Chapter Text
Remus always knew that he was different. Not because he was a werewolf, though that certainly didn't help. It was before that. By the time he could walk and talk it was clear to his parents that he was different.
At first they thought they were just dealing with a tomboy. When Remus was three he had taken some scissors and cut his hair short as carefully as he could. His parents thought that it had been a mistake, that he'd been playing a game and went a bit too far. He was only three after all, but Remus had been deadly serious. He refused to let it grow long, and when it did, he cut it straight off again. His parents could do nothing about it, so eventually they gave in and cut it for him.
Dresses and skirts were another struggle, and Remus refused to wear female robes. If he was made to wear anything other than masculine outfits he'd kick up a fuss, and cry and shout. Once again his parents had no choice but to give in. It was when he started to ask them to refer to him as a boy, however, that they started to get worried. He was nearly five when this began. Every time they referred to him as a "she", or a girl, or as their daughter, he'd immediately contradict them.
"No, mummy. He." "Boy, mummy. I'm a boy." "Son, not daughter." He was too young to hide it. He didn't realise that other people didn't feel like he did, nor could he understand why people would think there was something wrong with him, so his parents had to protect him.
His dad tried to talk to him, to discourage him, to convince him otherwise.
"Sweetheart, you do know that you're a girl don't you?" His dad asked him one day. Remus looked at him with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
"No I'm not. I'm a boy."
"No, you were born a girl. You like to dress like a boy, and that's okay. Your mother and I are okay with that, but you can't keep saying that you are a boy."
"Why not?"
"Well, for starters, you're making us sad." Remus's face dropped.
"I am?" He didn't want to make his parents sad.
"Yes. We miss our daughter."
The conversation left Remus feeling more conflicted than he'd ever felt before. He lay on his bed, late at night, crying silently into his pillow.
His parents were sad because of him? Even his mother? So far she had been supportive. She used he instead of she and called him “her boy”. It made him so happy when she called him that. She said she loved him no matter what, but... had that all been a lie? Had she been sad this whole time? He didn't want to make her sad, but he also didn’t want to pretend to be a girl. That would make him sad.
His mother must have heard him. Or maybe she'd been coming to check on him anyway.
"Dahlia? What's wrong?" She asked, rather alarmed as she opened his bedroom door and saw him curled up, awake, and clearly upset. She didn't know about the conversation. Remus didn't reply right away. She sat beside him on his bed and ran her hands through his short, wavy hair. It was comforting.
"Mummy, are you sad?" he asked, looking at her with glistening eyes. She looked slightly taken aback.
"Of course not. Why would I be sad?"
“Dad said you and him were sad because I keep saying I’m a boy.”
"When did he tell you that?"
"Today." The room was quiet for a while. His mother must have been thinking.
"Don't listen to what he says. I promise I'm not sad. How can I be sad when I've got such a great kid, eh?" She added, tickling him playfully. He giggled. "You just keep doing what you want to do, okay? Don't worry about your father. I'll talk to him." Remus nodded, and his mum bent down to kiss his forehead. "Goodnight,” she breathed as she walked out, shutting his bedroom door lightly behind her. Remus felt relieved. Happier. His mum wasn't sad, and she still loved him, and he didn’t have to go back to being a girl. Thank God he didn’t have to go back to being a girl.
He went to sleep feeling much better about himself, his father’s words ceasing to bother him.
Remus awoke to sounds of arguing coming from downstairs. He opened his eyes, dreams still lingering around him, and took a second to register what he was hearing: loud voices filtering up through the floorboards. He tiptoed out onto the landing in his pyjamas and sat on the top step of the staircase, peering through the banister. The voices were coming from the kitchen.
"I'm trying to protect her!" he heard his dad shout. "Unlike you I'm not living in some fantasy world where this type of thing is accepted!"
"You're a bloody wizard, your entire existence is fantasy! This is reality, and the reality is we have a son!"
