Chapter 2

As you approach you see the table, the teacup sits there, seemingly innocent and mundane. But within its depths lies the potential for your first step towards corrupting Iris Potter. The teacup, made of fragile porcelain, gleams in the dim light of the greenhouse, reflecting the vibrant colors of the exotic plants surrounding it. As you reach for the teacup. The plan is simple: add the potion to her drink, let her consume it unknowingly, and wait for the corruption to begin. As your fingers graze the cool porcelain of the teacup, you can't help but feel a twinge of excitement mixed with a hint of dread. The weight of the vial containing the potion in your pocket serves as a constant reminder of the lengths you're willing to go to assert your dominance over Harry and his loved ones. You take a moment to savor the anticipation, letting the promise of **** wash over you like a dark wave.

With a practiced hand, you uncork the vial and tip it over the steaming tea, watching as the creamy liquid swirls and mingles with the amber-colored brew. The potion's magic begins to work almost immediately. The transformation is subtle, and imperceptible, but the potion's presence is now undeniable. The tea's surface shimmers for a moment, the potion's essence blending with the liquid in a mesmerizing dance. The aroma of the beverage changes, too, subtly shifting to something more alluring, more seductive. A hint of your scent lingers, a bewitching undercurrent that will soon seep into Iris's consciousness.

As you approach Iris, the lush foliage of the greenhouse seems to close in around you, creating an intimate and almost otherworldly atmosphere. The scent of damp earth and exotic flowers mingles with the aroma of the potioned tea, creating a heady mixture that seems to fog your senses. Iris, oblivious to the transformation she is about to undergo, turns to greet you with a smile before realizing who you are. Her smile drops, as she looks at you with distrust.

"Good afternoon, Iris," you greet, affecting an air of contrition as you step towards her. The heavy scent of the Venomous Tentacula surrounds you. "I hope I'm not intruding. I couldn't help but notice your love for this place, and I wanted to extend an olive branch."

Iris narrows her eyes at you, suspicion written all over her face. "An olive branch, Draco?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "After everything that's happened between you and my brother?" She pauses, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want?"

The air in the greenhouse seems to grow thicker, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you prepare to deliver your rehearsed apology. The words flow smoothly from your lips, a practiced cadence that you hope will persuade Iris of your sincerity. "You're right, Iris. I was wrong to let my prejudices cloud my judgment. I've been raised to believe that Pure Bloods are superior to everyone else, and I allowed that belief to dictate my actions." As you speak, Iris's expression softens slightly, her arms uncrossing as she listens to your words. The greenhouse, with its myriad of magical plants, seems to hold its breath, the rustling leaves and swaying tendrils growing still.

"I've been told how much better we are than Muggles, Muggle-borns, and blood traitors." You continue, weaving a tale of regret and enlightenment, hoping to disarm Iris with your apparent honesty. "But I've come to realize that those beliefs are nothing more than baseless prejudice. Here at Hogwarts, I've seen the potential and the brilliance that lies within everyone, regardless of their blood status."

The words hang in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the greenhouse.

Iris regards you with a skeptical gaze, the wheels of thought turning behind her emerald eyes. The authenticity of your words hangs in the balance, and you can see the conflict within her. She wants to believe that people can change, that even someone like you, Draco Malfoy, could see the error of your ways. Yet, the past is a heavy burden, and your reputation as a pure-blood supremacist is not easily forgotten.

Iris tilts her head, scrutinizing your face for any signs of deceit. The whir of the greenhouse's heating system hums in the background, a constant reminder of the life that thrives within these glass walls. "You've always been one for grand gestures, Draco," she remarks, her tone guarded yet curious. "But actions speak louder than words."

Iris ponders your question, her gaze drifting over the greenery. "If you truly want to prove yourself, Draco," she begins her voice echoing softly in the humid air of the greenhouse, "then start by showing respect to everyone, not just those you deem worthy. Stand up for what's right, even when it's difficult. And most importantly, be consistent. One act of kindness doesn't undo years of animosity."

You nod, keeping your expression earnest and your gaze steady. "I understand, Iris. I'll do as you say. No more empty platitudes; I'll show you through my actions." The words leave your lips with the ease of long practice, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at how smoothly you've navigated this conversation. The ease with which you lie has you in high spirits, but you mask it with a façade of earnest determination. Iris watches you for a moment longer before her shoulders relax slightly, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "I'll be watching, Draco," she says, her voice carrying a note of cautious optimism.

