A/N: Don't own them. The title and the chapter titles come from the Jeffery Noon novel Vurt.Amazing novel, everyone should read it.

If you truly hate your parents, the man, or the establishment, don't show them by getting wasted and crashing your car into a tree. Show them by outearning them, out living them, and knowing more -Henry Rollins

It was warm and bright, and he sat huddled under the only shade provided, under the tall, rigid tree, nose-deep in a book. He heard the laugh, and he couldn't help the small smirk that crossed his face. He'd be found, but he didn't care. He turned his attention back to what he was reading, but it was only a sort of half-attention. It was too warm, too beautiful of a day to really pay attention. The laugh got closer and closer, until there was a tall, blond adonis in front of him. "Severus, sitting here with a nose in a book, what else is new? We're trying to get a makeshift quidditch match going, and we're one short, come on, play with us." He couldn't help but smile back. The man was, if nothing else, charismatic. "Why do you read so much?"

He shrugged. "I like to read. Like learning."

"Sound like a bloody Ravenclaw." Lucius plucked the book out of his hand, reading the cover. "Although I suppose Ravenclaws don't read all about the darkest of dark magic." He shrugged again. "Slytherin to the core, even if you do like learning."He grinned, catching the broomstick that was tossed to him, leaving the book aside.

He forgot all about it while they played, his mind on the game instead. It was reading for fun, for enrichment. His schooling was done, but yet, it felt unfinished. He still hadn't learned everything he wanted to. He supposed he never would. It was something Lucius didn't understand. He wanted to know everything there was to know, to learn until he couldn't, until his brain was filled with everything to know. And he wanted to be able to use it. He wanted to learn every single dark curse out there to use them against a family who had thrown him away like refuse. He wanted to learn every spell out there to bring someone back from the verge of death just so he could repeat it over and over again.

He wanted to learn how to make himself famous, how to give himself power that he craved. How to become everything that he dreamed of. And a boy locked in a room, with parents that forgot about him, caught between two worlds has much to dream of, because he has nothing but his imagination as a friend. He wanted his dreams to be fulfilled. And learning would do that, knowledge would do that, he'd learn it all and use it all.

The match ended, and he came slowly back to earth, not quite wanting to leave the clouds, but doing so anyway. Flying was freedom. There was freedom here in the Malfoy gardens, there was freedom to be who he was, to not be looked down upon. Lucius accepted him, counted him as a friend. He collected his book to the curious look of Lucius. "What is it with you and books anyway? Why do you want to learn all this stuff, you're done with school, you have a whole summer before you really have to worry about going out and making a living, why waste it in books?" He shrugged.

"I-I just want to know everything there is. Dark magic, it's fascinating-" Lucius laughed.

"What would you do to learn more of it?" He thought for a second.

"Anything."

"Anything?" His friend questioned, and he nodded.

"Look, I think I know a guy-" Even at seventeen, completely unrefined as of yet, Lucius Malfoy could make anyone do what he wanted. All it took was his mentioning "unlimited knowledge" and he was hooked. After all, the road to hell begins with a single step.

He was entranced by it, from the first. It was one of his most distinct memories, despite how hazy everything had been. The nervousness, the apprehension as he found himself in a field, surrounded by about twenty others, all as nervous as he was. Not Lucius, he'd been here before, he knew how it worked. The Dark Lord had appeared, and they had all bowed down. One by one they were called, one by one they were asked why they were there, why they were joining. There were the ones that said that they believed in the cause, that mudbloods were filth, should be eradicated.

He didn't exactly echo those sentiments. He'd never been one for senseless violence. Senseless violence lead to revenge. But he did agree that mudbloods were far from fine specimens of breeding. Then again, so was he, but no one knew that. It was his little secret. Sure, he'd come up with his own moniker, pointing it out, sure, the little boy with the hyperactive imagination had big dreams, but he kept them all to himself, he kept his dreams, kept his secret, to himself.

There were those who were there who claimed they wanted riches, wanted power. He was the one that swallowed hard, walking up to the Dark Lord, kneeling down deep, staring his new master in the eyes, and answered that the one thing he wanted most out of joining the Death Eaters was knowledge. Knowledge would lead to power. He had the distinct feeling that the Dark Lord could read his mind-and indeed, he was. The Dark Lord could see his thirst for knowing everything he could, and using it against those he hated.

"Indeed, boy. Your thirst for knowledge will be slaked, if you follow me." And the Dark Lord was true to his word, he always was at first. He didn't care that he was being used as a pawn, someone to learn everything the Dark Lord wanted him to know so that he could be useful, later. He was quite content to be a pawn, learning everything he could, every curse, every spell, everything. He was quite content to torture a man who had tortured him, leaving him to die. He was quite content to put any sense of morals he held by the wayside to learn.

He was wrapped around the little finger of higher intelligence, he had been lured in by it, was placed under it's siren song. It was more beautiful than a woman to him, he needed it more than any carnal pleasure. Knowledge was a carnal pleasure to him. It was what he lusted after, it was what he loved more than anything, more than he could ever love any woman.

He had been promised knowledge, and he had received it, and he would do anything to stay attached to that constant mainline of information. It was better than any drug to him. He did do anything for it, the same way a junkie did anything to get their fix, he was willing to kill for it, and he didn't care. He'd been so wrapped up in the allure of it, punch-drunk on it, the same way the others were with their commanding power. He didn't need to be put in charge of others to have power. He commanded it by knowing more than the others.

He never thought that knowledge could hurt. Stupid, naïve boy.