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Blood and Inheritance	By : TCardan Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 23318 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or make any money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter List
- 7
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- 9
A/N Thanks for the responses to this story. I know some commented that they don’t like slash. Sorry if I lose some readers because of that, but it’s part of the plot so I’m keeping it. I hope there are many that can still enjoy the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter Eight

Harry clapped loudly on the first day of school in his third year when Remus Lupin was announced as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It would be fantastic to have Remus around and a relief to be rid of that buffoon, Lockhart. None of his friends quite shared his enthusiasm, however, but clapped politely for Harry’s sake.

Harry went to visit with Remus often after classes and sometimes for tea. Remus would ply him questions about his time at Hogwarts, his friends, and what he was learning. Harry, in return, asked to hear stories from the time Remus, James and Sirius were friends together at school. He was particularly entertained by the many instances of mischief the three friends caused.

The relationship he had with Remus was in stark contrast to the relationship he had with Severus Snape, whom Harry still met with on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Those meetings had no light and brevity to them, and mostly consisted of practice and instruction. Now, at the beginning of Harry’s third year, the second Tuesday they met took a different turn.

“Aren’t we going to practice spells, Professor?” Harry asked when Snape indicated that he should sit and put his wand away.

“Not tonight,” Snape replied, sitting across from Harry and observing him carefully. “You are already very advanced in your wand work for your age. You could take a year off and still be ahead of your peers. I think, Potter, it would advisable at this point to focus more on wisdom.”

“Wisdom?”

“Yes, usually that comes with age, but there is some wisdom, which I call strategic wisdom, that could be beneficial to learn at your age. You will be having your first duel trial next summer, is that right?”

Harry sat there, just staring Snape. How did Snape know? Was he inner circle?

“Come now, you are not giving away past events by discussing the future,” Snape said.

Harry reluctantly nodded.

“The LeStrange brothers may be able to teach you how to kill, maim, and torture, but they lack the ability to teach you true wisdom.”

Again Harry sat still as Snape spoke of forbidden things. What was the professor trying to do? Make him fall deathly ill by discussing secret matters? Harry felt like running out of the door.

Looking at the blank expression on Harry’s face, Snape sighed. “Do you think I’m unaware of these matters? I assure you, Mr. Potter, I am very much in the loop, though perhaps not always an active participant.”

Harry remained silent.

“Your loyalty is commendable,” Snape stated, “though perhaps not deserved.”

“Sir?” Harry finally spoke. What was Snape trying to say?

“Did you ever wonder why your friends and their families so readily accepted you? They are so stuck in their beliefs of pureblood supremacy. Now, why do you think they so easily brushed aside the question of your parentage?”

Harry’s heartbeat sped up as he gripped the arms of his chair. “Because I’m a Black now, and Blacks are their kind.”

“Is that truly what you think? What does adoption have to do with the blood that flows through your veins? Your mother was a Muggleborn.”

Harry flinched at that last word. He hated thinking about that fact. And yes, he was ashamed of it, though most days he was able to forget about it and pretend he was just like his friends.

“I’m upsetting you,” Snape observed. “How telling.”

“Why are you saying these things to me?” Harry asked, voice low.

Snape sat forward in his chair, an intense look on his face. “Because… you will never be anything but a puppet on a string as long you believe you are less than because of your blood. YOU will be your own worst enemy and YOU will defeat yourself at every turn. You will give yourself over to their control all because you believe they have something better than you - pure blood.”

Snape leaned back in his chair again, watching as Harry absorbed his words. Then he added, “That is their power over you, Potter, your own feeling of lack. But what they’ll never tell you is that you are more powerful than any of them, yet they already this. They want this power under their control. They want YOU under their control. The question is, will you give it to them?”

Harry looked confused. What was Snape talking about? His friends never tried to control him. “Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your inheritance, Potter. It is not your blood, not your case, it is your inheritance.”

“But… they’ve got plenty of their own money… that doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m not speaking of money, I’m speaking of power. Did you know Voldemort had even worse parentage than you? His father wasn’t a Muggleborn, but an actual Muggle, yet, they followed him. Did his blood matter to them?”

