It Started Started With a Potions Master
11 - Letter Interlude
“This must be what going mad feels like.” Severus pondered. “I finally understand Dumbledore.” He shook his head rapidly. “Wait. No, I don't. I've not yet reached that level of senility... have I?” The mirror had no answer for him. Well, it might have but since it had been silenced for the last decade it hardly mattered.
Potter and Draco were more than driving him to distraction. If he didn't know better he would swear they had preformed Legilimency on him. How else could know the things they did? Everyday was another torment, another fantasy or kink hinted at – if not out right put on display – to tempt Severus from his moral high ground.
Oh, some would argue that Snape had no morals, and they'd be mostly right. One line he had never crossed had been the line between Student and Teacher. He'd seen the greasy ferment that had been Slughorn's club. Most of the members had been legitimately outstanding students or high ranking political and social contacts. But a few had been his 'dears'. If invites to his little club had been all they garnered it wouldn't have been nearly as distasteful (Severus' opinion of Slughorn's appearance aside) but the former Potion's teacher was known to be more forgiving of his 'dears' when it came to assignments and behavior. Severus knew that it had been the threat of a scandal over Slughorn cooking exam grades that had led to Slughorn's retirement.
Looking at his ragged reflection Severus felt rather pitiful. His sleep was constantly plagued with dreams of Potter and Draco. His waking hours left him feeling stalked as one or both boys seemed to be everywhere. Lurking.
Perhaps he should talk to someone about it. Dumbledore was out for obvious reasons. Perhaps Minerva? No, no. That old cat would find too much pleasure in tormenting and chastising him. The last time he'd talked to Sprout about his social life (in his second year of teaching) she'd sent him a tentacle plant and a rather graphic erotic manual. Not an experience he wanted to repeat.
That didn't leave a lot of people in Severus' circle of acquaintances.
Hmmm. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. It wasn't Severus' fault that Harr- Potter and Draco were acting as they were. Get rid of the stimulus and thus goes the symptoms.
Yes. That was an idea. He'd write Black. Inform the mongrel that his Precious Godson was trying to seduce his worst enemy. If Severus knew Black, and he did, then Black would storm the castle and straighten his wayward godson out. Without Potter, Draco would lose his confidence and soon leave the game as well.
Perfect. As they say; age and treachery over youth and beauty.
Sirius could hardly believe the letter he received from his former classmate. Harry? Trying to seduce him?! The nearly flying greasebat of the dungeons? He was sorely tempted to floo in to speak with Albus about the possibility of Snape's brain being fried by that son of a seagull Moldie-shorts.
And his further delusions that Harry was consorting with the son of another of his school-day rivals, Malfoy. The notion of such a union was obscene, ludicrous even. (And despite Snape's assurances, yes Sirius did know what that meant.)
Growling, as he knew a visit would be impossible and Albus would refuse to entertain any notions he may have, Sirius felt a reply owl would have to do.
Dingbat,
Your bed, you lie in it.
-END-
Click to join twin_swords