Severus Snape Oneshots

I've Been Dazed and Confused For So Long

Summary: Reader has a hard time with expressing who they are and conflictions arise- leading them to visit their support person.

You think it started in your third year. Though you never felt like a girl, even from day one. After watching some of the other girls go through puberty it only added more confliction. Sure, everyone's bodies had changed drastically in the past three or so years, but coming back from summer break was a real eye opener.

Puberty is a weird time for everyone. Where hair that wasn't originally there, is now there. Where you could easily slip your shirt over your head and next thing you know, there is a bit of an..obstacle..that you have to jump over to get the fabric on.

Either way, weird shit happened, and you had begun to feel even worse about yourself than ever.

Every adult in your life would make a comment like "Oooh, somebody has a little crush!" or "You have yourself a little heartbreaker, Y/m/n. Watch out for those sneaky boys." whenever you were caught looking at a male.

But it wasn't like that. Technically, you were checking them out. But not like that!

It was their clothes. The way they stood. How they acted, what they played with, and who they were around. Their voices got deeper as they began to grow taller.

But not you. Sure, you got a little taller.

Instead of little chin hairs, you got boobs and a more pronounced ass.

It didn't feel like your body..

During the rest of forth and fifth year you were praying for that feeling to go away. But guess what? It didn't.

It was so much more than a lack of confidence- each time you looked in a mirror you didn't feel like... you.

You didn't feel like a woman.

So now, here you are on your sixth year, trying to dress as neutral as possible. You didn't even want to try and look feminine. The girls would sort of question your choices in fashion (or lack thereof), but you didn't care for what they had to say.

"Miss Y/l/n. Please focus and turn to page 347." Professor McGonagall says, walking past your table.

Your shoulders physically sink at the "Miss", feeling totally out of place. You and no idea where to start to tell someone that you are transgender. It's not anyone else's fault that they mislabel you, it's just something that you had yet to share. And if you ever would.

"Y/n. You okay? Professor McGonagall, she doesn't look so good." Your friend says, nudging your elbow as she looks at the teacher.

You stomach turns- not in a nauseous feeling, but rather in discontent.

"I'm going to the hospital wing." You mutter as Professor McGonagall stands beside your table once again.

Not awaiting her reply, you grab your bag and loudly scoot your chair back. The loud sound it makes attracts a majority of the class's attention. Your face turns red and you race out of the room, the last thing you hear is Professor McGonagall pitifully sighing, "Poor girl."

~

You run down the echoing corridors and into Myrtle's lavatory. Throwing your bag down next to the sink, you grip the marble counter as you look into the broken glass of the large mirror.

Your hands tightly clutch the counter, drawing blood away from your fingertips. Your arms shake as they vibrate in intense emotion. Dropping your head, you exhale shakily as a shudder ripples through your shoulders.