though I've been cutting less since my talk with Ewald, I haven't really stopped either. It's… a sort of pastime for my twisted mind, after all.

"Vivian?"

Arthur leans closer, and I suggest:

"Cast a diagnostic spell on me. We'll see what it shows."

My friend clearly doesn't like the idea but goes ahead. The spell displays the results before his eyes, and he quickly makes them disappear.

"I'm not sure if it'll show up with a spell not targeting your skin. It depends on the level of detail. Vivian…" He sighs, looking pained. "How can we get you to stop?"

"I don't want to stop."

"But you're hurting yourself!"

I sigh. I don't want to argue with him again.

"It helps me, in a way. Look, I'm trying to do it less often, okay? One step at a time."

"I don't like this. I'd like you to give me your blades, please."

"What for? You know full well I'd just find others."

"Then agree to see a Mind-Healer. It could really help you, Vivian. I can't just watch you suffer like this."

"My private life is my business," I reply coldly. "And don't you dare tell an adult about this."

Arthur flinches.

"I won't," he replies, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "I won't, because that would betray your trust, and I care too much about you. And I hate myself for it, you know that? If I weren't so selfish, I would have done it. Because you need help, and clearly, I'm not able to give it to you."

"I'm sorry," I reply despite myself. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. And you are helping me, really! The others too. But some things take time, you understand? You're not selfish, on the contrary. You're giving me what I need: listening and respecting my boundaries. It's because you let me go at my own pace that I can make progress."

Arthur studies me, looking somewhat uncertain.

"I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing."

"Everyone does their best, Arthur. But I'm the one affected here, and I'm telling you this is what I need."

My words seem to comfort him a bit, though he still looks grim.

"I can't just stand by and do nothing."

"I know. I think we can agree to disagree, can't we?"

Deep down, I tell myself I need to hide all this better. No, I don't intend to stop, but I don't want my friends to suffer because of it. It's my problem. Well, if you can call it a problem. It's my… problematic pastime?

While I'm thinking all this, Arthur shakes his head with a resigned look.

"We can for now. But I want you to let me treat you, at least."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

I think quickly. My cuts will probably be less noticeable on my legs. But if he can see them with his diagnostic spell, he'll know if I'm lying. And well, if I have to see Pomfrey, I need him to treat everything, or else wait for them to heal on their own. Might as well not waste time.

oOo

The treatment is fairly quick once Arthur gets past his shock. The fact that he's seen my scars once or twice before wasn't enough to desensitize him, and he hides his emotions much worse than Ewald. It hurts to see that it's affecting him. I already know that I'll cut again later to expiate these emotional turmoil, while fully aware that it's exactly this kind of behaviour that caused it all in the first place. Once my glamours are back in place, I ask:

"Do you want to go now?"

Arthur shifts a little. I understand that something else is bothering him.

"I'm okay with it, but uh…"

"Yes?"

"I don't know if you, well… Do you know about transgender persons?"

"Uh, not much? I'm not really informed about it. It's guys who want to be girls, and the other way around?"

"It's not exactly that, but I'm not the best person to explain," Arthur sighs.

I don't quite understand why he's talking about all this, so I ask him. He replies that the simplest thing is to talk to Pomfrey, and I let it drop, eager to move forward with the issue about my chest. Arthur's being strange lately.

oOo

The walk to the infirmary is mostly in silence, each of us apparently having things on our minds. I'm nervous. I'm afraid the nurse will discover my cuts. I don't know what I'll do if that happens. I know there's little chance it'll happen; even if my glamours fall, nothing would be visible since I'm wearing my scarf. I have a few marks on my hands, but they're really discreet. Still, it's a risk. I'm still realizing I'm willing to take it to reach my goal, even though I don't like it. I'm doing it only because I think it will pass unnoticed.

When we arrive, the infirmary is mostly empty, except for a bed with drawn curtains and a third-year with a bandaged arm, quietly groaning in a corner of the room. Madam Pomfrey's assistant is with him, speaking softly. Madam Pomfrey doesn't take long to appear, greeting us warmly but with a hint of surprise.

"Hello, Arthur, how are you? I keep seeing you around! Hello, miss," she adds, turning to me. "What brings you here?"

"Do you remember our conversation about ways to block puberty, yesterday?" Arthur asks. "I was asking for Vivian." He gestures to me.

"Oh, I see!" replies the matron. "Well, follow me to my office, miss…"

"Mackson," I reply, the tension rising within me. "Can Arthur come with me?"

"Arthur? Yes, of course, if you want him to," she says gently. "Follow me."

I comply, the Hufflepuff following me, both of us a little uncertain of what's going to happen.

oOo

Madam Pomfrey's office is neat and tidy. Two armchairs welcome Arthur and me, while the nurse sits across from us on the other side of a desk cluttered with various documents, in the classic Muggle doctor's style. The only clue that we're on the Wizarding side are a few vials sitting at the edge of the desk.

"So, Miss Mackson. Can you explain your request exactly?"

I take a deep breath and begin. I hope she won't think I'm too strange.

"I'd like to block the growth of my chest. I… I don't like the idea of having one, I like my chest as it is. Arthur told me it was possible."

