Author's Note: Why do I torture Auriga like this? Why, why, why?!
(P.S. Her dear uncle Janus was borrowed from Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. :-D)
Saturday, September 14, 1991
Teacher's Lounge
8:15 A.M.
Hehe.
Snape's angry.
. . . Well.
No.
Let's rephrase, shall we?
Snape's livid.
At Professor McGonagall.
Which really, really isn't clever. I mean, I could never, ever be cross with Professor McGonagall.
. . . Well, okay, I admit it. I have been cross with her. But I could never do anything about it! I couldn't confront her!
No matter how long I work with her, she will never, never be 'Minerva' to me (or at least, I couldn't call her that. It's disrespectful). She is Professor McGonagall. I still get scared when I do things like tap my foot or whisper to Victoria Vector (what were her parents thinking? I'm just glad for her sake that she wasn't a boy - Victor Vector. Can you imagine it?) during staff meetings. I feel like I'm in her class whenever I'm in her presence, and it's unnerving.
But oh no. Not Snape.
Snape is pissed.
. . . Not, of course, in the drunken sense.
Which is good.
Because when he's drunk, he does things like kissing me.
And I wouldn't want that, now would I?
. . . We need more alcohol in this school.
. . . Erm. Anyway.
Please disregard that comment.
I don't know why he hadn't found out about this earlier - I'm thinking that no one on the staff really wanted to tell him, on account of the fact that his reaction was rather predictable. But honestly - earlier this week, McGonagall announced to us that she'd used the school funds to get Harry Potter a Nimbus 2000, which is apparently not breaking any school rules. (Personally, I just think that she's bitter about Gryffindor losing so many Quidditch matches. Actually, I can't quite blame her.)
Snape, conveniently, wasn't there.
And then when Harry rather openly received the broomstick during breakfast on Thursday, Victoria conveniently began coughing madly (this was planned, I must admit, and rather brilliantly acted - she wanted to be a stage actress, but then went on to teach Arithmancy instead. How dull.) and Snape was too busy scoffing at her to notice.
But then that little blithering brat, Draco Malfoy, apparently told him. Oh, I can just see it now.
"Professor Snaaaaape! Potter has a Nimbus 2000!"
[Snape's eyes go red.] "What?! Thank you, my fellow greasy haired Slytherin! I must avenge this act of evil!"
. . . Okay. Probably not just like that.
But close.
My goodness, I must admit, I was so glad to witness it this morning. I was sitting there with Victoria flipping through Witch Weekly and mocking Celestina Warbeck's nauseatingly risqué excuse for robes while McGonagall looks on with an eyebrow raised, and then - BAM!
The door slams open, and-
"Minerva!" Snape barked. "Would you mind telling me what the hell the meaning of this is?"
And McGonagall says, in this perfect deadpan, "I'm sorry, Severus, but I simply couldn't resist. I should have told you sooner. We're through."
Strict old bat as she usually may be, I have to admit, I really like her sometimes. She does have a gift for sarcasm. (Especially around Professor Trelawney.)
He just glared at her as though she'd just quoted Gadding With Ghouls or something equally as horrendous and snapped, "I don't want your sarcasm, Minerva, though I assure you, I am absolutely heartbroken that we are . . ." Sneer. " . . . Over."
"Through," Victoria had corrected.
Snape then turned the glare on her. He really, really cannot stand her. I don't know why. I think she's quite wonderful - she's only been teaching here since last year, and she's incredibly cool. She has a fiancé that lives in Paris, and she's traveled all over and she's too classy for words. (Why she's an Arithmancy professor, I honestly know not.) She also looks like a model.
. . . If I weren't so desperate for friends, I think I might've been forced to hate her.
Anyway, where was I?
Oh, right.
Snape.
As usual.
"You," Snape hissed now, drawing dangerously close to McGonagall, "Bought Potter a broomstick."
McGonagall simply nodded calmly to this.
"A broomstick!" Snape continued. "Not just a broomstick, a Nimbus 2000! The best kind there is! And you accuse me of favoring my students! I do not buy them broomsticks!!!"
"That's because you're a cheap old jackass," Victoria felt compelled to mutter then.
Okay, maybe I can see why he doesn't like her.
Of course, he doesn't like me either.
But he doesn't like me in a different way than he doesn't like her.
I'm . . . Sinistra. I don't know. We throw coffee mugs and argue to the point of no return and sometimes get along, either if we've had too much to drink or on rare occasions when something very serious has happened and no one witnesses our being nice-ish to each other. (Like when McGonagall's husband passed away a few years ago - after the funeral, we had a discussion about people we were close to who had died, and it turns out his fiancée was killed by Death Eaters. Can you imagine that? Snape with a fiancée? It was an arranged marriage, but . . . still. People are quite surprising at times.)
He just . . . doesn't like Vector.
Snape and I, on the other hand, have a complex relationship.
Oh, right.
