The Girl Who Lied || Draco Malfoy

The Best Summer

August 1995

Hyacinth was a shell of herself.

The first time she thought she would die, she was six and made the wilted flowers bloom. The second time she thought she was going to die was when Vernon Dursley leaned into her ear and threatened he'd shoot her with his rifle if she told anyone. There were many more small incidents in the mix – times she thought she was going to starve to death were common at 4 Privet Drive – that Hyacinth felt sure the day would come.

Hogwarts was supposed to be different. But that fear of death followed her into that forest during detention. That fear of death stood next to her as she calmed Fluffy while Harry continued on without her. It was enabled by Tom's smooth words – there are ways around death if you're willing to take the risk – who in the end was almost the cause of her death again. Her fear of death was what kept her away from Harry most of third year, who in turn guilted her to that hippogriff's funeral and almost got her killed again on that warm full moon night.

And she wasn't about to count up all the small ways she could have died in the blasted tournament. The dragon, the skrewts, the acromantulas, Victor Krum... need she go on?

But Voldemort returning? That was her breaking point. Maybe it was time to stop fighting what the universe so sorely wanted.

Hyacinth Potter was going to die.

Nothing seemed to phase her anymore. Dudley's cruel comments or Mr. Dursley's sick eyes on her. She gave that empty complacent smile that she always would do around the muggles and cleaned the house like a good little orphan.

Even letters from Tracey didn't spark any emotion. The others - Daphne, Blaise, Theo - didn't even bother sending any. They distanced themselves before she could and she couldn't even blame them.

Harry became snappy. She didn't judge him on his coping mechanism; shutting down probably wasn't healthy either. His friends were also not being very supportive, sending him vague and unhelpful letters when they all knew Harry had a hero complex. Unable to stand not being part of the drama unfolding, he had taken to walking the neighborhood in an attempt to avoid the Dursleys' and their taunts. He never could handle taunts.

It's like a game to see who has the thickest skin. You're losing , Tom said Second Year when she used to come crying to him about the dehumanizing things people said to her.

She wasn't losing anymore, Tom.

Her head pounded violently as she lay curled up in her cot, across the room from the thin twin bed Harry slept on. Aunt Petunia wouldn't bother her now that all her chores were done, so he had the freedom to hide away until breakfast the next morning. The room was a mess with a stripe of blue painters tape going down the middle. Harry's clothes thrown around on one side and Hyacinth's books sprawled across the other in a way that would make Hermione Granger cry.

There was a brief moment of relief as the headache vanished.

Harry's near, Tom whispered. He was quiet most days, ever since the current version of him tried to kill her. That didn't stop her hearing past words of his filtering through her thoughts. Even in her head, Voldemort haunted her.

It wasn't until she heard the screaming that she begrudgingly made her way down the stairs to investigate.

Vernon Dursley was arguing with Harry and Aunt Petunia was weeping. Dudley vomited into a trashcan. Harry gave Hyacinth a grim look as Dursley screamed; they'd learned to tune it out years ago. "Dementors."

Hyacinth pulled out her wand from the waistband of her jeans. "Right. I'll keep guard."

"YOU WILL DO NO SUCH-"