The Secret Diary of Severus Snape

11/12/1975
Lucius was in a foul mood in Potions. Perhaps he’s still mad about the game. He hardly spoke to me. I was very uncomfortable. Feeling Jigg eye eyes on me didn’t improve the situation.

I remember when I first met Jigger. Wasn’t really the first time, he’d seen me when I was only a baby but I don’t remember that, of course. Father told me I could make my appearance and then had me prepare the Draught of the Living Dead. At 7 it was quite a feat, I’m sure. Jigger smiled to me then and said I did well. Then he ruffled my hair. I’d been going through a phase when father’s entire army of house elves couldn’t succeed in making me wash my hair. Jigger had innocuously wiped his hand on my robes with a wide fake smile.

I think it is a good analogy of how he really feels about me. He wants to do the fatherly thing but he’s the type of man who will wipe his hands when they touch the grease on my hair. It’s not quite that greasy anymore. Still looks limp but despite what Black and co. say about me I do wash it. I’m not the right age for ruffling of hair anymore, though.

12/12/1975
What sentimental bollocks I wrote about Jigger! He’s such a prick! He made Lucius work with Julie Parkinson and gave me Goyle. GOYLE of all people. He asked me how’s my little friend. (Meaning Rosier who’s been hiding from him since the game). I told him that if he touched a hair on Evan’s head he’d live to regret it. I felt a coldness as I was saying it. A coldness that told me that I meant it, I truly could hurt him badly if he did something to Evan. I felt as though I could really kill him. It was an incredible feeling, frightening in its intensity.

He laughed and told me that sooner or later my little boyfriend would get what is coming to him. Loudly. In front of Lucius who frowned at me and yanked at my arm to get me out of the classroom. I like to think that the bluish mark of his fingers on my upper arm are born of jealousy. We haven’t been together since before the g It’ It’s this thing about me not wanting to do it in his dormitory or mine anymore. I want it to be private. Privacy doesn’t come by easily in Hogwarts.

Lucius told me not to push my luck with Goyle. I might know a hex or two but sheer strength is not to be laughed at. I told him I can take care of myself. We were sitting together in the Common Room. He hardly raised his voice with me yet we’d attracted several curious glances. Evan asked me about it but I didn’t tell him anything. I’m not sure it qualifies as a row.

I miss touching Lucius. I miss kissing him. I feel like breaking the rule I set and sneaking to his dormitory.

Or I could just think of him and take care of things myself. The sounds from Avery’s bed are rather self explanatory. He’s never been particularly good at keeping it quiet ever since he discovered the joys of wanking. The thought of what he’s doing makes me hard. It is a strange since when he’s on the ground I don’t find him attractive in the least. Lucius on the other hand… Lucius making these strangled sounds, stroking his length slowly, languidly… that’s the way I imagine he’d do it. Fuck it, I can’t keep writing and wank at the same time. I’ve never seen Lucius play with himself. I’ll ask for a private show at the earliest opportunity.

14/12/1975
Hogsmeade. A room over The Golem’s Head. No questions asked. Lucius paid of course. I’m too shagged out to make any sense. Will try giving a detailed account tomorrow.

15/12/1975
I imagine me old and grey, reading this (and probably playing with myself a lot). I don’t know why I want to write everything. It’s not as if I’d show this to anyone and brag about the things I did. Perhaps I could consider lending it out as wank material or publishing it one day. I’m sure I’d make good money. The Malfoys are close to royalty in our world, after all. Perhaps I’d make better money to not publish my memoirs but that would not include the joy of sending dear old papa to an early e. Ie. I need to find something catchy:

“My life as Lucius Malfoy’s sex slave”. Not a bad ring to it. I’m a happy slave, I must say.

I didn’t know what Lucius had planned. I had no great desire to go to Hogsmeade and follow Lestrange, Avery, Rosier and Wilkes to their usual butterbeer excess and Honeydukes raids. Lucius found me in the library doing some personal reading. I still haven’t managed to produce untraceable Polyjuice. I did manage to make irreversible Polyjuice though. I hope Avery’s frog and Lestrange’s owl will get used to their new bodies at some point. Especially poor Quinn (the frog-owl) who’d better learn to fly or Lestrange will never get any mail again. Hecate (the owl-frog) is in a worse predicament. That frog trying desperately to become airborne is making my heart bleed. Roger has got it on suicide watch, thinking something in his behaviour has made the poor thing want to go splat. He’s taken to carrying “Quinn” everywhere and indulging his every whim (which now seems to include owl treats). I vowed never to experiment on my friends’ pets again. It will be difficult. After the fourth rat that died on me father refused to buy me any more pets.

“How is your polyjuice project coming along?” Lucius is very interested in it since he’s counting on polyjuicing me to pass his Potions NEWTS. I know how he feels since it’s my only hope of passing my Transfiguration OWLS.

