I do not own Harry Potter, Argus Filch, Peeves or Mrs. Norris, et cetera. If I did, I'd probably be more ashamed.
-----------------------------
Walking with his hands behind his back, down a cavernous hallway, Argus mistook the light padding footsteps behind him for Mrs. Norris, a familiar rhythm, almost in tune with his heartbeat, like a warm lover's touch. The high hung lights burned every few feet leaving him in an occasional shadow, the eerie circular alcove of light shifted as he walked. Inside, in the pit of his stomach, the same rush he got when he caught a student out of bed at night, in the blue gloom, bony ankles beneath striped pajamas, an euphoria he associated with his dreams of torturing the entire student body.
"Mrs. Norris?" he rasped into another shaft of shadow.
A bright patch of colour emerged from between his legs, a smiling face on his crotch.. Argus looked down, tightlipped, at Peeves, who was tickling him at the base of his nads. Did Peeves know the feelings he induced?
Always the same threats, "I'm going to tell on you, perverted poltergeist," and of course, he never did. Just fell back and held his breath to hide his pleasure until his face turned red, until the only one there to see his shame was Mrs. Norris, rounding about a corner, as Peeves sinks into the floor beneath Argus' body. A secret pleasure more shameful and dark than any dream of a sodomy love chain with the Weasley twins.
-----------------------------
Walking with his hands behind his back, down a cavernous hallway, Argus mistook the light padding footsteps behind him for Mrs. Norris, a familiar rhythm, almost in tune with his heartbeat, like a warm lover's touch. The high hung lights burned every few feet leaving him in an occasional shadow, the eerie circular alcove of light shifted as he walked. Inside, in the pit of his stomach, the same rush he got when he caught a student out of bed at night, in the blue gloom, bony ankles beneath striped pajamas, an euphoria he associated with his dreams of torturing the entire student body.
"Mrs. Norris?" he rasped into another shaft of shadow.
A bright patch of colour emerged from between his legs, a smiling face on his crotch.. Argus looked down, tightlipped, at Peeves, who was tickling him at the base of his nads. Did Peeves know the feelings he induced?
Always the same threats, "I'm going to tell on you, perverted poltergeist," and of course, he never did. Just fell back and held his breath to hide his pleasure until his face turned red, until the only one there to see his shame was Mrs. Norris, rounding about a corner, as Peeves sinks into the floor beneath Argus' body. A secret pleasure more shameful and dark than any dream of a sodomy love chain with the Weasley twins.