Author's Note: This story is written just for fun, and for that reason the focus will be on lemons. A plot seemed to form in my head the more I wrote, so we'll see how that turns out. Harry and some of the other characters will probably go a bit out-of-character because I'm driving this story where I want it to go. I do have a plan for what I want to unfold, but I'm wide open to feedback and critiques. So please, favorite, follow, and comment!

Important: There are sexual situations and heavy use of inappropriate language in this story. If you are offended by these things or made uncomfortable by them, please do not read this story! Continue reading only if you are comfortable with content suitable for mature teens and older. You have been warned!

And now, I present to you, Harry Potter's Concubine Court!

It was a late Saturday evening in the Gryffindor common room when Harry Potter discovered something that would change the course of his school year. Hermione had gone to bed earlier, and Ron had just said farewell for the night. Harry had resolved to finish his homework before Sunday, and he pressed on. He was flipping the pages of his potions textbook mindlessly, hoping half-heartedly to find some information on the uses of powdered unicorn horn in sleeping draughts, for a lovely essay Professor Slughorn had assigned.

He was fairly tired, and in danger of falling asleep and out of his chair, when his eye caught something on the page. It was one of the many notes from his seeming guardian angel, the Half-blood Prince. Harry frowned as his eyes read the message, scribbled quickly in dark ink.

Of course, you could use three and two-thirds grams of powdered unicorn horn in a sleeping potion for regenerative, dreamless sleep, but if you had access to unicorn horn you would be much better served selling it or making an aphrodisiac.

Harry reread the last part. An aphrodisiac? Like a love potion? He felt his ears prickle, like his body was reacting to what he had read. A love potion...he did like the sound of that. Much more than the uses of unicorn horn in sleeping draughts, anyway. Figuring he could afford to waste some time, Harry idly found scanned the table of contents, searching for a love potion. He was surprised to find that the book had a potion of attraction listed. He flipped to it and read:

Barnabus Constantine, a medieval alchemist and prolific translator of Latin texts, devised the now famous Potion of Attraction. The potion requires rare ingredients and careful preparation, but brewed correctly, can imbue the consumer with minor aphrodisiac qualities. Properly brewed, the potion will make the drinker more charismatic and appear more intelligent. Most famously, the drinker will become slightly more attractive to the opposite sex. However, the mildness of the potion begets it more to a politician at a party than a man with a mind for romance.

So, not really that great, thought Harry. Under the official description, however, he saw another note from the Prince.

Well, no shit it's weak. Barnabus was pretty barmy never to try doubling the amount of unicorn horn. Not to mention if one simply added a dash of asphodel juice at the second brewing stage, and a few grams of murtlap tentacles in the beginning. These tweaks could probably triple the effects, and you could probably get six times the potency if you let it ferment after step six.

Harry's scalp prickled. He felt as though he had just discovered something big. Sixes times the potency of a potion that granted charisma and attractiveness. It didn't matter how mild the potion was; multiply "slightly more attractive" by six and you got "panties-dropping hot." Harry was onboard the second the implications sunk in. He could have any girl in the school. No one would be able to resist him. And sure, people would talk and gossip, but what was wrong with the Boy-Who-Lived being a bit of a womanizer? Hell, it might make him even more desireable.

He read over the instructions closely, his potions essay forgotten. He flipped the parchment over and began copying the directions, carefully modifying where the Half-Blood Prince had scoffed. When he was done, he reread his handiwork to make sure he'd missed nothing. It wouldn't do to turn his dick into a snake or something.

When he was confident he's made no errors, he folded the parchment and slipped it into his robes. He checked his watch: fifteen past one. If he hurried, he could snare the ingredients that very night. He checked the common room to make sure it was empty. Then he pulled the invisibility cloak from his bag with a flourish. This is true mischief, he thought smugly. He shrugged the sloak on and carefully stacked his books on the table. He would need all the space in his bag he could squeeze out of it.

He opened the portrait hole quietly. Surveying the hallway quickly, he swiped his wand to to cast quick silencing charms on his feet to muffle his footsteps. If he ran into a Hogwarts teacher, he would have to rely on the cloak to stay hidden, but there was nothing to gain in advertising his presence. Besides, it was the middle of the night. No one would be in the mood to discipline a wayward student anyway. Even Peeves had to rest sometime.

Cautious nonetheless, Harry stealthily made his way down to the dungeons. Past the gargoyle that hid the Slytherin common rooms, past the door to Slughorn's office...finally, he reached the six year potions class. It was unlocked, and he gently eased it open.

"Lumos," he whispered, the light from his wand dimming as he willed it. By its feeble beam, he made his way past the desks to the store cupboard at the back of the room. He opened his bag and pulled out his list.

