I just had this idea. Buy your trans friend a white binder, boxers, bra or whatever and ise fabric paint to draw all over it and write suportive messages so they are always wrapped in some positive gender affirmations.
“You’re abastard,” she spat, without thinking. “Just like your f a t h e r.”
Draco stiffened. A brief flicker of emotion darkened his eyes: it could have been hurt or rage, or simple surprise. Then it was gone. “Actually,” he said, and his voice was bitter, “I’m a bastard in a way that’s entirely my own.”