Where was I?
Why do I always feel compelled to go off on tangents?
Who knows?
Enough questions.
"That is unprofessional behavior, McGonagall!" he'd sneered. "Something I honestly wouldn't have expected from you. Now, I demand you take back that broomstick or I'll be forced to complain to Dumbledore!"
"Really?" McGonagall asked, composed as ever. "Because I asked Dumbledore about purchasing the Nimbus 2000 that seems to be causing you so much distress, Severus, and he seemed to think it a perfectly wonderful idea."
Snape just went all silent for a bit, eyes twitching, veins throbbing, and all. It was rather hilarious, but I tried not to laugh. After all, it's not his fault that he's a complete nervous wreck most of the time.
. . . Well, maybe it is.
At this, Victoria just rolled her eyes at me and said, very nonchalantly, "Severus, darling, just get over it."
Just like that. My God. I could never just call him 'darling' like that. Snape is not the type one would call 'darling'.
I wonder about Victoria sometimes.
. . . In the nicest way possible, of course.
And so Snape stormed out, McGonagall shook her head and went back to finishing her coffee, and I simply had to record the extraordinary events that just took place.
Ooh, Victoria's complaining about Snape now.
"I can't stand that man," she's saying to McGonagall. "I can't see why the hell Albus keeps him employed here. He's an awful teacher and everyone hates him - he's completely unpleasant about everything. He probably hasn't gotten laid in years, he-"
Oh, I'm blushing.
Blushing.
Horribly.
I can feel my face gone incredibly red.
". . .. What're you blushing about?"
Oh dear.
"Nothing."
" . . . You haven't slept with him, have you?!"
"No!"
"Well, thank God. I would've had to wonder about you for a minute there, Aur."
And now she's off rambling again.
McGonagall is looking at me. Oh, wonderful. I think she saw Snape and I during that unfortunate ball incident involving the spiked punch. Aurgh. The whole school probably thinks Snape and I are madly in love, and just because Victoria's new she has no idea about it, and-
Oh, never mind.
I'm going to go hide in my room.
Bedroom Quarters
8:49 A.M.
Ah. This is better.
Perhaps I'll work on lesson plans.
. . . I really hate lesson plans.
My goodness, I'm bored. I wish I had something to do during the day.
. . . Oh my God.
What was that?
8:50 A.M.
Auriga, you are just imagining things.
There is not someone moving around in your room.
8:51 A.M.
Maybe it's just Wimmy.
Yes, yes, of course. It's just Wimmy. Don't be ridiculous.
8:52 A.M.
But I don't think it's Wimmy. Wimmy always sings - really creepy things, too, like 'Sexual Healing' and 'Let's Get it On'.
I don't think elves should have access to Muggle music.
I always feel like he's . . . hinting at something.
8:53 A.M.
Ugh.
8:55 A.M.
Okay, this is starting to scare me. It sounds kind of . . . slithery.
Oh, God.
What if it's a Lethifold?
OhGodOhGodOhGod. I'm going to be killed by a Lethifold. I hate Lethifolds. My uncle Janus was killed by one - my Auntie Bee just found a note on the bedside table one morning that said 'oh no a Lethifold's got me i'm suffocating.' and he was gone, just like that. We had a funeral and everything, and it was wretchedly sad. I always loved Uncle Janus.
. . . Of course, then three months later Mum went to go stay at the Green Dragon and who did she see there but Uncle Janus, snogging the landlady. At first it was this totally bewildering miracle, until she worked out what happened. She owled Aunt Bee right away, and my aunt came over there with a frying pan and beat old Janus senseless.
. . . So I suppose maybe I'm not in that much danger.
But still. It could very well be a real Lethifold this time.
8:57 A.M.
Oh my God.
I just saw a green, scaly foot from under my bed.
Oh my God oh my God oh my God. I'm so scared. What is it? It definitely wasn't human, that's for sure. Or Wimmy. I'd actually like to see him right now, freaky Muggle sex songs and all. It would be much less unnerving.
Well, at least I know it's not a Lethifold.
9:01 A.M.
Oh right. Right. I guess I'm kind of stupid.
I perhaps overreacted just a bit.
It's Herman, Quirrell's iguana! I know this because, well, there aren't exactly many iguanas running around the school, and besides, he has his little pink collar on that has a heart-shaped license reading, well, 'Herman'.
I wonder how he feels about that.
It must be a real blow to his masculinity.
Poor iguana.
I mean, really, Slatero . . . pink?
To think I tried to seduce him.
Shudder.
But what I'd like to know is what Herman's doing here. Does this mean that Quirrell's been in my bedroom?
. . . Ewwwww.
Herman's kind of darling, actually, in a weird way. He keeps nuzzling my arm. Aw, what a sweet little iguana. What a cuuute little iguana.
9:04 A.M.
Auuurgh! Get off my arm, you sick thing!
GET OFF!