“I suggest you start paying more attention in class,” I said glumly.

He laughed. “That badly?”

“I’m at a dead end.”

He shrugged. “You’ll manage, I’m sure,” he said casually propping himself on the desk to sit on top of my notes. “In the meantime, how about a break?”

“Pardon me?” I said, extracting my hand from under his arse.

He pressed forward until his package was resting against my retreating hand. “You know what I want,” he whispered in a voice that went straight to my prick.

“In here?” I hissed, taking my hand away.

He rolled his eyes and got off the desk. His next movement was so fast he was a blur. He pulled on my hair. “Anywhere,” he whispered hotly in my ear. “I missed you, you little fuck.”

His version of sweet talk made my knees wobbly. I’d let him take me in the Great Hall if only he kept talking to me like that. I followed him in a daze. He took me to my room and tied my scarf for me then moved on to my coat. That was when I finally asked him what he was doing.

At the Golem’s Head he took me straight upstairs. The owner of the pub knew him. For a moment I felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of how many others Lucius had taken there. It is a rather painful trail of thought.

The room seemed to consist of nothing but a bed. And a rather large mirror. Luckily, not the talking kind. Lucius undressed me quickly. He didn’t let me touch him as he was doing it. From my coat down to my underwear he removed everything then just stood and stared at me. I was starkers and he was still dressed up to the very fetching green scarf around his neck. I reached to make things a little more even between us but he pulled back.

“I thought you wanted this,” I said gruf

“I’m trying to understand what I see in you.”

His words were the verbal equivalent of a punch to my stomach. I have no illusions of being some model of male beauty yet I thought that for Lucius to want to be with me I can’t be that ugly.

I tried to reach for something to cover myself, my sight clouding with tears. He was too quick for me and grabbed both my arms. He pulled me violently to him. “You intoxicate me,” he whispered in my hair.

I gave out something that was very close to a sob. Fine, it was a sob. “Why can’t we just fuck, Lucius? Why do you keep doing this?” I said. I struggled in his embrace. “One moment you want me, the other you don’t… what is it with you?” He held me tight against his still clothed body, his erection pressing against my thigh. I thought I heard him apologise to me but it might have been my imagination. Malfoys do not apologise. He walked me to the bed and pushed me until I was lying on it, on my back. He took off his clothes quickly, tossing them haphazardly all over the room. He knelt in front of the bed and reached to place a kiss on the inside of my thigh. My waning erection started to point upwards again. He didn’t waste too much time licking and biting my thighs and nuzzling my balls. He knows that it is a prelude that I generally enjoy but could also do without. I arched when he took me in his mouth until the tip was hitting the back of his throat. The feeling made me light-headed. I’m not sure how it happened but next thing I knew I’d grabbed his hair and was keeping his head down.

Lucius seemed to enjoy my sudden show of aggression. He held my prick down his throat swallowing hard around it. He must have been choking when I finally let go of his hair yet he slid up slowly breathing from his nose. I pulled on his hair again until he had let my prick completely out with a pop. A thread of spit linked my head to his lips. I got up from the bed and looked down at him. It was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my short yet very active sex life, filled with many erotic things.

He swallowed my prick again and pressed my hand on his hair. I pulled on it and next thing I knew I was literally fucking his mouth. I didn’t last too long, my head hitting the back of his throat repeatedly was enough to drive me crazy. It must have hurt. He’s never done anything like that to me but just the thought would make me panic, thinking I would choke. That’s how I see it now but I couldn’t think as I thrust harder and harder in his mouth. I came buried so deep that my spunk went straight down his throat. He swallowed exhibiting an amazing ability to go without oxygen. A small fraction of my mental capacities returned after I came and I pulled out of his slack mouth. I dropped back on the bed staring at his swollipslips, his heaving chest. I could feel strands of his silvery hair in my hands. I closed my eyes and then, to my great embarrassment, I started to cry.

I felt him lie next to me and I turned my back to him. I’m not sure what I wanted to accomplish with that. I guess I felt that seeing me cry was worse than only hearing me. He held me from behind, his arms around my waist, his wet head nudging at my hole. I pressed back and I heard him draw in a sharp breath. He rubbed against me there, behind my balls, against my opening. He reached back and opened the drawer on the nightstand. I smelt the lubricant before I felt it. One of those commercial ones which stank of strawberry. Had he planned this and asked the innkeeper to equip his room with this particular commodity or did the innkeeper know him so well that he didn’t have to be told? Whatever it was, it didn’t really matter that much then. He raised my leg to get better access and with a smooth, continuous slide he was in me. I clenched around him, giving out a sigh. He slapped my thigh.

“None of that,” he growled.

He fucked me slowly. He likes it slow. I think he likes to show off exactly how slow he can go. If he ever lets me top I’m certain I’ll fuck up by coming within seconds.

