Diaries of a Dungeon-Dwelling Moron

Discreet Disclosures of Severus S. Snape

Author's Note: Apologies for this taking so darn long. I've had a plethora of homework, plus Band Tour and an insane lack of inspiration, which finally struck yesterday in the midst of the boredom of Pre-Calculus. Thank Snape that class is good for something.

Be sure to visit the newest sister fic to this and "Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit." Bohemian Storm is now writing everyone's favorite S/S torture and humor from Herman the Iguana's POV. It's called "It's Not Easy Being Green" and you can find it here.

Credit goes to Milla for "Hags Home Decorating."

-Part Five-

8 September 1991

Chambers

7:30 a.m.

Am rather bored and sick of the silly rhyme. Nothing rhymes with wine. I swear on the grave of... someone in my family that nothing else rhymes with wine. Anyway. I have decided to, for posterity's sake, copy down the one work that I am most proud of, the one poem that really shows my inner wants and desires. Thus, here is "Die, Potter, Die."

'Everyone thinks you're perfect

And can do no wrong

Everyone thinks you're number one

And Hogwarts is where you belong

But I beg to differ

I really must disagree

I'd rather you be somewhere else

Far away from me

If you'd be in good old London

That's not far enough

Or even across an ocean

Of waves torrid, rough

You'd still walk the earth in some form

That I could chance to see

But if you were six feet under

That would work for me

"What happened to the Boy-Who-Lived"

People would often ponder

And how they'd ever live without you

I'm sure a few would wonder

But I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't mourn

I wouldn't shed a tear

In fact I'd probably laugh out loud

-That's something rare to hear

So why do you keep hanging on?

I'm asking you now, why

Can't you leave me with my peace

And die, Potter, die.'

Really warms the heart, that one.

10:45 a.m.

I have officially decided to conveniently forget about Albus' suggestion that I leave Slatero alone. Instead, I have opted for some... investigation. Yes. Investigation. Like one of those Muggle detectives on the tel... telephone? No. The... telophison. Yes. That's it. I saw one once in Muggle London while on a mission for Voldemort. It was rather fascinating. They had badgers and carried gones- those black, strangely shaped wands that could kill without even saying Avada Kedavra.

If I were misfortuned enough to be a Muggle, I should like to be a detective.

But anyway. I would be investigating Quirrell. Minus the gone, as I don't quite know where to get one. Ah well. My wand is less messy than a gone. There is something... not right about Quirrell. No normal man wears a turban merely for style. Well.. no normal man wears a turban period. Unless he lives in Arabia or something. But no normal person would willingly reside there either.

And the whole iguana thing. Who keeps an iguana named Herman as a pet?

The man is just strange. Unfortunately, he seems to be stealing my status as Hogwarts Most Elligible (not that I had much competition against the likes of Hagrid, Filch, and Binns). Not that I enjoyed the title, mind you. It was rather silly. Besides, I do not miss any of Hooch's back-breaking love taps. She's currently lavishing her attentions on the stuttering fool. He probably has bruises by now. Ha. Serves him right.

Er... nevermind.

Sinistra also seems affected by him. Instead of annoying me with her ever-sliding glasses, she sat by and spoke to him. Am not jealous. Not at all. Why should I be jealous of a man who can barely say "Good morning, Auriga" in under two minutes? But I cannot understand why she would possibly be interested in him. However, she seems to be. She actually told him that his turban "looked very flattering this morning. Was he wrapping it differently?" Good God. It was sickening and pathetic. Ah well. Better him and his iguana than me. The most she ever asked about my appearance was "Did you shower last month, Severus?" Wench.

Am not jealous. Not.

Am not jealous of Herman either, despite the fact that he pulls of green better than I ever could. Bloody iguana.

11:20 a.m.

Really, I'm not jealous.

11:24 a.m.

I'm not... ah, damn it. And damn that iguana. Women must like iguanas. That has to be it. It's the only explanation.

I have no iguana.

11:33 a.m.

