1991, September 1st, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape

Potter comes today. Not happy. In fact, thinking about resigning. Impossible, actually. Can't. Of course I can't. I'm bound to live a life of misery and disrespect by these snot-nosed little brats. Surely a clone of Potter Senior. Arrogant in every way. Ugh. Excuse me while I go puke into my toilet bowl.

1991, September 2nd, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape, 1:31 am

Nothing at all like Lily. Arrogant. Stupid. Looks like Potter Senior in every way. Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. Has her eyes. Does not look right on Potter Senior's disgusting little face. With luck will have none of Lily's talent.

1991, September 6th, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape

None of Lily's talent. All James Potter stupidity and personality. Disappointing. Tried not to look at the eyes. Arrogant brat, really. Nothing. He's supposed to save the Wizarding World? Succession levels are low.

1991, September 21st, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape, 8:32 am

"For Lily," he says, "All for the greater good," he says, "He has her eyes, Severus," he says. I hate him. I despise him. I loathe the very ground he walks on. Does he have to shove my mistakes in my face every chance he gets? Of course he does. He's Albus Bloody Dumbledore. I want to - to - just PUNCH him

1991, September 21st, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape, 8:48 am

Fit of rage over. Hate him. Will go to the Great Hall and act like nothing happened. Want to gouge out his annoying twinkling eyes. Will push urge back. For Lily. . for my sanity.

1991, September 28th, Staff Room, 5:40 am

No one's up this late. Safe. Urge to rant. Will fulfill rant if it is the last thing done. Potter has absolutely no talent. Nothing of his mother; all like his father. Just the eyes. That's all. Hoped at first for something. . just some talent that pointed him towards Lily's own. . nothing. Absolutely nothing. Stupid boy. Can't sleep. Arrogant and stupid just like his father.

Rant fulfilled.

1991, November 8th, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape

Bitten by giant three-headed dog called Fluffy. Brilliant; simply brilliant. Yes, Hagrid, you oaf, call the giant, intimidating, threatening three-headed beast FLUFFY and the cowardly boarhound Fang. Yes, brilliant. Simply a smart thing to do, isn't it? Yes, of course - and then the boy, has the nerve - has the nerve to ask for his book back? Not even knocking first? Lily, why did you have to birth such a James Potter spawn.

1991, November 9th, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape

I will never save Potter spawn again. What do I get in return? Absolutely nothing, that's it. No 'thanks' or 'I'm sorry I thought so badly of you' from anyone. Then again, that could be because no one knows - And then what happens? I get set on fire. And then what happens? Potter vomits the snitch. Pleasant. Absolutely delightful. Excuse me while I go kill myself, thankyou.

1992, February 22nd, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape, 5:34 pm

I missed my diary. No time to write in it anymore. Sadly. Refereed. Potter won. Of course. Potter Senior wins everything, Potter Junior of course has to win everything. I feel bitter. Lily, you better feel grateful after all of this is finished. Excuse me while I go wallow in my sorrows. Do not point out the rhyme in this or you will regret it.

1992, June 7th, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape, 10:52 pm

Apparently, Potter has 'saved us all' by getting rid of The Dark Lord for the second time. Apparently, The Dark Lord lived on the back of the head of Quirrell, the stuttering idiot, for months and we never knew. Apparently, Potter's actions are not observed as 'foolish' and 'stupid' and 'life-threatening' and instead 'heroic' and 'great' and 'lovely', and apparently, Slytherin has lost the house cup. I hate Albus. The first years cried - and who was there to comfort them? Of course, no one - and so I had to do it. Did I mention I hate Albus?

1992, September 1st, Staff Room, 12:33 am

One word that is the guidance to every Wizard's doom: Lockhart. Lockhart. Lockhart. What can I say about Lockhart? Oh, yes: I despise the little blonde twit. That irritating smile, that irritating voice, that irritating hair, the irritating, flouncy robes, the - the.. just.. ARGH.

1992, September 2nd, Staff Room, 9:38 pm

Lockhart comes up to me today; and just guess what he says. Go ahead; just guess. He says, "Oh, Severus! You'd look quite a bit more handsome if you stopped using E-Z Slick Grease for your hair." Yes. He says that. He says that, just in the hall, and then he skips off irritatingly with a 'Need my beauty rest, you know, Severus!' I did not give him permission to use my name. I do NOT use anything on my hair, especially not 'E-Z Slick Grease', and due to the rather .. interesting and flirtatious look the Blonde Twit, as I have taken to calling him (along with Minerva, Aurora, Vector, Filius, Pomona and I swear I have heard Albus stop at 'Blonde tw-') I am sure he just flirted with me. I am disgusted. He has touched me. I must burn my robes and take a very very scalding hot shower. With lots of soap. And his hand brushed up against my hair. Disgusting. I must use ten times the amount of shampoo to get rid of his. . touch. As I write this I am shuddering. I must shower now. Immediately.

1992, September 5th, Staff Room, 7:23 am

Now, I must deal with Granger wagging her hand like it's a tail connected to a wrong part of her body, with Weasley's common stupidity, with Potter's common stupidity and the eyes that always look somewhat hurt when I insult his intelligence - such eyes should not feel such hurt, but I am glad it is Potter that feels it, and Lily not - and Lockhart's stalker habits. Yes; you have heard me correctly. Lockhart has taken to me like a dog would its owner; so far, he has commented on my eyes, on my hair, asked what I used in my hair, in to which I replied nothing and he asked if I was sure, asked my opinion on his robes (They blind me with their horrible color, Lockhart, for one. I suggest you get a fashion sense - or better yet, wear black for the rest of your life, for no one will forget this tragedy that has occurred this day - your horrible robes.) and touched my hair. Touched. My. Hair. The anger felt is like nothing I have ever felt before.