"No, the reality is we have a daughter who thinks she's a boy, and you won't stop indulging her!"
"I'm supporting him!"
"You call this support?! Have you thought about her future? When she goes off to Hogwarts, have you thought about what the kids'll say to her if she's still going through this bloody phase because you allowed it?!"
"If he's still like this by the time he's eleven, I think we'll have to assume it's not a phase!"
Remus didn't want to hear any more. He put his hands over his ears and ran back into his bedroom. He didn't want his parents to argue. They were arguing because of him, but he wanted them to be happy. They’d be happy again if he could just be normal.
He dug around in his wardrobe. He had an aunt on his mother's side who had gifted him a muggle dress for Christmas. He'd hated it of course, but his father refused to let him throw it away. His mother had suggested they could re-gift it, or give it away to charity. She didn't want to throw it away either but she knew he'd never wear it. His father, however, was stubborn, and said that it was disrespectful not to keep it, so Remus had shoved it to the back of his wardrobe and hadn't looked at it since. Until now.
He dragged it out and stared at it. It was a bit wrinkled but that didn't matter. It wasn't a showy dress, just a normal, everyday dress. It was dark blue with white love hearts on the hem. Remus put it on and looked in the mirror. He hated what he saw. He felt so uncomfortable and wanted nothing more than to take it off and put his trousers back on. But his parents were still arguing and this was the only way to stop them.
"He's not even five years old and his self-esteem is rock bottom because of you!"
"Oh he this and he that, I'm not the problem here!"
"You're saying I am?!"
"Well you're certainly not helping!” Hope didn’t reply. She was staring just beyond Lyall’s shoulder.
"Dahlia?" Remus's father turned in the direction of his wife's gaze. Remus was standing in the doorway, dress-clad with a tear-streaked face. He wiped his eyes on the back of his arm.
"You don't have to argue," Remus began. "I'll be a girl again." His mother went to his side and bent down.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to do this. We won't argue again, it's okay—"
"Hope..." His father looked at her sternly. "I told you to stop indulging her. Can't you see that this is a good thing?" His mother closed her eyes and tried to keep her voice level and calm.
"Can't you see that he's only doing this for our benefit? To stop us from arguing?"
"If that's what it takes to get her out of this phase then so be it." Hope stared intensely at her husband, but said nothing. She simply stood up and ushered Remus out of the kitchen.
"I'm going to work!" Lyall called roughly after them.
Hope helped Remus out of his dress and back into his trousers. He stood once again at the mirror. Usually he liked standing at the mirror with just his trousers on, because with his short hair and flat chest he looked just like every other boy. But right now, as he stared into the mirror, all he felt was guilty. And angry. Angry at himself. Angry at who he was. Angry at what he was doing to his parents.
Hope took his hand and sat him on his bed, lowering herself down onto her knees so she was eye-level with him.
"Do you really want to be a girl again?" she asked. Remus nodded. "You're not just saying that because you think it's what your father and I want to hear, are you?" Remus didn't reply, so she continued. "I'm sorry about your father, but I promise he loves you. He loves you so much that he can't help but worry. And when people are scared they lash out."
"Why is he scared?"
"Because... because he wants you to have a normal life, and I want that as well. But we have different ideas on how to go about it, so we're clashing at the moment. But it's down to us, not you. Nothing is your fault, darling, and you don't have to try and fix anything." Remus was quiet. Thinking. He was still conflicted.
"But dad doesn't like me being a boy. If I say I am he gets angry. I don't want him to be angry, so I have to be a girl again."
"I don't want you to have to do that. It's not fair."
"Then I'll be a boy with you, and a girl with dad."
"What do you mean?"
"You can still call me a boy, but not when dad's around." Hope was reluctant, but she knew Remus could be as stubborn as his father sometimes, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was sort of relieved. She wanted Lyall to be happy again, too, for her son's sake. Remus couldn't live in such a toxic environment, with so much tension and arguing. It wasn’t healthy. But at the same time... at what cost?