Harry Potter, Arus Filch/Irma Pince
Title: Prologue
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Argus Filch, Irma Pince
Word Count: ~ 1220
Rating: R
Summary: Magic is like colour, and Argus is colour blind.
Author's Notes: This story went in many different directions, became very long, then broke off and the second part became something else entirely. What remains is the Prologue of something I don't fully understand. But I'm actually very fond of it, such as it is, and I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. So I decided to let it live.
The first time she let Argus fuck her, Irma was sobbing uncontrollably. Gus had laughed at her so hard that Peeves heard them and came tumbling in the window, cackling about Filches and their Pincers. Then he saw what they were doing and tumbled right back out, eyes squeezed shut, howling with outrage.
It was just that Irma's knights in shining armour were never short or stooped, there was nothing broken or twisted about them; they were kind and did not care she was a squib, but she must have a wizard, hale and whole, no less. Gus was infuriated as well as amused; he was rough with her that first time, though he doubted she'd even noticed. She'd been so wet- had needed a fuck as badly as he had- there in the moist heat of August, days before another hopeless school year began. She'd been gasping long before the end, nails scraping the skin of his arms, fingers too weak to clutch at his slipping robe, cunt hot, spasming around him, again, and again, and again. She'd kicked him out after- as she'd make a habit of doing, incidentally- made cutting remarks about Mrs. Norris and Argus for a week as he agonised over never being able to fuck the stupid bint again, but then she was loitering in the corridors after hours, half-dressed, and her moan had not sounded like resistance to being shoved up against the wall.
Gus loved the heat; he'd always hated winter because it gave him terrible colds, the kind his mother couldn't give him Pepper-Up Potion for because there was no magic in him the potion could take to, but till he came to Hogwarts he'd had no reason not to hate the summer too. At first it was herald to the holidays- a break from the endless drudgery, the sideways glances and cruel murmurs, the overwhelming contempt and acerbic commands. When June rolled around and the castle began to bake, Argus half-closed his eyes and let himself sweat away the toxicity of life in general; purgatory wasn't so bad as long as there were more jars of lemonade and clear, dark nights to spend on the lakeside.
Then one day he found Irma there, pacing restlessly, muttering about cracked spines and destructive moulds; he had an irresistible desire to shove her into the water. So he did, and slipped in after her as she screamed bloody murder. It took him all of two days to convince her there was nothing like a good fuck to help along a hot, slow afternoon.
It became a routine very quickly, possibly because there was no understanding, good or bad, between them. Irma didn't let him touch her all year when the little snots were prancing around the castle, not that he had the time or the energy for her then either, but the summers were theirs; his and hers. They never left the castle, not in nearly twenty years. Not when her mother died and left her curses in the will, not when Argus got terrible kidney stones, and not when Irma spent an afternoon shrieking because she thought she might be pregnant, till Gus pointed out that there was too much acid in her not to kill anything in her womb. She'd slapped him for that, but they'd never missed an afternoon's fuck.
When McGonagall called the staff together to say she was closing Hogwarts because Snape had killed Dumbledore for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and they'd all better pack and go, Gus just stood there stupidly, gaping. Go where? he'd wanted to ask, be he didn't think he could bear to see that particular roomful feign pity at him, of all ignominies. He nodded along with the rest and shuffled off to the owlery and sent a note to Snape.
Gus had never had much use for Dumbledore. Yeah, the old coot had always been straight with him, but that was all. He'd always taken others' words against the squib's, had favoured and protected his school-full of pestilential, spoilt brats and allowed them all manner of leeway Gus had had to clean up after, and most of all, he'd tolerated Peeves. Besides, he was a wizard, and Argus hated the entire fucking breed.
Snape, now. He was a wizard, but he was such an unapologetic bastard, alongside. He didn't ponce around calling Gus 'Mr. Filch' to his face and 'Filth' at his back. Snape was cruel, but he never hid his contempt behind condescending courtesy. And he paid for what he took. He barked out orders, and paid in gold for every lookout he wanted kept, and every secret he asked Argus to guard. He didn't trust Snape, but he knew that Snape knew Gus could keep his mouth shut and step as silently as Mrs. Norris, and where he was, Snape would have some work for a footpad, like as not.