“I reckon not,” Harry replied, softly. He understood now that Snape was not referring to his peers, but to their families. “You think power is more important to them than blood?”

“Only if it is extraordinary power,” Snape replied. “And they believe you have such power.”

Harry’s eyes lowered to his lap. He felt uncomfortable thinking of these things. He didn’t want to believe the world wasn’t what he thought it was. He didn’t want to contemplate that the people who welcomed him in their homes had ulterior motives. He really wanted to leave this conversation. “May I be excused, Sir?”

“All I’m trying say is… remember who you are, Mr. Potter. There are two positions you will have to choose from in your life - to rule or to be ruled. Never put yourself at a disadvantage.”

OOOOO

Harry sat in the Slytherin common room one night, reading in front of the hearth on a comfortable sofa. His friends had just went back to their rooms, tired, but Harry wanted to finish this most interesting chapter on ancient curses.

Not many were left in the common room, except for a gaggle of girls sitting at a table together, giggling nervously. Harry would glance up and notice that they seemed to be casting looks his way and then whispering to one another in conspiracy. He shook his head and tried to ignore them.

“Go on, Pansy, he’s finally alone,” Bulstrode could be heard saying a little too loudly.

Harry surmised that they must have been talking about him as he was the only ‘he’ in the room. When Pansy stood and began making her way over to him, Harry flipped open his communication disc in his robe pocket, ready to record, and smiled to himself.

Pansy stood before him, smiling and trying to be alluring. “Hello, Harry, is that seat taken?” she asked, indicating the empty spot next to him on the sofa.

Harry shook his head.

Pansy sat down gracefully, crossing her legs with her hands folded on her lap. She smiled demurely at Harry and he couldn’t help but blush a bit.

“What are you reading?” she asked, feigning interest.

“A book,” he replied, knowing he was being difficult on purpose. It much more fun this way.

She rolled her eyes, still grinning playfully. “I know that, silly, I mean what is it called?”

He closed the book and let her look at the title.

“Hmmm… very interesting,” she commented, though Harry knew that she couldn’t care less about what he was reading.

Harry opened his book again, a small smile on his face as he ignored Pansy and continued reading. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. From the corner of his eye he could see her friends waving their hands at Pansy, encouraging her to continue to press him.

“Harry,” Pansy started up again, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he mumbled, still not looking away from his book.

Pansy sighed with exasperation, reached over and shut his book. Harry finally looked up and said, “Sorry, you had something to say, Pansy?”

She tried to wipe the irritation off her face and put on a pleasant expression. “Yes, I wanted to asked you something.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” She swept her eyes downward in mock modesty which was in contrast to her bold compliment fishing.

Pansy was one of the prettier girls of their year, but Harry didn’t feel inclined to feed her ego. He had been warned by someone who knew the Parkinson family well that Pansy had set her cap for him. Her family was inner circle and Harry had heard that her parents were pushing her to make the most advantageous marriage they could. Somehow, they believed that would be Harry.

“You’re all right,” he shrugged, secretly enjoying the way she was hiding her inner turmoil at his words. She probably wanted to slap him right now, but she knew she wouldn’t achieve her agenda that way. Harry wanted to laugh. He put his hand back in his pocket, closing his communicator so Draco could get these words and have a good laugh.

Pansy plastered a demure look on her face once more, deciding to ignore the insult. “You know, Harry, my mother has been training me all my life to take care of a large household and manage servants. And I’ve become very good at it.”

“That’s nice, Pansy,” Harry replied, wondering why she was talking about stuff like that.

“And she’s also taught me how to throw parties. She’s taught me how to be a good wife to my future husband so that he could be proud of me and our children. I know everything a proper wife should know. Don’t you agree?”

“HARRY!” Draco yelled from the doorway. “DON’T SAY A THING!”

Harry startled, turning to see his best friend standing in the doorway, dripping with a towel wrapped around his waist. Draco was out of breath, as if he left his bath in a great hurry with no time to dress.

