Margot twirls the stem of the goblet slowly in her fingers, idly regarding the dark red liquid swirling within. The robes she wears are the colour of wine, rich and heavy and exquisitely tailored, the best Draco Malfoy's money can buy.
People think she is his mistress. Why else, after all, would he give her the freedom of his mansion, put all his considerable wealth at her disposal, exercise so much of his power and influence on her behalf?
If they knew Margot, though, they would know better. Oh, yes, she is Draco's mistress, but not in any sexual sense -- however Draco himself might wish it otherwise. Like so many others, he has become deeply, utterly, irrevocably her slave. Whether by the subtle entanglements of her Dark magics or the simple force of charisma, she has slowly, inexorably, overwhelmed his defences; and there is nothing, now, that he would not do for her.
This, by the way, is Margot Snape we're talking about. Just for those who don't already know. Being heartily tired of all those fics where Draco Malfoy grows up to be the Coolest Guy Ever, I couldn't help but be amused by the idea of Snape's daughter reducing him to a pathetic toady while on her way to total world domination...