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This is the first entry of Snape's journal

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This is the first entry of Snape's journal. You can assume Penny is basically reading it as it's being read here. I wanted this up before the next real update, which will likely be in a few days. I hope you enjoy the peak at Snape's life!

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September 1975

I do not know why you wasted what little we had on this ridiculous thing, Eileen. You've never been inclined to sentimentality before. I will admit, I nearly tossed it in the fireplace, but I have warmed to the merits of recording the details here-in of my ascension from the lowly bowels of the life you bestowed upon us by forsaking your birthright and choosing that sorry excuse for a man. If some maternal stirring has caused you to hope to find something expressing the merits of your presence within here, you will be sorely disappointed. It has been fifteen years of the same broken promises; the devil himself getting only wickeder by the day. And still you refuse, but why, I do not know that I will ever have the slightest interest in the answer.

You sacrificed me to your pathetic fears of abandonment and gained what? Did you think I would not seek to leave as soon as I could? Has not my absence during the holidays since I started at Hogwarts been telling enough? So why now? What do you want from me?

Thankfully, I have now returned home and can put such useless thoughts of either of you out of my mind and return to the progress I made last year. Slughorn has decided on a boorish agenda this term, but seeing as he is more interested in that little club of his than of being of any real use, it does not surprise me. The only thing of mild interest on the syllabus is the Wolfsbane potion. Lily and I greatly underestimated its difficulty over the summer and I am mildly interested to see what that walrus suggests for getting past the 4th hour where the concoction seems most likely to become noxious. Of course, I do not see the point of such a potion, but Lily did not seem to like my reasoning much on that one. She has this way of misconstruing my thoughts and then holding them against me no matter what I say. I managed, this time, to redeem myself, but that might have had to do with her being more preoccupied than usual. We have fought less than we normally do, but that probably has more to do that wretch of a sister of hers being off visiting some cousin than being indicative of her finally seeing the merits of what I have been teach to tell her all this time.

After last summer, I'd decided, things were going to go smoother this holiday—they should have been better— it was supposed to be perfect, this summer. With my employment with Lucius, I was going to take her to Brighton, see those brightly-colored houses she always likes to go on about. But of course, those pestering Gryffindor friends of hers made it impossible because if she was not holidaying with her mother, she was with Marlene or Alice, and no doubt Potter; that group of his are always hanging about wherever Marlene is. It seems a little too convenient to me, but Lily insists it has something to do with their parents being old friends. Whatever the excuse, I am not so stupid that I cannot see plainly what Potter is trying to do.

Naturally, he thinks himself a shoe-in, Lily another trophy to add to the pile of what he has already conquered and discarded. And she, Lily, insists on remaining so infuriatingly unobservant! Always walking about with that strange Lupin kid, claiming they are just on perfect duty. But she does not see it. How can she? One as pure, kind and innocent as she does not see reality for what it is, only what she hopes it to be. But that makes her the easier victim, does it not? Were she alone and Potter free to do as he saw fit, he would have taken her with absurd ease, but not from me, he will not take her so easily from me; I will not abide it. If Lily will not see it—the truth about that bunch, then I must make her. If I can just show her there is something wrong with that Lupin kid, prove to her what she has refused to believe.

Of course they have already started their sneaking about, not even a week into term and that ugly useless one is always to be seen standing around like a nervous lookout as they do whatever it is they do on the 7th floor corridor. If I could only discover in which room, but their concealment charm seems to be too powerful because I have thus far been unsuccessful despite efforts that should have wrought the results I sought. Even Mulciber agrees, their secrets should have revealed itself to me, and yet nothing.

If I knock the useless one out again, he may become suspicious, so I may need to bide my time until I can determine how it is they are concealing themselves, or wait for the full moon and see for myself exactly where it is he goes. Either way, the goal remains the same: evidence. Whatever I accomplish the evidence has to be undeniable in order to deliver Lily from her own naivety and rid myself of Potter once and for all.

Once he inevitably loses interest because Lily will not worship him he will move onto some other trollop and Lily will see exactly what it is he is about, self-righteous, rich, pure-blood or not. She will see, and then we can finally go to Brighton. I would not even complain of the absurd color choices, perhaps even live in one if she would finally see me as I am: the one who always has her best interest at heart.

Well, Eileen. I have filled one page. I wonder if that is enough to delude you into believing that you have lived up to the duties as a mother, because I can assure you, you have not. But perhaps by the end of this it will be enough to convince you of your own insanity for staying all this time. If you could accomplish that, then I need not explain why I will not stay, for anything. But if you would try and claim, yet again, that it is love that has produced such irrationality to the point of self-destruction, then I tell you now, I forswear any such pointless feelings willingly if not gladly. Why? Because I have never needed your, love, Eileen; just for you to have enough fortitude to make a single fucking decision yourself in this miserable life you made ours.

Your Half-Blood Prince

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