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The Not-So-Secret Diary of Severus Snape. [entries|friends|calendar]
Snape

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[16 Nov 2006|11:53pm]
[ mood | Also also Classified. ]

It isn't easy being me, you know.

I just thought I'd share that with you all.


Have decided to set up a more permanent camp in the library. It's dryer than the dungeons, at any rate. I have staked out a small plot of territory somewhere in the vicinity of the Restricted Section. If you come anywhere near it, the alarms will sound and a large bucket of sour milk and weevils will materialize, upside down, just above your head. I have already cleared this measure with Pince, and she will be holding you responsible for any damage incurred to books along the way. She must like me. I am slightly scared

In other news, my favourite copy of Hogwarts, A History is missing from the library. Who ever has taken it I demand that you return it to its rightful shelf immediately. No one except me has read that thing since 1887, so why any of you would start getting interested in the heritage of this place now is utterly beyond me.

57 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

christ. [25 Oct 2006|11:25pm]
Bugger this for a lark.

LEAVE ME ALONE YOU WEIRD, WEIRD PEOPLE. I THINK I PREFERRED IT WHEN I WAS A NEWT TO THIS BOLLOCKS. I'M GOING TO THE LIBRARY.

I MAY NOT BE BACK FOR SOME TIME.


NARGH.
39 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

... [09 Oct 2006|11:38pm]
[ mood | whatthebugeryfuckisgoingon? ]

What the fuck?

No. Seriously. What the fuck. What the hell is wrong with you, Potter?

I saw you. Don't deny it. I saw you hiding behind that gargoyle on the third floor, the one that looks like your face but prettier, just after lunch today. Sucking on your trousers, and laughing.

Not only that. Not ONLY that, but not three minutes later you came belting past me from the other direction with what looked like Tracy Scoggins' knickers over your head (they're pretty bloody huge, can't miss them) making bleep bleep noises and hitting first years over the head with a rubber chicken, with Sirius running in hot pursuit. How is that possible? How? How can you have got from one floor to the other, picked up a rubber chicken (and some dry trousers) AND managed to rip those ship sails Scoggins calls knickers from her undercarriage in little over a mousefart in time?


Christ.


And people say I'm weird.

40 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

Please Stand By. [07 Aug 2006|09:38pm]


We regret to inform you that Severus Snape has unexpectedly been turned into a newt. Normal viewing may or may not return just as soon as we've figured out just what the fuck to do with him.
1 Gropes | Reach into my pants?

Erm. [03 Aug 2006|07:24pm]
[ mood | confused. ]

I just woke up in what can only be described as a Tree Fort, with a mouth tasting like a dog kennel carpet, a pair of flares on back-to-front and the words "BURN BABY BURN!" written in lipstick across my chest ... and I have no recollection as to what has happened over the last few days.

... dare I ask?


P.S Fuck you, in advance.

12 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

Oh Sirius, Darling [21 Jun 2006|01:23am]
I think you and I need a little chat.


A little bird (well, actually, a big fat ugly turkey) has been spreading a few rumours which have sounded very interesting indeed. I've had my suspicions for a while now, and, after much deliberation and some careful detective work on my part I think I can safely say that you're completely fucked. Figuratively speaking.

Say The fourth floor loos, in about an hour?

Toodles
xxxxxx
4 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[24 Apr 2006|12:12am]
I didn't do it. Far more important things to worry about than that. So don't ask, peckerheads.

I can't believe I've managed to get through St. George's day and not one person has set my underpants on fire.

I feel this is an achievement.

Hope you Gryffindors appreciate the present some of the Slytherins and I left for you. Dragon semen doesn't come cheap, you know.

Toodles!
18 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[19 Mar 2006|01:42pm]
Greetings plebes.
15 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[01 Jan 2006|10:08am]
Oh good. Another year to look forward to.

You know, it's hardly fair. You manage to get through one of the buggers relatively unscathed, only to find you've got another one waiting just around the sodding corner for you. Do you think that's right? Because I don't.



Quick! Who's going to be the first to take a pop at me this year!?



I'm going to the library. I expect to be there all day.
11 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

My thoughts on the Gryffinslut Christmas Orgy [27 Dec 2005|06:07pm]
Well. I hope that Potter was too drunk to notice his little lap dog's gingivitis.



Bow wow.


