A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, if I did then he wouldn't have ended up with a kid called Albus Severus.
This is my first attempt at a fanfic, so the first few chapters might be a bit shaky. If you still hate the story around chapter 12 or so when the action starts to pick up, just discard it, it most likely isn't for you.

Small warning, this story is intended as guilty pleasure, a fun little ride. If you come here expecting intricate characters and long deep story lines you're going to be disappointed. If you're just looking for a fun read you'll hopefully enjoy it.

Chapter 1 - Masks

Daphne Greengrass's icy blue eyes studied the various students as they settled in their seats, a low hum of discussion permeating the air. Reaching up she flicked her blonde hair behind her ear, stifling a sigh as she noticed some older Slytherin boys trying to covertly ogle her. Shifting her eyes towards them she had to swallow a snort as they quickly averted their eyes, who were they trying to fool?

"Check out Brown."

She glanced at her friend Tracey Davis before turning towards the Gryffindor table, watching with slight amusement as Lavender Brown desperately added some last minute fixes to her make-up. Looking around she realized Brown wasn't the only one, more than one vain girl seemed to be preparing. She knew why of course, today was after all a very significant day. It was the start of their fifth year, their OWL year, yet what had everyone talking was the addition they were getting to the school. Harry Potter was finally going to arrive at Hogwarts.

Daphne felt a slight tinge of annoyance at all the excitement over one single student arriving, yet she understood what the ruckus was about. The-Boy-Who-Lived had practically been a mystery to the entire Wizarding world ever since the fall of the Dark Lord at his hand. Or well, supposedly at his hand. Unlike the majority of the Wizarding world she wasn't about to blindly take that as a fact just because Dumbledore said it happened. What she did know was that Dumbledore had stashed him away, hidden him from everyone, yet in the process lost him. She was only eight years old when it happened, but she remembered the massive manhunt that was launched as Dumbledore sheepishly admitted to having lost track of the boy. There were some very sketchy details about his home that was hidden from the press, yet the overall sense most people got was that Dumbledore had messed up big time.

They never found a single trace of him, it was like the earth itself had swallowed the Potter Heir. That is until two years ago when Gringotts sent the usual mandatory missive to the Ministry of Magic, informing them that Harry Potter himself had arrived on his thirteenth birthday to claim his position as Heir of a Most Ancient and Noble house. In the process he had had the wills read and revealed himself as the Black Heir as well. There were some other inconsistencies in the wills but it was once again hushed by the Ministry and Dumbledore, yet there were rumours that spread about Dumbledore having reached past his jurisdiction and tampered with the documents. No proof ever came out but the rumours were toxic regardless, his influence had dropped to an all time low.

Much to everyone's surprise The-Boy-Who-Lived disappeared again, fueling conspiracy theories and arguments in every corner of Magical Britain. Owls sent after him returned only a few days after, their letters unopened. The Minister of Magic himself had apparently tried to contact him as well, but was summarily ignored, something that he desperately tried to keep quiet. After all, it didn't exactly look good for Fudge to be ignored by a thirteen-year-old.

Then suddenly a month ago, Potter sent a letter to the Daily Prophet, calmly informing them that he would in fact start his schooling at Hogwarts the coming September. The letter had been short and only verified by the Potter wax seal, yet it made the front page of the Daily Prophet, selling out in record time.

She stifled a snort as she watched Romilda Vane, another Gryffindor, adjust her breasts in an attempt to display more cleavage. They didn't even know what he looked like, yet she had already heard boasts about how more than one girl was going to bag him.
Most of them seemed to think he was arriving because he finally wanted to be a part of their culture, yet Daphne couldn't help questioning that. She, unlike most of the half-bloods and muggleborns, knew that one needed to pass their OWLs in order to fully claim the voting rights of their Lordship. Participating in the exam was only allowed if one showed the necessary talent to take part, which meant completing a OWL year at a significant magical school. She doubted it was a coincidence that he decided to arrive at the school now out of all times.

"I kind of hope he looks like Goyle, just to see the reaction on their faces."

She shot a small smirk at Tracey, the girl's infectious grin making it hard for Daphne to keep her face neutral. She had an image to uphold after all, letting her mask drop was simply not an option in Slytherin. It hadn't been as important when she was younger, but once her body started changing and she realized she had inherited her mother's curves, her very existence in the house of snakes became dangerous. Daphne knew the views many of the boys had regarding women and she always felt the urge to scrub herself clean when they mentally undressed her. Her father's influence was nothing to scoff at, yet among the snakes he was just one powerful parent among many. Only the threat of her quick wand and the fact that she and Tracey walked everywhere together kept them at bay. Mostly.