I can't read the nurse's expression, but she doesn't show any surprise, simply listening to me calmly.

"It is possible, indeed. Could you explain to me what it is about having a chest that bothers you?"

I glance sideways at Arthur, who somehow manages not to look too embarrassed. Maybe it's the infirmary context?

"I'm not sure exactly… I don't want to have unnecessary weight in front of me… I don't like the idea of my chest changing."

"Could it be related to a fear of change?"

"No! Change is part of life, it's just… I like my flat chest. It suits me."

I'm frustrated that I raised my voice a bit. The nurse seems somewhat surprised by my answer but responds in her usual gentle manner.

"Alright. I'll ask you a few questions, please answer honestly, okay?"

"Okay."

"Have you ever felt like you were in the wrong body?"

I shrug, a little confused. Yes? No? I mean, it wasn't my body originally, so obviously I haven't always felt at home in it. But Madam Pomfrey has no way of knowing that, so why ask me?

"Uh… I'm not sure I understand your question." A flash of insight crosses my mind. "But if I had a chest, I think it could feel like I'm not in the right body… I don't know."

"Alright. Have you ever imagined yourself as a boy, maybe?"

Finally, I understand Arthur's earlier question.

"No, madam. But I've always felt closer to boys than girls, I think. I've never understood all the fuss with makeup or clothes."

The nurse nods.

"Miss Mackson, what do you know about transgender identity?"

"It's when a boy wants to be a girl, or the other way around?"

"In a way, but not exactly. Others might explain it better than I can, but it's when your gender doesn't match the one assigned to you at birth."

I look at her, feeling a little lost. I'm not sure I understand. It must show in my eyes, because the nurse elaborates.

"For example, someone who was considered a little girl at birth and grows up realizing they thrive in masculine codes, with a masculine appearance, and identifies as a boy. That's what's called a trans man."

"I'm not sure I understand… Everyone does what they want, right? Who cares if you're a boy or a girl… I just know I don't want a chest, but that doesn't make me a boy!"

The nurse looks at me for a moment before smiling.

"Of course not, Miss Mackson. You didn't come here for that anyway, but I think the topic might interest you. Well, to return to the issue that concerns you, let me explain what's possible. There are different treatments that can affect the body, blocking puberty or even triggering changes typically seen in the opposite sex. In your case, your request concerns only your chest, if I'm not mistaken?"

"That's right."

"Well. We can discuss transition treatments another time, but for now, regarding your chest, there are some potions that could achieve the result you want. These potions and treatment are ones I can provide, but in any case, I'll need your parents' consent. Have you had the chance to talk to them about your wish?"

"No, madam," I reply, frustrated. I have no idea what my parents will say, but the very thought of needing to ask for permission for something that concerns me fills me with anger. It's my body we're talking about!

"If you're determined, we'll need to have a discussion with them."

"I'm determined! But I don't know what they'll say, and anyway, it's none of their business, it's my body!"

The nurse gives me a sharp look.

"You're a minor, Miss Mackson, we have to go through this process. Do you have family issues?"

Damn. I should have seen that deduction coming.

"No, madam, I don't have problems with my parents… It's just that…"

The nurse's attentive gaze invites me to continue, and I latch onto the first credible excuse to explain my reaction, one that isn't even a lie.

"I don't know how they'll react, and my chest has already started to grow, it's stressing me out, I don't know how long it'll take them to respond, if they'll agree, and I don't want my chest to grow in the meantime!" The anxiety in my voice isn't feigned.

The nurse smiles at me again.

"I understand," she replies kindly. "Don't worry, we have a solution to pause your puberty, giving you and your parents time to calmly consider the different possibilities. If that suits you, we can begin the treatment right away."

"Thank you!"

My relief must be quite visible because the nurse gives me a reassuring smile.

"Before we proceed, however, I need to make sure there are no contraindications to the treatment."

I tense imperceptibly, but say nothing.

In the end, the medical exams go smoothly. Madam Pomfrey lets Arthur cast the spells when he offers, after I give my consent. At that moment, I owe him a huge debt of gratitude. His spells reveal none of my secrets, and the nurse agrees to provide me with the treatment. She has me drink a potion before casting a complex spell on me, instructing Arthur to take notes. It feels a bit like being a laboratory specimen, but I owe him that much. I'm told to return to the infirmary the following week for a check-up and encouraged to contact my parents. I'm reluctant, but I know I have no real choice. Before Arthur and I leave the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey asks me:

"I'd like you to talk to a student who is dealing with transgender identity, I think it might be interesting for you to exchange thoughts. Would that be alright with you?"

I shrug but decide not to upset her. After all, she's doing me a favour.

"Yes, madam."

She gives me a scrutinizing look, seeming unsure of my sincerity, but I put on my most innocent expression and we finally leave. I thank Arthur for his help before parting ways with him. I have a lot to think about.

oOo

"Why is it always those I love who hurt me the most? Because I've opened my heart to them. Because I made myself vulnerable. And it's always them, too, who have done me the most good. I am like broken glass, that you cannot touch without cutting your hand, just as I cut my body each day, in an illusory hope of surviving myself."

-Excerpt from the new diary of Vivian Eris, February 2019-