The Girl Who Lied || Draco Malfoy

The Wizengamot Made Me Change The Name Of This Title

((TW: SA))

May 28, 1998

"Hermione Granger didn't get a big feast in her honor like Cho Chang. She wasn't given a moving speech by Headmaster Dumbledore or any acknowledgement in the Prophet. The Ministry did what they always did when faced with uncomfortable issues; they pretended it didn't happen at all. Her own parents weren't told the truth of her death." Hyacinth took a deep breath, gazing down at her hands as she fiddled her thumbs.

Hyacinth summed her story thus far into taciturn sentences. She mentioned grueling preparation for the tournament she was forced to participate in, but none of the overwhelming teenage hormones. She mentioned the way Slytherins would attack her after the rumors of Voldemort's return, but none of her retaliation. She mentioned the time Umbridge drugged her, but none of the subsequent times her and Draco Malfoy drugged themselves. She mentioned the lies she told her peers to survive, but none of the doubt that filled her mind.

She was a victim to this war and she fought with every interruption to make that abundantly clear. Her only wish was that Tom was still there, whispering his pretty words and logical strategies. He was much better at bullshitting than she was. But he was gone.

"Hermione was not my friend, but her death was a catalyst, I'd say, to realize just how replaceable we were. Just how nonconsequential our survival was in the scope of the Greater Good." She spat the phrase. "For both Harry and I, Hermione was the turning point where we finally recognized the reality of the situation and no longer could-"

"Miss Potter. This is a testimony, not a sermon. Let us move on to the summer before your sixth year; what about that event was a turning point for you?"

Hyacinth forced a smile. "When you say 'event,' do you mean the time I almost getting raped? Because I believe we already covered that in my trial in 1996. Our Minister was the one who arrested me; you remember, Kings?"

The Minister did not crack a smile. "Please, Miss Potter, continue."

Hyacinth sighed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

July, 1996

Harry was gone again.

The Potter twins weren't supposed to leave the house and its wards, but Harry never listened to authority well and he also didn't learn from last year's dementor attack. Hyacinth didn't blame him; this summer with the Dursleys felt particularly caged. A member of the Order stood guard at all times, except when Harry left. Then they would follow him out into the world, always hiding but always there, like a security guard. Or a prison guard. Sometimes it was hard to tell if they were being protected or being controlled. Maybe both.

Even the muggle news was depressing, riddled with death eater attacks except the muggles didn't understand where these catastrophes came from. The Prophet explained equal horrors; now that Voldemort was out, so was his distraction. It was like the archived newspapers she read from the First War. It felt like each day came without someone new dead. There were also letters from Tonks, saying that Remus was improving and that Sirius's trial had been set. The Metamorphmagus promised that her godfathers would both be okay. Excuse her if she didn't trust the optimism.

One of the days locked away on Privet Drive she dug through her trunk looking for the little box she stole from Grimmauld. The two dozen pictures where Regulus Black progressively lost his smile, where he turned into the same sort of numbness she felt now, were gone. The whole box, including the other little knickknacks and jewelry pieces that she stole, were gone. Maybe she left the box at Grimmauld over the last holidays. Maybe Kreature took it back. Maybe someone stole it. Regardless, she didn't even have that small comfort of Regulus Balck any longer.