The two of you converse about Herbology, the common interest helping to ease the tension between you. As you engage in conversation with Iris about Herbology, you notice her eyes occasionally darting to the teacup sitting on a nearby potting bench. The tea, now at the perfect temperature to release the full extent of the potion's aroma, emits a subtle, alluring scent.

As you continue discussing the intricacies of magical plant care, you subtly steer the conversation towards thirst-inducing topics, like the dry climates preferred by certain desert-dwelling species. Iris, engrossed in the discussion, wipes a bead of sweat from her brow, her throat working as she swallows, clearly affected by the humid heat of the greenhouse. Iris's eyes flicker to the teacup once more, the scent of the potion-laced tea now unmistakable in the close air of the greenhouse. You watch as she hesitates, her hand hovering over the cup before she finally picks it up. The porcelain feels warm to the touch, the heat of the room radiating through the thin material. Iris brings the cup to her lips, her eyes closing briefly as she takes a careful sip. The potion, disguised by the heat and flavor of the tea, slides down her throat, its magic mingling with her breath. You watch intently, the anticipation building within you like a crescendo.

You observe Iris's every move, your gaze locked onto her like a predator stalking its prey. She raises the teacup to her lips, the steam from the hot beverage curling into the air, mingling with the humidity of the greenhouse. The moment the liquid touches her lips, you feel a surge of triumph.

As Iris takes another sip, her brow furrows slightly, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. The tea, now infused with your potion, has a thicker consistency than she expects, and she swirls it in her mouth curiously, her tongue unconsciously lapping at the unfamiliar texture.

Iris's lips part slightly, the tip of her tongue darting out to taste the unusual texture of the tea. She swirls the liquid around her mouth, her expression one of confusion rather than revulsion. The potion, masquerading as an innocuous cup of tea, coats her tongue, the magic within it beginning to seep into her bloodstream.

You watch, your heart pounding in your chest, as Iris takes another gulp. She seems to savor the tea, swirling it in her mouth. You notice her mouth open slightly and how her tongue writhes around the inside of her mouth, tasting the peculiar mix of herbs and the potion's magic. The thickened consistency, much like that of cum, clings to her taste buds, and a small, curious sound escapes her throat.

As the last drop of the concoction disappears into her mouth, Iris looks at you with a new intensity in her eyes. The best part is that the potion is slow as it is insidious. She will slowly lose herself to it but you have to be careful to not push too far too fast else you risk alerting her family and or in the worst situation giving her enough of a push to muster her will and break free of the potions effects. Iris sets the empty teacup down on the potting bench, her fingers lingering on the porcelain for a moment longer than necessary. She looks at you, her eyes searching your face for something—a sign, a slip, anything that might betray your intentions. But you've worn your mask of earnest reform too long and too well for her to see through it now.

"That was... an interesting conversation, Draco."

You take this chance to change the narrative slightly now that she's imbibed your potion. You tell Iris that your transformation wasn't the result of the accepting atmosphere at Hogwarts or the diversity of its students. Instead, you credit her, claiming that she has inspired you to strive for better, to become someone worthy of her attention and affection. Iris's eyes widen as you confess your supposed feelings for her, the color in her cheeks deepening. You step forward, the space between you shrinking to nothing. Before she can react, you lean in and press your lips to hers in a swift, bold move. The kiss is brief but impactful, leaving both of you momentarily stunned. Iris stumbles back, her hand flying to her lips as if to ensure they're still there. You can see the gears turning in her head, processing the sudden intimacy.

"Draco, I... I don't know what to say," she stammers, her eyes darting around the greenhouse as if seeking an escape.

Iris stands there, the weight of your words settling on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. She looks at you, her green eyes wide and searching, as if trying to decipher the truth behind your carefully crafted facade. The greenhouse, with its exotic plants and humid air, suddenly feels smaller, the walls closing in on the two of you.

"Just... think about it?" she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper.

You lean in again, swiftly capturing her lips with yours before she can utter another word. The kiss is fleeting, a mere brush of skin against skin, but it leaves a lasting impression. You pull away just as quickly, leaving Iris standing amidst the verdant foliage, her fingers pressed to her lips once more.

"Yes, think about it, Iris." The words hang in the air, a tangible reminder of the deceit you've woven. You turn on your heel, your robes swishing against the cobblestone path of the greenhouse. The plants seem to watch you as you walk away, their leaves whispering secrets to those who know how to listen.

You can feel Iris's gaze on your back, her mind undoubtedly racing with confusion and tainted thoughts brought forward by the potion.