'All I have to do is ask…' Draco thought, watching the countryside pass by the window as the Hogwarts Express traveled towards its destination. He smirked a little, forehead leaning on the window.
"Are you alright, Draco? You've been so quiet," Pansy commented, trying to get his attention. Always trying to get his attention.
"I'm fine," he said, lifting his head to look at her with narrowed eyes. She was a pretty girl, tending towards vapid and now rather sulky where he was concerned. Still, considering what he'd found out at home, Pansy Parkinson was old news.
Over the summer, Draco had discovered that not only was his mother a succubus, thanks to the strains of magic in his father's line, Draco himself was well on his way to becoming an incubus.
'Your power will grow with sex, Draco, darling, and so will the hunger that fuels it,' Narcissa had told him at the climax of one of the most disturbing days of his life thus far.
Pansy flushed a little, her eyes flicking to Crabbe and Goyle, who were talking utter nonsense to one another about some foolish comic they'd taken from one of the little ones.
"Do you like Crabbe, Pansy?" Draco meanly asked, his smile twisted with malicious cruelty. "Why don't you give him a kiss?"
Pansy blanched, a look of utter disgust on her face. She lowly said, "I don't like Crabbe, Draco, you know that."
"Go on!" he shortly said, amused now with it, wanting to see how far his power had grown.
Crabbe looked nervous in a bovine, unsure way, his piggish eyes flicking from Pansy to Draco and back again, uncertain of what to do.
"Pansy," Draco said, carefully enunciating each word when he said, "I told you to kiss Crabbe."
Trembling and white with dislike, Pansy slid hesitantly down the seat and brushed a kiss across Crabbe's thin mouth, turning away immediately and lifting her hand to her lips.
Draco smiled and looked back out the window, ignoring them.
He had bigger game in mind than Pansy, who had always fawned on him.
No, a true test of his power would be over one who had no reason to do as he bid her—and despite the dire warning his father had issued, Draco would have what he wanted and the rest be damned.
And he would have that filthy mudblood where she belonged—sniveling at his feet and cringing like a dog, finally in her rightful place.