Diaries of a Dungeon-Dwelling Moron
Discreet Disclosures of Severus S. Snape
Author's Note: Forgive the long, loooooong delay, but I have been horribly affected by writer's block and senior year stress. But now I only have one week left of school and then... blissful summer. Thank Merlin. This chapter's for Nita, since she won't ever let me stop writing this. Siriusly.
And remusly.
-Part Six-
9 September 1991
Chambers
9:30 a.m.
I do believe that I have forced dear Auriga into hiding. She did not come down to breakfast this morning, and I heard from my House-Elf Tobby (out of the casual conversation one has with one's house-elves, of course) that she had food sent up to her Astrology Tower so that she could "work" without interruption. More like pout without interruption. Honestly, she's such a child sometimes. It's not like I would mention her little incident to her. Oh no. I wouldn't think of doing such a thing to a fellow professor.
(Thankfully, she has been too flustered to even bother asking why I was in Quirrell's office in the first place, and I doubt she could bear facing Quirrell himself to inform him of my intrusion- since she would have to explain why she was there in the first place. Damnably enough, however, I emerged from the event iguana-less. But oh, it was worth it.)
I wonder how long Auriga will keep up her game of hiding. Because it is such a shame to be deprived of her enlightening conversation and witty remarks. I wonder if she has learned to spell 'star' yet. And no, I will never let her live that down. For. As. Long. As. I. Live.
But really, the woman has a ridiculous amount of... mishaps, shall we say? There was the Sandersought incident... which was actually rather a while ago. But this year... there was the 'star' incident and now her attempts at seducing Quirrell... or was it me? or... Quirrell? Damn, this is complicated. Let me see. She was planning on seducing Quirrell, but ended up seducing me while thinking that she was seducing Quirrell while I was pretending to be Quirrell...
Oh dear God.
Forget it.
And remind me never to use the word seducing while referring to Sinistra again.
Teachers' Lounge
8:34 p.m.
I came to a decision earlier. With Sinistra obviously infuriated/embarrassed/more-emotionally-unstable-than-usual over the events of yesterday, it would be wise of me to hide all coffee mugs from her view. It's either that or inform Poppy to restock the burn ointment. And I would prefer not to experience again the humiliation of applying burn ointment to certain... areas that shall remain unwritten for posterity.
It just so happened that while I was down here, moving all coffee mugs to a magically charmed and Muggle-y locked cabinet, I heard the Champion Coffee Thrower herself pass by. I thought maybe she had recovered enough to attempt assault and battery again. Fortunately, that was not the case.
It was... strange. I heard her pass by (the woman walks like a bloody elephant, for Merlin's sake! Not at all attractive, if you ask me) and then she began to speak. I wasn't sure who would be in the halls at the time, save for a delinquent student out of class. But after looking out the door, I found that no one was accompanying her.
She was talking to herself.
Now, I've heard that confinement can cause temporary delusions, but my God, she'd only been isolating herself for a day. Not even that.
Then again, she was on the edge of sanity already. I mean, honestly, the woman was on the verge of psychosis (again, I in no way have ever found this attractive. Not even that one time after the punch was... nevermind). It only would take a small push... or a light breeze... or maybe perhaps a feather tap.
But I'd done it. I'd driven the starry-eyed wench mad. I should feel incredibly proud, should I not? Strange... that's not exactly what I'm feeling. And if I didn't know better, I'd say it was guilt.
But no.
No.
It must have been the mint meringue dessert after dinner today. That's enough to turn anyone's stomach, even with the proper Anti-nausea spells. After all, I don't have feelings. None whatsoever. Especially not guilt.
But anyway.
I watched for a bit as she hurried down the hall. She was clutching something to her... a notebook? I couldn't quite see what it was before she was out of sight. So I returned to my work, thinking she had gone. However, a moment later, I heard her yell some nonsense before her steps (was she running? Why?) passed back by the room. I managed to catch a glimpse of her as she passed, and this time she was sans notebook. Strange.
But then again, we are talking about Sinistra.
Chambers
10:00 p.m.
Would you find it completely strange to know that I, Severus S. Snape, Head of Slytherin, most dreaded man at Hogwarts (and most elligible, if only I had that damned iguana), cannot stop smiling?
Considering the circumstances, I would not.
10:05
Truth be told, I cannot remember the last time I smiled.
...
It's actually starting to get painful. Believe I will stop now.
That's better.
...
...
Damn, I cannot stop. But really, you can't blame me.
10:15
Sinistra's diary is mine.
Yes, that's right. I have the pathetic, childish scribblings of that demented, starry-eyed wench. I'm actually quite surprised that she hasn't drawn little hearts all over the cover with my-Quirrell's (ahem) name inside. That would seem typical of her. Ah well. I'm certain that the inside is full of such immature behavior. But I haven't yet been able to bring myself to open it. Of course I know that she hasn't the wits to curse it or do any such thing, but...
