Chapter Text
Hermione took deep breaths - 'In and out.' she repeated to herself - as she stared at the piece of paper in her hand.
It was a birth certificate.
Date and Place of Birth:
19th September, 1979
St. Mary's Hospital
Purposely not moving her fingers and skipping to not read the words somewhat obscured underneath them, she kept reading.
Name and Surname (Father):
Emil Richard Granger
Place of Birth:
Essex, England
Occupation:
Dentist
Name and Surname (Mother):
Danielle Susan Granger
Place of Birth:
Maiden Name:
Raine
Surname at Marriage if different from Maiden Name:
--
All correct so far.
Usual Address (if different from place of birth):
8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London, England.
Still correct.
There was more after this but the anxiety from what she would find when she moved her fingers had her merely moving her eyes over the words without reading them.
Finally after her third attempt ended much the same way as the other two, she decided to just suck it up.
Breathing deep, she moved back up and read the words she had been ignoring.
Name and Surname:
Hermes Jehan Granger
Sex:
Male
And that's where the hollowness in her chest came in.
These two pieces of information were incorrect.
Well. They ended up being incorrect anyways. As far as the doctors cared when she was born they were accurate.
But it had never felt right.
She remembered when she was younger, when the most she had been secretly able to do was make her stuffed toy hover for a few seconds, how the very force that she felt herself use to do that magic had been practically begging to fix the source of her hollowness, of her distress.
Of her dissociation, she later learned the term was.
She had hated the feeling of a weight on her that wasn't supposed to be there. Of hearing a name and words she never liked being used to call her and talk about her. Of seeing the person in the mirror who wasn't really her. Never really looked like her.
Logically she knew it was her body. Of course it was - it waved when she waved. Moved when she moved.
But it felt like she was in someone else's costume a little.
It was worse when she got naked. So she always tried to shower as quick as possible. Wore the tightest underwear she could and, in contrast, the baggiest outerwear she could. Not because she liked the style - she was indifferent to it.
But because she could hide in it.
But by and far the worst bit was when people talked about her or called her. Or talked to her sometimes depending on what they said.
"Hermes!"
"Sweetie why are you still inside? Go play outside with the other boys!"
"Boys don't cry, son."
"That's not for boys!"
The ones from her teachers and strangers were easier to shove into the background and forget about (however temporarily) when they were gone from her sight.
What did they know about her anyways?
Her family was harder to ignore. They should know her. But she had always been quiet and rather nervous. She preferred not confronting people. Follow the rules and keep your head down.
But how could they know her when she could never explain what was actually bothering her?
When all her attempts at explaining how she wasn't feeling well - how her body felt wrong, like a cage she had been stuffed into that was shaped entirely wrong rather than a skin she could exist in comfortably; how the words people used for her felt off, like they were pointing at her but talking about someone entirely different, how she knew there was something weird but she didn't know what it was - all those attempts fell flat.
"Oh honey it's ok! So what if other people don't like the way you look - you're still my little boy and you're perfect just like this!"
"Boys can cry! Don't listen to Mister Grell! Cry all you want! It's healthy!"
She wasn't perfect like that though? Was perfect supposed to feel bad? (In hindsight she knew - no it wasn't). And it was that SHE didn't like the way she looked (and felt) - not that other people didn't. Did everyone feel like this and she just couldn't take it? (No they didn't). Was it only her that felt like this - she was just weird again? She had always been called strange. What was one more strangeness then? Expected surely. She wasn't her mom's little boy. She knew boys could cry. That wasn't the problem. Mr. Grell was wrong there too but that wasn't the only part of that he got wrong.
Something was off and she couldn't explain it properly to her dad or her mom even though she tried repeatedly.
And her magic. It was trying to tell her it could fix it. At least a little. Could fix her body that was so wrong at least - get rid of the extra weight. Fixing the way everyone talked about her would have to come later (if ever).
But Hermione had always been inquisitive and skeptical. So she refused to let the feeling of 'fixing' spread for the time. Everyone else in the movies always seemed so horrified at any shrinking change to those areas anyways.
She wanted to make sure whatever this force was doing was what SHE wanted. And for that, she did the same thing she had always done since then - she hit the books.
It started with just anatomy books. But she wanted to at least have a guess at why she felt like this when others didn't seem to feel similar about themselves (or at they never let her know if they did). So psychology books got mixed in with the anatomy books (and the dictionary. Because wow some of those words were new and big).
Eventually she stumbled upon something. A book of a guy's experience with gender. Except he hadn't been born a guy.