“Stay out of this, Draco!” Pansy snapped. “It’s none of your concern.”

Draco padded further into the room, one hand clasped over the gathered towel so it would not fall off, and the other pointing straight at Pansy.

“She’s trying to trick you, Harry. She’s made her pitch about being a good wife and then asking you if you agree. That would start the betrothal process. Don’t answer!”

“Betrothal?” Harry said, shocked. He scowled at Pansy. “Listen, Pansy, I’m not going to get betrothed to you or anyone right now. We’re only thirteen.”

Pansy stood in indignation, stamping one foot and clenching her fists at her side as she glared at Draco. “It’s all your fault. You’ve ruined it. I hate you.” She stomped off to her group of friends who were also giving Draco death glares as they went off to their dorms to bitch about it in private.

Harry glanced at Draco, amused. For Draco to come into the common room in only a towel was unheard of. Draco was usually very fussy about how he appeared in public. And he always made sure Harry only left the dorm room if he appeared acceptable.

“You’re getting the carpet wet,” Harry laughed.

“Would you have rather me allowed you to strap yourself down to a betrothal contract? As soon as I opened the disk I knew what she was up to. Merlin, Harry, I can’t leave you alone anywhere for a minute, can I?”

“How can she get a contract if I don’t even sign anything?” Harry asked, shrugging it off.

“She just has to get you to agree and she had those girls there as witnesses.”

“But she didn’t ask me if I agreed to a betrothal, it was just if I agreed she would make a good wife for someone.”

“It’s a roundabout way to trick you into saying the words ‘I agree’.” Draco signed. “They can twist the words around afterwards and say that you agreed to a betrothal. Before you know it, her parents are paying a visit to your father with all the paperwork filled out.”

“Sirius would never sign something without asking me first,” Harry frowned.

“Oh, no, he would ask you all right. You would have to go into negotiations at the ministry because they would bring all those ‘witnesses’ that would say you did agree that Pansy would be a good wife for you.”

“That would be a lie.”

Draco laughed sardonically. “People lie all the time, especially when it comes to getting what they want.”

OOOOOO

Tits. That seemed to be the biggest topic of conversation lately for the six friends. Whenever they passed the older girls in the hall, they would make a note of who had the biggest tits and then discuss them later on. Vincent and Gregory in particular were the most vocal about it, not caring if they were overheard.

After Christmas holidays, Vincent had brought a whole stack of magazines with moving nude photos of witches and wizards doing various sexual acts or just showing off their bodies. “I took these from my uncle’s house when we went there for Christmas dinner,” he admitted. “I figured, what does he need these for anyway? He has a wife.”

The magazines gave equal attention to both men and women since most people in the Wizarding world did not feel it was taboo to admire those of your own sex. Bisexuality was considered quite normal, especially considering the restrictions the pure bloods put on their daughters to remain virgins until they were married. Controlling the bloodlines was first and foremost. So people turned a blind eye if needs were met in other ways that would not interfere with the quality of breeding future pure bloods.

The boys sat in Vincent and Gregory’s room one evening, flipping through the magazines and laughing and pointing at various images. If they were turned on, they didn’t dare show it. They would save the images in their minds for later and wank to them in the privacy of their curtained beds.

Yes, Harry had discovered wanking. And he knew Draco did too by the sounds of it coming from the direction of his bed when he thought Harry had fallen asleep. It was a fun game Harry liked to play - pretending to be asleep when Draco came into the room.

He would remain silent after Draco would say, “You awake?”

A few minutes later he’d hear Draco working away at himself, and Harry would lie still and listen. He wondered what Draco thought about when he wanked. Harry usually thought about those pictures in the magazines, but sometimes he thought of other witches and wizards at school. Sometimes Harry had the urge to tip toe over to Draco’s bed and peek though his curtains to watch. But he didn’t want to embarrass Draco like that or freak him out.

It was near the end of third year that Harry got to satisfy his voyeur impulse finally. It was after Quidditch practice one evening. Harry and Draco were usually one of the first ones dressed and ready to leave the locker room after games and practices. One night, however, Harry had remembered that he left his wand in his locker when he was halfway back to the castle.

