Wickedly Yours

Part 1

As you stand at King's Cross, the cool breeze of early autumn lifting strands of your jet-black hair, you take in the chaotic scene of students rushing to board the Hogwarts Express.

The familiar hum of the station fills your ears, but you're far from interested. Beside you stands Draco Malfoy, arms crossed, his expression tense. Though you've always seen him as an older brother, the protective way he hovers is starting to grate on your nerves.

"Beatrix, for once in your life, don't get into any trouble," Draco says with exasperation, his gray eyes narrowing at you.

You roll your eyes dramatically, crossing your arms and shifting your weight to one leg. "I don't cause trouble, Draco. Trouble just finds me." Your voice is laced with mock innocence, but the smirk on your lips betrays you.

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly losing patience. "Please, Beatrix. Headmaster Snape won't hesitate to contact me, or worse, Father, if you step out of line. I don't have time for this right now."

You snort softly, brushing a lock of wavy hair behind your ear. "You worry too much," you murmur, though you know he's right. Trouble follows you like a shadow, and if there's anything you inherited from your parents besides your magical prowess, it's your father's temper and your mother's... twisted nature.

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turn and board the train, leaving Draco behind with a resigned sigh. As you make your way through the crowded corridors, students hastily step aside, casting wary glances at you.

You can practically feel their fear, and it brings a sense of satisfaction. Most of them have heard the stories—the whispers about who your parents were, the rumors about your own formidable abilities. But it's more than that. They know you're untouchable.

Still, it's annoying that no one dares share a compartment with you. Each time you slide open a door, students immediately turn away, some even leaving their seats. "Cowards," you mutter under your breath as you make your way to the very last car.

As the door opens, you freeze for a moment, the sight of Professor Snape sitting inside. Of course. Just my luck. You let out a long, deep sigh of frustration, your shoulders sagging slightly as you reluctantly step inside. Snape barely acknowledges you, his dark eyes fixed on a parchment in his hands.

You hoist your bag onto the overhead shelf with more force than necessary, letting out a loud huff as you drop into the seat opposite him. Snape still doesn't look up, which only irritates you more. You love causing trouble, stirring up reactions—anything to alleviate the boredom—but he seems immune to your presence.

"Good afternoon, Professor," you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Snape merely hums in response, not even bothering to meet your gaze. The lack of attention grates on you. After all, causing a stir is your specialty, and his indifference feels like a challenge.

You cross your arms, staring out the window as the train begins to move, a smirk creeping across your lips. This year was going to be very interesting.

You tap your fingers on the armrest, growing more annoyed at the silence between you and Snape. The heavy tension in the compartment makes the ticking of the train's wheels feel louder than usual, and you decide to break it with your favorite pastime—pushing buttons.

"Did you get a new suit, Professor?" you ask, your tone almost sweet, eyes flashing with amusement as you tilt your head toward him.

Snape finally looks up from his parchment, his eyes narrowing slightly. His expression doesn't change, but you can see the subtle roll of his eyes, almost as if he's disappointed in the predictability of your remark. "The suit is the same as it has always been, Beatrix. Can you really not control yourself?"