Filch ran his hands through his hair, which had been thoroughly washed and brushed, even trimmed, especially for that night. It was a strange feeling, no grease, no dirt, no bugs. The lopsided ends met his shoulders in some places and in others passed them, but for her he did not need to be perfect, he just need to be Argus. She would not care that his clothes, although washed and ironed, were old and ragged, fraying in the most ridiculous of places. She would not care that his skin was wrinkled and sagging, frown lines scrawled across his face. She would not care that there was not a single flourish of magic in his bones, and that is why he loved her. Filch had never loved anyone more than her, she would always be his darling, his precious, his sweetheart. Not that anyone else would care, or even know. He remembered the day they met, on Platform 9¾.
Argus sat on the now empty luggage trolley next to his parents, a frown carved onto his face. He watched his brother Conlan, who was excitedly leaning out of the window of his carriage, waving his arms furiously at the family he was leaving behind for his first year at Hogwarts. Argus had never been more bitter. At thirteen years old, the brunette was outraged that not once would he be joining his blonde-haired, blue-eyed, perfect brother on that train. Not once. He remembered his eleventh birthday just after the summer holidays had started for the muggles next door. All day he had sat by the door, staring intently at the letter box. It wasn't until the sun was setting that he realised that no letter was coming for him that day, or any other day. Of course, he had been so very angry at himself for believing that he would get one; after all, he had shown no signs of magic as far as he could tell.
Father knelt next to him, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, not concerned that his younger boy so desperately wanted to see him. "Argus, son, won't you smile, just until Conlan is gone? It would mean the world to him," father whispered with an encouraging smile. All that had done was make Argus bitter. It would mean the world to Argus if he could just find someone to understand him, and not make fun of him. Someone that cared about that runt of a boy with no magic that always seemed to be sat alone with a frown. He shook his head no. Maybe next year he could smile for his brother, but not now. Father ran an exasperated hand through his chestnut hair, allowing a frown to invade his perfectly sculpted features, before joining his beauty of a wife once more. This was another thing that made Argus bitter. His entire family was perfect, excluding himself. They all had looks that had people chasing after them until the sun went down, and magical powers beyond belief. Argus had a crooked nose, straggly hair and no magic at all. He liked to think, however, that he was bitter so that he would not pity himself, because pitying oneself and being bitter are too entirely different things. One is to feel sorry for oneself, and want things to be better, the other is to resent those who have things you do not, but not wishing yourself better days.
It was during his bitter pondering that Argus felt a gentle tap on his hunched shoulders, and he turned to glare at whomever it was that had disturbed his version of peace. Before him was a beautiful girl, no older than eleven, with tawny hair and inquisitive green eyes. "Excuse me, but are you getting on the train? It's just, I don't know anybody here, and it didn't look like you did either, so I thought…" her melodic voice trailed off as she waited patiently for Argus' answer.
"No, I'm not," he answered bluntly, decidedly disinterested in the girl.
"Oh, well, that's a shame. You looked so lonely; I thought you needed a friend. We can't well be friends if I'm at Hogwarts and you're at home, now, can we?" she said with a sigh. Once again, Argus' attention was caught, and he turned wide-eyed to the girl standing above him.
"You wanted to be friends with me?" he said, astounded.
"Of course, why wouldn't I? Oh look at me forgetting my manners! My name is Lelia, I'm going to be first year… obviously," she stated with a grin, extending a porcelain hand towards the gruff boy.
"Argus, I would be a third year. My brother, Conlan, is in first year to. He's the over-excited, bumbling blonde practically falling out of the window," Argus replied nodding towards the train. Lelia raised herself on to the tips of her toes and craned her slender neck in an attempt to see said brother.
"I can't see!" she exclaimed, before promptly stepping up onto the trolley, dangerously close to invading Argus' precious personal space. With a grimace, she stepped down once more, her sunflower-yellow dress floating slightly as she did so. She turned to Argus, the grimace still firmly on her face she explained that he looked a little too… bubbly for her liking. Taking the situation into her own hands, as she seemed to be doing since she had first walked over, she dropped herself onto the trolley next to Argus with an apprehensive smile. As the busy, panicking families bustled about them, the two newly discovered friends chattered away, quickly becoming comfortable in each other's' presence.
Suddenly, a portly man began to waddle through the crowd informing them that the train would be departing in five minutes. Looking scared and worried, Lelia sprang from her seat, smoothing her dress hurriedly. "Argus, you must give me your address so I can write to you," she said in an authoritative tone, to which Argus replied with an uncertain look upon his face, "If you do not give it to me now Argus Filch, I will have to ask your brother for it. We don't want that, now, do we?" Argus could not remember writing so fast in his life.
