Chapter Text
September 17th, 1995
“Mr. Potter,” Severus drawls. “Your progress has been abysmal. Are you even trying?”
The boy standing in front of him stared at him with unkempt fury, his back hunched like a cooked prawn. His eyes bore into him, and Severus almost could not take the withering look in those Lily-green eyes. If it were her staring at him, he’d be on his knees begging for forgiveness. But it was never her, and could never be her again. He turned his eyes from the boy’s taking note of his posture, hair, his face— anything but her eyes.
“I’m trying my best, professor.” Potter replies.
Severus makes a show of judgementally raking his eyes over Potter’s visage. “This is your best? Merlin, help us all.”
The boy sputters, as expected, and hunches further into himself. Before Potter can incrediously reply with some poorly-thought-out insult or rebuttal, Severus mutters “Legimens!”
Severus went to sift through the boy’s memories— the typical ones of the graveyard and The Dark Lord— but faltered as he found himself facing new ones. A large, walrus-shaped man screaming obscenities, a smaller pig-faced boy chasing him, bony hands throwing a frying pan towards Potter’s face. Severus could feel Potter attempting to throw him out, panic and desperation lacing the boy’s defense. But it spurred him on, following those bony hands, because he knew the person those hands belonged to.
Memories of Petunia Evans, now Petunia Dursley, filled his vision. He sifted through recollections of her hands striking the child in front of him and gently holding the pig-faced boy. Her hands shoved him into a cupboard, her horse-like face only visible through the grate on the door. He felt tears on his— the boy’s— face, and when he wiped black smudges came back on the sides of his tiny palms. Severus picks at this anomaly, trying to rewind the memory. However, it is as if Potter has dispensed all his energy into making sure Severus cannot leave this cupboard.
In response, Severus examines the memory repeatedly for cracks. Anywhere he can go to continue this line, to find the answers to the million questions bombarding his mind. However, nothing large enough appears for him to be able to use to get to the core of the flashback. He vacillates between limited options before looking down to the black smudges on Potter’s tiny hands. Severus senses his own memory bank pushing on him, recalling those same smudges on Lily’s hands after a tear-filled rant about Petunia’s cruelty towards her. It clicks.
Mascara.
Severus finds himself barreling backwards, limbs contorting and voices in reverse before he arrives at a mirror. Long curly black hair cascades down tiny shoulders, shifting as Potter’s hands shakily applied a tube of Rimmel London mascara, the makeup clotting his eyelashes into jet black clumps. Pale pink lipstick was messily applied to his lips already, and Potter smiled as he observed his altered appearance. He was missing a couple of his front teeth, giving his voice a whistle-like lisp.
“I look so pretty.” The boy in the mirror whispered. “Like a pretty girl.”
Severus had little time to fight the thrust out of Potter’s psyche as he was too engrossed in his own stupor. He finds himself knocked on the floor, Potter’s face scrunched up in horror and unadulterated rage staring down at him.
“You had no right.” Potter growled, shoulders shaking, now devoid of long black hair. “You had no right to push.”
“Potter.” He started slowly, unsure of where to go from here.
“No right!” Potter shouted.
“Potter. Cease—”
”What are you gonna do, huh? Tell everyone how ‘Perfect Prince Potter’ is actually a princess, and his aunt and uncle tried to beat it out of him?” Potter sneers.
“Before we continue, would you like me to refer to you as Mister Potter or Miss Potter?” Severus interrupted.
Potter paused. “What.”
”Potter, I do not care what your gender is, nor will the majority of the Wizarding World. I just want to know what to refer to you as before we get into the cluster fuck those memories were.”
The student, as if shocked he swore, just sputtered out “Miss.”
Severus leveled his gaze onto the young girl in front of him. “Now, Miss Potter. Would you like to explain to me when your aunt and uncle began abusing you?”
September 23rd, 1995
They had been going at this same exercise for hours. Severus was exhausted and quite honestly done with Ms. Potter’s inability to focus her full efforts onto blocking attacks. It was as if some invisible force was absorbing her energy and ability to focus on expelling him from her mind. The young girl seemed too distracted with her external world to focus on her internal… wait.
Severus paused. “Ms. Potter.”
Potter panted with exhaustion. “Yes, Professor?”
“Do you experience gender dysphoria?”
The girl tilted her head to the side, just like her mother did. “Gender-what-now?”
Severus sighed. She truly knew nothing about her identity, did she? “Gender dysphoria. Psychological distress from incongruences between your gender identity and sex assigned at birth.”
Potter looked even more confused. Lord help him. “Do you experience discomfort when you do not feel as if you look or sound like a girl?”
