Chapter 6

As you lie in your bed within the Slytherin dormitory, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the warmth of your body, you gaze up at the darkened canopy above. The room is silent, save for the occasional crackle from the dying embers in the fireplace. The stone walls, adorned with the serpent emblem of your house, seem to press in, creating a cocoon of solitude and contemplation. The moonlight filters through the narrow window, casting a pale glow over the room. You turn the events of the evening over in your mind, savoring each detail. The way Iris's eyes had flashed with defiance, the flush that had crept up her neck, the tremor in her voice as she repeated your words—each memory fans the flames of your satisfaction. Your mind races with possibilities as you plot your next move.

The stone floor is cold under your bare feet as you rise from the bed, the chill creeping up your legs. The air is crisp, hinting at the Scottish autumn that awaits outside the castle walls. You pace back and forth, the rhythm of your footsteps a steady drumbeat in the otherwise silent room. The shadows cast by the moonlight dance across the floor, stretching and bending with your every move.

The idea solidifies in your mind, as concrete as the castle walls surrounding you. Iris must not only repeat your words but also demonstrate her willingness to act on it. The stone floor is cool beneath your feet as you make your way to the small table where you've stashed your stamina potions.

The potion is a swirl of iridescent colors, reminiscent of a miniature galaxy contained within the glass vial. You remove your night robes, letting them pool around your ankles before stepping out of them. The cool air of the dormitory causes goosebumps to rise on your skin.

Uncorking the vial, you pause for a moment to appreciate the earthy aroma that wafts up to greet you. With a practiced flick of your wrist, you toss the potion back, the liquid sliding down your throat with a warmth that belies its initial coolness. The effects are almost immediate; a surge of energy courses through your veins, invigorating your body and sharpening your senses.

The stamina potion works its magic, and you feel a pulsing heat growing within you, a potent reminder of your virility and power. You stand before the table, empty vials scattered all over.

You pick up the first vial, its cool surface a stark contrast to the heat building inside you. As you grip the vial, your fingers flex, muscles coiling with anticipation. The image of Iris, her cheeks flushed with defiance and desire, flashes across your mind's eye. You remember the feel of her mouth, the way her eyes watered as you pushed deeper, the sounds she made, a mixture of protest and pleasure. With each memory, the heat within you intensifies, until it feels as though your very blood is boiling with lust and power. Your breath hitches in your throat as you begin the process, the sound echoing off the stone walls. The first spurt of your essence fills the vial, the thick, pearlescent fluid catching the torchlight as it swirls within the glass confines.

The room fills with the sound of your heavy breaths, punctuated by the soft, wet sounds of your task. Each vial you fill is a testament to your control over your own body, your own desires. The potion's effects make the process both easier and more pleasurable, enhancing your senses and prolonging your stamina.

You move from one vial to the next with swift precision, each filled to the brim with your essence. As you finish with the last vial, the potion's effects slowly begin to wane, leaving you with a profound sense of satisfaction. The collection of vials on the table is a tangible representation of your virility.

You utter an incantation. The air around the vials shimmers slightly, a sign that the preservation spell has taken hold. The pearlescent fluid within the vials now sealed in a state of perfect preservation, immune to the passage of time and any external contaminants.

As the last echoes of your spell fade into the stone walls of the dormitory, you feel the weight of the day's activities settle upon you. The energy that had been surging through your veins mere moments ago now recedes, leaving a pleasant afterglow that seeps into your bones. With the vials safely preserved, you allow yourself a moment of pride. You lay down, tired from the days activities and quickly fall asleep.

The morning air in the castle is crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of ancient stone and the faintest hint of the fresh dew that clings to the castle's exterior. The corridors are still relatively empty, the rest of the school not yet stirred from their slumber. You make your way through the winding hallways, your footsteps echoing softly, a lone serenade in the otherwise silent castle.

As you approach the entrance to the Great Hall, you spot Iris Potter in the distance, her fiery hair catching the early morning light filtering through a stained-glass window. She seems engrossed in thought, her brow furrowed in concentration. You approach her quietly, the soft rustle of your robes barely audible in the stillness of the morning.

