Sinister

Prologue

thirteen years old

"OUT of my way, Mudblood."

Yet even as he spoke the words, Draco Malfoy didn't give Margot Montgomery any time to prepare as he shoved past her. She went sprawling, along with everything she carried, forming a hailstorm of books and quills and parchment. Even her wand - which had been unwisely propped between her lips to free up her hands - sailed out of reach.

Laughs drifted past as she landed on her knees with a stinging slap. Face burning, she refused to privilege Draco with any visible distress as she gathered her possessions in infuriated silence. From behind her curtain of dark hair, she noticed the passing robed students steer clear, not daring to interfere. Typical.

Scuffless shoes stepped in the corner of her vision. Against her will, Margot found her gaze traveling from Draco's black Oxfords to his face. Through the bank of windows beside them, honeyed sunshine softened his wicked expression, even as the corners of his lips curled with the promise of misery.

He held out one of her books. Intermediate Transfiguration. Margot's next class. McGonogall would have her head if she turned up without her textbook, and she couldn't afford to lose more marks in that class.

She tried to make a grab for it, but Draco held it just out of reach.

"What are the magic words?" he teased. Despite the warming sunlight, there was no missing the ice in his eyes.

Margot huffed. "How about, 'Give it back before I hex you?'"

Draco glanced back at his goons - Crabbe and Goyle - and made a noise of amusement. "Bold words for a Montgomery."

Panic seized Margot's throat at the mention of her family name. Her father's name. All her instincts roared at her to drop-kick Draco in the face, but she knew she couldn't. After all, her presence in Hogwarts was conditional. One wrong move and she would be shipped back to her mother.

"Please," she forced out through gritted teeth, "give me back my book."

Draco made a show of thinking about it, tilting his head, before kneeling to her level. Margot, who still perched on her knees, fought to keep still as he leaned in close. She wouldn't let him see her squirm. Even as he slanted close enough to punch - or to kiss, if she would ever be so deranged.

In a feather-soft voice, Draco whispered, "Only if you beg for it, darling."

A shiver of both delight and disgust rippled up Margot's spine. Her gaze flickered to the side, where her wand lolled an arm's length away. She tried to snatch it, but the Slytherin seeker was faster. Within a heartbeat, his cold fingers circled her wrist in a steel grip.

"Let go," she hissed. It felt like a horde of Cornish Pixies had taken residence in her stomach, though she didn't know if it was because she hated him so much, or if it was because he was touching her. Either way, he resisted all her efforts to retrieve her hand.

"Like I said," he said lowly, "beg. Like the filthy little Mudblood we all know you are."

Too far. In that moment, Margot would have gladly forfeited her place at Hogwarts if it meant transfiguring Draco into a toad. She braced her other hand, ready to give him a slap that would surely be heard all the way in Malfoy Manor, before she heard someone behind her called her name.

"Margot!"

Hermione's intrusion was a welcome one. And well-timed. At once, Malfoy released his hold and stood. He straightened his robe as Hermione reached Margot's side. Her best friend's wand, mercifully, was at the ready and pointed at Draco.

Perhaps Hermione would have the good sense to turn him into a toad. What was the spell for that, anyway? Malfoyus toadus? If Margot ever made it to Transfiguration, she'd be sure to ask McGonogall. For future reference.

"Do we have a problem here?" Hermione asked. Her sharp glare was trained on Malfoy, but she made sure Crabbe and Goyle got their fair share, too. They shrunk under her gaze, but Draco only sneered.

"Just some standard culling is all," Draco said, knocking her wand away from his chest. His eyes veered to Margot for a second before settling back on Hermione. "Nothing you wouldn't benefit from, Granger."

She reached down to help Margot back to her feet. Margot felt Draco's heavy stare as she reassembled her belongings.

"Come on," Hermione said, loud enough for the whole hallway to hear. "If you waste more time on this complete twat, I'll have you admitted to Saint Mungo's."

Draco rolled his eyes, starting to walk away.

"You still have my book, Malfoy," Margot called after him, indicating the gold-tinged tome he still clutched in his hands. She didn't think he'd heard her at first, until he stopped in the middle of the hallway.

Slowly, he turned around and strolled back in her direction. Hermione made some sort of impatient remark about him taking his sweet time.

When he was only a few paces away, Draco lifted the book in offering. Except when Margot's hand closed around the cover, he tugged it close, causing her to lurch forward into his tall frame. Slender, ringed fingers dug into her arm and he bent his head toward her ear.

"Pity," he murmured, his cool breath traveling all the way to her neck. "I think I would have enjoyed hearing you beg."