Harry arrived at the Great Hall, expecting just a regular dinner. After the encounters with Susan and Hermione, he wasn't exactly burning with a need to find himself a new plaything. But, as always, fate had other ideas for him. The moment he stepped inside the Hall, he felt several pairs of eyes on himself, all from the Slytherin table, too heated to be just their usual acrimony. He acted obvious of it, in favor of walking down to Gryffindor table, filling a plate for himself.

It didn't take a genius to have an accurate idea about the sudden shift, nor it took much to validate. Daphne was sitting on her usual corner in the table, unable to hide her satisfaction whenever her gaze fell on him, or the Slytherin students busy glaring daggers at him. He was going to have an after-dinner entertainment, it seemed.

He deliberately dallied eating his dinner. Students petered out as they finished their dinner, with the important exception of Daphne, and the small gang of assembled thugs. He discreetly palmed his wands in case they chose to attack him in the middle of the Great Hall. Counter-intuitively, he could easily imagine ending up with detention with Umbridge as the Headmistress, claiming he was at fault for 'provoking' students with a great pedigree until they had no choice but to attack.

Luckily, they weren't cunning enough to come up with that, as they had proved through the activities they pulled over the years. They waited until he finished his dinner, then followed him outside. They were several steps behind, not even trying to make it look coincidental. There were six of them in total, Harry counted, excluding Daphne, who was smart enough to continue sitting.

Harry could have waited for them at a tight part of the corridor to prevent any chance of being flanked, and tried to take them in a fair fight. A difficult task, as he would be fighting six-to-one while unable to use anything slightly dangerous. And off-chance of victory in that restrictive circumstances, he would still end up in detention for daring to stand against the purebloods. Harry decided to seek an alternative approach. He would rather spend his free time in his new hobby rather than watching ugly mugs of Snape or Umbridge.

His alternative was simple. Instead of taking a defensive dueling pose, he pulled out his invisibility cloak, disappearing from the view. A second later, the first Slytherin swaggered into the corridor, only for his confidence to melt into a panic. "Shit, he's gone," he called. "Still, he cannot be that far away, spread out and find that bastard." Just like that, the angry group that was supposed to teach him a lesson dispersed, searching for him.

He didn't even bother to pick them one by one. He just walked near one of them, curious what Daphne had promised them to antagonize him. When he found the correct memory, he had to struggle to stay silent. Apparently, Daphne hadn't even needed to talk to them. A casual mention of the gossip that Harry was seen disappearing into a broom closet with two of their girlfriends was enough. Simple but effective, showing Daphne was one of the rare Slytherins with a modicum of cunning. The others, not so much, easily played by a girl two years their junior.

Harry chuckled as he returned to the Great Hall, still invisible. He sat in front of Daphne, who was unaware of her presence, which allowed him to sneak into her mind, perusing carefully as he tried to implement the need to stay self-sufficiency in her struggle. If it took hold, from now on, she would try to handle her problems herself, preventing her from reaching to the teachers or other students. He didn't fancy defending himself against Umbridge because of a fancy tale she cooked up.

Daphne continued sitting for a few more minutes, until the people from the small gang she galvanized returned to the Great Hall with obvious annoyance. Realizing her plan was a bust, her face fell, and she left the Great hall, unaware of her follower. She was going directly towards the Slytherin dorm, which suited Harry just fine, as the road she took had several unused classrooms, giving him appropriate space to teach her another lesson.

But when she turned her direction towards the second floor, he was struck with a sense of irony that was too strong to deny. It wasn't that hard to put a thought into her mind that forced her to turn towards the bathroom where one of the most coveted secret passages of Hogwarts lay. He quickened his steps until he took a corner before her, giving him time to remove the cloak unobserved. He stood in the middle of the corridor, his wand raised, waiting for Daphne to appear.

"Potter!" she exclaimed in shock when she turned the corner, only to come face to face with the same man she tried to arrange a beating for.