"Essence of comfrey, essence of murtlap…" he breathed as he plucked the bottles off the shelf. Some where too big to take, so he poured generous amounts into flasks and stuffed them into his bag. He scratched the items off his list as he went. When he'd grabbed everything he could from the sixth year cupboard, he tidied up and repeated the process in the seventh year room. He had nearly everything from his nighttime episode of larceny, and he felt only barely remorseful. Besides, this could get him laid, like, multiple times. That was a cause any Hogwarts student, at least the guys, could agree on.

For the last and rarest ingredients, such as the unicorn horn powder, he had to make a discreet visit to Slughorn's office. The potions master no doubt locked his door with something a little more advanced than Alohomora, but Harry avoided any confrontation with magical wards by simply slicing the latch in two and opening the door. After relieving Slughorn of a few choice items, he repaired the mechanism and slipped back into the darkness of the corridor.

"I must say, Mr. Potter, you're essay on the use of unicorn horn in sleeping draughts was quite fascinating. It certainly is an uncommon thought, to boil it before stirring, but I agree you would be better off letting it settle, especially if it's being combined with Aqua Vitæ. Quite a combination, that! Full marks!" Slughorn belched happily, patting Harry jovially on the shoulder.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Was this your idea, Harry, or did it come out of that awful book of yours?"

"Who cares, it got him full marks," Ron grinned. "So did you, Hermione, why do you care?"

The three of them were busy in potions the day after Harry's escapade. His two friends were blissfully unaware of the plan that the Boy-Who-Lived had concocted. And if Harry had his way, that's how it would remain. After all, being a sex master was a trait better shown than told. It would be no secret that he was the big man around castle, not after he'd picked up ten chicks and was getting full marks from charmed teachers. Sure, people would suspect magical intervention, but as long as Harry kept his little trick a secret, there was no reason he couldn't have a whale of a good time.

The bell rang, and the class drifted out into the corridor, chatting innocently about various classes and upcoming projects. They had an hour to kill before lunch, thanks to their perforated schedules, and Hermione suggested going up to the common room to get started on Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. On their way up from the dungeons, Harry excused himself to go to the bathroom.

"I'll be a while, I'll meet you up there," he said, waving them onward as he ducked into the lavatory. Waiting a few minutes to make sure they had gone, he emerged into the hallway and quickly strode to a very different destination than Gryffindor tower.

He carefully opened the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Relieved to see the whiny bitch of a ghost wasn't around, he crossed to the sink and, after a moment of concentration, said the words he had first spoken four years ago.

"Open."

With a faint rumbling, the sink slid aside, revealing the slide down into the bowels of the castle. Harry grinned; the ride was quite fun once you knew what awaited you at the bottom. He placed his bag on his lap and eased himself into the chute. Within a minute he was spat into the antechamber to the great cavern of the Chamber of Secrets. The rotting Basilisk skin was still there, though he had pushed it off to the side, and of course, the skeleton of the beast itself was splayed out across the back floor.

Close to the entrance, Harry had set up a modest brewing stand the previous night. A cauldron bubbled gently over a bewitched fire, and periodically an enchanted ladle would stir it slowly, raising the bubbling to a froth and provoking shifts in color. Harry had picked up several basic housekeeping spells at the Burrow the previous summer, and he was pleased to see they had applications outside the home.

The Chamber of Secrets felt like a bad place to set up shop, at first thought. It had, after all, been nothing more than a source of evil in the past. But Harry needed a secure place to brew the potion and as far as he knew, he was the only person in the school who could get in. He tried to ignore the corpse of the serpent as he worked, setting up ingredients and adjusting the various spells in place. It was tricky work, brewing a potion when you couldn't actually be there to watch it, but Harry had a diagram of all his steps planned out, and do far everything had worked without a hitch.

His mind wandered as he watched the potion slowly bubble in the cauldron. This whole endeavor had happened because he had stumbled on some notes in the middle of the night. And he still hadn't given solid consideration to what he would do if the whole thing worked. He had been enticed by the idea of amplifying his attractiveness, but he was worried that there might be repercussions past what he could think of.

As soon as the doubts surfaced, however, they submerged. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, he was supposed to get all the girls. He was extremely wealthy, fairly handsome, and anyhow, what was the point of defeating Voldemort four times if he didn't get something out of the life he still had? Outside the peace and tranquility of the castle, there was a war going on; people were dying. He had this year, and maybe next, and then he would be thrust into the thick of battle. He wanted to take advantage of this calm before the storm as much as he could.