Smiling at the first memory of his beloved, Filch began to decorate the room with handfuls of Arbutus Flowers. Filch remembered how she had told him that she thought roses were far too common and boring, and she preferred the message of the arbutus flower; thee only do I love. That simple message was very accurate for Filch; he could not imagine loving any other. It was as he placed the last handful of flowers on the highest shelf, that he recalled their first date.
"Argus! If you don't hurry up you'll be late to the restaurant!" Conlan called from the bottom of the stairs. For the most part, living with his brother had been a nuisance for Argus; but he had to admit that the impeccable timing of the healer was a saviour at times. However, Argus would not tell him; Conlan was too perfect already. "Just coming… One second… Just doing my shoes… grabbing my coat…" Eventually Argus came hurrying down the stairs, liquorice in hand. Conlan grinned at his brother, having never seen him so groomed in his life. Argus had his haircut early, short but still a little shaggy, a style that suited the young man considerably. He was dressed in a suit with his top button undone as advised by Conlan, and although he was not particularly muscular, he had an attractive physique many men would kill for. Conlan had never been more proud of his brother.
"Ready?" Conlan asked, holding out his arm for Argus, which he gripped firmly with an uncertain nod. They turned on the spot together, and Argus began to feel that slightly familiar sensation, much like being forced through a piece of piping too small, uncomfortable but bearable. "We're here," Argus opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the harsh light. "Thanks," he muttered, unhappy to be reminded of his lack of magic. Without another word he walked purposefully into the restaurant.
After he had been seated at his table, Argus placed the box of liquorice on the table and waited, surprisingly patiently, for Lelia. When she arrived, Argus did not think he had seen something more beautiful in his life. Her elegant hair was swept up into a graceful twist, with a few strands carefully plucked out to frame her face. Her natural beauty positively glowed from every feature. A daffodil dress delicately wrapped around her form, flaring out slightly on her legs, making the skirt float and swish as she walked beaming towards Argus. "Argus, it's so good to see you. Sorry I'm late, my father was fussing as usual," she said with a giggle, sitting on the chair Argus had remembered to pull out and tuck in for her as Conlan had instructed.
The date went much better that Argus had anticipated, in fact, he wondered why he even thought it could go badly in the first place. She laughed at every joke, even the ones he distinctly remembered telling her before, the conversation never ran dry, but most importantly, she never stopped being beautiful. Her beauty was subtle, something you had to look for, but once you found it, you never stopped noticing it. The way her eyes crinkled just a fraction when she smiled. The way her nose wrinkled when she thought hard. The way her eyebrows knitted together when they got into a debate. It all added together to make a glowing, wonderful creature that could not be more perfect. When it was time to part at her doorway, her father watching beadily from the upstairs window, Argus decided he might as well spit it out now and tell her. "You are so beautiful," he murmured brushing her lopsided fringe away so he could look into her innocent green eyes. Smiling, she cupped his left cheek with her delicate hands and kissed the other. "Goodnight, you silly man. I'll see you soon," and with that she disappeared into the terraced house. This was the start of something wonderful, that Argus knew for certain.
Filch carefully laid out the napkins and cutlery on the table, trying to replicate the restaurant they visited that day. He smiled at the box of liquorice that sat next to the second seat at the table opposite him. After a few moments, the smile felt forced as his mind was saturated with memories, both good and bad of him and Lelia. Finally, one came to the forefront of his mind and refused to be ignored; however it was not one that he wished to see.
The car lurched forward as the lights turned green, Argus was thankful he had the automatic driver spell there to help him, because there was something much more interesting to look at than the tarmac in front of him. Lelia was leant out of the window, tawny hair whipping behind her head. It was shorter now, cropped just above the shoulders. Every day Argus told her it was much more beautiful this way; the middle parting framing her face, and the shortness meant he could see her slender neck and shoulders.
Slowly pulling into an alley, Argus parked the rundown car. He waited, but Lelia was still looking out of the window, her hair now hiding her face from view. Tenderly placing a hand on her shoulder, he turned her to face him, kissing her fleetingly. "Are you nervous?" he whispered.
"Not at all," in that second, Argus saw the girl he first met; brave and confident, beautiful and charming, but most of all, brilliantly magical. He ignored the fact that she was putting on a brave front, and clambered ungracefully out of the car. Together, the couple walked purposefully toward the scarlet telephone box and stepped gingerly inside. "Conlan said you put in muggle money," Argus said, talking to himself, "and very specifically said this button… describing it as if I were a child," Lelia looked scornfully at Argus for his last comment; Conlan was just trying to be helpful. With a jerk, the two were carried down to the Ministry foyer, stepping out, they admired the décor. This was short-lived, however, as they swiftly marched away, again following the memorised instructions given by Argus' younger brother.