"Daphne! How nice it's to see you. I was just looking for you," Harry answered, his tone mockingly high, even as he sent a bunch of conjured ropes towards her, wrapping around, pinning them to her side. Then, he waved his hand around and before she could say anything else, a ball gag appeared on her mouth, preventing her from saying anything else, not because he was particularly afraid of what she was going to say, but because he didn't want their voices to bring anyone else around. He waved his wand once more, and she started floating behind him, her legs flailing uselessly. Still, he had been expecting her to show a true outrage with the inclusion of the ballgag. He could only guess that the sexual dimension of it was not something known to purebloods.

He was happy to note that Myrtle was away, as he wasn't looking forward to explain to that creepy ghost about why he had a gagged girl floating behind him. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm bringing you here. The answer is, we need somewhere private to speak, and I thought you would appreciate a thematically relevant place." The disdainful expression on her face was impressive, managing to exude a sense of superiority despite floating helplessly, even with a bright red ball-gag in her mouth. He answered her silent complaint. "Don't worry, princess, we're here just for the passage. You'll see our real destination in a moment."

With that, he leaned towards a specific sink, with a stylized snake on the side. "Open," he hissed, and the sink collapsed, leaving a huge gap behind. He looked at Daphne, whose disdain transformed into an expression of total shock. "So, Daphne," he asked cheerfully. "How do you feel to be the first Slytherin that was going to walk in the Chamber of Secrets since your precious Dark Lord."

He knew that an answer wasn't likely even if her mouth had been free, so he turned towards the entrance, about to slide. But before he threw himself in, it occurred to him that Tom Riddle hadn't been a guy that would appreciate sliding down like an undignified child. "Stairs," he added, again in Parseltongue, and the entrance shifted into a grand stairwell with torches on both sides, adding a certain dramatization to the lighting of the space. It would be a lie if he claimed to be surprised by the gauche decor. He remembered how the chamber was furnished, and Slytherin wasn't the humblest guy in the first place.

He wasn't in a particular hurry as he climbed down the stairs, with Daphne still floating behind him, watching her surroundings with shocked eyes, growing even wider after they passed the dead skin of the Basilisk. He dispelled her ball-gag, giving her option to comment, but she chose to continue without uttering a response.

Harry didn't wait until they were in the middle of the room, a safe distance away from the Basilisk's body, and any blood that spread around. It was looking as pristine as the day he had slain it, suggesting that its venom was still deadly enough to not to allow any bacteria to survive.

He let her land on the middle of the room, a couple of feet away from him. Her earlier defiant expression that survived being caught and his initial subtle threats, had broken irrevocably after seeing the still fresh body of the monster he had slain, though, to her credit, she had managed to maintain a thin exterior of defiance. Not enough to hide the torrent lay behind, of course, and with occasional cracks, but still, it was an achievement.

And she should fear, Harry thought as he examined her expression, every second of silence weakening it further. It wasn't exactly smart, pushing him like that. "So," he murmured cheerfully. "That was your grand revenge. Manipulating a few inbred fools unable to find their own bottoms with a map and a lamp so that they attack me. I'm truly disappointed Daphne, and here I'm, thinking you're a cut above the usual idiot Slytherin with more money than sense."

During his explanation, she managed to gather herself to go back her usual haughty demeanor, a considerable achievement considering she was still tied tight, the most threatening monster she had ever seen laying a small distance away, slain by the same guy she had found herself in conflict with. "I don't know what you're talking about, Potter," she murmured. "You better let me go before I get angry."

He couldn't help but snort at her response. "Come on Daphne, don't be ridiculous. We both know you were the one that galvanized these idiots with whatever trumped up reason your little-twisted mind came up with." He smirked as took a few steps closer, enjoying the way she flinched. He caressed her lips, reminding her about their last encounter. "I doubt that you went out and admitted a disgusting half-blood stole your first kiss, don't you." He was expecting a sense of disgust to well-up in her mind, or maybe the desperation that she had been captured. The sense of arousal, rising naturally without the slightest involvement from him was a surprise, and not exactly a pleasant one. Apparently, the ice Queen had a secret fetish towards being dominated. If only he knew that before bringing her in the Chamber of Secrets, one room that underlined the vast distance between them, therefore removing most of the challenge from taming her.