Not that I desire to attract women. Or any woman. Particularly not Auriga.

Definitely not her.

Merlin no.

I don't know why I'm even thinking about her.

11:59 a.m.

Where can one get an iguana?

12:47 p.m.

That's it. I'm leaving to... investigate Quirrell's classroom. After all, that's where he keeps that blasted iguana. Without it, he will have none of his... allure. Or whatever the bloody hell it is that makes Auriga fawn over him. It's a disgusting display. Which is why it would be... unfortunate... if Herman decided to accidentally escape. And find his way to my quarters. And refuse to leave. He would resort to forcefully restraining himself in a locked cage if necessary. I would help, of course.

The iguana will be mine.

Then we'll see who sits by who at breakfast. I mean, she completely disordered the seating arrangement. I had to sit by that unbearable Flitwick.

Though I refuse to wear a turban. Let her make all the comments she wishes. I do bathe regularly, thank you. Working all day with potions is not exactly the best for one's hair. Not that I would have anyone here to impress anyway. Which is why I don't want the iguana for any... personal reasons. I just want to... make sure that it isn't part of any dark plans to do with Voldemort. It could be... an animagnus. Yes. That's it.

I would need to acquire the iguana to be sure. That's what I'm doing. Yes.

Great Merlin... I'm defending myself to a diar... journal. I don't need to reason with you. You're inanimate. Children reason with their little diaries, give them names, sign "Love, Billy." I do nothing of the kind. And I do not need reasons for what I am about to do.

...

But in case you were wondering, I have several more very good reasons.

So ha.

3:01 p.m.

I could be discovered by Voldemort as a spy, be tortured for countless hours, and still die laughing. I could even forgive Potter for his father's existence.

Wait.

Maybe not.

But nonetheless, I doubt that I have ever laughed so hard in my entire existence, save for when I discovered Sinistra's obsession with Sandersought. But this is so much better.

Sinistra.

Seducing.

I think I shall die.

But before I do, I must write this down so that whoever manages to get past the charms on my journal will be able to tell the world of Sinistra's pathetic attempt at being desirable.

I successfully made it inside Quirrell's classroom without detection. Left the lights off, to be safe. (Those viewings of Muggle detective shows did not go to waste.) The iguana was in the corner. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Or maybe it was just me. I half-expected to be stepping into some sort of trap. Quirrell would jump out of hiding, holding his wand (or maybe a gone), and laugh maniacally (stuttering all the while... b-b-b-bwa-a-a-ha-h-h-h-aha!), and turn me into another iguana or a toad or... or an insect to feed to Herman.

That was it. That was what he did. He transformed all his rivals for bachelorhood into insects and disposed of them by feeding them to his iguana. I thought the reptile looked rather... overweight. I wondered if an insectoid form of Gilderoy Lockhart was passing through Herman's digestive tract right about then.

One could only hope.

After realizing I was not going to be fed to an iguana, I proceeded to investigate. I looked around the room, peered in drawers, found a copy of "Witches Gone Wild" beneath a dog-eared "Iguanas Weekly," "Love Me, Love My Reptile," and, strangely enough, "Hags Home Decorating." I was beginning to wonder about the magazine choices of my co-workers.

I didn't find much else in his desk drawers and couldn't see any obviously hidden secret compartments. Onto the iguana, then.

After checking the door to be sure no one was approaching, I made my way over to Herman's glass aquarium. The thing stared up at me as I approached and for a moment I wondered if iguanas bit. He looked like he wanted to. But I needed that damn thing. So I reached inside and grabbed the thing around the waist, hoisting it out of the cage and holding it with both hands an arms-length away from me. It wasn't that I was scared, of course. Contamination was my worry. Merlin knew what sort of germs that creature carried.

After a moment of standing there, holding the iguana like an idiot, he turned his head and looked over his shoulder at me and flicked out his tongue. I had to admit that it was almost... for lack of a better word.... cuddly.

I did not just say that.