"Potter." Iris startles at the sound of her name, her green eyes wide with surprise as she turns to face you. She quickly composes herself, standing up a little straighter as she meets your gaze.

"Malfoy," she replies, her voice steady despite the suddenness of your appearance.

"Aren't you forgetting to tell me something Iris." you say mockingly.

Iris's eyes narrow slightly at your tone, a flicker of defiance in her gaze. "Is there something specific you're referring to, Malfoy?" she asks, her words carefully chosen, as if she's walking on eggshells.

You smirk, enjoying the game of cat and mouse. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Potter."

The castle's morning silence is sliced by your smirk. Slowly, with a flourish, you produce a vial of cum from the folds of your robe. The liquid inside catches the light, a clear and unmistakable testament to the previous night's activities. The vial is cool in your hand, the glass smooth and unyielding.

"Maybe this will help jog your memory." Iris's eyes follow the vial as you extend it towards her. Her face is a mask of conflicting emotions, shock quickly followed by a flush of embarrassment, then a hardening resolve. She looks from the vial to you, her jaw setting in a defiant line.

"You're disgusting, Malfoy," she hisses, but there's a tremor in her voice that betrays her.

"If I'm disgusting what does that make you?"

Iris's eyes flash with anger, her grip tightening on her wand. "It makes me someone who fell for your manipulations," she retorts, her voice low and charged with emotion. "But I'm not that person anymore."

You lean in closer, your eyes locked onto hers. "Then prove it, Potter."

With a nonchalant shrug, the vial still held loosely in your hand. "Walk away then, Potter," you say, your voice carrying an undertone of challenge that hangs in the air between you.

Iris's gaze remains locked onto the vial, her expression a mix of disgust and something you can't quite place—perhaps a hint of longing, quickly suppressed. You wave the vial gently, like a conductor with a baton, the contents sloshing lightly against the glass.

"Is this what it takes to get your attention, Potter?" you inquire, a sardonic edge to your words.

Iris's eyes dart from the vial to your face, her expression unreadable. The morning light catches the edges of her hair, setting it ablaze with a fiery glow. She swallows hard, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.

"You think you have power over me because of this?" she says, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze fixed on the vial of cum.

"Do you want it fresh from the source instead Potter?" you ask.

Iris's eyes widen at your audacious question, a flicker of surprise—and something else, a flicker of curiosity perhaps—crossing her features before she can mask it with her usual defiance. "You're despicable," she spits out, but the words lack the conviction they held moments before.

"Tick tock, Iris," you repeat, your voice low and teasing. "Every second you hesitate means someone could walk by."

The words hang between you, the silence punctuated only by the distant sound of the castle awakening. Iris's lips part slightly, as if she's about to say something, but then she closes them, her eyes narrowing. Iris stands before you, her wand held tightly in her hand, the vial glinting ominously in yours. The tension between you is palpable, a living thing twisting in the chilly morning air of the castle's corridor. Her green eyes, usually so full of fire, are now clouded with conflict, and you can see the cogs turning behind them as she wrestles with her options. Iris's breath hitches, the plume of it visible in the cool air, a testament to the urgency of the moment.

"You don't control me, Malfoy," she finally says, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a storm of emotions.

With a flick of your wrist, you deftly uncork the vial. The soft pop of the cork echoes in the silence, followed by a brief moment where even the castle seems to hold its breath. You wave the vial slowly under Iris's nose, the scent of the contents mingling with the musty air of the corridor. Iris recoils instinctively, her nose wrinkling in distaste, but she doesn't back away. Instead, she leans in closer, her eyes locked onto the vial with a mixture of revulsion and fascination. "Is this what you think of me, Malfoy?" she asks, her voice low and trembling slightly. "That I'm so easily swayed by... by such crude displays?"

