Diaries of a Dungeon-Dwelling Moron
Discreet Disclosures of Severus S. Snape
Author's Note: Thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback I received on the first part of this story. Now that Nita has uploaded the second installment of her story, I must write more! In case any of you have not read the story that this is a companion to, Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit, by She's a Star, you can find it below.
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1216603
By the way, I thought I'd mention that the name Auriga belongs to Nita and comes from JKR's original name for Sinistra.
On with the story, shall we?
-Part Two-
2 September 1991
1:02 p.m.
Classroom
Today has started out rather well, I must admit, all things considered. It was the first day of classes and while I was in the middle of my beginning of term speech (which is a classic, if I do say so myself), I spotted him. Of course, he was not paying attention. Or perhaps he was taking notes. But who really cares?
I made it my intense delight to humiliate him completely.
That should teach him to be the son of my worst enemy.
Stupid git. Had to go off and get himself killed by Voldemort.
If he was all that desperate to go, I gladly would have helped him. Then again, I would have made it slow. And painful. Very painful. Then I might have paid him back for turning my hair pink in fifth year.
Damn the luck.
Hmm... perhaps I'm being insensitive. After all, he and his wife were killed, an attempt was made on their child's life, and now Potter is left an orphan, growing up with his aunt and uncle, all alone. Maybe I am just taking a childhood grudge too far.
...
Nah.
Bloody hell, I'll never forgive Albus for tricking me into seeing that... psychiatrist ten years ago. Never. He told me I was bitter and vindictive, that I hadn't gotten enough love as a child.
Bugger off is what I told him. I told him that I was misunderstood. Yes. Misunderstood. That's what I am.
Blast it all, now all the glory of belittling Potter has worn off. Now, there's only one thing to do... deduct points from Gryffindor.
I wonder where Potter is...
6:28 p.m.
I saw that insolent boy Longbottom's runaway toad after dinner today. Tried to step on it.
Unfortunately, the oaf of a gamekeeper came around the corner and nearly caught me in the act. Sneered at him and swept off menacingly.
Why must everyone spoil my fun?
3 September 1991
10:30 a.m.
Chambers
Bitch!
How dare she?!
Of all the dim-witted, brainless, stupid wenches in this school, I must choose to speak to the one with the anger-management problems.
10:32 a.m.
Damn her.
Damn her and her coffee.
Damn her and her coffee and her coffeemug.
Damn the fact that these were new robes. And her. And the fact that the House-Elves don't do laundry until tomorrow.
Damn her.
Damn damn damn damn.
10:36 a.m.
I am not an overgrown bat. She has no right to call me as such.
I am that as much that as she is a Veela.
Which she is most decidedly not.
Ha! Auriga, the Veela. The very idea makes me want to laugh... or at least, I would if my head were not throbbing from her blatant assault.
I now have a bump on my head from where that unbearable witch threw a COFFEMUG at me. A coffeemug! Simply because I told her that she wasn't quite looking her best today. Well, perhaps I did not quite put it that way. Let me see... what did I say? I merely said that while she was normally not quite Veela-material, today she would make Hagrid look attractive. I meant it as a compliment, you know. I could have said she made a troll look attractive. Though I am not really certain where the distinction lies between a troll and our groundskeeper. But my intentions were... oh, nevermind.
But of all things to throw at one's fellow professor... a coffeemug. At least I have the common decency to merely throw insults. Those don't hurt like a... coffeemug.
Not that the wretched creature has feelings.
Because I am quite sure that she does not.
Not that I would care if she did.
Because I don't.
Anyway.
Double Potions next. Oh, goody.
1:50 p.m.
Nothing cheers the spirit like making first-years cry.
Who ever said Hufflepuffs weren't good for anything?
And I do believe that I just set a new record for deducting points in the span of one class period. Maybe they'll give me a plaque for a change. I might have to bring the idea up with Albus.
Even Minerva, with her prudish ways, could not rival me for plain, downright cruelty. She's far too Gryffindor for that. It makes me sick.
Of course, that might be due to the pumpkin juice I drank at lunch. Thinking back, I remember those damned twins lurking around the Head Table.
Ugh...
2:15 p.m.
I'll get them one day.
I swear.
... Once I cease emptying the contents of my stomach.
2:50 p.m.
They will pay.
So will Sinistra, as I am positive that she is somehow behind all of this. She is out to ruin my life.
Well, I've got news for her.
It's been ruined for quite some time.
So ha.
3:15 p.m.
I must stop by the library and inform Irma that she is not to allow the Weasley twins access to any texts involving potions, poisons, or anything that could remotely be considered hazardous in their hands. Maybe I should simply have them banned from the library completely. Not that it would do much good. Irma seems to think that they are 'cute and harmless.'
It figures. She will hardly let me into the Restricted Section and still insists, after twelve years, that I address her as 'Madame Pince,' but she allows those reckless twin menaces to call her 'Irmy' and prance around the Restricted Section at their leisure.
I'm not bitter.
4:18 p.m.
Office
This has been one of the most fulfilling moments in my life. It even rivals the day I heard that Black's sorry arse was thrown in Azkaban. I will remind her of this day for the rest of my life. Let her throw all the coffeemugs she wants to at me. I wouldn't care.
Auriga Sinistra, in the library, asleep, with her head in a book. Drooling, even.
And not just any book... her journal.
Which I might add is far more juvenile than the unbiased, accurate records I keep of my own life. She was arguing over the spelling of the word 'star.' Great Merlin... I sometimes wonder how idiotic one must be to become a professor here. Am I the only one actually qualified for my position? She did not even know how to spell constallatian.
Silly wench.
But not only did I find her asleep in her journal discussing the inaccurate spellings of astrological terminology, but she was talking. In her sleep.
About me.
It was grand... wait, not like that. Not in the way that I enjoyed it in a sexual manner.
Ew.
No, no. I meant in the way that I have new methods to torture her with. The Veela comments were getting old. Plus the fact that I do not enjoy getting told to 'fuck off' at 9 in the morning.
Though from her journal entries, I got the distinct impression that she completely enjoyed attempting to murder me with breakfast dishes. What will it be next, a muffin? I do hope not.
I hate muffins.
4:32 p.m.
Why did I put my arm around her when walking her out of the library?
...?
Oh. Right. To make her feel even more uncomfortable. Because that is what I do best. Along with the smirks and little jabs I shot at her. It was great, really. "Do attempt to stay awake, Auriga. Perhaps thinking happy thoughts will help."
Ha. That was great.
Yes. Humiliation was the point. And it worked marvelously. Her cheeks were practically aflame with embarrassment.
It was different to see her with such colour... no, I did not enjoy it. It was just... different.
Where was I?
Right. It was disgusting. I touched her. Her waist. My hand touched... her waist.
I must not have been thinking right. Yes. That's it. I was too distracted by the prospect of bringing this little incident up as often as possible. I was not thinking at all about her. Not at all. And I'm not now either.
Her robe was strangely... soft.
I did not just say that.
4:36 p.m.
I touched her.
I think I must be diseased now.
Shower time.