Anyway, seeing as there was no mortal harm in holding Herman, I cautiously brought him closer to my body. He responded by making a sort of... noise. I took it to be a good sign. Perhaps iguanas weren't that bad after all. And now that I had him, it wouldn't be very long until...

Right then, the door opened and a feminine figure walked in, perched on the desk, and looked around.

Well, I wasn't expecting the iguana thing to work quite that fast.

Then she spoke. "Oh... Slatero."

By the Mark, it was Sinistra. I glared down at the iguana. This was not what I had wanted.

Really. It wasn't.

For a moment, I couldn't say anything. What could I say? I was in Quirrell's office holding his iguana. It was not exactly the best position to find oneself. Was there something wrong with her voice? She sounded as if she had just run 5 kilometers and couldn't properly draw breath. She went on. "I was wondering if we could have... a little chat."

I peered through the darkness at her. And what the hell was on her face?

That was when I realized.

I was about to witness a repeat of the Sandersought incident... personally. She had obviously attempted the use of Muggle cosmetics and had lost. It also seemed that she had tried to brush her bushy hair and had only succeeded in making it nearly twice as big as it had been beforehand. She looked like she had been hit by the Knight Bus. It was grand.

It was too grand. I almost burst into laughter on the spot. And I never, ever laugh. Instead, I bit my lip and nodded, praying she would continue.

She did.

"You know, Slatero... you don't mind if I call you Slatero, do you?" Oh good God. I thought I was going to die. My grip on the iguana tightened as I made an intense effort not to laugh, and the thing squirmed in protest. "...because I feel that I possess that sort of... intimacy with you."

I couldn't keep nodding for the entire conversation. Even an idiot like Quirrell would open his mouth and attempt human conversation. Besides, how hard could it be to stutter like a moron? "Y...y...yes, A...Auriga."

Damn, I was good.

She bought it. "And I feel compelled to tell you that I've never felt such a... chemistry with someone before. Not like this." Was she purring? It sounded rather like a cat was being slowly strangled.

"O..oh...oh r...really?" I was going to die. Chemistry? With the onion-wielding iguana lover? She was more mad than I'd first thought.

"Yes." The hands about the proverbial cat's neck were tightening. I almost cringed. "Do you feel that... spark between us, Slatero?"

I was beginning to wonder if she could speak a single sentence without those overly dramatic pauses. She sounded, eerily enough, like Destiny du Maurier. And that is not the image a man wants when he is being (snort) seduced. "Y... yes."

The next sentence she spoke was when I lost all control. "I admit I... fantasize about you sometimes. About us." Fantasize? Good God. I couldn't take it anymore. A snort of laughter escaped and I froze, hoping she wouldn't notice.

The stupid wench was too far gone to even think twice. And then... then she said a sentence that I never would have wished to hear come from her lips. "Can we make those fantasies come true?" ShudderTwitchShudderSneeeeeer.

I couldn't take it anymore. I was nearly shaking with laughter. I nearly dropped Herman twice and he was now clinging to my arm for all he was worth. I turned to deposit him back in his cage and managed to stutter, "I.... I would... s...surely enjoy attempting, A... Auriga."

I felt a hand on my shoulder and she asked, in a manner than can only be deemed sickening, "Will you kiss me, Slatero?"

I bit my lip. Hard. Think it began to bleed. But it was all worth it. "W...w...well, Auriga, I... I..." I fake-stammered before dropping the stutter and bringing on the sneer full blast. "Have no doubt in my mind that you are the most pathetic seductress I have ever encountered."

Ignore the fact that I had never encountered another seductress before.

I laughed. Out loud. Very out loud. I was almost doubled over and very quickly developing a pain in my side. After all, it's not every day that Severus Snape laughs. But the look on her face was more than priceless. She could have killed me on the spot and I wouldn't have cared. It was pure bliss.

And then the brilliant twit said, "You're not Quirrell."

I was laughing too hard to even manage a proper smirk.

It was the single most perfect event in my life.

I could ruin her with this.

And I would enjoy every single minute of it.

But right now, I believe I need a shower.