His ministrations to the potion complete, he stowed away his things and embarked on the careful climb up the ladder into the girls' bathroom. He had found the ladder during a careful survey of the premises, making sure there were no other entrances or monsters left by old man Slytherin. He'd found the ladder, which led to a concealed door in the wall of the bathroom, and was certainly a hell of a lot easier to use than climbing up the slide. He grinned as he crept into the corridor. His plan was almost to fruition. Thanks to the Half-Blood Prince and his own careful planning, the potion would be ready by midnight tonight, over two days before the original recipe would finish. One more night's excursion and it would would all fall into place.

"I think Harry might have gone straight to lunch," Ron declared, sliding his work into his bag and straightening up. "I'm hungry, anyway."

"Meet you there," Hermione smiled and turned back to her arithmetic. She liked Ron as a friend, even as a brother, but it was clear he valued her company in a much more endearing way than that, and she quite simply didn't reciprocate. She just wasn't into the tall, gangly type. Harry was a bit shorter, but he had gotten muscled and his features had sharpened. He looked more like a man than Ron, who still maintained his boyish looks.

"So, Hermione, you're not going to lunch with your boyfriend?" inquired a lilting voice from behind her. Lavender Brown was unpacking some work, grinning at her teasingly. Hermione rolled her eyes. It was just some innocent fun the Gryffindor girls liked to poke, but it sure got tiring.

"I could ask the same about you and Mister Finnigan," she said, provoking a snort in response.

"Nah. Try fingering yourself to him; it doesn't really click."

"Shut up!" Hermione giggled, glancing around to make sure they were alone in the common room. "And I can finger myself anyway I want."

"Fingering?" said Parvati Patil, stepping off the staircase. She raised her eyebrows and said, "Pardon me, but did I hear Seamus Finnigan, and fingering in the same sentence?" That doesn't seem like a match to me."

"I know," squealed Lavender, her face wrinkling with mirth.

Hermione grinned. As much as she tried to be above them, these immature discussions always entertained her. It was nice to let go of wizarding sophistication and just wallow in some teenage fun.

"How about Dean, though?" she said, dropping the name of the boy all the girls secretly adored. "I haven't looked under his robes recently, but I don't think it's his wand I'm seeing in there."

"Recently?!" Lavender Brown burst out laughing.

"It was a figure of speech!"

"Oh, it better have been, Miss Granger, or you'll have some explaining to do!"

Harry crept through the castle, alone, for the second night that week. He had had to fight himself the whole day to keep his excitement from showing. Now, he could let the tension out. He raced to the bathroom, the cloak flapping around him. Through the sink, down the slide, into the Chamber before Moaning Myrtle could even open her eyes. His heart pounded as he approached the cauldron. He had deliberately made the original potion of attraction in class, on the pretense of mishearing Professor Slughorn, so he would have a frame of reference. The original potion had been a light lavender color. His was more of a orchid/lilac shade. He hoped that was because of how much more potent it was.

He skimmed his instructions diagram a final time, making sure every step had been followed, then folded it and tucked it away. From his bag, he pulled a potion flask, cast a cleaning spell on it just to be safe (cross-potion contamination is very dangerous) and carefully dipped it into the cauldron.

Harry hadn't thought about quantity at first, but he had realized that the standard amount of potion one consumed, according to the book, was one glass, and he had about two gallons of it in the cauldron. He also didn't know how long the effects would last. His textbook listed the duration of maximum potency at 4 hours, when one would exude the maximal aura of charisma and be the most artificially attractive. The Prince's potion, if Harry was correct, would not only enhance the effects to the level of extremely powerful aphrodisiacs, but would also lengthen the duration to a whopping 24 hours. The night and the morning after, and maybe the night again, Harry grinned to himself.

He considered the purple potion in his hand for a moment, reflecting idly on the many possibilities that awaited him among the crowd of Hogwarts girls. Then he tipped the beaker to his lips and gulped the concoction down. It had the texture of a fruit smoothie, but it was warm, and the taste was more like a butterbeer. He finished the drink and set the beaker down, ready to steady himself on the potion stand if he became dizzy.

The only effect he could feel was a slight tingling in his limbs, and a sensation of warmth, like he'd drunk a mug of hot tea quite fast. After another minute, he felt sure any severe side effects would have materialized. He extinguished the low burn under the cauldron, cast a bubble charm to keep the potion clean, and turned to begin the long climb back into the castle.

As Harry climbed off the ladder, he checked his watch - it was only ten o' clock. School curfew declared that all students had to be in their dormitories by 10 PM, and not leave before 6 AM. It was a Sunday evening, however, and most students would probably go to bed early to be rested for Monday. But Harry was sure there was one workaholic girl whom he could give a nighttime visit...