As for you, Lupin, I had no idea you had it in you.
42 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[24 Dec 2005|02:19am]
Bah. Humbug!
5 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[27 Jan 2005|02:19pm]
[ mood | happy ]

Still no sign of Sirius.

No James either.



I must've done something good in a parallel universe somewhere, because this is fantastic!

24 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[17 Dec 1976|08:36pm]
I hate christmas.

No, seriously I really do.

Mum's already drunk and hexing the cat into doing impressions of Ghandi on the special crack. Dad's locked himself into the study and I doubt he'll be out until January 2nd, save for meal times and toilet breaks.

Naturally, I'm staying at school. Who else is here? Last day, I know. So just wondering who's leaving tomorrow morning.

- SS
9 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[30 Nov 1976|12:09am]
[ mood | cranky ]

I can neither deny nor confirm the allegation that I was spotted entering my dormitory with one Rita Skeeter of Gryffindor House late last night after (finally) leaving the safety of the Prefect's Bathroom. You're all making mountains out of molehills. Shut up and leave me alone, you all have dicks the size of peanuts. Small peanuts at that.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there are some Hufflepuff firsties that haven't yet discovered the true meaning of "bog washing." Me and Dolohov are giving them an introductory lesson.


- SS

22 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[21 Nov 1976|11:59pm]
[ mood | aggravated ]

I am going to get this crap out of my hair. It's stunting my intellectual growth.



Possible cleaning agents:

- bleach
- bobotubor pus
- stale urine (male)
- stale urine (female)
- stale urine (rat piss)
- soap and water
- industrial strength floor cleaner courtesy of filch's stock cupboard
- hydrochloric acid
- Madam Rosmerta's Special Brew (diluted. Neat it would probably eat my scalp)
- whatever it is that Dumbledore passes off as tea
- tomato ketchup
- a special concoction of my own involving liquid nitrogen
- egg
- blood of Potter. Probably wouldn't work, but my god it would be fun collecting it.


I am in the prefect's bathroom. I will not be coming out until my hair is of normal colour again. There are hexes on all the doors. If you attempt to enter, you will die. Screaming in agony. Probably with a chimpanzee inserted into your backside.


In short, you can all sod off.

Lots of love,



- SS

21 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[15 Nov 1976|09:37pm]
[ mood | gloomy ]

Everyone else has had more sex than me.


Does anybody else get that feeling?

14 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[14 Nov 1976|12:01am]
[ mood | fuck ]

Can't talk. Hair still pink. Currently hiding from crazed lunatic caretaker who is weilding a very sharp, shiny-looking battle axe.


Fuck. Narcissa where are you????

3 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[08 Nov 1976|04:07pm]
[ mood | SLIGHTLY UPSET ]

That is it. I am never washing my hair EVER again.







WHO SWITCHED MY SHAMPOO WITH HAIR DYE?! WHO DID IT? BLACK?! POTTER?!

OR WAS IT YOU, GILDEROY? IF THIS IS YOUR IDEA OF A MAKEOVER I AM SERIOUSLY UNIMPRESSED.

I CAN'T BE FIERCE AND PREFECTLY LIKE THIS! IT'LL TAKE WEEKS TO CHARM THIS CRAP OUT OF MY HAIR, YOU MISERABLE SODS.

I'M GOING TO GLADRAGS TO BUY A HAT.

A VERY BIG HAT. MAYBE WITH TASSLES. I HAVEN'T DECIDED YET.


SOD THE LOT OF YOU.
34 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[07 Nov 1976|03:09pm]
[ mood | angsty ]

I think I've just had an epiphany.

Oh God, how depressing.


In other news, experimenting with new shampoo today. Industrial strength.

Outlook on possible success: pessimistic.

5 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

[06 Nov 1976|04:55pm]
[ mood | uncomfortable ]

Okay. That's it. Who put a flesh-eating rectal wart charm in my boxer shorts?


Oh my head hurts. Ow. And why did I wake up with a muggle traffic cone in my bed? And where are my socks? Narcissa I hate you. The next person who so much as breathes within a hundred yard radius of my bed is going to experience pains that the world has never even imagined before. My mouth feels like an ashtray, no, a public urinal. Where did Filch brew that stuff? Myrtle's toilet? I think I'm blind. Woe

23 Gropess | Reach into my pants?

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