She knew she had only gotten curvier during the summer and couldn't help the slight worry in the back of her mind over spending another full year in the snake pit, especially with the glances the boys in her year sent her. She sent a cold sneer right back at them, gaining a measure of satisfaction at the slight flinch she got as a reward.

A sudden hush settled over the Great Hall as the doors opened and McGonagall walked in, a row of small first years in tow. People barely paid attention to them though, as the last person in the line held all their eyes. Daphne drew a small breath of surprise as she laid eyes on him, from the pictures she had seen James and Lily Potter they were nowhere near that tall. Standing near the first years made his height seem all the more imposing.
He had raven black hair neatly arranged around his face, framing high cheekbones and green eyes that seemed to glow with suppressed magic. His clothes were immaculate and he seemed utterly at ease, even with hundreds of eyes staring at him. A small confident smile spread on his lips and he nodded in greeting, like it was an every day occurrence to be stared at. She couldn't help feel a slight bit of admiration, she wasn't sure if she could stay as cool underneath such intense scrutiny. Studying his face she felt slightly surprised though, the pictures of his parents were nowhere near as.. aristocratic. She knew he was the Black Heir but she hadn't been aware of there being Black blood in his family, he looked every bit the pureblooded Lord.

"So much for that hope."

She nodded at Tracey's comment, even she had to admit that he was a very attractive young man. Yet something seemed to stick out in his demeanor, something that didn't seem to fit right. She kept studying his face until it dawned on her. His eyes. She knew those eyes because she wore similar ones herself, it was a mask. The more she stared the more obvious it became, underneath the smiling easy going profile something else lurked, something she couldn't identify. When his captivating eyes met hers she finally understood, a small shiver traveling down her back. Where as she hid her joy underneath an mask of ice, he seemed to hide his ice underneath a mask of charm. He quirked his lip at her wide eyes and sent her a small nod, as if he had understood exactly what she saw. She jerked her eyes away from his, feeling unnerved for some reason.

Looking at the rest of the students she realized no one else had caught what she did, light blushes adorning more than one girl as they giggled and stared at him. She felt that the wager Nott had proposed earlier on the train might actually have had more basis than they expected. He wanted to take bets about what house Potter would end up in, but no one took any interest as they all assumed he was going to be a Gryffindor. Glancing at the tall, dark and charming boy standing in the middle of the hall, two golden Heir rings on his left hand glinting in the candlelight, she was suddenly far from convinced he was a Gryffindor.

"Potter-Black, Harry James."

She was startled by McGonagall's voice, realizing she had already missed half of the sorting. Potter-Black huh? Claiming the name Black meant he intended to take that Lordship as well, wonder how the magical press felt about their Golden boy taking the head of one of the darkest houses in Britain. Watching him stroll towards the hat with a confident step, sending a grin at a blushing girl or two she swallowed, just how golden was he? He took the hat from McGonagall, his height towering over her and placed it over his head, not bothering to sit down. Barely a second later it spoke.

"Slytherin!"

She wanted to pretend like she was just as gobsmacked as everyone else, yet a small part of her had already been anticipating this. Returning the hat to a frozen McGonagall he bowed to the students and walked towards the table decorated with dark green. This prompted hesitant applause, she wasn't certain who was more hesitant, the snakes applauding their addition or the other houses applauding the new snake. Shock soon gave place to noise as hundreds of discussions erupted, people expressing disbelief over his placement. The only house that kept quiet was the Slytherin table, all eyes glued to the tall young man that calmly sat down next to Tracey, diagonally in front of her.

"Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you."

Tracey appeared startled, staring up into his face before offering her hand.

"Tracey Davis and I think we have established what your name is."

He just shot her a grin in return before kissing the back of her hand with the sort of grace you'd expect from a seasoned pureblood. Daphne wasn't blind to the sort of effect he had on her friend, she might try to appear aloof but the light tint of red on her cheeks gave her away. She almost audibly swallowed as his eyes turned towards her, this close she could practically feel the barely suppressed power coursing through him. The quiet intensity of his green gaze stole her breath away and it wasn't until he quirked his eyebrow with a small smile that she realized he was expecting her to introduce herself. She coughed delicately to hide her slip-up while she furiously occluded her mind to clear any expression from her face.

"Daphne Greengrass."

His eyes seemed to bore right through her as he repeated the greeting from earlier, his soft kiss sending tendrils of warm magic through her fingers. She managed to suppress the shiver than went through her at the action, yet the amused glint in his eyes made her feel like all her secrets were out in the open.

