The streets in Hogsmeade were dark, dotted with glistening cobblestones under each lamppost. Argus Filch spent a long day minding the halls of Hogwarts Castle, and after the summer evenings of finding little more than Peeves knocking things about, he needed to unwind. To not worry about those hallowed hallways. The only place to go was Hogsmeade, and he wasn't sure he would find respite that night.

The smallest hint of a smirk tugged at his cheek as he walked by The Three Broomsticks. There wouldn't be an empty stool or bench until sometime into the wee hours of the morning. The windows were foggy from all the body heat inside, and the band's loud music was barely contained by the sparkling windows lining the front of the building. There wasn't enough money in the Malfoy's vaults at Gringotts for him to step foot in there.

The door flung open as he was walking past. A sickeningly sweet smell of Butterbeer and pipe tobacco followed him further down the road, he didn't overlook the two bodies pressed up against the wall next to the building. He was halfway to them before he remembered he wasn't on the clock, and they weren't students he needed to drag by their ears to their Heads of Houses.

They must've heard his shuffling feet, though, because they sprung apart before he could turn back to the sidewalk. He was caught looking at the two witches. Their eyes, glassy from the heated snog he interrupted, were wide and their lips were swollen. Both Pomona and Poppy began tugging at their waistcoats and brushing down their skirts.

"Excuse me." He hastily pulled the brim of his hat lower, covering his eyes. "Didn't mean to intrude. Please… carry on…" He stumbled through an awkward apology as his feet beat a hasty exit back to the sidewalk. Aching to get away from the scene he'd witnessed, he continued on—though, faster than before—through the streets of Hogsmeade.

He could swear he heard the word 'insufferable' between the huffs from the two witches and that followed him. He couldn't turn it off. He was the job, he had to be the job. This magical world he grew up in didn't have a place for him, other than as a caretaker after sprogs that didn't know their arse from a hole in the ground. But, he also refused to go into the Muggle community where 'his kind' usually ended up. How could they expect him to live there when he knew magic existed?

The only bit of magic he had was the link between him and a part-Kneazle he found wandering around his yard as a child. Mrs. Norris shouldn't have made it past that first week; she was malnourished and spat fire at anyone who came too close, even if they were offering care. But stubbornly, he never gave up on that furry beast. Behind closed doors, his parents said he used up all his magic on the mongrel. But, if he were being honest with himself, she was the one who brought it out of him.

Heading further into town—or, rather, further towards the outskirts of town—Argus was finally able to breathe easily again. The lamps weren't all illuminated, and the windows didn't sparkle like they did at the fancy shops. This was where he belonged and could attempt to be himself, no matter how insurmountable that may be. He hadn't made it one step into the door before he started questioning why he left his cozy office for this. The usually empty pub was packed. He moved further in, out of the evening rain, and began to formulate a plan for an uneventful night.

"I've seen you at the school, yes?" A strong female voice interrupted his internal fortification and he groaned as he realized just how insurmountable a task it was proving to be: escaping from the mantle of Hogwarts' caretaker, even if just for the night.

He peeked out under the brim of his hat. Dark strands of hair hung over his eyes, but through them he noticed the pretty brunette Transfiguration professor. He wasn't surprised to see her there; the first day with a new batch of filthy little beasts was what drove him to the village too.

"Aye, I've been there about a hundred years, it seems." the last words sounded as though they were stuck in his throat. It could've been from the cold rain he'd just walked here in, or from cursing students all day. Glancing down at the glass in front of her, he added, "but, you've just started."

"Yes I have. Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration professor. Would you care to join me?" she asked, gesturing to the bench across from her. "It seems to be a busy night here at The Hog's Head. You might be forced to stand otherwise."

Looking around, he realized she was right, there were no other empty chairs in the usually overlooked pub. Moisture was beaded up on his worn, waxed moleskin overcoat, and a bit of rain clung to the tips of his hair that hung below his hat. He could use a seat, and a drink.

"I don't see anyone else jumping up to lend a seat, why not." Argus shrugged out of his overcoat and hung it on the hook next to the cubicle.

The pub might have been as crowded as he'd ever seen it, but the glasses were still grimy, service remained surly, and the Firewhiskey burned just as hot going down. He ordered three; the first didn't hit the counter and took the edge off a bit, the other two he carried over to the small table with the little witch.

The light was reflecting off the glass in front of her as she twisted it on the table. She looked to be lost in thought and he almost considered leaving her to herself. His coat would be fine here and he imagined she wouldn't be missing his company, but his feet hurt from standing all day and she was nice enough to look at. He could think of other, much more painful, ways to spend the evening.

"How early did you get here to snag a table?" He had cleared his throat before he got to the table, but she still seemed startled to hear his voice. As he slipped into the booth across from her, he watched as her pupils returned to normal, and her shoulders relaxed. The smile that crossed her face reminded him of a cat about to pounce on an unsuspecting field mouse. It was terrifying and breathtaking in equal measure.