Maybe he was wrong, he thought hopefully. Maybe her pride was stronger than he had given her credit for. He decided to annoy her a little, to test it. "Or maybe, you wanted a repeat, so you set up the whole thing to get my attention."

"In your dreams, you filthy half-blood," she spat out, but her voice trembled badly.

Harry walked closer until he was just a step away from her. "Oh, believe me, more than once you starred in my dreams," he said, leaning forward like he was about to steal a kiss. He was expecting her to spit or shout, and the fleeting surface thoughts suggested that she was planning to do just that. But as he got nearer, her body betrayed her mind, her lips parting needfully. He pulled back, allowing her a second to realize how she had reacted to an imminent kiss. "From your reaction, I can see that it wasn't only me with interesting dreams." But even as he said it, he accepted the situation disappointedly. Daphne was hers, he might as well as enjoy the fruits of his trivial success.

"Nonsense-" she started, only for her words to cut like a knife when he put his hand under her chin, raising it just a bit. She failed to say anything else, but her lips were still parted conveniently, so he pressed against them in a soft, lingering kiss. Her lips were absolutely motionless, stuck between her rational disgust and the irrational reaction of her body. She hadn't even tried to pull back.

He decided to push for more, curious where she would manage to pull back. He let the kiss to intensify, his lips dancing around hers, the force behind them increasing periodically. Soon, his tongue joined the fray, exploring the insides of her mouth while her frozen state continued. Curious, he put his hands on her body as well, exploring her curves by starting from her waist, one dipping towards her bottom while the other climbed up, trailing her breasts over her robe. She shivered, but still lay dormant in his grip.

Only when his fingers sank deep into her bottom, a sharp and painful reminder of the exact situation, she pulled back. Harry had to struggle to prevent himself from delving into her lips once more, aroused by the expression she was providing. The last flickering flames of her fury was doused by the unexpected wave of pleasure that buried her heart. Few sparks that remained were less effective than wet kittens, failing to resist the tornado she found herself in. It was the final confirmation that she was already broken. Just a moment of concentrated effort, and maybe a stiff push, and the last barriers would fall, leaving her as his obedient toy.

Change of plans, he thought. Since she disappointed him so marvelously, she was going to be a nice toy and compensate for it as well. He delved into her mind, a task that was made even easier by her awakening submissiveness, her thoughts helplessly leading him where he needed, telling him that there were only one people she really cared about. Tracy, her best friend. Even her family failed to make itself to that list. He remembered the brown-haired cheerful witch that contrasted greatly with usual Slytherin demeanor, untouchable despite her obvious beauty due to Daphne's dominating presence. Harry knew the best way to make Daphne pay for the disappointment she turned out to be.

"Nothing to say?" he murmured, breaking the long silence which helped her too fully realize what she had been just subjected to, her shock awakening once more, but not as sharp as the disappointment when she realized the kiss was over, her ruby lips begging for an encore. "Maybe I should take another kiss from you."

"No," she managed to stammer in a tone that would make the heroine of an erotic thriller, a surprising amount of arousal and desire packed in her voice.

"If you say so," Harry shrugged, waiting for her to react. "I think you learned your lesson enough."

"You're letting me go," she said incredulously, a longing for more, he could hear hidden in her tone. He had a feeling, in any other condition, it would cause her desire to weaken, like Harry was proving his weakness just by letting her go despite abusing his control over her, but with the difference in power clear, him letting her go just underlined her own failure to be important enough, an assumption that was collaborated by her own thoughts.

"I'm. But since you're being such a nice sport, I'm going to give you something you can remember our encounter."

"What are you talking about…" she said, but her words leave themselves into a panicked but aroused breathing as she noticed he was busy removing his belt. Soon, his shaft was out for her gaze, already erect with the promise of the scene. She watched it, fear and anticipation battling in her gaze.

