Sinister

Six | Stupid, Reckless, Pathetic

The Heir is pleased with your work so far. Do not disappoint.

- LM

DRACO had found the note in his robes this morning, buried in his wand pocket. The small piece of paper had slipped out during Herbology, when he'd been about to cast a discreet Muffliato spell on Professor Sprout.

He didn't know how his father managed to send the note, but he understood the contents well enough. The Heir in question was, obviously, the Heir of Slytherin himself, Voldemort.

And apparently, Voldemort was pleased with him.

Feeling like he might be sick, Draco had to excuse himself from class so he could get some water.

"Malfoy!" a familiar female voice bellowed from across the hall.

He turned to see Margot approaching him - diagonally. Never in his life had he ever witnessed someone struggle with such a simple task as walking, and his utter confusion rooted him in place as she neared him.

"Draco Malfoy." Margot pinned a glare on his left ear.

He perked a brow, unsure of what to make of this situation. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to inform you that. . ." She paused. Almost as if she'd forgotten where her sentence was supposed to end up. "You should know that . . . that . . ."

Bewildered and a little bit amused, Draco leaned a bit closer. "I should know what?"

For no apparent reason, her knees started to wobble and she placed a hand on his arm to steady herself.

Immediately, he pulled back in disgust. "Get your dirty hands off me, Mudblood. What the hell is going on with you today?"

He expected some sort of whiplash retort to this, or at the very least a frown, but she only giggled.

"You always have such flattering pet names for me." She tilted her head at him fondly, eyes glittering in an annoyingly pleasant way.

His confusion only deepened. This time, he took a proper inspection of her, and was surprised to find that Margot looked absolutely plastered.

"Have you been . . . drinking?" he asked in disbelief.

She did a vehement shake of her head. "No, no, no. I had a potion, you see -"

"You couldn't have," he interrupted impatiently. "You have Potions with me."

It was their only class together. Throughout the years, she'd always come into the early-morning course with her hair damp and half-brushed, smelling like a mind-numbing cocktail of vanilla and fresh air.

Not that he noticed any of that, of course.

"It was Hermione's potion," Margot explained. "She wanted extra marks from Snape, and -"

"Snape doesn't give extra marks to Gryffindors."

"That's precisely what I said!" She beamed at him, and Draco felt an odd hammering in his chest.

"And?" he snapped, glancing away before the feeling could worsen. "What sort of potion was it?"

She thought about it. "Draught of . . . of . . ."

"Peace?" he supplied.

"That's the one!"

She must have forgotten to let it simmer. Draco rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward the nearby stairwell. "Come on, then."

"What? Why? Where?"

He fought the urge to just leave her in the hallway. Why was it that drunk Mudbloods were especially annoying and question-prone? "Because I happen to have the counter-potion for Draught of Peace in my dorm."

Not bothering to wait for her response, he headed for the stairs.

"You'd give it to . . . me?" she slurred.

He checked behind him to confirm she was following and said, "If it meant an end to your yapping, Montgomery, I would give up half my inheritance."

To Draco's utmost discomfort, she laughed - again. It unnerved him more than it should, and he found himself taking the steps faster because of it, not caring if she couldn't keep up. The stairs curled in a dizzying downward spiral that would lead almost directly to the Slytherin dorms.

"Why do you have the counter-potion, anyway?" she asked, her voice bouncing off the surrounding stone walls.

Draco was reluctant to answer. "Because I take the Draught every day."

"Every day? Why?"

He spun around, prepared to curse Margot out for the endless stream of questions, and happened to catch the exact moment she lost her balance. He watched on in horror as her legs tangled in mid-air and she pitched forward.

"Bloody hell, Margot," he seethed, catching her before she could crack her skull open.

His hands instinctively circled her waist and hers landed on his shoulders as she tumbled into him. It took all his strength to keep the both of them from crashing headlong into the steep stairs.

Draco swore he might just Imperio the girl if she dared to laugh again, but she didn't. Her chest was flush against his as she pulled back a little to look at him. He came to the startling realization that he'd never been quite this close to her before, and the new proximity allowed him an intimate view of her midnight eyes - which happened to be wide and fearful at this very moment.

"Margot?" His fingers tightened uncertainly around her. "What's wrong?"

Fuck. Had she injured herself somehow? The stupid, reckless, pathetic Mudbl -

But all his thoughts were cut short when Margot suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.