The girl’s eye lit up, locking into his. “Yes, I do! I didn’t know there was a word for it…”
Severus sat on the edge of his desk, too exhausted to walk over to his chair. “There’s plenty of terminology associated with being transgender, Miss Potter. We can go over it another time. But for now, can you tell me the worst triggers for your dysphoria?”
The young girl paused, biting her lip. Severus almost reached out to correct her, as he often did with Lily when they were little, but he stopped himself. She was not Lily, and they were not close.
“My hair is a big one. I’ve been trying to grow it out over the years but Aunt Petunia keeps cutting it to my scalp except for my bangs. When I was younger my accidental magic would make it grow back, but as I’ve gotten a better handle on my magic so less accidents and well…” she gestures to her hair.
“Well, there are hair growth potions I can provide you to aid in that endeavor, if you so wish, Miss Potter.” Severus offered.
“Really? Thank you sir!” She replied, eyes sparkling.
“Are there any other triggers?” He inquired.
“My name, maybe? Besides that it’d be the uniform and my normal clothes. But I’m not ready to wear the girls uniform yet, I think.”
Severus nods. “How about casual attire? Are you ready for that?”
She paused. “I’m not sure. It doesn’t really matter cause I can’t see myself too well anyways. My hair is the worst ‘cause I can feel the wind against the nape of my neck.”
“What do you mean by not being able to see yourself too well?” He inquired sharply.
The young girl halted, her fingers lacing together in anxious movement. “Well— err— sir, my eyesight is just really bad and—”
“Miss Potter, that is what you have glasses for.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “When was the last time you got your prescription updated?”
”Updated? I never did.”
Severus felt ice invading his veins, heart sinking to his stomach. “When did you get your current prescription then?”
“My primary school nurse had me do the eye test in my 5th year, I think? I was 9.”
”That’s not what I meant. When did your optometrist examine you last?”
She shook her head. “My aunt never took me to an optometrist, sir. These glasses are from the bargain bin in Tesco.”
Severus Snape knew three true living enemies in his life— Sirius Black, The Dark Lord, and Petunia Dursley. Lord help Petunia Dursley, because if he saw her in the flesh she’d no longer be on this mortal coil.
October 5th, 1995
Severus stood at one of the castle’s many windows, the glass panes slightly ajar, as he watched his Slytherins practice. Draco was looping through the air, the grey overcast skies making his blonde hair visible from his vantage point. The others cheered, egging him on. As he watched, tea in hand, he detected the shuffle of small footsteps coming towards him. He kept his back to the student, watching as long, curly, black hair became clear in the window’s reflection.
“Miss Potter, then.” He thought. “She must’ve taken the hair growth potion.”
“Erm, Professor Snape?” She called.
“Yes, Miss Potter?” He sarcastically drawled. “What nonsensical dribble must you grace me with today—”
“Stop, please.” She said softly. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
He turned towards her, and had to prevent himself from gasping. The 5th year student was out of her uniform attire, dressed in a burgundy corduroy overall dress, with a white turtleneck underneath and white tights. She had little frilly white socks on as well, covered by black patent leather shoes. Amidst her mess of curls was a fabric headband, the same burgundy as her dress. And finally, the most relieving sight was the new gold-wire oval classes perched upon her nose. It was the most feminine he’d ever seen her.
“And the most relaxed.” His mind unhelpfully added.
“Whatever for, Miss Potter?” He inquired, gentler than he meant to.
“For talking some sense into me.” She chuckled. “Truly I mean it, sir. You don’t know how badly I needed someone to see me and crack me open and force me to see what resided inside me. You did that, even if you didn’t mean to.”
Potter walked over to him, joining him at the window. “When you called me Miss Potter I knew for the first time in my life I wasn’t crazy for feeling this way. ‘Cause if the professor I had the most animosity with could respect my identity, then it had to be real. It wasn’t some delusion my aunt and uncle had to beat out of me.”
“You do not need to thank me for the bare minimum, Miss Potter.” He insisted, frowning.
The two sat in silence for a moment, turning to face the Slytherin quidditch practice. The wind blew Potter’s curls into his view, obscuring the trick his godson was attempting.
“It isn’t the bare minimum if you saved my life.”
His head shot to face her, and she looked back. “…What?”
Potter smiled, the expression bittersweet. “I was in a real bad way, Professor. I was screaming at all my friends, isolating myself and letting myself be harmed by Umbridge so I could feel something else than this unending pain inside me. And before you ask, yes, Umbridge is being dealt with. My head of house knows the full details, and I will gladly show you the memories in our next lesson.” She turns back to the field. “But, truly, I was a ball of self-destruction, like a star waiting to collapse into a supernova. You pulled me back from implosion just by being considerate towards me.”