He didn't tell Irma till an eagle owl brought him a roll of parchment that said he was to make sure the gates were open to Lord Voldemort when He came. As reward, Argus would remain caretaker when Hogwarts re-opened after the war, have the East Tower for his offices, and sole control over student punishments. Irma would continue as Librarian, and have sole control over books taken out. They'd both be allowed to live.
After Irma stopped screeching, and hitting him over the head with some History or other, she said 'No'.
"We can't hand Hogwarts to You-Know-Who, you coward! When Dumbledore died trying to save it!"
"And what has Hogwarts ever done for you, my sweet?" Argus asked, sliding his arms around her waist. "That you should weep for it?"
"I'm not weeping!" But she was.
It was dangerous, and Gus wasn't sure he'd like You-Know-Who any better than he'd liked Dumbledore, but there was no real life outside for either him or Irma. And neither would say it, but Hogwarts was like a second skin; they might as well flay themselves as leave.
On the other hand, he wrote to Snape, I'm a bleeding squib, I'm not stupid. He's going to kill me, sure as sunrise, whether I say yay or nay. So why should I make it easier for him?
He took the letter to McGonagall, the one Lord What's-it had sent him, and told her Irma and he would stay to alert her Order of the Phoenix if they saw any sign of Death Eaters around the castle. She flared her nostrils at him, like she always did, and gave him what she probably fancied was a piercing look.
"You will be in grave danger, if they should come."
"I have jolly memories of this place, it'd break my heart if something happened to it."
"Hmpf. Well, I can't say we have spare hands to guard an empty castle, but it would be a great relief to know there was someone here to warn us, should He-Who- . . . Lord Voldemort threaten Hogwarts."
Argus bowed and turned to leave, clicking at Mrs. Norris.
"Thank you, Argus," McGonagall choked out. "This is brave of you."
"My pleasure," called Gus, without turning around. "Headmistress."
They watched the staff leave from the owlery, Irma and he; a heat haze rose from the lake to hide the castle and for a moment, Argus believed in magic.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Argus Filch, Irma Pince
Word Count: ~ 1220
Rating: R
Summary: Magic is like colour, and Argus is colour blind.
Author's Notes: This story went in many different directions, became very long, then broke off and the second part became something else entirely. What remains is the Prologue of something I don't fully understand. But I'm actually very fond of it, such as it is, and I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. So I decided to let it live.
The first time she let Argus fuck her, Irma was sobbing uncontrollably. Gus had laughed at her so hard that Peeves heard them and came tumbling in the window, cackling about Filches and their Pincers. Then he saw what they were doing and tumbled right back out, eyes squeezed shut, howling with outrage.
It was just that Irma's knights in shining armour were never short or stooped, there was nothing broken or twisted about them; they were kind and did not care she was a squib, but she must have a wizard, hale and whole, no less. Gus was infuriated as well as amused; he was rough with her that first time, though he doubted she'd even noticed. She'd been so wet- had needed a fuck as badly as he had- there in the moist heat of August, days before another hopeless school year began. She'd been gasping long before the end, nails scraping the skin of his arms, fingers too weak to clutch at his slipping robe, cunt hot, spasming around him, again, and again, and again. She'd kicked him out after- as she'd make a habit of doing, incidentally- made cutting remarks about Mrs. Norris and Argus for a week as he agonised over never being able to fuck the stupid bint again, but then she was loitering in the corridors after hours, half-dressed, and her moan had not sounded like resistance to being shoved up against the wall.
Gus loved the heat; he'd always hated winter because it gave him terrible colds, the kind his mother couldn't give him Pepper-Up Potion for because there was no magic in him the potion could take to, but till he came to Hogwarts he'd had no reason not to hate the summer too. At first it was herald to the holidays- a break from the endless drudgery, the sideways glances and cruel murmurs, the overwhelming contempt and acerbic commands. When June rolled around and the castle began to bake, Argus half-closed his eyes and let himself sweat away the toxicity of life in general; purgatory wasn't so bad as long as there were more jars of lemonade and clear, dark nights to spend on the lakeside.
