Potter's Twin Sister || Draco Malfoy

27

Summer.

The mere concept conjures up images of lazily sleeping in, staying up until the stars fade, and indulging in scoops of ice cream under the warm sun. 

Yet, my history with summers has been nothing short of lacklustre.

Even the time spent in France failed to deliver the expected excitement, as those two months were dominated by a constant ache—a longing for Harry that never abated.

Back in the old days with the Dursleys, they were dead set on spoiling Harry's and my summer fun. 

Birthdays? Might as well not exist. 

Having a laugh? Nah, not allowed. 

Our days were all about being their little servants, stuck doing chores around the house.

Miserable, it was.

This summer, however, the tables were turned, and it was our chance to turn their summer into a chaotic whirlwind.

Three years ago, as I set off for France, I struck a deal.

"We'll get ya across the Channel, but don't darken our doorstep again." Uncle Vernon said.

It's for this very reason that Uncle Vernon's frown deepened upon my return. 

His anger was palpable, and Aunt Petunia's frostiness might have surpassed even her husband's.

The Dursleys' opinions are of little concern to me —a fact I've reiterated many times— but it's a pang to know that our own flesh and blood, our mother's sister, despises both Harry and me with every fibre of her being.

But instead of wallowing in their disdain, Harry and I chose to stoke their discomfort, relishing in the twisted satisfaction of asserting dominance from 4 Privet Drive.

We crafted a web of lies, planting the seeds of terror in the Dursleys' minds. 

They now believe that Harry possesses a godfather embodying all the sinister traits attributed to him by the wizarding world—an avenging force ready to maul anyone who dares harm him.

As for me, a fabricated tale paints Remus as my godfather—a half-human, half-werewolf guardian, ever vigilant against any maltreatment I might endure.

In tandem, we wove a narrative about my time in France, where I transformed into a deranged, dangerous witch, infamous in our magical society.

The Dursleys' aversion to all things magical lends credence to these fabrications, leaving them trembling and wary in our presence. 

Dudley? He's so spooked he won't even dare to meet my gaze.

Naturally, the days I'm out and about with Harry (just hanging out and observing Muggles being Mugglish) or over at Lyra's place, are the real winners.

They're a proper laugh, much better than being stuck at home.

Speaking of Lyra's place...

The Tonks' house is like a whole different universe compared to the Dursleys', complete opposite in every way imaginable.

Lyra lives in a mansion down in Ottery St Catchpole, just like she mentioned.

It's got floors stacked on top of each other, more rooms and hallways than you can shake a stick at—though let's be honest, nothing can quite top Hogwarts Castle.

They've got this fancy fountain in the garden, which is so massive it's like a maze. There's also this painting that's got a bit of a mouth on it, gives me the creeps, to be honest, because its eyes follow me everywhere. And as if that's not enough, they've even got a ballroom thrown into the mix.

I figured Lyra's room would be decked out in her favourite colour —ruby red— but nope, she's all about that Slytherin green.

Her room comes with this massive balcony that looks out onto the garden, a spot where we'd retreat during sweltering nights to gaze at the stars, share secrets, and deepen our bond.

Even rain couldn't dampen our spirits, transforming into an excuse for all-night conversations and unforgettable moments, so basically, the essence of a perfect summer.

Not a single instant has been marked by boredom (redundant even is the notion of such). 

The credit goes not only to the grandeur of Lyra's house but to the people who live there.

Andromeda and Ted —Lyra's parents— have embraced me as if I were their third daughter, while Nymphadora —Lyra's sister— treats me as a sister-in-arms.

Andromeda was all ears, wanting to know every little bit about my life with the Dursleys before I even knew about the whole Wizarding World. She was dead keen on hearing it all, including the whole story about how Sirius Black is as innocent as a lamb.

Patient and caring, that woman is.

After I set the record straight about Sirius, Lyra's mum started spinning these cracking tales about him. But she's not just sticking to the laughs—she's also given me the lowdown on the not-so-jolly bits, like how they both got slapped with the traitor label.

The thing is, neither of them is into all that Pureblood superiority nonsense. Andromeda went and married a Muggle-born, and Sirius, well, he gave the Pureblood gig the old heave-ho, turned his back on the family's snobbish ways.

Then there's Nymphadora, her vivid pink hair impossible to overlook. 

She's cut from the same cloth as Lyra, audacious and ambitious. The divergence lies in her path as an aspiring Auror, as opposed to Lyra's Quidditch passion.

To top it off, she's a right lifesaver when it comes to Transfiguration as a Metamorphmagus. She's like a living, breathing textbook for that stuff.

Last but not least, there's Ted, or Edward if you want to get all formal, but everyone calls him Ted. He's the one responsible for Lyra's hazel-coloured eyes.

Ted's the one who whisks us off on these grand adventures. He's got this perfect blend of the Wizarding and Muggle worlds and the result is pure fun.

He's like our own personal tour guide, showing us the best of both worlds. It's a right laugh with him around.

From a jaunt to London to a swift Apparition to Diagon Alley, Ted ensures our days are drenched in excitement.

Lyra's passion for Quidditch, specifically the Irish National Quidditch Team, mirrors Ted's fervour. 

She was over the moon when Ireland came out on top against Peru, snagging a spot in the finals against Bulgaria.

So, that's why we're heading to the Quidditch World Cup to catch the action in person.

I reckon there isn't a more perfect way to cap off this summer.