Severus, for all his quick thinking and dry remarks, had no clue what to say to that. He lulled over witty remarks and genuine statements, unsure of what to say to the first student to ever tell him so genuinely kind. To call him kind.
“Well, Miss Potter,” he replied dryly. “I believe that is by far the most eloquent thing you have ever uttered in my presence.”
She snorted. “I didn’t have a reason before.”
He barked out a laugh, shocking the girl beside him. “Five points from Gryffindor for cheek, Miss Potter.”
She rolls her eyes at him, seemingly unafraid of his ire. “Seriously? That’s what you take from this?”
Severus allows himself a small, sly smile. “When would I ever pass up an opportunity to take points, Miss Potter?”
She smiles back, before turning back to the practice, a serene look washing upon her face. “Jane.”
He makes a noise of inquiry, hoping to spur the girl on.
“Please call me Jane, professor.”
He softens. Her mother’s middle name; of course. “Alright, Jane.”
She smiles at him, the biggest genuine smile he’s ever seen from her, wind blowing her hair away from her face.
November 1st, 1995
Severus has begun to wonder if he’s landed himself into an alternate reality. He had been grading his 5th year latest papers, when he landed on Jane’s first full-length paper post-social transition. The paper, and her work in class, had been the best it had ever been. With the new glasses she had been able to see the instructions on the board and worked with a diligence he had never seen in the young Potter before. It was the first O he had awarded her since her first year, and he somehow felt like this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d award her one. It seemed as if the eloquence in her speech by the windows that fateful October night had transferred into her work. Jane spoke and wrote with an academic confidence he had never perceived in her before. It even, intermittently, rivaled Granger’s work which was a feat in itself. She had even been improving in her occlumency lessons.
The evening had been quiet, peaceful even. However, as if God himself wanted to meddle with Severus’ relaxation, a high-pitched scream echoed through the dungeon’s walls. Groaning, Severus slipped on his robes and placed his wand into his forearm holster. After quietly peaking his head out of his door, he spotted the source of the interruption down the hall. A blonde-haired boy towering over a girl, her face obscured by the boy’s body; only her patent leather heels and frilled socks were visible to him. Quickly, Severus recognizes this as his godson’s body.
Rage filled in him. His idiotic godson decided to corner some poor girl or the point she screamed in fear. Hadn’t he taught him better than this?
Severus wordlessly cast a disillusionment charm over himself before quietly stalking over to the two. As he got closer he heard what his godson was saying to the girl.
“I told you not to scream, you bloody freak!” Draco hissed, pinning the girl to the wall. “If you truly want to be a woman so badly, then be obedient.”
Oh shit.
Severus quickly, and wordlessly, removes the disillusionment charm before putting his hand on Draco’s shoulder.
“Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco, for all his idiocy, knows to cower at the sight of his godfather. The hands are off the girl within a microsecond. “Uncle Sev?”
“Professor Snape to you, Mr. Malfoy.” He sneers, removing his godson from the girl to reveal it to be Jane Potter, with a bruise forming around her eye.
Severus has only one word running through his brain at this moment, and it is: Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.
“Your arrogance knows no bounds, Mr. Malfoy. Physical restraint of another student, let alone a female student, right by my quarters.” He scorns. “Did you assume I’d turn a blind eye?”
“I— well—” Draco stammers.
Severus squeezes the hand on his godson’s shoulder harshly. “It does not matter who the student is, nor your history with them. You were clearly the aggressor, Mr. Malfoy. You will be punished accordingly, by both myself and Headmaster Dumbledore. And trust me, your father will be hearing about this.”
Jane, now clutching her right arm, looks up at him in shock. Her eyes dart between him and Draco before leaning onto the wall. “He called me the word. The T word.”
Severus turns slowly to Draco. “Oh did he now?”
The walk to the Headmaster’s office is only paused by dropping off Jane in the medical ward and alerting Poppy to the situation. The next hour goes by in a blur, Albus and him for once working together to create a proper punishment for Draco. Albus would have Draco in detention with Filch for a month and removed from his spot as primary seeker for Slytherin, instead being put as the reserve seeker. Severus would then owl Lucius and Narcissa with the corresponding events, including his endorsement of the punishment and possibly a statement from Jane. Lucius possibly may not be furious at the slur or treatment of Ms. Potter, but because of Draco’s crudeness as his heir. Narcissa, however, would be furious at the blatant transphobia and misogyny Draco slung at Jane. Severus and Narcissa were close friends, after all, and shared a plethora of values.
After escorting his godson to his dormitory, Severus made his way to the hospital wing. He quickly found Poppy, who informed him of the girl’s injuries. A sprained arm,sprained ribs, and bruises littering her body. Thanking her for the update, he joined the girl at her bedside. Poppy had kept her back to ask her questions about the incident and to get a report. Jane was writing her statement on a piece of parchment, exhaustion evident on her face.
