💓 Sending infinite love to closeted trans folks who are forced to interact with their transphobic family members this Thanksgiving! Your identity, your name and your pronouns are all still valid- even if you can’t safely be open about it yet 💓
i don’t know if it’s the same for anyone else, but liam was a massive part of why OTRA was so important to me. he went out there every single night and killed it. he read signs. he interacted with fans. he interacted with parents. he danced. he played off his bandmates. he stepped up to the plate and smashed solos that weren’t originally his as they adjusted to touring as a foursome. he just… he really made that tour special. so now that he’s opened up that he was struggling with his mental health during it, i just want to say i’m so proud of him for getting up there. i never would have known he was having a tough time or that he felt like he was forcing it if he hadn’t said so. while he was helping ME with my mental health, making sure i was having the time of my life, being apart of MY happy place, he was also struggling. and i’m just so…. i hope he’s a lot better now and that he’s fallen back in love with being on stage for us again because i sure have missed stage liam and i’ve thrived on seeing him perform his solo material!!!! thank you liam for being so open. thank you for doing what you did on that tour even though it wasn’t easy. i have so much respect and love for liam payne. SO. MUCH.
“So which of us is going to change their name?” Harry asks one night, smiling as though it’s a joke, a secret, undressed and glowing against the white sheets on their bed.
(They’ve been engaged for four days. Draco asked; after dinner one night and almost by accident, because he never could shake the feeling that Harry might pull someone better out of thin air, on a whim, move into an apartment in Westminster with a rich banker, an artist, someone who’d never broken his nose or hated him deeply or tried to kill him.)
(Draco sometimes thinks: he’s so stupid for this and how could he love me and maybe something’s gone awfully wrong and my whole life is just some eighth-year post-war fever dream and I’m going to wake up any second in my bed in the dorms.)
It’s not a joke, Draco doesn’t think. And it’s not a dream, either.
“Me, obviously,” he replies seriously, rolls his eyes a bit. A long time ago the answer would have been different. They both know it.
Harry frowns, just a little. “Yeah?” he asks. “You don’t want to keep your name?” he says, and even though he’s making it sound like a question, it isn’t really a question.
Draco looks at him and thinks about Harry with his name, and how it would sound in his mouth. Malfoy. Years and years and years of history in those two syllables, most of it awful. It was his father’s name, and his grandfather’s name, and once it would have been the name he gave to his children.
“Not particularly,” Draco says, and kisses Harry’s bare, brown shoulder, because it’s there and because he feels like it. Then he amends himself. “Not at all actually, not in the slightest.”
Draco feels sick at the thought of Harry having to go anywhere near it. The Malfoy name doesn’t deserve a person like Harry. He’s done more good things in his short life than have occurred in the entire history of Draco’s family, probably.
They’re both silent for a moment. “You just want to be a Potter,” Harry says lightly, instead of any number of other things, and Draco is abruptly grateful for him. He’d probably die if Harry decided to leave him for a banker, even though that prospect is looking less and less likely as the years pass.
“Yes,” he says instead, helplessly, helpless to deny it. “I’d like to be a Potter.” Because it’s your name.
And it almost hurts, baring himself, until Harry grins at the ceiling like that’s the best thing he’s ever heard. And maybe it is.