"The moment Prewett transfigured my chair into a porcupine I let Albus know that I wouldn't be at dinner!" Her face flushed as her agitation increased. "Honestly, a second year should not be able to perform that level of spellwork!"

Her eyes gleamed in the dim candlelight overhead. He'd seen that look before, the exasperation. But this time, it looked to be mixed with the tiniest bit of something like admiration. Argus did not understand that. As a matter of fact, he had an entire filing cabinet full of write-ups that he could point to that described just how much he didn't admire the Prewetts, or their antics.

"Ah, that would be Fabian. Wait until you meet his twin brother, Gideon. You'll be glad you aren't the Potions professor." Argus began sipping on his second Firewhiskey and a familiar warmth began to spread over him.

"There are two of them?" Her eyes—they looked jet black in the dim light—were so wide he could see the whites all the way around her iris.

"Ah, I hate to break it to you, Minerva. Yes." He tried, unsuccessfully, to hold in a chuckle.

"Why?"

"If I had a Knut for every time someone said that." Argus leaned back and took in the look on her face. "Let's just say, I wouldn't be chasing kids out of the corners of dark hallways anymore. At least they were sorted into different Houses."

"I couldn't even imagine having them both in the same class." He watched as a shudder went down her spine.

"Prewetts aside, how has it been?"

"As far as first days go, it could've been worse—though, I don't know how."

"Nah, it couldn't have been that bad."

They spent the rest of the evening talking about Minerva's first day of teaching. Her list of questions about the school were endless. He was able to answer most of them; he'd been at the school a while and picked up on more than people gave him credit for.

The crowd began to thin after midnight, and by two-thirty, they were the only souls in the little pub, save the barkeep. Aberforth turned up the lights and sent a swarm of brooms and mops to clean up the place, beginning in the corner where they were sitting. Whether it was meant to put on a show for the last two patrons, or push them out the door, Aberforth's antics encouraged to two to finally leave the pub.

"I'm glad to have meet you, Argus," she said as they stood outside the door. The sign overhead was creaking in the autumn wind.

"Aye, and I you, Minerva," he told her simply, tugging on his hat.

They walked back through Hogsmeade saying nothing, but basked in a relaxed silence. The streets were empty, and the soft rain had ended earlier that evening. The cobblestones still sparkled under the lamplight, and when they passed by The Three Broomsticks, Argus couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips when he saw a couple professors that were no longer standing under their own volition. He'd have to remember to patrol the potions hallway frequently in the morning.

Lost in his own thoughts of the day ahead, he almost missed it when Minerva's heel caught in one of the uneven cobblestones. Her body lurched forward and she was nothing but a blur of tartan cloaks and auburn hair. His reflexes took over, and without thinking, he had his arms firmly around her waist. Her back was pulled flush to his chest. It was like holding a thousand volts of electricity in his arms.

When they straightened up, the full height of her body was pressed against his. He felt the sharp intake of her breath under his arm and let go of her, his hands burning from touching her. The soft curves of her body were juxtaposed with the rough wool of her overcoat. From her hair he caught a whiff of elderflowers; he backed away quickly before he was caught smelling it.

"I… um…" he stumbled over his words, but continued on after clearing his throat. "Are you okay, Minerva?" He watched her smooth her hands over her hair, and rested them over her chest before turning back towards him.

"I'm fine."

He took a step towards her and watched as that same look she had earlier in the pub crossed over her face. She had the grace of a lion when she closed the gap between them. It was just as terrifying and breathtaking as he remembered it from earlier, and he was afraid to look away when he felt her soft breath on his face.

Her lips pressed to his, and he had to clench his fists at his sides to keep himself from pressing her to him again. When she pulled back, he could taste the Firewhiskey they'd shared on his lips.

"Thank you, Argus. I couldn't have asked for a better ending to the day."

He was about to tell her the same, when the Potions professor came barreling out of The Three Broomsticks. Argus caught him before gravity got the best of the inebriated wizard, and when he turned back around, Minerva was gone. Argus ended up walking someone back through the halls of Hogwarts that night, but it wasn't who he wanted it to be.

Maybe next year.

A/N: This was written under the assumption that 50% of Argus's characterizations in canon were set through the eyes of a child that, understandably, didn't like the jerky old man that kept him from wandering the hallways at all hours of the night, and from running in them during the day. However, he stubbornly chased after any student whether they liked it or not. The Houses Challenge

Hufflepuff - Prefect

(Location) Hogsmeade word count: 2000QLFC:

Falmouth Falcons

Chaser 3

Write a canonically stubborn character faced with insurmountable odds. (word) insufferable(quote) "I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny, but we can have lots of good fun that is funny." - Dr. Seuss, The Cat in the Hat(dialogue) "If I had a Knut for every time (...) said that." (fill in the blank with any pronoun or name)

Hogwarts

Ravenclaw

Advanced Warding

Task 4–Light: Write a story set at night

Appreciation-5 Write about someone important arriving somewhere

Disney- C5

Showtime-3

Last, but not least:

Hogwarts—Auction

Ravenclaw—prompt: Argus/Minerva