1992, September 10th, Staff Room, 5:02 am

Up this late? Argh. At this rate I will never get back to sleep. Decided journal is the only comfort I can get at this time. Hot cocoa helps, too. Glad that Lockhart does not get up until 7:00. Needs his beauty rest, apparently. I do not see any beauty coming forth. It has obviously run off in fear at the pure face of hideous.

1992, September 18th, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape

I hate Lockhart. I despise him. Absolutely despise him. There is no other way around it. He is truly, and finally, hated. I believe that even Albus is starting to dislike him.

1992, December 13th, 9:22 pm, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape

..Joy of joys. In four days time I will be dueling that blonde twit. Of course, would not normally wish to. Thoughts of Lockhart being embarrassed in front of the school erased such wishes. Waiting eagerly. Lockhart will never flirt with me again.

1992, December 17th, 8:59 am, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape

I felt naught but satisfaction when Lockhart fell like the oaf he is to the ground. I felt even further satisfaction when people cheered. Further satisfaction was had when Lockhart stuttered over his words like the blonde twit he was. Further satisfaction when he stomped past me without a single word.

On further note, Potter's a Parseltongue. Joy.

1992, December 24th, 9:12 pm, Great Hall

Do not normally get Christmas presents. Do not normally hand them out, either. New quill that writes in silver or green ink if you turn it a certain way from Minerva. Quite like it. Of course, will never tell Minerva that. I have my dignity thankyouverymuch. Also new, rather nice black leather journal and package of liquorice wands and dark chocolate bars from Albus. He gave up trying to get me to enjoy Lemon Drops a year or two ago. I threw them out every time he got me a tin. Snake bookmark that writhes and hisses when it is placed in a book from Sinistra. Rather interesting. It's eyes change color depending on what type of book it's placed in. . I do not ask. Sinistra is known for her odd gifts. Got a new fur cloak from Hagrid. Rather nice.

Against own will, gave Albus tin of lemon drops and Hagrid a bottle of Ogden's finest. Gave Minerva nothing. She always complains when I give her a green and silver striped sweater out of the goodness of my heart. *snicker* Informed by Filius that Sinistra's cloak ripped. Nudged to the point of insanity by Minerva and Filius to get her a new cloak. Finally gave in. She hugged me. I stood there. She kissed me on the cheek. I did not blush.

1993, February 7th, 10:11 am, Potions Class

Grading. I hate grading. They're all dunderheads. T, T, T, D, P, P, D, T, T, A, Draco Malfoy, O, Potter, T. . satisfaction is had. Goyle, Crabbe..is there a grade worse than Troll? No?

1993, February 14th, 8:47 am, Great Hall

I hate Lockhart. It is a simple fact. I hate Lockhart. In fact, I despise him. In fact, everyone should despise him. Ideas of writing anonymous book with 847 reasons to hate Gilderoy Lockhart coming. No. Shan't. Had satisfaction of seeing Sinistra smack him across the head yesterday. Was rather entertaining. Especially when Lockhart didn't know who did it.

Must resist from strangling Lockhart. "Professor Snape will be making love potions," he says. Hands clench. Just tore hole in paper. Must resist from raising wand and Avada Kedavraing. Will offer to even Avada Kedavra oneself if it will get me away from this blonde twit of a Defense teacher.

1993, February 14th, 1:58 pm, Chambers of Professor Severus Tobias Snape

Apparently Potter can now kill a basilisk. And survive. Felt naught but glee when Lockhart was revealed to obliviate himself, forgetting me. Joy. Now is in St. Mungos, recovering. Secret hope that he never does, and stays in St. Mungos until he is old and unattractive.

1993, September 1st, 4:44 pm, Great Hall

Lupin's arrived. Joy of joys. I am not happy with this arrangement and I expressed it very clearly to Albus by throwing a tin of his cursed lemon drops at his nose. Did not know tins of lemon drops had such power. Reluctantly apologized. Now writing at staff table and ignoring Lupin who is attempting to engage me in whatever conversation he thinks he can come up with.

Stupid werewolf.

1993, September 2nd, 8:08 pm, Great Hall

Hate. Hate hate hate. I can't write. I am filled with hatred. Hands are shaking. "Hello, Severus," he says, as if he has permission to use my first name, as if he is not a werewolf, as if he did not nearly kill me before, as if we're friends. We're not friends- we're never friends and we never will be.

AN: I love Severus. But I am quite unsure of what to do with this; should I continue it, should I leave it like this? Is it a bad story or a fairly decent one? This is the first time I've tried to write in this format, so let me know if it's good or bad or horrible or makes you want to gouge your eyes out and proceed to eat them on a kabob stick - anything to get away from this horrible terror. Ignoring my gory, self-flaming description, I do hope you atleast like it enough to review; or atleast have enough time to flame. You see, they won't let me near fire - but what they don't know won't hurt them. Read and review, dearies. There is, I believe, a subtle Dane Cook reference in here somewhere, but I forget where. If you can find it again, then you get banana creme pie.