The corners of your mouth twitch upwards into a smirk, your grey eyes reflecting the cold light of the rising sun. "I don't think anything, Potter. I know. And deep down, so do you."

Iris's lips part, but no words come out. She seems to be wrestling with her own thoughts, her gaze flickering between the vial and your unwavering stare.

You tilt the vial slightly, the contents threatening to spill out onto the ancient stone floor of the castle. Iris's eyes follow the motion, her expression a complex tapestry of defiance, confusion, and a hint of fear. The silence that falls between you is heavy.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?"

"If you don't want it just say so and i'll pour it away."

Iris watches you, her eyes flickering with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. She's silent for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. The castle corridors are still waking up, the early morning light casting long shadows that seem to dance on the stone walls.

"Fine," she says sharply, snatching the vial from your hand before you can mock her further.

Iris's hand trembles slightly as she holds the vial, her gaze fixed on the contents with a mixture of resolve and disgust. She brings the vial to her lips, her fingers tightening around the small glass container as she tilts her head back and drinks.

You watch, a smug satisfaction curling the corners of your mouth upwards.

Iris's face contorts as she swallows trying to hide how much she enjoyed that, her hand shaking as she lowers the now empty vial. Her cheeks flush a deep red, a stark contrast to her usual pallor. The silence that follows is deafening.

"what else do you need to say." You remind her.

Iris's eyes flicker up to meet yours, the defiance in them momentarily replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "Nothing," she says quietly, attempting to maintain her composure. "There's nothing else to say." She thrusts the vial back towards you, her hand still trembling slightly.

The words hang in the air between you and Iris, as tangible as the morning mist that occasionally wafts through the corridors of Hogwarts. You step forward, reducing the space that separates you, your eyes locked on hers, a predatory glint in your grey irises.

"You're my little cum slut, Iris." The words reverberate through the stillness of the corridor, an intimate secret laid bare in the open air. Iris's eyes widen, a flash of lust and humiliation passing over her features before she quickly masks it with a stony expression. She takes a step back, her hand clutching the empty vial tightly, as if it could offer some form of protection.

"You can't talk to me like that, Malfoy."

"Have you forgotten yesterday already?" you ask.

Iris's eyes narrow, the grip on the vial tightening until her knuckles turn white. "Of course not," she hisses, her voice barely above a whisper. The early morning chill seems to deepen, the stones beneath your feet echoing with the unspoken tension.

You lean in closer, your breath a ghostly mist in the crisp air. "Then don't pretend otherwise."

"Say it, Iris," you command, your voice echoing softly off the stone walls. "Tell me what you are."

Iris's lips part, but the words seem to catch in her throat. Her gaze flits away from yours, her cheeks burning with a mix of lust and embarrassment. The silence stretches between you, punctuated only by the distant sound of a clock chiming the hour.

"I..." Iris's voice is barely a whisper, her eyes flickering with a mixture of resistance and something else, something that looks dangerously close to submission. "I'm your... little cum slut," she finally manages to say, her voice betraying the **** with which she utters the words. The admission seems to hang in the air, a tangible thing that neither of you can ignore.

You continue, your voice steady and calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil in Iris's eyes. "Next time, don't make this so hard, Iris. Just admit what you are." The words carry the weight of an expectation, the inevitability of a truth already known to both of you.

Iris swallows hard, her eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before darting away again.

You reach out, your fingers gently brushing against Iris's hair in an almost patronizing gesture. "Since it's so hard for you," you say, your voice carrying a hint of amusement, "I'll bring you a vial of cum as well. Consider it a treat for being a good girl." You pat her head gently, as if she were a pet who had performed a particularly impressive trick. Iris flinches at your touch, her eyes snapping back to yours with a flash of defiance. "I'm not your pet, Malfoy," she retorts, the fierceness in her voice somewhat undercut by the way her cheeks color at your words.

The corner of your mouth quirks up in a half-smile. "No, you're not. You're much more entertaining than any pet I've ever had."

You turn on your heel, the echo of your footsteps a sharp staccato against the stone floor.