“I’ll run back and get it,” Harry said to Draco, quickly, before turning to hurry back.

“I’ll wait inside. It’s bloody cold out here,” Draco called after him before turning back toward the castle.

When Harry entered the locker room, he heard the water of a shower stall going. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone to take a long shower, but what was unusual was the sound of moaning and grunting coming from the stall as well.

Harry slowed in his tracks, staying behind the row of lockers and listening. He believed that someone was probably having a wank in the shower by the sounds of it and wondered if he could make it to his locker without being seen.

But then he heard another voice that was different. Harry couldn’t stand it anymore, he had to see who they were. Carefully he peeked around the lockers, taking a sharp breath in at what he saw.

There, standing in the shower was Marcus Flint, the same boy Harry had broken at the duel. Marcus was also on his Quidditch team and never had made any remark about what had happened that night. It would have been forbidden, wouldn’t it have? Harry had thought he’d have at least tried to get revenge in some way, but Marcus never had for some reason. That always was a puzzle to Harry.

And now Harry stood watching as Marcus Flint stood in the shower, back against the tiles, as a fifth year boy knelt in front of him, sucking him off. Harry knew he should leave and let them finish, but he couldn’t stop watching. It was such an erotic sight and it made Harry feel something strange inside.

He watched the expressions on Marcus’ face as he put his hands in the boy’s hair and encouraged him to take more of him into his mouth. Then Harry’s eyes watched the other boy, whom he didn’t really know, a Ravenclaw he believed, moving his head back and forth. Harry wondered if the boy really liked doing that or not.

When his eyes rose back up to Marcus’ face, Harry was startled to find the older boy staring at him. When their eyes met, Marcus just grinned. Harry turned about and left quickly, deciding to come back later for his wand.

OOOOO

Harry had thankfully not been alone with Marcus for the next week, worrying about what the other might say to him - though he did wank to the image of Marcus and that Ravenclaw in his mind.

His luck ran out right before the last Quidditch game of the season, however, when he and Draco came early to the locker to dress. Marcus was already there, dressed and ready. Harry busied himself at his locker as Marcus smiled and sauntered over.

“Did you enjoy what you saw, Harry?” he asked, grinning.

Harry just blushed, ignoring him as he got ready. Draco was only a few lockers away, looking at them curiously.

Marcus’ eyes flicked over to Draco and then back to Harry. He leaned toward him and said, “You should teach your boy to that for you. I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Then Marcus laughed softly and walked away.

“What was he talking about, Harry? Teach me what?”

Harry couldn’t even look at Draco, his face was beet red. “Nothing,” he mumbled.

OOOOO

“I would like you to continue on here at Hogwarts, Remus,” Dumbledore said on the last day of school.

Professor Lupin grinned, pleased that Albus thought he did well with his students in his first year of teaching. “I’d really like that, thank you.”

Albus nodded. “It will be good for Harry too, I believe.”

Remus sighed. “What do you think of his choice of friends, Albus? I know Sirius isn’t quite happy about them. But he also knows Harry would fight him tooth and nail if he were to forbid them.”

“Between you and me, I was a bit disappointed that Harry was sorted into Slytherin. And yes, the families of ex-Death Eaters taking such an interest in him is disturbing as well. That’s why it is doubly important for you remain here at Hogwarts, Remus. He’ll need us to counter that influence.”

“Do you think their interest is nefarious in nature? Would they want revenge for killing their Dark Lord?”

“No, I don’t believe they want revenge. I think they are too interested in Harry’s gifts. For what purpose? That remains to be seen.”

“So you think none of them have really changed, as they are claiming?”

The doubt on the headmaster’s face was all the answer Remus received.

OOOOOO

A/N It’s nice to be able to keep Remus as Hogwarts in my version of events. He was my favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher of the series.

We move to fourth year next time and we’ll find Harry and Cedric Diggory still don’t get along very well. *evil laughter* Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review and send me your thoughts. Thank you.
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Blood and Inheritance