"Disgusting. A dirty half-blood in our house and slobbering over our classmates."

She recognized that voice, the smug high-pitched nasal tone of Pansy Parkinson. No doubt hoping to curry some favor with Malfoy by repeating things he might say. Yet looking at Potter he seemed utterly unconcerned as he calmly released her hand before turning to the new voice. No. Not utterly unconcerned, she had seen the flash in his eyes. He hid it expertly behind his calm facade, yet her words had stirred something.

"Humm, and who might you be?"

His tone was almost amused, a teasing smirk on his face as he studied Parkinson. Yet the intensity lurking behind those eyes only seemed stronger. Pansy was either blind to his eyes or truly believed herself so above him that she didn't care. Most likely a combination of both. The other Slytherins had covertly lowered their voices to hear the discussion, choosing to sit back and observe.

"Pansy Parkinson. Your superior."

Daphne watched as his lazy smile became even wider, almost predatory. It was no longer as charming as she thought earlier.

"Indeed? Parkinson you say."

He slowly poured some water into a goblet as he let his eyes roam over her body, blatantly ogling her.

"Your face is not much to write home about but you do have quite the nice body. With a bag over your head you wouldn't be a bad concubine."

Soft gasps of surprise greeted his words but none of them compared to the outraged face of Parkinson as he stared at him in disbelief.

"WHAT!?"

Daphne watched as he casually toyed with his goblet, no doubt deliberately using his left hand. The candlelight glinted off the two golden rings adorning his fingers, casting his face in an ominous light.

"Lord Parkinson," he started, still smiling that predatory grin at Pansy.

"After having seen your daughter at Hogwarts I wish to propose a concubine contract between your House and the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. Knowing how dear your daughter is to you I will naturally include a bride price that reflects this."

Sipping his goblet he conversationally continued.

"What do you think would be a good price Pansy? Perhaps two hundred thousand galleons would be okay?"

He seemed to mull over the sum as Parkinson's eyes widened in disbelief at the number. Daphne realized the point he made with the sum, he could easily afford it, both the houses of Potter and Black were filthy rich, yet Lord Parkinson would no doubt gladly accept any contract with such a bride price. The Parkinsons were wealthy, but they were nowhere near the point where they would turn down such offers.

"Of course I understand that Pansy does not yet know me, so I wish the contract to be drawn under the old laws with the Encouragement Clause included. As a Lord and father yourself you no doubt understand how fickle teenage girls can be at times. This would no doubt smooth over any issues."

Pansy looked nauseous and to be honest, Daphne couldn't blame her. The Encouragement Clause was a vile piece of law that allowed the groom to use any means he saw necessary to encourage the bride to fulfill her 'wifely duty'. Potions, spells, any form of brainwashing really, was completely legal.

Potter watched her rapidly paling face before he continued, that damnable grin still on his face.

"Of course once you are my concubine there will be no more need for you to attend classes. You will spend your days in my room and nights in my bed, a sex toy has no need of an education after all. The only lessons you'll need to learn I will have no issues teaching you. In fact, I don't think I'll allow you to go outside at all, I'd rather enjoy you while you are young and then send you away to some distant Black property when I grow tired of you. Perhaps I'll have one built somewhere in Siberia just for you."

Daphne swallowed as she watched the way Pansy shook, a bit of moisture gathering in her eyes. Potter was systematically destroying her future. Showing her how little her life meant to him and how easily he could crush it. It would be perfectly legal as well. The most terrifying aspect was how easily he could do it. Not by raising his wand, not by raising his voice, merely by writing a single piece of parchment.

"I'm s-sorry."

Her voice was quiet now. Meek. Shaking.

"I didn't quite catch that, what did you say?"

Potters tone hadn't shifted at all during his speech, it sounded like he was telling an amusing joke yet no one was laughing. Pansy swallowed before bowing her head, closing her eyes to hide the tears forming.

"I apologize for my insult Lord Potter-Black, I misspoke."

She seemed to be holding her breath as Potter casually studied her now subservient pose, absently sipping his water. He then chuckled humorously.

"Oh of course, apology accepted. What's a few jokes between students right?"

Parkinson practically deflated in relief before shutting herself off from everyone and nibbling at her food. Daphne saw the way her hands shook as she hid them in her lap. Shifting her blue eyes to Potter she studied him as he started eating the feast, seemingly enjoying the food without a care in the world. He had sent a message. This was no golden boy of Gryffindor. He wouldn't take insults sitting down. She was grateful for Parkinsons stupidity, giving her advance warning about what kind of man was sitting at their table.

Reaching for her spoon she was surprised to see her own hand shaking as well.