Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit
The Confessions of Auriga Sinistra
Author's Note: Quirrell's first name is what it apparently was listed as under the movie cast on IMDb.Com for a while. *nods* Just went with that, since I was too lazy to actually think up a name myself.
Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed. :-)
Much Auriga torture in store in this chapter.
Beware.
-Part 5-
Sunday, September 8, 1991
8:25 A.M.
Bedroom Quarters
All right. I'm taking charge. No longer will I engage in this silly could - be - classified - as - an - obsession - but - really - isn't with Severus Snape. He's a slimy old bastard, and that's that. Done. In the past. I don't know why I've wasted so much ink on him in the first place.
I've figured that the best way to move on is to find another romantic interest.
Er.
Not that I'm interested in Snape romantically.
Ugh.
Because there's absolutely nothing attractive about him. Must be...something in the air that made me even vaguely consider it.
Allergy season, perhaps.
Well, I'm moving on. It should be easy. There are plenty of single men around here.
Like...
Flitwick. And...er, Dumbledore. And Hagrid.
...Or not.
Well, I suppose there's Professor Kettleburn. He isn't bad at all.
...Then again, he only has three fingers on his right hand. He's also missing an ear. I tell you, that man simply isn't cut out for teaching Care of Magical Creatures.
All right.
Let's move onto someone else again.
Er...
Filch?
...
Shudder.
Shudder, shudder, shudder.
I never want to think about that again. Ever.
Um...
This is ridiculous. It's much more complicated than it should be. Why can't Gilderoy Lockhart teach here, dammit? I am bringing that up at the next staff meeting, like it or not. The single women around here are going mad, I'm sure. No wonder I've been...thinking about Snape. Look at everyone else! He's Hogwarts' Gilderoy Lockhart, for God's sake!
...Mwahaha. I should tell him that, just for the expression on his face.
Priceless.
But no. Will not dwell on Snape.
Er...
There's always...
Quirrell.
8:31 A.M.
He's not so entirely awful.
8:32 A.M.
Better than Snape, anyway.
8:33 A.M.
Sort of.
He doesn't have Snape's...allure.
8:34 A.M.
Disregard that comment. Am still half asleep. It's allergy season. Allergy season. Severus Snape has no allure.
Slatero Quirrell just happens to have less.
8:36 A.M.
And then there's that iguana. What's his name? ...Herman. Yes, Herman. Quirrell seems to be freakishly attached to Herman.
Will have to test true seductress skills by attempting to come between a man and his iguana.
8:38 A.M.
Auriga Sinistra, you are truly pathetic.
10:02 A.M.
Bedroom Quarters
Made a point of sitting next to Quirrell instead of Snape today at breakfast. Attempted at friendly conversation, only to be stuttered at repeatedly.
Don't know if I could last in a long-term relationship with a man who stutters. I was pretty much officially fed up at, "G. . . g. . . g. . . good. . . g. . . g. . . good m. . . m. . . morning, A. . . Aur. . . Auriga."
Attempted to be nice. Cannot quite remember what I said now; this is probably a good thing, as I no doubt humiliated myself with flourish. I think I remember something about saying his turban was attractive.
Dear God, I am out of practice, seductress-wise.
Oh well. At least the only person who witnessed my pathetic actions was a man who is in love with an iguana.
And I made note that at the other side of the table, that vein in Snape's temple was throbbing away.
Let me tell you, that greatly brightened the situation.
12:43 P.M.
Teacher's Lounge
Was walking behind Snape in the corridors when we passed Draco Malfoy (the most wretched, spoiled, snarky little brat I've ever had the misfortune of teaching, by the way. Takes after his father).
That child is so disgustingly obsequious.
"Hello, Professor Snape! I can't wait until your lesson tomorrow."
I mean...honestly.
Even Snape couldn't fall for that.
And luckily, he didn't.