Then one day he found Irma there, pacing restlessly, muttering about cracked spines and destructive moulds; he had an irresistible desire to shove her into the water. So he did, and slipped in after her as she screamed bloody murder. It took him all of two days to convince her there was nothing like a good fuck to help along a hot, slow afternoon.
It became a routine very quickly, possibly because there was no understanding, good or bad, between them. Irma didn't let him touch her all year when the little snots were prancing around the castle, not that he had the time or the energy for her then either, but the summers were theirs; his and hers. They never left the castle, not in nearly twenty years. Not when her mother died and left her curses in the will, not when Argus got terrible kidney stones, and not when Irma spent an afternoon shrieking because she thought she might be pregnant, till Gus pointed out that there was too much acid in her not to kill anything in her womb. She'd slapped him for that, but they'd never missed an afternoon's fuck.
When McGonagall called the staff together to say she was closing Hogwarts because Snape had killed Dumbledore for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and they'd all better pack and go, Gus just stood there stupidly, gaping. Go where? he'd wanted to ask, be he didn't think he could bear to see that particular roomful feign pity at him, of all ignominies. He nodded along with the rest and shuffled off to the owlery and sent a note to Snape.
Gus had never had much use for Dumbledore. Yeah, the old coot had always been straight with him, but that was all. He'd always taken others' words against the squib's, had favoured and protected his school-full of pestilential, spoilt brats and allowed them all manner of leeway Gus had had to clean up after, and most of all, he'd tolerated Peeves. Besides, he was a wizard, and Argus hated the entire fucking breed.
Snape, now. He was a wizard, but he was such an unapologetic bastard, alongside. He didn't ponce around calling Gus 'Mr. Filch' to his face and 'Filth' at his back. Snape was cruel, but he never hid his contempt behind condescending courtesy. And he paid for what he took. He barked out orders, and paid in gold for every lookout he wanted kept, and every secret he asked Argus to guard. He didn't trust Snape, but he knew that Snape knew Gus could keep his mouth shut and step as silently as Mrs. Norris, and where he was, Snape would have some work for a footpad, like as not.
He didn't tell Irma till an eagle owl brought him a roll of parchment that said he was to make sure the gates were open to Lord Voldemort when He came. As reward, Argus would remain caretaker when Hogwarts re-opened after the war, have the East Tower for his offices, and sole control over student punishments. Irma would continue as Librarian, and have sole control over books taken out. They'd both be allowed to live.
After Irma stopped screeching, and hitting him over the head with some History or other, she said 'No'.
"We can't hand Hogwarts to You-Know-Who, you coward! When Dumbledore died trying to save it!"
"And what has Hogwarts ever done for you, my sweet?" Argus asked, sliding his arms around her waist. "That you should weep for it?"
"I'm not weeping!" But she was.
It was dangerous, and Gus wasn't sure he'd like You-Know-Who any better than he'd liked Dumbledore, but there was no real life outside for either him or Irma. And neither would say it, but Hogwarts was like a second skin; they might as well flay themselves as leave.
On the other hand, he wrote to Snape, I'm a bleeding squib, I'm not stupid. He's going to kill me, sure as sunrise, whether I say yay or nay. So why should I make it easier for him?
He took the letter to McGonagall, the one Lord What's-it had sent him, and told her Irma and he would stay to alert her Order of the Phoenix if they saw any sign of Death Eaters around the castle. She flared her nostrils at him, like she always did, and gave him what she probably fancied was a piercing look.
"You will be in grave danger, if they should come."
"I have jolly memories of this place, it'd break my heart if something happened to it."
"Hmpf. Well, I can't say we have spare hands to guard an empty castle, but it would be a great relief to know there was someone here to warn us, should He-Who- . . . Lord Voldemort threaten Hogwarts."
Argus bowed and turned to leave, clicking at Mrs. Norris.
"Thank you, Argus," McGonagall choked out. "This is brave of you."
"My pleasure," called Gus, without turning around. "Headmistress."
They watched the staff leave from the owlery, Irma and he; a heat haze rose from the lake to hide the castle and for a moment, Argus believed in magic.