Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit
The Confessions of Auriga Sinistra
Author's Note: I'm so having too much fun with this.
-Part Three-
Wednesday, September 4, 1991
11:52 A.M.
Teacher's Lounge
I just stopped in on one of Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons.
The poor man doesn't even know how to defend himself against a class of second-year Slytherins.
I suppose they are a rather unruly lot, but honestly. This is a man who supposedly spent time amongst dangerous dark creatures in Albania. I can handle second-year Slytherins, and at thirty-one years old I still feel compelled to pull the covers all the way over my head at night to make sure the Lethifolds don't get me.
This, I suppose, makes me a more capable Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher than Quirrell.
Me.
So that must not be saying a lot for Snape, seeing as he wasn't allowed the job. Again.
Bwahaha.
11:54 A.M.
If it weren't very probable indeed that the loss of two of our previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professors were just slightly my fault, I would think that Snape was murdering them.
Really.
Actually, it would have been rather delightful if he'd murdered Professor du Maurier.
I think that he was incredibly tempted to slip poison into her pumpkin juice after that time that they were trapped in the teacher's lounge together. What, exactly, went on in there, no one's certain, and Severus doesn't like to talk about it. He gets even paler than usual when it's brought up, and even I don't feel cruel enough to press the subject.
All I know for certain is that the day after, Professor du Maurier 'accidentally' bumped into him and very coquettishly whispered something that sounded frighteningly like, "Our souls have been knit together in an eternal rainbow of an afghan."
I have to admit, I pity him there.
It would have been quite interesting, really, if she'd simply fallen over dead during supper. Snape had the perfect opportunity - and a completely justifiable reason - to kill the insane old bat.
Albus wouldn't let him, I suppose.
Honestly. Sometimes I think that man enjoys seeing his poor staff suffer.
12:24 P.M.
Bedroom Quarters
Eavesdropping in the teacher's lounge, I've decided, is hazardous to one's health.
Fascinating as it apparently is to Professor Sprout, not all of us care to know about the time last month when Iolana Hooch's daily back slap with which she greets Snape went just a little too low.
It was, as I have feared, not accidental.
As a matter of fact, she seemed to think that it was rather smooth of her.
Shudder.
...How Severus attracts all this attention from our more eccentric female colleagues, I'll never know. I mean, God knows I can't see anything even the least bit attractive about him. I can't even begin to understand how anyone could think he was...good-looking.
All right. I'll give him one thing. He has nice eyes.
Except...they're not quite nice, in a classic sense. They're just incredibly...intense, and always so critical and calculating and aware.
It's almost as though they're made of black fire.
...
Good God, I'm turning into Destiny du Maurier.
Lord, save us all.
1:30 P.M.
Great Hall
I was innocently making my way to lunch, and happened to pass Snape in the hall.
And he was holding something in his hand.
Something that looked like a magazine.
Called (and with all my heart, I hope I'm wrong) In Style.
Something tells me that I don't want to know.
1:31 P.M.
But honestly, where did Severus Snape get a copy of In Style magazine?
...I still don't want to know.
1:32 P.M.
My sister in London, Lyra, has a bit of a penchant for that magazine. On one of my visits to see her over the summer holidays, I had a peek at one. It was filled with fashion tips (I really cannot even begin to see how some muggle tube of a gooey black substance can succeed in making one's eyelashes longer and fuller. Lord knows it didn't work for me.), women in lingerie, and 'Ways To Ensnare His Senses...(subtitle) In Bed'.
If Severus somehow acquired that for its reference to his annual beginning of the year Potions speech, he's in for quite the rude awakening.
1:33 P.M.
That was a horrible excuse for an article, anyway. Not the least bit helpful.
Professor Sandersought didn't respond at all in the way that he (and apparently 'every male that breathes') was supposed to.
Stupid magazine.
I hope that Severus isn't expecting much from it.
1:34 P.M.
I am an unbelievably pathetic excuse for a human being.
1:35 P.M.
But at least I don't spend all my time in dungeons leaning over cauldrons and practicing my sneers in front of the looking glass.
So ha.
1:41 P.M.
One who found this and read it may think that I have some sort of...unhealthy obsession with Severus Snape. I've mentioned him quite often.
Not that that means anything.
I hate him.
Bastard.
1:42 P.M.
That didn't sound very convincing.
But I'm thoroughly and completely sincere, thankyouverymuch.
1:43 P.M.
How can you tell if I'm being convincing or not, anyway? You can't tell my emotions! I'm writing, for God's sake! How can you tell my tone of voice? I have no voice! It's a bunch of ink! Words! Meaningless words! Oh, I suppose you can sense the aura, is that what you're thinking? Well, who do you think you are, Sibyl Trelawney?
1:44 P.M.
I am arguing with a notebook.
Thursday, September 5, 1991
Astronomy Tower
9:49 A.M.
Had my first lesson with the first-year Gryffindors last night. They're a nice lot, generally. I like them, though that Ron Weasley is quite snarky. Horribly snarky, almost. Where do men get off thinking they can be that snarky? Like...never mind.
Anyway.
He kept muttering and snickering about Hermione Granger, who is quite possibly my favorite person in the world at the moment. That girl is darling - she's an incredibly bright little thing, seems very self-confident, very well-read, and yet she's still mocked constantly by that Weasley boy.
(I bet he fancies her.
Boys are idiots about that sort of thing.)
Anyhow, she reminds me a bit of myself.
Her hair is even like mine. Wild, unruly curls.
...All right.
Horribly frizzy and bushy.
It gives her personality.
Humph.
And then there's Harry Potter, who wasn't entirely remarkable. It's amazing, how...small he is. Silly as it sounds, I was expecting this completely impressive, mature, imposing attitude about him. After all, he did bring about the downfall of You-Know-Who.
But he was small - meek, almost - quite soft-spoken; he talked to Weasley the whole time.
Then there are Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom (the poor dear is absolutely adorable; he was a bit teary, though, as he'd just lost his toad Trevor), Parvati Patil, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas.
All together, pleasant kids.
And that's all.
Nothing else.
Nope.
I believe I've covered everything.
And I went through an entire entry without mentioning Snape.
9:52 A.M.
Dammit.
9:53 A.M.
Ha! I didn't mention him in that last one.
Then again, 'that last one' was one word long.
But it could have been another one word, you know.
Like 'Snape', for instance.
I can tell that this little 'infatuation' is going to be incredibly short-lived.
Infatuation.
Ha. I laugh at my own word choice.
It may seem that it is some sort of deep romantic interest, but I assure you, that is entirely impossible. I am not that desperate, nor will I ever be.
. . .
Well, okay, maybe in five years or so.
A girl can't be twenty-nine forever, you know.
(I have learned this the hard way.)
9:54 A.M.
Because as of now, I'm not desperate in the least. Why should I be? I do have twelve pages of glossy photos featuring Gilderoy Lockhart himself to keep me occupied for awhile.
9:55 A.M.
Of course, they will get old sooner or later.
And then I've got absolutely no distractions from....
No one.
Nothing.
Goodbye.
9:56 A.M.
Severus Snape is not in any way attractive.
Severus Snape is not in any way attractive.
Severus Snape is not in any way attractive.
Severus Snape is not in any way attractive.
Severus Snape is not in any way attractive....