Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit
The Confessions of Auriga Sinistra
Author's Note: I realized that the dates were off, so I had to re-upload. Yay.
Once more, thank you, thank you for the reviews! :-) I am eternally grateful.
And in other news...
This fic now has...a companion! Yes, yes, yes, it's true. You can now read about these exciting adventures from a Mr. Severus Snape's point of view in Diaries of a Dungeon-Dwelling Moron by Gedia Kacela. It can be found below, and I strongly suggest that you check it out, as it's absolutely hilarious. :-)
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1218662
And now on to more Auriga ramblings!
-Part II.-
Monday, September 2, 1991
4:26 P.M.
Astronomy Tower
First lesson tonight; oh-so-luckily, it's with the third year Gryffindors.
If the Weasley twins fix all the telescopes to Uranus again, I'm giving out detentions. No more Ms. Nice Professor.
I suppose they think they're rather funny.
Though I admit when they did it last year, I had to laugh a little.
Aurgh. That's one of my negative points. I simply can't bring myself to punish anyone. And quite frankly, part of being a teacher is punishing your students when they're wrong. I'm almost scared of it.
This is probably because during my first year of teaching, I took five points away from a Hufflepuff first year for talking and she burst into hysterical sobs.
Let's get one thing straight: I cannot comfort people to save my life. And so I was stuck there patting her very awkwardly on the back and saying stupid things that sounded reassuring in my mind but warped themselves horribly once they were out of my mouth. 'Don't worry, your house won't be too mad at you...why, I remember when I lost points in my third year, they all started talking to me again after a week or two!' was particularly painful, but the worst one was probably 'Don't worry, Hufflepuff hasn't won the House Cup for ages, anyway!'
And so I was stuck bumbling like an idiot while all of her friends flashed me death glares that actually scared me. I was halfway expecting one of them to pull out a wand and hex me.
Hufflepuffs, I have decided, are greatly underestimated.
Snape, on the other hand, is completely heartless when it comes to punishment. I've seen him take twenty points because someone commented in a whisper that he hadn't dotted one of his i's on the chalkboard.
He's the teacher from hell, I swear it.
And of course, he feels absolutely compelled to mock me whenever it comes to points. At the end of the day, Albus collects how many points have been taken from each house, and then the hourglasses that keep score are altered. I have the longest consecutive amount of zeroes - two and a half years now.
And let me tell you, if that haughty bastard says, in that low silky voice of his, "Well, well, well, Auriga; isn't that sweet of you? Surely the idea of punishment is absolutely unfathomable to a kind and caring educator such as yourself."
And I can't do anything except glare at him.
But let me tell you, he gets my best glares. And I can glare pretty threateningly when I want to. I can even match up to his legendary sneers, when he gets me particularly pissed off.
Sigh.
Maybe I should go fix a spell on the telescopes.
Just in case.
8:02 P.M.
Bedroom Quarters
Damn you, Gilderoy Lockhart.
God, I'm tired. And it's barely eight o'clock at night! Which really is quite sad.
Why, out of all the teaching jobs here, do I have to have the one which requires staying up until one thirty in the morning every night?
Good Lord, I want to sleep.
I need energy. Maybe I'll venture down to the dungeons and ask Snape to whip up a Liveliness Potion or something.
No. Scratch that.
Knowing him, he'll give me extra and I'll be bouncing off the walls and laughing hysterically throughout the lesson. Which I'm sure the students would find entertaining, but I doubt that I'd be able to teach very well.
Perhaps I'll just guzzle a few mugs of coffee. Much safer.
I'm never staying up to read that stupid book again.
...Okay, not read. Look at the twelve pages of glossy color photos.
Well, excuse me. Right now, Gilderoy's the closest thing I have to any sort of paramour, and that picture of him winking roguishly as he glides through the sky on a broomstick is...wow.
Right.
Anyway.
Moving on.
Harry Potter is here; I would have written yesterday about him, but I was a bit distracted and on a bit of Gilderoy mind-fix. It's frightening, how much he looks like his father. But he has his mother's eyes.
(Harry, not Gilderoy.)
He was sorted into Gryffindor, as is to be expected. He is, after all, the savior of the wizarding world. Hufflepuff, or Slytherin certainly wouldn't suit him. Especially Slytherin, which would be frighteningly ironic.
Snape's been glaring daggers at the poor child during meals; I fear to think about what he'll do to him during his first Potions lesson.
It must be strange for Snape, I suppose, after everything that happened to the Potters. He was quite infatuated with Lily Evans when we were all at school; that was no secret, and the Marauders always gave him absolute hell because of it.
And then, of course, he was a Death Eater.
That's strange to think about, really.
I mean, of course he's sinister and awful and sardonic and quite the bastard indeed, but...he's killed people before. He's probably kissed the Dark Lord's robes.
It's just....
Strange.
And I suppose it must be odd for him to see Harry.