Eventually, the entered a midnight blue corridor, the walls lined with chairs, some of which were occupied. The most noteworthy occupant was a frail old woman hunched in the middle of the row of chairs on the left hand side, her glasses-clad eyes poring over the forms which indicated she was here to discuss a new kind of potion. She was noteworthy because Argus had seen her before in the Daily Prophet. Her name was Haggie March, a muggle-born witch famous for her ridiculous potions which had no discernible use, but were still brilliant nonetheless (for example, she was the creator of a potion Argus didn't care to remember the name of, but he knew had the power to attach a cat and a dog together but nothing else). Argus elected to sit a couple of seats down from her in the hopes of perhaps starting a conversation with the supposedly mad woman.
Sadly, his hopes were snatched away when Conlan strode around the corner and walked purposefully towards them, halo of golden hair bouncing as he approached. "Lelia, Argus, wonderful to see you. I managed to get away on a 'lunch break', you see. Thought I ought to pop in and give my support; I know the examination for your animagus licence can be very nerve-wracking," Conlan gushed in his excitement.
"Really Conlan, I'm not nervous, Its Argus that is," of course that resulted in a long motivational speech from him about how he needn't be worried about Lelia, because as long as she wasn't subject to any of the risks, she would be fine. Of course, Argus knew this, but he still had the right to worry for his wife of five years. When Leila's name was called she leaned in closer to Argus, "I'll be fine, I promise." She pecked the brothers on the cheek and hurried into the room at the end of the corridor, leaving Argus to toy with his wedding ring as he fretted. An hour later, Argus began to worry. Lelia was still not back, and it was meant to take three-quarters of an hour maximum. Conlan was on hand to calm him and talk him back into a state of confidence for his wife. Given the following events, he needn't have bothered.
It began with a soft thumping and thudding in the distance, which Argus strove to ignore in his worried state. Next followed the voices. At first, it was impossible to understand the words, but as they drew closer, both brothers heard them.
"Licencing Department, boys, hurry up!"
"She's in a comatose state; we need to get her to Mungo's immediately!"
"We need to prepare the stretcher on the move, quickly now!"
Argus could not tell if it was a series of people talking, or one person barking commands, but he understood the message; there is a woman in the licencing department in a comatose state who needs to be urgently taken to St. Mungo's. The only women who could possibly be in trouble were the ministry officials or Lelia, and no matter how cruel it sounded, he hoped it was one of the officials. Conlan used his authority as Head Something of the Department of Something to follow the half-dozen emergency responders into the examination room, leaving Argus in suspense as he waited to hear the inevitable news that it was Lelia on her way to Mungo's. Emerging from the room ten minutes later, Conlan hung his head for a moment, before finally bringing himself to look Argus directly in the eye. "Argus, I… um… It's bad news. Lelia's at Mungo's, we should probably be heading over there."
Filch used the table for support as he wept; only stopping when he heard the sound he had been waiting all evening to hear. She entered the room, a shadow of her former self, mewling softly. "Leila Norris-Filch, my stubborn little queen. Happy anniversary, my dear," he said, his voice hoarse from crying. Pulling out the chair, his heart swelled as he watched the cat jump onto it nimbly. He placed the dishes on the table, a simple meal yet one of her favourites. Although she proceeded to devour the food on the plate, Filch knew better than to believe that she knew what was happening. He remembered the healer's words exactly, and maybe they were the reason why he himself had deteriorated over the years, and why he was bitterer than ever, particularly towards children. Only God would know where he would be had Dumbledore not taken pity on the young man and offered him a new start as a caretaker. As Mrs Norris padded out of the room, not taking a second look at the flowers, liquorice or Filch, the conversation with the healer rang through his head, suffocating him as it had every year on the anniversary.
"I'm afraid it's bad news Mr Filch. Your wife, it seems, has had a mishap whilst attempting to transform to and from her animagus form. There is nothing more we can do for her now, I am sorry to say that she will remain in her animagus form forever, whilst still maintaining the life span of a human. Over time, her memories will fade, and she will become more and more animalistic until she has almost no human traits left. I know this is not what anyone would want to hear, Mr Filch, I am sorry that we cannot do anything more,"
"But why, she said she didn't fall into an of the risk categories?"
"I'm afraid she did, Mr Filch, although she may not have known it. She was pregnant. It was very early days, we could not even attempt to guess the gender or anything at all about the child,"
"A child, there is a child?"
The healer shook his head.
"To save your wife's life we had to remove the risk. The child was terminated."