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amand_rOut of nowhere, this comes...
It genuinely surprised Severus, when, glancing up at his shadowy bedroom and seeing all those people there, the realization hit him: he was popular. At least, enough to get him laid, he realized even more placidly as he watched Narcissa working his cock with her mouth. Whether or not she enjoyed it mattered little; when she was done he snapped the phial in his palm, watching the spirals crawl into her eyes.
He suddenly understood what he had thought was a game, a distraction was so much more. Everything had worked, and now knowledge=drugs/pussy/cock/moredrugs.
Severus knew that he would learn all that Hogwarts had to teach him, and then he would turn tail and run, rejecting its mission. He might think of it once in a while, a scant trace of reminiscence for the Bloody Baron, perhaps for Avril Sinestra, or even that damn portrait of the lady who had always flashed him on his way to Arithmancy every day. But he would never want for Hogwarts, he knew, and he'd barely remember it fondly.
It was a tool, afterall, a tool that he'd needed, like Avery, like Lucius, like Narcissa, even Lily, who had let him corrupt her, and who, in their sixth year, had blown him every night after James Potter had scuttled back to Gryffindor tower.
Must be developed into something. Yes, it must.
It genuinely surprised Severus, when, glancing up at his shadowy bedroom and seeing all those people there, the realization hit him: he was popular. At least, enough to get him laid, he realized even more placidly as he watched Narcissa working his cock with her mouth. Whether or not she enjoyed it mattered little; when she was done he snapped the phial in his palm, watching the spirals crawl into her eyes.
He suddenly understood what he had thought was a game, a distraction was so much more. Everything had worked, and now knowledge=drugs/pussy/cock/moredrugs.
Severus knew that he would learn all that Hogwarts had to teach him, and then he would turn tail and run, rejecting its mission. He might think of it once in a while, a scant trace of reminiscence for the Bloody Baron, perhaps for Avril Sinestra, or even that damn portrait of the lady who had always flashed him on his way to Arithmancy every day. But he would never want for Hogwarts, he knew, and he'd barely remember it fondly.
It was a tool, afterall, a tool that he'd needed, like Avery, like Lucius, like Narcissa, even Lily, who had let him corrupt her, and who, in their sixth year, had blown him every night after James Potter had scuttled back to Gryffindor tower.
Must be developed into something. Yes, it must.