"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," Snape had replied, with this very cold smile. Once the little devil child was out of earshot, he added, quite bitterly, "Insolent brat."
Which is in no way attractive.
And I'm serious this time. It isn't. I mean, what on Earth is attractive about someone scowling 'insolent brat'?
If I weren't in such serious denial, I would be forced to say that I am dangerously smitten with that man.
But not for long.
Drastic times call for drastic measures.
Quirrell, here I come.
3:07 P.M.
Astronomy Tower
Oh, God.
That was the most awful experience since my Professor Sandersought seduction.
I don't want to talk about it.
3:09 P.M.
Why did I do that?
What possessed me?!?
Yes.
Yes.
There we go.
I was possessed.
Auriga Sinistra would never do that of her own free will.
Possessed.
I was possessed.
Honest.
3:11 A.M.
But really. What was Severus Snape doing (with Herman) in Quirrell's classroom?
Well, I don't want to know. I'm not going to think about it right now. I may as well focus on my own suffering, as it is plentiful.
I suppose I must record the whole dismal story.
Sigh.
...I'm still blushing. Surely that isn't healthy.
Er.
Yes.
Anyway.
I decided to take aforementioned desperate measures and go visit dear Quirrell in his classroom for a friendly chat between colleagues. (Made a point of spritzing on a bit of perfume and attempting at some makeup. Have discovered that lipstick is the only non-lethal cosmetic.)
Yes.
So...I made my way down there, ignoring a very bewildered look from Minerva as we passed one another. Reached the classroom, slipped inside, closed the door behind me. (Vaguely wondering what the hell I was doing all the while, naturally.)
The lights were off.
This caused me to remember that 'Ways To Ensnare His Senses' article in In Style; dimmed lights increase the room's aura of intimacy.
Hmm.
Had to resist the urge not to hurl and remind myself that I was on a mission. A mission to seduce a man in love with a reptile, yes, but it was a mission nonetheless.
So, very nonchalantly, I sunk down on his desk, looking for him. Saw a figure in the corner, holding that blasted iguana. Naturally, thought it was Quirrell. Who else, after all, would be in Quirrell's office holding Quirrell's iguana?
I mean...really.
And I thought I was rather good, seductress-wise.
"Oh...Slatero," I said, quite breathily, a la Marilyn Monroe.
He didn't say anything back.
So naturally I assumed that he was just fighting with himself to attempt to say something. In Quirrell fashion, you know.
The stupid bastard could have at least said something so I wouldn't have completely humiliated myself.
But no, no. Naturally, Severus Snape can not be kind enough to do this simple thing.
"I was wondering if we could have...a little chat," I continued. (The pauses are apparently supposed to make men linger upon your every word. Learned this from Professor du Maurier. She may be an utterly disturbed individual, but everyone at least listened to what she had to say. And then was thoroughly frightened for a good hour afterwards.)
He nodded.
He nodded! He just encouraged what he knew was going to be an utterly stupid, embarrassing scene!
He. Is. Such. A. Bastard.
I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him.
...Yes.
I will not dwell on it.
I will not dwell on it.
But then...
It got worse.
On my part, I mean.
"You know, Slatero. . . you don't mind if I call you Slatero, do you? . . . Because I feel that I possess that sort of. . . intimacy with you."
And then the stupid bastard started playing along. Playing along! As in, pretending to be the target of my seduction! (He did do a dazzlingly accurate Quirrell impression, however. But we will not think about that.)
"Y...y...yes, A...Auriga."
"And," I continued, kind of purring now. "I feel compelled to tell you that I've never felt such a....chemistry with someone before. Not like this."
"O..oh...oh r...really?"
"Yes." Flat-out purring now. I honestly cannot stand myself sometimes. "Do you feel that. . . spark between us, Slatero?"
"Y...yes."
"There could be...passion between us. I feel it."