Oh, what the hell am I waiting for? The thing to grow a mouth an invite me in? Not bloody likely, with her magical abilities. The only things that she can do are stare mindlessly at the stars (which she cannot even spell correctly) and write her pathetic innermost thoughts in this ridiculous diary.
Great Merlin... her innermost thoughts? And I have these?
Again I ask, what am I waiting for?
10:45 p.m
Hmm. Still have not opened said diary. This is ridiculous. I could completely humiliate her. I could expose her secret desires for Hagrid or something horrid like that. All it would take would be to open the cover.
And why shouldn't I? It is rightfully mine now, after all. I did not steal it or wrest it away from her. She was the one who disposed of it. She was the one who nearly maimed a House Elf by thrusting the ridiculous notebook at its head. (She does like to attempt murder with household objects, does she not? Rather a strange compulsion. Perhaps I could recommend my psychiatrist to her... er... my former psychiatrist. Albus made me go. I do not have a problem with holding grudges. I have no idea what he is talking about.
...
Bloody pink hair.)
Er, anyway. It is her own fault that she is without her precious notebook. It is her own fault that the House Elf she attacked happened to be my own personal House Elf. It is completely her own fault that I, upon hearing of this event, demanded that the notebook be handed over to my care. Well... maybe that's not exactly her fault. But it certainly isn't mine.
Therefore, I should have no problem in opening it.
11:06 p.m.
Dammit.
Morals must be rubbing off on me from the likes of Albus and Minerva. Must pay a call to Lucius before it is too late. That should do the trick.
But until then, it couldn't hurt to just... look at the first page.
11:59 p.m.
Am going to bed. Seriously.
10 September 1991
Teacher's Lounge
9:15 a.m.
Does she know that I am in possession of her most private and scatter-brained thoughts? She keeps... looking at me.
Though maybe that's just because I have been staring at her for the past fifteen minutes. Why, exactly, I am staring at her is quite beyond me. Maybe it's because her hair is a bit more out-of-hand than usual. Or because her glasses have slid down her nose a total of twelve times since she has walked in the door. Or because I am incredibly paranoid that she knows. She could throw another coffee mug at me, you know. The whole plan of locking them away didn't work. Apparently I do not know how to use a Muggle lock.
Will stop looking at her now.
...
There go the glasses again.
You know, you can see her eyes better without the glasses. They are, all things considered, rather... decent. They are amber, I believe, a few shades lighter than her ridiculous hair.
...
What the hell am I doing?!
Not that there's anything else to look at in this room. I suppose we must make do with what we are given.
She's looking at me again. With her amber eyes.
...Gah.
"Do you... need something, Severus?"
Mental help?
"Nothing," I sneered back at her. "Though I would appreciate it if you would cease looking at me in such a way."
"After you stop staring at me," she retorted. "Obsessive observation can be considered stalking, you know."
"And attempting to seduce a man over ten years your junior can be considered desperate."
Her mouth dropped and I almost flinched. Almost. Her lips formed words, but no sound came out. I noticed, with no small amount of fear, that her fingers were tightening around the coffee mug in her hand. Finally, she set down the mug (and by 'setting down,' I mean with enough force to break it) on the counter and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Perhaps I was a bit harsh.
Oops.
Dungeons
12:20 p.m
This is it. I'm going in. I'm opening her diary.
...
Hmm.
Oh yes. And Severus Snape was a complete and total bastard.
Surprise, surprise.
Why, thank you, dear Auriga. I do try.
I bet Snape's still sour about that time in fifth year when the Marauders turned his hair pink.
...
Am not.
...
Well, maybe a bit. But... I deserve my bitterness. It's all I have.
...
Great Merlin, I'm pathetic.
He's not even a very good kisser, anyway.
Oh, and you are? Not.
...How Severus attracts all this attention from our more eccentric female colleagues, I'll never know. I mean, God knows I can't see anything even the least bit attractive about him. I can't even begin to understand how anyone could think he was...good-looking.
Someone's in denial, I think.
... I mean Auriga, you realize.
Yes, of course. Right.
Severus Snape is not in any way attractive.
Smirk. She wants me.
...
Which does not in any way make me pleased. Quite the opposite, actually.
'When Ophiuchus, encircled by the serpent's great coils, rises he renders the forms of snakes innocuous to those born under him. They will receive snakes into the folds of their flowing robes, and will exchange kisses with these poisonous monsters and suffer no harm.'
The Sinistra star.
...
By the Mark, we're written in the stars.
...
What is wrong with the world nowadays, I ask you? Sure, I was a Death Eater and I deserve to be punished, but to be cursed with Sinistra as my star-crossed lover? That's just going a bit far.
I believe I will be sick now.
After, of course, I finish reading this fascinating account of her pathetic, miserable life. Yes. Pathetic and miserable. Not star-crossed. Not even remotely.
I do believe I will check my star chart though. She could be lying.
Star-crossed. Us.
Ha.
Ha ha.
...
Oh, God.