Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit
The Confessions of Auriga Sinistra
Author's Note: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I've got such updatey issues that it's not even funny. But . . . there's a new chapter now? And I rather enjoyed it. I think that as soon as I upload this, I might go start writing the next one. Just so there is not an extensive two-or-so-months pause.
And I skip over a lot of time in this chapter, simply because I was a bit annoyed that this thing has managed to cover about eleven chapters in maybe a month. Call me crazy, but I kinda want to get to some Sorcerer's Stone plot points before chapter 80.
I'm sorry again for the lack of updates. That shall change! . . . Hopefully.
Friday, October 4, 1991
Bedroom Quarters
1:30 A.M.
Sigh.
I am afraid I cannot elaborate beyond that.
1:32 A.M.
. . . All right, yes I can.
I was attempting to be the lovestruck yet charmingly aloof ingenue-type creature, but I can't resist. I have to write it out in big capital letters and then stare adoringly.
I LOVE ALGERNON BRIGHTMANN.
I honestly, truly do.
And I do realize that I'm acting like a fifteen year old.
I'm going to take a moment to compose myself now.
1:34 A.M.
I am composed.
1:35 A.M.
The composure seems to have left me.
But it lasted for at least thirty seconds there, so I think I should get a bit of credit for that.
But honestly . . . he's so . . .
Sigh.
1:37 A.M.
Sigh.
1:38 A.M.
Siiiigh.
1:39 A.M.
All right. I'll stop now, honestly.
(Sigh.)
So, I suppose I should give you (yes, you, the Mighty Inanimate Notebook) a summary of the evening.
Victoria and I spent about three quarters of an hour picking out the perfect outfit. Something helplessly sexy, yet professional - that way, I could look positively stunning and give off the impression that I always looked positively stunning. Victoria came up with that one - she's quite clever in that respect.
And yes, well, I'm not sure that I would usually wear a sleeveless black dress with a sparkly burgundy shawl to teach, but does Algernon know that?
I think not.
So half past eleven rolled 'round and I made my way out off to the Astronomy Tower. This part, I'll admit, could have gone better.
For one thing, I'm not exactly skilled when it comes to walking in heels. Don't get me wrong -- I've certainly improved over the years. I mean, you don't see me crashing into my poor Great Auntie Agnes anymore in a manner that might bring about, I don't know, a three-month-long coma or something of the like, do you?
Precisely.
I've chosen to leave that in the past.
But I suppose I'm still a bit . . . unsteady.
And the damned unsteadiness has probably convinced Severus Snape that I am madly in love with him. (Hah! He wishes, I bet. Or not.)
Fate hates me. That much has been established already. The Big Bloke Upstairs no doubt laughs himself stupid trying to invent new ways to torture me. And ever-so-luckily, I turned a corner, lost my balance, and abruptly fell into . . . well, who else would it be? Certainly not Victoria, who might make fun of me a bit but wouldn't hold it against me. Not Professor Sprout or Madam Pomfrey, as both of them would be completely nice about the whole thing. Not Professor McGonagall or Professor Kettleburn. Not even Quirrell, which I suppose would be, admittedly, slightly embarrassing.
But oh no.
Severus Snape. Mr. Dark, Gaunt, and Greasy. The sole bane of my existence.
Well . . .
Maybe not the sole bane.
But the prominent one, no doubt.
Picture it--
One moment I'm strolling along, feeling confident and posh and surprisingly stunning, considering that tragic affliction I have of being me and all, and then the next, I am clinging to Severus Snape and staring up into his black and demonic eyes that certainly are not sexy in any way.
And while we're on that particular subject, I feel compelled to share that the situation in general was not sexy in any way.
Nope.
Detestable bastard.
(Hah!)
He kind of stared at me, aghast, for a moment, as though I were a sign of the Apocalypse, or a Gryffindor student, or Destiny du Maurier, and then his left eye started twitching, but barely perceptively. It was a bit impressive - I wonder if he's been getting help for that.
And then, inevitably, he began to speak.
"Auriga," he said, in this low and very dangerous voice (so not sexy), "What are you doing??"
To which I replied - trying to be nonchalant, but failing rather miserably as I was somehow still clinging to him - "Going to teach. Not that it's any concern of yours."
"Ah, I see," he said, all smoothly (not to mention infuriatingly). "And do you usually . . . go to teach--" (Sneer.) "--in a little black dress and shoes that cause you to be even more of an incompetent death trap than usual?"
At which point I was rather annoyed. I mean, more so. And so I kind of exploded at him. (Which, naturally, he deserves. Perpetually.) "Oh, what do you care?? Get off of me!"
And then I pushed him with all my might. Which, yes, caused him to move approximately two inches, but I'm pretty sure it got the fact that I passionately HATE HIM across.
To which he replied -- prepare yourself, notebook, because I rather wish I'd had time to--
"Believe me, Sinistra, if I were on you, you wouldn't be making that request."
I have honestly never been more embarrassed in my entire life. Honestly. And considering this is my life, that's saying something.
But really. I just felt my face go entirely red and my mouth drop open, and I think I may have nearly crashed down to the floor again on account of the fact that my feet had gone so unstable.
Luckily, I was not the only thoroughly shocked one. Snape looked surprised beyond belief that he'd said it, and immediately the eye-twitch was back with flourish. He wasn't even sneering - just twitching and staring blankly as though he'd just spilled his deepest, darkest secret out to the entire world.
And then he said, in a very rushed sort of way, "I have to go."