I backed against him eagerly, trying to get him to pick up speed. He got the hint at some point. I’d gotten painfully hard by then. I took the hand that wasn’t pulling on my hair to expose my neck for him to nibble (must find a better concealment charm, by the way, this one is a bitch to cast), and pressed it on my prick. He did nothing to relieve me, just let me press against his relaxed palm. He came inside me and I hadn’t yet. I moaned in frustration, using my hand to rub his against my prick. He was too lazy to wank me properly and let me do that until I came on his hand and on the flowery bedspread.

I inched away from the large wet spot I’d made, crowding him on his side of the bed. He didn’t seem to mind much. I turned until I was facing him, or rather, his chest to be accurate. Heaving gently with each breath. Sweaty. I noticed every single detail. Fine hairs, so fair they were almost invisible. Marble white skin, completely unmarked. Not even a mole, a spot, a freckle, a scar. Nothing. It is as though he isn’t human.

I woke up a while later. Sticky and cold. I joined him in the steamy shower. He scrubbed me clean. Then he kissed me. He gave me one of those devouring kisses of his under the hot spray. I bent my legs a little to be kissed properly. I feel as though I get taller every single day. I’m already taller than Lucius. Eventually he’ll have to pull me down for a kiss. Somehow, I don’t see Lucius letting things come to that.

We had an hour before we would have to make it back to Hogwarts. He got me cleaned up then shagged me again. I was too tired to master a third erection but there was some movement, especially when he found my prostate anartearted pounding at it mercilessly.

“Could you stay awake long enough for me to get some pleasure out of this? Despite my many vices I’m not a necrophiliac, Severus.”

I like it how he never shortens my name. And that way he says it, how he drags the first e. No one says my name like he does. I mumbled something to assure him that I was indeed awake (half a hemisphere, perhaps, I had already started to dream. We were flying in the dream. He was fucking me and we were flying up on the air. No broomstick, nothing. We were simply flying).

I sleepwalked through everything else that happened that afternoon. He half carried me to the shower where we washed again. Then he dragged me back to the room where he dressed me (foregoing one sock which he didn’t manage to find) and then he walked with me to the school. The sun had nearly set. I think that he left me in the Common Room and I somehow found my way to my bed from there. I even wrote something in my diary. Looking back to it, it even makes sense, sort of. It must be that automatic writing I remember Vablatsky talking about.

16/12/1975
Hurt looks from Evan who is still not over the fact that I didn’t want to go to Hogsmeade with him and the others but had no objection to going with Lucius. I don’t know what to do about that. I took him aside and told him that if he wants us to be friends he must accept that I am with Lucius. That I like being with Lucius. That I needed to go to Hogsmeade with Lucius quite simply to fuck. I didn’t mean to be harsh with Evan, it’s the way his eyes get all round and shiny when he’s hurt which undoes me. So I didn’t look at his eyes at all.

Evan left me after that without saying anything. He didn’t sit with me at dinner. Lucius didn’t either, he was with a bunch of his friends who have made an art out of ignoring me. I don’t have a high enough pedigree for them.

Black and Potter were their usual idiotic selves. I didn’t find it that funny that I had to chase my food. All the roast chickens on the Slytherin table got up and started running like crazy. At the next opportunity the pumpkin juice on the Gryffindor table will give Dumbledore’s pets the runs for a week. Perhaps I should also consider itch powder in the next batch of lubricant destined for a Gryffindor. Perhaps not. I’d hate to ruin my good name. Money is still money, whatever the source.

18/12/1975
Evan came with a peace offering. His mother sent him some of her homemade chocolates. As usual, the dark chocolate and sherry ones were for me. She knows Evan hates them yet still makes them. Evan shrugged at first and said that she must have forgotten that he doesn’t eat those. He’s a pathetic liar, pink ears give him away in a second.

I slipped in his bed where I let him feed me the heady smelling chocolate. I pretended to bite his fingers. He didn’t laugh like he usually does. His breath hitched and he asked me not to do that. Instead, I licked on his fingers again and gently bit on the pads. I felt sleephocohocolate is like a natural drug to me. He was breathing heavily as I continued suckling on his fingers, stealing the last drop of sherry from them.

I suppose I’m a horrible tease. How could the simple licking of fingers provoke such a reaction in Evan? He pressed against me. He was hard as steel. I casually tossed a leg over his waist bringing in contact our pricks which were still both trapped in our pyjama bottoms. I was licking and gently biting his palm as we rocked slowly. He came, hardly making a sound, only a heavy sigh against my neck. I let go as well, muffling a cry against his palm.

I woke up in his bed. Evan said I was sleeping so peacefully he didn’t have the heart to wake me for breakfast. I had barely enough time to shower and make it to my first class in time. Transfiguration of all things. My growling stomach made McGonagall tell me that I should Transfigure my mouse to a piece of toast. The others were turning theirs into teacups. Not a whole lot of difference for me, it’s not as though I could do either.