“Miss Potter?” Severus alerted her to his presence.
Her eyes rose up to greet him, nodding at him as she returned to her parchment. “Professor.”
“Writing your statement, I presume?” He inquired, settling into the chair next to her bed.
“Yeah…” her voice trailed off. “I’m almost done, actually.”
“Good,” he replied firmly. “Don’t let him get away with this, Miss Potter. I’m certainly not.”
The fifteen year-old’s head shot up to face his, staring at him in plain shock. “You’re not?”
“No, Miss Potter. He is clearly the aggressor in this incident, and I do not stand for such blatant bigotry amongst my snakes.”
“You just… really? Wow. You never really… cared before.” Jane paused, seemingly processing what she just said. “Erm— I mean, about what Malfoy does to me, Professor. You care about everything else— I, fuck—”
”I didn’t intervene beforehand because it seemed more like mutual childish squabble rather than Mr. Malfoy assaulting you.”
“It’s not like he wasn’t.” She muttered, clutching her quill tightly.
“What,” he started slowly. “Does that mean?”
“I— you seriously didn’t know?” She’s staring at him like she’s seeing him differently, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.
Severus leans forward, letting her take the reins of the conversation.
“Malfoy has been doing shit like this the entire time. Cornering me and my friends, trying to hex us, making fun of us for being different. Usually me for being an orphan, Hermoine for being muggleborn, and Ron for being a Weasley. The majority of our incidents are because he starts it, though I will admit I did start shit on occasion.” Jane rambles, her hands waving around aimlessly in exasperation. ”Me being trans was just prime fodder for him.”
Severus feels his breath sharply intake, his shoulders tensing as he takes in his student’s words. “Truly, Miss Potter, I express my greatest remorse for not knowing the full scope of each situation I’ve neglected. Next time, please interrupt I or another professor’s ire towards you and ask to write a statement. Trying to verbally defend yourself in the moment can be difficult, so writing a statement can impose the seriousness of the situation upon us.”
Jane, exhausted, nods before handing him her finished statement. “Alright. Would you read this then, please?”
He nods. “Certainly.”
His horror grows as he reads the situation in full for the first time, as well her agreement to provide her memory if needed. Jane’s messy scrawl detailed a truly horrific situation, where her long-time bully cornered her alone on her way back from the kitchens. His godson, said bully, had hit her several times while making disparaging remarks about her transness and womanhood before slamming her against a wall, which caused the ribcage injuries. Potter had been terrified he was going to do more than physically assault her, so she decided to scream after realizing she was close to his quarters.
Severus, for the first time since Jane’s public coming out, feels as if he failed his promise to Lily. He got up, handing the signed and completed statement to Poppy, before rejoining her girl at her bedside.
“He has been put as reserve seeker and acquired detention for a month with Filch. I will also be contacting his parents with the full details of the assault and punishment, including a copy of your statement if amenable to you.”
“Go ahead.” Jane nods, before curling into herself.
”Jane,” he starts. “If there are any other punishments you’d like to see, please let me know. We can try to work it out with the Headmaster.”
“Truly, sir, I just want him to leave me alone.” She muttered. “He hasn’t left me alone since first year.”
“I will try my best, Jane. I know from experience just how terrible bullies such as Mr. Malfoy can be, and how hard it is to get adequate punishment.”
Jane just nods, shrinking into herself. The stark white of the hospital wing swallows her whole, and he can’t help but sigh. Of course he missed more signs of distress in her, just like he missed the signs of her abuse and transness. Severus could’ve helped her sooner if only he’d been able to see her and not the face of his own bully and assaulter.
“Professor…” Jane inquires, her voice muffled by her arms. “Do you think I went too fast with my transition?”
“No.” He responds immediately. “You went at your pace, with your usual brazen Griffyndoric-bravery. If you had gone slower, I’d almost think it wasn’t you.”
Jane looks up at him, green eyes obscured by unshed tears. “Really?”
“Indeed.”
“I haven’t even… I haven’t even gone to live in the girls dorms yet.”
Severus raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
”I’m not ready for it,” She admits with a shake of her head. “I’m so used to being near Ron and the boys; I don’t know what I’ll do when I have a nightmare around the girls.”
“It’s up to you, Miss Potter.” Severus declares. “How you go about things is your choice and no one can take that away from you.”
December 25th, 1995
Severus Snape is not a sentimental man, he assures himself as he places a copy of the only photos he has with Lily in an envelope. And he certainly does not write a small note, writing how Jane shares her name with her mother’s middle name.
The owl carries the envelope away anyways.