9:06 A.M.
I now know more about the sexual practices of iguanas than I ever cared to.
9:55 A.M.
Does 'oh, get off of me! Really! What if someone sees you like this? That's sick! There are . . . other things out there you could do this to instead of me! Really!' sound that . . . suggestive?
Well, I suppose it is that suggestive.
But it was an iguana.
Severus seemed to miss that part.
He was no doubt under the impression that I had . . .a man in here.
What I'd like to know is why he's always around my quarters so he can oh-so-conveniently burst in at . . . inconvenient moments.
"Auriga!" he'd hissed, sounding rather . . . appalled. "It is nine o'clock in the morning!"
"I know that," I snapped in return, still rather . . . disgusted, and intent upon getting rid of my sweater as soon as possible.
Which was, of course, an incredibly stupid move.
I swear, I am subconsciously completely set on humiliating myself in every way possible.
I mean, Severus walks in and yells out, "Auriga! It is nine o'clock in the morning!" and what do I do?
I hurl my sweater at him.
And yes, I was wearing a bra.
I'm not that subconsciously set on humiliating myself.
He blinked at me.
"Get out," I ordered sharply, glaring at Herman, who was watching the entire display rather innocently from the bed. "I'm busy."
"I gathered," he deadpanned, following my gaze to everyone's favorite iguana. He then recoiled. "Oh, God, Auriga. Don't tell me Quirrell's talked you into using that iguana in your strange sexual practices."
"Severus!" I screeched. "Quirrell and I do not . . . Herman is not . . . I don't . . ."
And only then did I realize that he wasn't looking at my face anymore.
"Oh, God, stop it! Didn't anyone ever teach you about eye contact?"
Quite conveniently, the blanket I grabbed to wrap around myself was the one Herman was on, and he went flying to the floor.
Bwahaha. Die, sick iguana.
"Didn't anyone ever teach you about clothing?" he retorted blandly. "Oh, wait - you're busy throwing it at me."
Aurgh. Bastard.
"Well," he'd sneered then. "Where's our dear turban-clad friend now?"
"Se-ve-rus! Quirrell does not . . . I don't . . . I would not-"
And I honestly believe that someone up there in the sky hates me.
Passionately.
Or at least enjoys seeing me suffer.
Because at that very moment, Quirrell approached from the back of the room (he floo'd in looking for Herman, I bet, but try to tell Snape that) looking rather disheveled and adjusting his turban.
"A . . . ahh . . . there y . . . you are!" he'd said to Herman, walking over and scooping up the nasty little creature into his arms.
He then spotted Snape and I.
I was still, conveniently, without a shirt.
Which Snape was still, conveniently, holding.
I swear, I didn't know someone's eyes could possibly widen as much as Quirrell's did. "A . . . Auriga . . . S . . . s . . . s . . . Severus, d . . . didn't mean to . . . disturb."
"You're not disturbing anything!" I proclaimed quickly.
Snape, on the other hand, gave me a nasty glare and retorted, "Likewise, Quirrell."
"What are you doing here?" I demanded of Quirrell.
Snape raised an eyebrow in a manner that clearly meant 'oh, right, you're going to fool me, you ridiculous twit'.
"I . . . I knew Herman was going to be here," he returned.
"And you knew that . . . how?"
"He l . . . left me a n . . . note."
A note.
Ha.
Right.
Oh, so iguanas can write now?
That man is so psycho.
And so Quirrell left, muttering to himself in an extremely stutter-y manner.
Which, of course, left Snape and I standing just staring at each other, while I longed most desperately for a shirt.
I really should stick to robes.
"Oh, give me that," I'd ordered, reaching for the shirt.
Because I am just lucky like this, I stumbled backward as soon as I'd grabbed one of the sleeves, pulling Snape right down on top of me as we both fell toward the bed.
And then, then, then Wimmy decides to make his glorious entrance as he prances in singing 'Physical'.
He gasped, horrified, and his huge eyes filled with tears.
"Miss Auriga Miss!" he wailed. "Wimmy was thinking we is having something between us! Wimmy was wrong!"
And well, of course I immediately reply after the retreating heartbroken house-elf, "Wait, Wimmy, it's not what it looks like!"
Which was just bad.
Bad.
Bad.
And then, for the second time since the school year has started, Snape burst into hysterics. Completely mad and insane laughter.
And just to put the sprinkles on the cake, Victoria walks by and glances into the room.
To see shirtless Auriga in bed with the universally detested Potions master.
"Not sleeping with him, huh?" she'd asked, winking, before continuing to walk.
And now I am sitting here alone and wearing a shirt, thankyouverymuch, and wondering why things like this always have to happen to me. Why me?!
Victoria isn't exactly good with secrets.
This will be around the entire school by this evening.
I am the whore of Hogwarts.
10:03 A.M.
I wonder if I could get mentioned in a new edition of Hogwarts, A History for that.