The best I could produce was a flat mouse to the great hilarity of everyone in the class.

“I suppose you’re not hungry enough, Mr Snape,” she said. “Perhaps detention during lunch would solve that problem?”

“You could starve me for a week and I wouldn’t eat a transfigured mouse,” I replied. “And may I remind you that professors are not allowed to give detention during mealtimes. I understand that with how long you’ve been teaching here it must have slipped your mind.”

There was laughter from the other Slytherins.

“Silence!” She approached me slowly. “A student who bothers to learn the regulations around here is a rare sight. I only wish you would be that assiduous in my class. Detention for you after dinner. And you won’t leave my office until you have transfigured your mouse to anything that doesn’t look like a mouse.”

She let me go after I had managed to make a pme bme bottle. She handled the counter transformation herself, she said she didn’t want to spend what was left of her night in my company. “That makes two of us,” I said under my breath. I’m sure she must have heard me but she was too tired to do anything about it.

Back in the Slytherin Common Room Jigger admonished me for giving cheek to McGonagall. I told him that no matter what I do I’m simply no good at Transfiguration. I read the theory until my brain hurts but when it comes to the actual thing my wand simply doesn’t obey. I explained all that with a tired resignation. It wasn’t the first time.

“I’ll have a talk with Minerva,” he said. “The other students said she pushes you too hard”.

I replied that I doubted anything he told her would change the way she is with me.

He smiled. “She will do it, for me,” he said.

Did he mean what I thought he meant? I thought I’d been imagining the way she looks at him. What he alluded to was too disgusting for my mind to wrap around. She fancies him? It’s not that he’s bad looking, quite the opposite if you go for the tall and dark kind. He has very aristocratic features, only his lips are a little on the thin side. And they’re just about the same age. It’s just that… the Head of Slytherin and the Head of Gryffindor… it’s too strange. And she’s such a frigid, bug-eyed, bitch! I can’t picture her in bed with anyone. There were rumours about her and Dumbledore but even the headmaster has more sex appeal than she does.

I suppose it must be because I’m queer. Perhaps if I fancied girls I’d be able to see McGonagall that way. No, it’s still too disgusting. Is Jigger really that hard pressed for sex? Or is he toying with her and getting what he can out of her interest in him? (would be the Slytherin thing to do). I like to think it is the latter.

19/12/1975
Father’s present got here. Dress robes. At least two sizes too small. He only has one son, can’t he get my size right? Is it too much to ask?

Evan didn’t laugh when I showed my present to him. He got this look of sickly sympathy that I hate but quickly recovered. I think he has understood that even though I laugh at my father’s antics I don’t want others to laugh at him or make light of his fathering abilities. It is a right I rve fve for myself. Evan respects that. Oddly, Lestrange has sown similar tact. They decided we should have a party before they leave for the holidays. I believe there will be heavy drinking involved.

20/12/975
It would be a good idea to have the hangover cure ready before the hangover since it is not an ideal state for potion brewing. We had a very successful Slytherin fifth year bash. Some Ravenclaws were also invited but most of them didn’t come. Slytherin is not exactly a popular House. Lestrange said that there was a Gryffindor party as well so faced with a choice most preferred that. He was angry that a pretty Ravenclaw he’s set his sights on didn’t come.

It is a fact of life that pretty girls sort in Ravenclaw. The opposite is true of Slytherin girls. Perhaps there would be less queers in Slytherin if our gididndidn’t look so much like trolls and other Houses weren’t so prejudiced against us.

I was with Evan most of the night. Lucius made an appearance at some point and told us we needed to recast our silencing charms. He didn’t want to stay. He said he found the whole affair rather childish. Looking pointedly at me. Afterwards Evan told me that he had expected me to leave with Lucius. Evan was very drunk and trying to take advantage of me in front of everyone. I don’t seem to get drunk no matter how much I drink.

The truth is that I had wanted to follow Lucius but I couldn’t do that to Evan and the others. I was partly the reason they organised the party. I told them that I really don’t care that father doesn’t want me home for Christmas and for once I truly did mean it but they wanted me to get my mind off things.

Lucius hadn’t looked too happy when I didn’t go with him. It looks like I have some influence on him. It feels good. Lestrange told me Rabastan, his brother who’s in the same year as Lucius, said that no one has seen Lucius stay with one person for so long. He said there’s even a betting pool on how long his current affair will last. I blushed when Les told me that and begged him to tell me he was joking but he said that his brother was dead serious.

I’ll go check on my potion. Gods, my head hurts as though I’ve been hit with a hammer. My roommates are still in their beds, in a much worse condition. I’ll take some of the potion to them. I hope it’s going to work. They have to leave today.