I was really getting into it by then, and I firmly maintain that I was possessed. Utterly possessed by the allure of seduction. Even if you are seducing a slimy potions master whom you think is a stammering iguana lover.
"I admit I....fantasize about you sometimes. About us."
There was a snort of laughter then. A very short snort of laughter, yes, but I don't know why I didn't realize that things were not going to go as planned right about there. After all, no one snorts with laughter the way Severus Snape does. And there is no one that Severus Snape snorts with laughter at more than me.
I was possessed. I cannot be held accountable for the actions I'm about to record.
So I...
Er...
God, I'm blushing again.
I said...
Sweet stars, why did I say it?!
What came over me?!?
Possessed, Auriga.
You were possessed.
But that's really no excuse.
I said....
(Cringe.)
... "Can we make those fantasies come true?"
WHY OH WHY OH WHYYYY?
Good Lord. I may never leave the Astronomy Tower again. Ever. I'll just starve up here and spend the rest of my life yelling at students who sneak up here to snog.
It's more appealing than facing Snape again.
And that bastard! That stupid, slimy bastard! He said, he said, "I. . . I would s. . . surely enjoy attempting, A . . . Auriga."
(BastardBastardBastardBastardBastard.)
And so I...
Er.
Walked over to him (I did not know that this wasn't Quirrell, remember. It was dark. As in, practically pitch black).
And then I realized something strange about the situation.
There was no purple turban.
Odd indeed, because I have never, ever seen Quirrell without that turban.
But I continued to think it was him, because he was holding Herman. And let me tell you, no one else wants to go near that iguana. There's something creepy about it. Something. . . not right.
Er. Yes. Anyway.
So I...
Er.
I have used a freakish amount of 'er's.
Perhaps I'll just stop here.
You really don't want to know.
Honest.
And I don't want to record this. I just want to get it out of my mind. Perhaps Snape has a Forgetfulness Potion that I could borrow-
No.
No.
I am never facing that man again.
And so...
Yes.
I may as well just confess it.
Get it out in the open so I can at least be at peace with myself as I sink into a deep, deep, humiliation/depression for the rest of my miserable days on this hellish planet.
I crossed the room.
He had his back to me.
I put a hand on his shoulder.
I asked, very coquettishly, "Will you kiss me, Slatero?"
(Cringe.)
"W...w...well, Auriga," he stammered, "I...I..." And suddenly the voice was no longer Quirrell's. It was replaced by a very familiar, very detestable tone. "Have no doubt in my mind that you are the most pathetic seductress I have ever encountered."
And then Severus Snape, the Slimy Bastard King himself, bursts into laughter.
Not just laughter.
Hysterics.
Now, let me tell you, witnessing Severus Snape laughing in general is a scary, scary thing.
But when he possesses knowledge that could completely ruin you forever, it is downright terrifying.
And I made the most pathetic comeback ever.
Ever.
It wasn't even a comeback.
I have one now, even! One that I would have easily said, were my wits about me. 'And no doubt the only seductress.'
Boom. Simple.
But no.
I couldn't make things even the tiniest bit easy for myself.
I said, and I quote, "You're not Quirrell."
Well...duh.
And he just kept laughing, like some demented evil genius in a Muggle film or something.
Well, I hate him.
I hate myself.
I hate my life.
I am never, never leaving this tower again.
6:45 P.M.
Bedroom Quarters
All right, I left the tower.
It was dinner time.
I was hungry.
Happened to lose my appetite when I caught sight of Snape smirking at me.
Someone just kill me.
Please.
Or him.
Yes.
Kill him instead.
You'll probably get a Special Services To The School award if you do.
6:48 P.M.
Have realized that 'you' are a notebook. An inanimate object.
Have started referring to you as though you are an actual person.
I need help.
Even more help than Quirrell, who is in love with an iguana and can't string together a coherent sentence.
Even more help than Snape, who is just plain detestable.
Yes. I think it is safe to conclude that I, in fact, hate my life.