I, quite naturally, replied, "Me too," and then we ran off in separate directions.
Well, we didn't run off, exactly. I kind of hobbled as quickly as I could without breaking an ankle, and he swept off in his signature big bad bat sort of way.
That was truly a bizarre happening. I almost wonder if I made it up, except I don't understand why I would. I'm not sure that I'm that mental.
I think I may have been sexually harassed - verbally, yes, but sexually harassed nonetheless - by Severus Snape. Unintentionally. Which almost makes me think that perhaps he's a bit interested in me.
But honestly, I don't care. Because . . .
Algernon.
Ooh, he's wonderful, and would never, ever take part in unintentional verbal sexual harassment. On the contrary . . .
He brought me a rose.
A single red rose.
No man has ever done that for me. No house elf has ever even done that for me. It was so incredibly romantic, I actually thought I might cry.
Er. Perhaps I actually did a little, while I was walking around to monitor the first year Slytherins' progress on their star charts. And then that little brat Malfoy had to ask in that loud, drawling voice of his, "Professor, are you crying?"
Mini-bastard.
I told him that my eyes were simply watering because he had managed to fling a drop of ink into my eye and then gave him three nights of detention. Mwahaha. And they say that only Snape is hideously unfair.
Of course, Malfoy's reply to this was, "My father will be hearing about this!"
So now I'm to face the wrath of Lucius Malfoy, which will no doubt be the death of me. He was a few years ahead of me at Hogwarts, and I still haven't forgotten the time he nearly killed Peter Pettigrew for stepping on his copy of Witches Gone Wild: a Magazine for Wizards.
Though maybe he should have. I mean, it would've been a more pleasant way to go than how Sirius Black did him off.
Ugh. Are all men bastards in one way or another? I'm beginning to suspect it. But I'm not sure anyone's as much of a bastard as Sirius Black. I actually used to fancy him a bit back at school. It makes me sick to think about it now.
But anyway. I shouldn't be thinking about unpleasant things, on account of the fact that I have Algernon.
He showed up to class a few minutes after I did and managed to make my knees so utterly weak that I accidentally fell onto Pansy Parkinson. Luckily, I don't think he saw. And he's so charming. Ohhhh . . . sigh.
He gave me this wonderful smile and said, "Thank you for letting me join you this evening."
To which I replied, "No problem," and then promptly realized that I sounded like a twelve year old.
And then he handed me the rose, and I kind of choked out directions to the class before taking a moment to . . . get a bit emotional.
While the kids were working (or throwing spare bits of parchment around the classroom, in Malfoy's case. He is a dazzlingly mature young man), Algernon and I stood in the corner and talked for a bit. He told me a bit about how he'd always loved Astronomy, and then said that I looked, and I quote, gorgeous. I'm not sure anyone's ever told me that before. Even my own mother, bless her soul, could never quite overlook the fact that I am roughly the size of Flitwick (all right, give or . . . give a few feet) with the frizziest hair known to mankind.
But Algernon . . . sigh.
And then when Malfoy continued with the throwing of the parchment, Algernon kind of snapped at him, but in a thoroughly pleasant sort of way so that Malfoy couldn't threaten to sic his father on anyone.
Algernon Brightmann, you are perfect, I love you, and we are going out to dinner in Hogsmeade tomorrow night.
He asked me. Oh, it was wonderful! And so tomorrow, we'll dine at The Golden Watch at seven thirty.
Oh, I still can't fully believe it. I have finally found the perfect man, and he does not twitch, shudder, or sneer.
2:02 A.M.
. . . But I wore my only nice dress tonight.
Damn it.
Saturday, October 5, 1991
Bedroom Quarters
11:45 P.M.
Sigh!
Dinner was perfect! I got more flowers - a dozen pink roses tonight - and he took my hand over the table. Oh! Candlelight, wonderful food, the most handsome date possible . . .
I think I may be on my way to having a boyfriend.
Sigh!
Tuesday, October 8, 1991
Teachers' Lounge
12:03 P.M.
Sigh!
Thursday, October 10, 1991
Bedroom Quarters
7:49 A.M.
Last night during the lesson, Hermione Granger told me that I seemed especially cheerful.
I couldn't help but giggle and reply that love could do that to a person.
Hermione frowned, and I think she was going to inquire as to whether it was appropriate for teachers to harbor romantic relationships, or something along those lines, but she was cut off by Ron Weasley when he started making over-dramatic gagging noises.
Monday, October 14, 1991
Teachers' Lounge
12:24 P.M.
Teeheehee! Algernon and I just had coffee together during lunch break. He said I was, I quote, ravishing, and then pushed my glasses up a little.
Snape, who happened to be there at the time, threw his coffee mug into the sink so hard that it shattered.
Honestly. Is someone a bit violent?
Friday, October 18, 1991
Bedroom Quarters
9:19 P.M.
Tonight at dinner, Albus pointed out that Algernon has seemed to have prolonged his stay quite extensively.
And you want to know why that is?
Me! Me! Me!
The man loves me!
Friday, October 25, 1991
Bedroom Quarters
10:02 P.M.
My goodness - has it really been a week since I last wrote?
I suppose I've just been busy, what with teaching, and my boyfriend, and all.
(Boyfriend! Wheee!)
You know what this means, don't you, notebook? Don't you? I've actually gone a week without so much as touching you. Clearly, I have done what seemed apparently impossible.
I have gotten myself a life.
10:05 P.M.
In other news, Snape seems particularly nasty as of late.
I wonder why.