But the glaring really has to stop. Snape needs an alternate way to express his emotions.
Or a psychiatrist.
Or both.
Tuesday, September 3, 1991
10:13 A.M.
Teacher's Lounge
He.
Is.
Such.
A.
Bastard.
And.
I.
Hate.
Him.
I was up until five thirty in the morning. I'd temporarily forgotten the fact that drinking more than one cup of coffee prevents me from sleeping entirely. The Weasley twins set off a huge supply of Filibuster fireworks in the middle of the lesson and very nearly exploded a telescope.
It was, in short, not a nice evening.
And I am fully aware that I don't exactly look stunning today.
All right, I look approximately 75% dead.
And Snape really didn't have to point it out. I could have made that brilliant conclusion without him.
But no, he had to breeze into the teacher's lounge, looking malevolent as always as he asked smoothly, "My God, Auriga, you're no Veela normally, but..." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Really, today, you make Hagrid look attractive."
Hence the fact that he is such a bastard and I hate him.
But oh, I got back at him. With flourish.
Really, there's nothing quite as entertaining as savagely greeting someone with "Fuck off, you overgrown bat" before hurling a boiling cup of coffee in their general direction.
And having it hit them.
It was beautiful, really.
I was tempted to sing it. I really, really was. But I like to save it, in case an absolutely perfect opportunity arises.
You've put a spell on my heart
Leading me through the dark
I can't bear us apart
Your love's left its mark
Oh, you put a spell on my heart, baby!
I was so incredibly tempted.
But oh, when it happens, it will be great.
And as it so happened, he left in a fit of spitting rage, damning everything from the mug to me to Exploding Snap and back to me again.
Honestly, sometimes I don't understand him.
But it was nice, nonetheless.
2:45
Library
Just kill me and put me out of my misery.
Please.
Think happy thoughts.
Think happy thoughts.
Stay awake.
Think happy thoughts.
Snape being hit dead-on by a cup of coffee.
....Ahh.
2:47
Library
I should be writing out the homework assignment for tonight.
I really, really should be.
But I keep forgetting how to spell things.
Like constelashion.
There is no way that's how you spell it.
....
Star. Star. Is that really how you spell it? It doesn't look right at all...
Star. Starr? Stare?
No.
Star.
That is right.
God, I'm losing it.
Maybe I shouldn't be doing this right now.
4:10
Bedroom Quarters
Why did he have to find me? Why, of all the one thousand-plus inhabitants of this school, did Severus Snape have to find me slumped over, dead asleep, in the library?
With. This. Book. Open.
Oh, he's going to mock me about this for months. Months. Because not only was I sleeping...oh no. I was talking in my sleep.
About him.
And the spelling of the word 'star'.
(S - T - A - R, by the way.)
One minute, I was staring down at this very page, attempting to figure out why everything I wrote looked so funny. The next, his voice was right next to my ear, proclaiming in that awful sardonic tone of his, "Really, Auriga, I'm quite touched that you talk about me in your sleep, but must you do it in public? You're scaring the first-years."
(Might I add that I was not the only one scaring the first years. As we were leaving the library, a pair of them jumped out of Snape's way yelping. So ha.)
And everything was utterly blurry and strange-looking, as my glasses were hanging off my face, and I was completely confused, and so naturally, in my true bumbling idiot way, the first thing I said was, "S-T-A-R."
He raised an eyebrow at me in that awful way that he does and succeeded in making me feel utterly stupid.
"I can certainly see why you're the Astronomy professor. Your knowledge of the subject is amazingly vast." (Smirking all the while.) "As a matter of fact, you were even repeating the same thing in your sleep, along with your simply glowing comments about me."
I really hate him.
And so he wrapped his arm around my waist and helped me up, still smirking (For the love of God, does he ever stop?) as he led me out of the library.
I must have been completely dazed, since I didn't push him off at once and start screeching at him about violating my personal space and how he should be ashamed of himself, but no doubt wasn't because he was a complete scoundrel.
I reckon we must have walked at least one corridor with his arm around my waist without my even realizing it; no doubt everyone who passed us thought we were completely insane. Thank God it was during class.
And then I finally realized exactly what was happening, slapped at him a bit, and demanded that he get off of me.
He'd obeyed, and that Goddamn smirk was still there, and naturally this wasn't enough of a humiliating experience for me.
Oh, no.
He had to say, "Do attempt to stay awake, Auriga. Perhaps thinking happy thoughts will help."
Which, of course, had me completely bewildered for a second before I remembered what I'd written here.
"It seems that the mental image of your dousing me with coffee gets you quite cheerful," he continued smoothly before turning and disappearing down the hall, robes billowing out behind him in true evil-and-unbearable-bastard fashion.
He completely loved it, the prat.
Well, one thing's for sure. I entirely intend to hum Spell on my Heart the next time I'm around him.
Loudly.