And she related to some of it - but in the opposite direction. Where he hated the weights on his chest that came during puberty and had been feeling phantom sensations between his legs, Hermione had felt the opposite somewhat.
At least between her legs. Her chest not so much but this guy had started feeling that during puberty.
(She knew what puberty was even back then. Her parents always said if she was old enough to ask the question she was old enough to get a proper answer. And their proper answers always involved lots of books, biographies and educational documentaries.)
So if he hadn't been born with the right body parts but had gotten treatment to get them, maybe this force inside her could do a similar thing but faster.
She already knew it existed. She had taken her mother's old video camera and had recorded herself making things hover. Making them change shape even on accident once.
She had never managed that one again after (on purpose, anyways). Not until Hogwarts.
But what if permanently changing her own body even just once could be achieved? Even the smallest part of herself would still be something.
But she was still skeptical.
She didn't believe in fairy godmothers flying around granting wishes. Or Mary Poppins with her magic bag and umbrella.
She did however believe a person could always get to know themselves better.
And despite all the woo surrounding it, she had heard meditation could at least help a person be more in tune with the way their body worked. Her aunt had sworn it had helped her lower her stress levels and she had been even able to predict her menstruation after right to the moment.
And inside was where her abilities had been coming from.
To this day she wasn't quite sure she'd gotten the meditation thing down that well. But it had gotten her comfortable enough with the force inside her that she trusted everything would be ok.
She still remembers the night quite clearly. Right down to her feelings.
She had hugged and kissed her parents good night - not a mention of what she was going to do.
They had only known that strange things seemed to happen around her back then. She hadn't told them about the hovering even.
If it went horribly wrong who knows how she'd end up.
But anything was better than that feeling of being in a cage that was just wrong enough that you noticed
She remembered it clearly. The force comforting her. It would do what she wanted. And she knew it wasn't lying because it was her in the end.
Time had passed like it was nothing. And yet had moved so slowly. A whole twelve hours had ended up feeling like nothing when she had stopped but had seemed so much longer during it and yet she hadn't gotten tired. Not until she stopped. She apparently had slept a full day and had gotten so warm to the point her mother had thought she had a high fever and was preparing to take her to the hospital if it didn't break soon.
But finally her body felt like her own. And it would stay her own. She knew it.
She also ended up becoming more in tune with her magic but she would only get the words for that later. Not to point of everything being easy - of course not - and she definitely didn't have the raw talent and luck that some people (Harry, for example) had at some things.
But come Hogwarts, she knew she struggled a lot less than quite a few of her classmates.
Her parents got the shock of their lives when she told them what she'd done though.
But they were supportive. Had even helped her lie in PE and to doctors so they wouldn't have her undress with anyone and she got to use the teachers rooms instead. She wasn't at the age where any muggle doctors would perform surgeries yet so the less anyone saw the better. They had even started planning what they would say and do if anything different than what had been expected since her birth happened (she knew it would but her parents had still wanted to plan) and where they would get her medication if it didn't play out how she expected.
And then she hit her eleventh birthday and a lot of things made a lot more sense.
And now here she was. Eighteen and holding her old birth certificate in her hand.
She hasn't told Ron or Harry yet. She never cared to bring it up before beyond offhand mentions of being born differently to other muggleborn girls or even most girls in general than other people would expect when they looked at her now. Had been determined to live her life as if those distressing years had never existed.
But she and Ron had officially started dating just a month and three weeks ago. She kept saying she'd tell him. Then she kept putting it off. It wasn't the right time for any reason.
He was still grieving.
He was having a good time for the first time in awhile.
He was tired. Why not let him rest.
It was a nice day. No need to get serious about anything and ruin it.
It was a sad day. No need to potentially make it worse.
Finally after she realized a whole seven weeks had passed, she put her foot down with herself.
She was going to tell him.
He was a wizard. As long as people didn't shapeshift or change themselves otherwise for bad reasons, he didn't care. Look at how happy he'd been when Tonks had entertained them all.
She felt a brief flash of grief at Tonks' memory.
Breathing deep once more, she let herself mourn them all for a few moments before pulling herself back to the here and now.
Her hands still shook slightly as she gazed at the paper without truly reading it.
Nervously she swallowed. And turned to go find Ron even as she wanted to double over and throw up.
He would be fine with it.
(Please.)
He had to be. She loved him and he loved her.
......Please.
-------
And as she'd hoped - she'd been an idiot to worry.
As Ron held her, most likely confused as to why she was reacting so strongly to something that wasn't a big deal at all to him, she gripped him and sobbed into his neck, she thanked any and every force that she'd fallen for him and that he loved her back just as much if not more.