A Date with Filch
Argus Filch was polishing his manacles. He liked to do it late at night while he waited for Mrs. Norris to sniff out students in trouble. Soon she would alert him of some rule breaking, and he could arrive on the scene ready to take house points and dole out detentions, but for now, he was simply polishing the manacles. Filch dreamed of someday being able to use them. His office was in the dungeons after all, with so many delicious relics of ancient times, it was hard not to think about how they could benefit him in the future. Why couldn't anyone see that if he was allowed to punish the children when they were naughty than they wouldn't put one toe out of line, and the school would be perfectly in order. Filch imagined his life if he were at least allowed to bring the bottoms of Hogwarts students slightly rosier. Using perhaps a riding crop or the back of a slipper…or even an engraved Hogwarts paddle. Those bloody Weasley twins would be first in line! Filch imagined their delightful freckled bottoms…bending over the desk…begging him to stop as he smacked them over and over again until they were pink…with a lovely leather strap…if only he was allowed to use those manacles…their wrists would look so lovely in these manacles…
"Ahem, Mr. Filch?"
Filch nearly knocked over his can of manacle polish.
"Yes?" He snapped, quickly standing up straight, and banishing the thought of Weasley twin bottoms from his mind. "What is it?"
Professor Quirrel stood in the doorway. He was smiling nervously, while stroking his purple turban. "I…well….It's just…er." Quirrel began.
Flich rolled his eyes, waiting for the professor to begin.
"I was s-s-s-simply wondering if you were busy tomorrow evening?"
"Of course I am," Filch said, "I do have a responsibility to this school to crack down on teenage mischief. And to take care of other important school business of course. Why do you ask?"
Quirrel blushed. "I was j-just ah, asking if you would be interested in having –d-dinner with me tomorrow evening. Whenever you had a break from your er, duties…of course."
Filch raised an eyebrow. He rarely…never…was invited to dinner with any faculty member. "I would enjoy that very much," Filch smiled.
"Meet me out by the quidditch field." Quirrel said. "Is eight thirty all right?"
"Yessss." Filch smiled. "I'll be there."
Quirrel turned and left the room. Filch grinned, his smile larger than it had been in ages. Being asked to dinner by someone so interesting, young and attractive was a great experience indeed. Filch whistled to himself as he finished scrubbing the manacles. This was almost as good as punishing a hot piece of Weasley.
Chapter 2
Filch smoothed his hair. He had trimmed his beard and put on his newest coat. He had even applied one coat of lip balm. Filch knew he looked good. He stood on the quidditch field, wondering where Quirell was. He hoped Quirell hadn't been having second thoughts.
"Mr. Filch?"
Filch spun around. Quirrel was hurrying towards him, holding a large picnic basket.
"I'm s-s-so s-s-s-sorry!" Quirrel stuttered, out of breath, putting the basket down. "S-s-s-so many st-st-st-stairs."
"It's alright," Filch said, smiling at the picnic basket. "I did always fancy a picnic."
"Wonderful," Quirell said. He waved his wand at the basket. Instantly it opened, spitting out a red and white checkered picnic blanket, which rolled itself out on the lawn. Next, two plates, glasses, and sets of silverware leapt out onto the blankets. Sandwitches, wine, and a fruit plate followed, as did a large cake shaped like a heart.
"How enchanting!" Filch said, sitting down on the blanket. "I love cake."
"As do I," Quirell said. Several candles popped out of the picnic basket and floated in the air. With a pop, they ignited, casting light and a warming spell over the blanketed area.
Filch clapped.
They ate in silence, watching the dark Quidditch field.
"Do you enjoy quidditch, Filch?" Quirell asked, finally breaking the silence.
"It's all right," Filch said, sipping his second glass of wine.
"I like it," Quirell said. "Those Weasley twins are quite good."
Filch stopped, mid sip. "Those Weasley twins are the loudest, most conniving, most disobedient disrespectful little rogues in this entire school!"
"Very true," Quirell said. "Although they have quite a bit of Quidditch talent."
"They should be whipped," Filch said. "The both of them."
"I've never heard a truer word," Quirell said. "If only we were allowed to p-punish students."
"Exactly!" Filch exclaimed. "Tan their hides before they even thought of rule breaking."
"Lovely idea," Quirell said. "Although the Weasleys seem as if they would never learn."
"All the more reasons to keep the punishments coming." Filch said. "To punish those twin freckled bottoms like never before." He paused savoring the image of Fred and Georges's bottoms. "But it seems as if you have other ideas. Who's first on your list?"
Quirell smiled. "Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter?" Filch said, smiling. "His bottom would look quite nice pink."
Quirell's green eyes glittered, his grin small and evil. "Yes it would."
"Always has a look about him that one." Filch said. "Like he's one step away from trouble."
"Yes," Quirell said. "One step away from a toasted hindquarters, if it were up to me. To see him…bent over the desk…or restrained in a gleaming set of manacles…."
Filch's eyes widened.
"And tears running down those soft cheeks…behind those beautiful glasses. As he begged for the punishment to be over…"
Filch's hand gripped the wine glass harder.
"But it had only just begun…" Quirell said, his voice deep and silky. "Just begun for his naughty little, deliciously pink, young tasty bottom."
"Oh yes." Filch whispered, "Tell me more!"
"More?" Quirell said, eyeing Filch across the picnic blanket. "How about Draco Malfoy."
"Malfoy?" Filch's eyebrows rose, "If only…"
"It's high time that rich brat was put in his place." Quirell said. "The cheek on that boy. It's far time that that very cheek was punished. In fact, all of his cheeks. Until he cried like the little brat he is. I bet he's never been spanked in his life. Thinks he rules the world. But not when I could punish that perfect pale little bottom. He'd be put in his place all right."
"Oh yes," Filch said. "Such a bottom just begs to be spanked."
"It does." Quirell said. "It's all I can do not to s-slap it even now. Utter brat. But speaking of brats, who could forget Hermione Granger."
"Granger?" Filch said, finishing his glass of wine. "Gryffindors do look good in red now don't they." He smiled. "Though I must say, she's not as big of a troublemaker as Potter, Malfoy or the Weasleys. It might take some time to get some naughtiness out of her. She's a bit of a goody two shoes, really and hardly ever breaks the rules when she's not all about with that Potter."
"So it would seem," Quirell said. "Yet, she often is with Potter, isn't she."
Filch nodded. "This is a real nice dinner. The most fun I've had in…a wile."
"It doesn't have to end here," Quirell said, smiling. "Maybe we could take a walk around the dungeons…and you could show me some of the secret rooms. Maybe we could even talk about what we could do in them…to certain students."
Filch grinned. "I think that would be lovely. I can even show you some of my collections…of implements."
"Wonderful," Quirell said, standing up. Filch sipped the last drop of his glass of wine, and got to his feet. With a flick of Quirell's wrist, the picnic was back in the box.
"Let me return this to my room, and then we can start our evening," Quirell said, with a smile.
He leaned over to Filch and kissed him on the lips. Filch's heart was beating so loud, he was sure Quirell could hear it. He hadn't been kissed in so long….not to mention by someone so clever…and so young…and such a kindred spirit. Filch melted on the lawn as he kissed Quirell back, feeling young and beautiful again himself. Finally, Quirell pulled away, and Filch watched him, breathless.
"You must show me all the secret passageways around the school," Quirell said. "Everywhere that's off limits. Maybe we can even catch some students. I'll meet you in your office."
Filch could only nod as he watched Quirell walk across the grass towards the school, carrying the large basket.
For once in his life, the behinds of Fred and George Weasley were the last things on his mind.
The End