Harry didn't bother using any spells, or acting nicely. He grabbed her hair and forced her on her knees, not trying to limit the pain he inflicted. The cry she let out in response was too pleasure-filled to indicate any problem, though it still didn't change the look of disgust that appeared on her face as he pressed his shaft against her lips. He glanced at her surface thoughts, and realized that it didn't even occur it as a sexual act. She had so much to learn…

He hadn't cared for her response, just forcing her to swallow his cock. And before she could say or react in any way, he had reached for his pocket, and pulled the camera from his pocket. He took the habit of carrying one, as one could never know a camera would be useful. Such as creating the perfect gift for the pureblood princess who just discovered her submissive side.

"Cheers," he said with glee, and the explosive flash of the outdated camera worked wonders in pulling her from the pleasured haze she found herself in, framing her pleasure, his shaft, and part of Basilisks body perfectly, a perfect reminder of who she tried to mess with. He had been planning to pull out, leaving her hanging, but the desperate expression on her face was tempting enough to change his mind about that.

"Open wide," he warned instead, before pushing his girth deeper inside her mouth, the crown ticking her throat, the shock dominating her expression, until it was replaced by panic when he showed no sign of stopping, forcing his presence deep into her throat.

She would have complained, on that there was no doubt, but saying something was hard when she had several inches of erect meat in her mouth, a part of it invading her throat. She was too busy gagging due to unfamiliar presence to speak. Her muscles contracted around his girth, pushing him closer to the climax than he would have expected, but her tightness was unbelievable. He kept in position, forcing her to go without a breath, and only pulled after she looked like she was about to faint.

Since it looked like it was going to be more of a sprint than a marathon, he decided to make her work harder. He put his hand behind her head, and pushed once more after giving her the opportunity to catch her breath, pushing his shaft even deeper, but this time, impaling repeatedly instead of just staying in the warm confines of her throat. Her wheezing filled the room as he pumped inside mercilessly, broken only by occasional gagging. He dispelled the ropes that were keeping her arms trapped, but the only thing she had done was to put her hands on his legs to balance herself.

A minute later, he pulled back once more, this time allowing her more time to breathe as he examined her face. There was no sign of her earlier haughtiness, replaced by a dazed shock, a dribble sliding on the side of her lips. "Do you like it?" he asked. No response was forthcoming, nor she was in any condition to give any, but Harry wasn't feeling exceptionally understanding at the moment. He wrapped her hair around his hand before squeezing once more. "I asked you a question," he said, pulling her hair.

She cried, but in her voice, arousal was not too far away from the pain. "I'm sorry," she moaned. "I like it."

He said nothing else, just sliding his presence into her mouth once more, invading her throat mercilessly, her gags and wheezing rising once more as he invaded her throat as deep as possible, giving no thought about her discomfort or pain. And if her attempts to lean forward to make it even easier was an option, neither did she.

There was a limit how long a man could resist the pleasure when his cock was trapped in the throat of a high-class woman debasing herself without a thought for her own, or her family's, dignity. For Harry, it was just a couple minutes more, marking the end by a celebratory filling of her mouth without a warning, leaving her coughing desperately even after he pulled back. "Let's go," I said, and started to walk back. Her steps caught up with him soon after, but carefully stayed a step behind him. He didn't bother to check whether she was planning something. Her domination was already complete, however disappointing was her early capitulation.

They reached the bathroom without another word, and a couple of parseltongue words later, the passage was closed once more. "Fix yourself," Harry ordered before starting to walk towards the door, but a whisper left her mouth, too low to be deciphered. "Is there something," he asked, his tone suggesting that he wasn't happy about her last-minute attempt to speak. Her eyes fell on the ground, silent once more, and Harry stepped out, an upbeat whistle on his lips.

The challenge with Daphne might have resolved easier than he expected, but that didn't mean there wasn't any more fun to be had…