Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. So…. your mom!

A/N: Sorry it took so long, been going through a bunch of life changes and stuff. Hope you like it, I thought it was about time I tied some strings, but not too many…you'll see what I mean.

Warning: Incest...Gay people, gay things, bit of cursing, nothing hardcore…yet.

Where we last left off…

"Yeah…" the blonde gave him that searching "are you drunk" look, gliding to his sofa and plopping down. "How much have you drunk and do you want some?" Draco held up a bottle of wine, half empty from the looks of it. Hey, he was a businessman; the glass is always half empty rather than half full…Yeah, no more drinking.

Chapter Thirteen

He patted wildly at his pants pockets, shivering when he remembered that he had just run out of his meds last night. The distraction of 3 gorgeous men in his home -one of which he was madly infatuated with- must have made him forget to order someone to get them. Well…fuckage…fuckage? He'd been hanging around Clark for far too long. Or maybe not long enough. It took him a few seconds to feel the intensity of his cousin's gaze pass the wine bottle at his lips, which he did not recall taking. That was going to bother the hell out of him later. Didn't he just assert the 'no drinking' law. Oh well, it wasn't on paper.

"Thirsty?" And the bottle was still in the air, most people would applaud his breathing skills not mock his ability to down half a bottle of wine. Draco raised that damn eyebrow and he thought of hexing it off a bit, just enough to give it the feminine curve the blonde needed to start his life as a woman with a cock. He laughed to himself.

"Just a little," rising to his feet was not as easy a task as Draco made it seem and he stumbled, leaning against the wonderfully comfortable desk.

"Now I have to get more drinks. Bastard." The casual tone soothed his ringing ears and made the world tilt not so much. He now remembered why the blonde was his favorite relative; maybe he wouldn't curse him with the life of a transsexual. He watched his cousin with apt attention, for fear of more tilting, noting the slight swing of his hips, the grace in his walk-maybe he would.

A sound, however, distracted him, almost like the swishing of tree leaves. It grew louder and was finally distinguishable as boyish laughter, dare he think, giggling? The sound of giggling grew steadily closer and he could not warn the blonde, armed with two bottles of wine and directly in the line of fire, as two straws hit Draco directly between the eyes.

All noise stopped, and Lex could have sworn he saw a ball of Wild West weed roll by. Clark and Harry stood in the doorway, both equally guilty and sheepish. Draco's eyes were flames and Lex…Well; he was still leaning, as casually as possible, against his comfy desk. Quite drunk.

"What, exactly, do you think you two are doing?" Harry was quite impressed with the blonde's Snape impression and withheld the urge to clap and whistle. It was quite obvious, Lex deduced, that they, too, had "indulged" a bit, as their faces were flush and their eyes far too bright for good humor alone.

"Uh…well…" of course, elegant as ever, Clark.

"It was Clark's idea!" Harry shouted suddenly, and Clark's dumbfound expression took on that of great outrage.

"Traitor!" Clark erupted.

"Everyman for himself!" Harry yelled and not a moment too soon as Draco came charging at them both with the wine bottles in hand, a war cry at his lips.

The activity was all too much for Lex's inebriated mind to handle and, in a wind whirl of motion, they, somehow, ended up in the entertainment room. Popcorn and empty bottles of wine and brandy littered the floor around the couch. His thighs were quite comfortably squashed under the weight of Clark's big head, his shoulder heavy with Draco's and Harry leaning casually under the blonde's arm, munching heavily. Someone screamed somewhere and he jumped, only to color slightly at the chuckle of laughter around him when he realized it came from the large screen.

Draco's heart felt like it would beat from his chest. The Gryfindor boy smelled of sweet cologne, sex and Clark, it was only by nature and a distinct sense of knowing that he could tell it was in fact the Golden boy and not the alien himself. His head spun with the mass of alcohol he had consumed, and the heady scent of sex and Potter did not help matters. His only saving grace was the cool fabric at his cousin's shoulder, which he leaned into. The movement however distanced him from Potter and he did not know if that was something he wanted or not. Harry made the decision for him, thankfully, snuggling into his side more firmly as if to make a point.

The air was heavily with the scent of their arousal. And it was strange, Harry thought, tossing another cornel into his mouth. His mind, like many, began to wander in it's intoxication. All the unanswered questions, all the lies he was sure to find behind this momentarily veil of comfort.

His fuzzy mind began to clear as his consciousness continued to produce strange connections. Draco and Lex could not have sex because of their mates. What did that mean? Did it have something to do with Clark and himself? Their, now, frequent divulging in one another's body? Or maybe with this sudden mystery inheritance? And the death eaters? Had they appeared while he and Clark were in the field? And if they had, did they see? Voldemort could use Clark against him…but Clark was powerful in himself, could he hold his own against Voldemort, even with his invulnerability? Could he outlast the killing curse? Harry felt an icy chill run up his spine and all pretenses of the effect of the alcohol left his body. His imagination ran wild, as the killer on the screen killed yet another unsuspecting victim.

The severity of the situation began to overwhelm him. He started to connect the dots much like Hermoine would have if she had been present. What was Lana doing in the field? Why had he been so fucking –horny- that he had to accost the only family he was to have known? Why could he feel Lex and Draco and Clark's arousal as if he were pressed against their bodies?

As the scene shifted on the screen, he came to few but monumental conclusions. His inheritance had to have something to do with his increase in libido as he was certain sex had not been on his mind so often before (even as a healthy teenage boy with a crush on his Potion's professor). And, in relation, his inheritance had something to do with Clark. The almost instant connection he felt with the alien was something he would only have heard about from Hermoine spouting her nonsense about romance novels and the like. His mind traveled to the little he had been told about Lex and Draco's situation and he almost vomited with the implication.

"Potter?" he heard Draco say, when he hopped to his feet, head spinning, face screwed up in a grimace. Their mates were unworthy? –Were- unworthy? But were not unworthy anymore? Because of him- Draco needed his help? He and Clark lost their virginity to one another…the earth shaking…his inheritance. Mates? The only Potter heir thought he was going to be sick and would have collapsed had Malfoy not grabbed his shirt and pulled him back on the couch. The comfortable calm of the air, and the drifting scent of arousal, extinguished completely as, suddenly, the other three men crowded the drugged looking Gryfindor.

"Harry," Clark's worried voice broke through the haze of thoughts scattering through his mind and he had to let them out, "are you okay?" He had to let them out before he exploded, or imploded, or something…worse… Darkness colored the corners of his vision before he could speak and his world went black on a lingering thought: he was also almost certain that Lana had something to do with the appearance of the death eaters.

Hope you liked it, please review.

SUGGESTIONS OPEN!!