I was reading up on Filch for another fanfic when I suddenly felt sorry for the man. I always had a slightly soft spot for this character, how creepy I may ever have found him, and when I read about the lack of his background I decided to get him one. I haven't been reading any other Filch-fics just for the sake of writing my own idea and not get influenced by any other sources.
I'm not a big fan of OC-slashing but for my idea to come to life I had to use a new character.

Argus Filch knew he wasn't very attractive. During the time his parents had sent him to a muggle school in a try to force him into their society he learnt pretty fast that he was not only a weird person but that all found him "repulsing". They bullied him for his bad posture, his crocked nose and his scrawny body. When he hit puberty it only got worse as now they started harassing him for more than just looking and acting weird. Not they told him he would die alone and the girls in school found him extremely fun to mess around with. This made him realise something; He never wanted to live amongst this kind of people.

Now he was standing in the office. His office. It wasn't much but was still more than he would ever ask for. A table, an armchair, a bed and an oil lamp that was hanging from the ceiling. In the corner of the room stood file cabinets that he wasn't sure what he should use them for. But there was also one other item in the room that Filch wanted to get rid of.

He was standing in front of it, looking at his own reflection. It was a simple mirror with a dark wooden frame that was torn at the edges, looking as if it had seen many rough days. The surface though was shining as if someone had polished it, an odd feature as Filch had not even once cleaned it. He hated the mirror and every time he passed by it he wanted to break it. Just throw his fists at it and feel the shards dig deep into his hands forcing blood out of deep wounds. He never did though.

Now his reflection was staring back at him. He tried to pull off a smile but even though he felt the pull in the corner of his mouth he only looked repulsed. Argus Filch knew he wasn't attractive but at this moment he also learnt that he had lost his ability to smile.

"Stupid girls," he murmured to himself for he blamed the girls that had taken his last hope of life and love away from him. He was a scrawny young man, even though the dark circles under his eyes made him age a decade. He had never been able to put on weight either, one of the things he had hated all his life. His pale eyes tiredly stared at him, eying himself out. He did try his hardest to look descent every day, wearing clean shirts and trying to clean the brown coat at least once a week. He wanted to make a good expression amongst the other staff since he had only been working at Hogwarts for almost half a year. Sadly he looked worse and worse for every day that passed. He got less and less sleep as he had to watch the corridors during night and during the day students were all over the place and he had to make sure none of them were up to mischief. Then there was that stupid poltergeist…

The only thing that had made try to dress neatly every day, except for the new job, was that the first day he had met a certain person. Filch was nothing compared to that man but still he couldn't help but keeping him in the back of his mind every time he dressed or walked past the mirror. That was the biggest reason that Filch wanted to get rid of the mirror.

"Bloody mirror," he cursed before he pulled up the collar of the coat and walked out of the room. Sometimes he wondered if there was anything special about the mirror. It was odd for it to be placed in the Caretaker's office and being at a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry it wouldn't surprise Filch if it was a magical object. As he was not a wizard himself he wasn't very good with things like that, how hard he had ever tried to study it.

Filch was deep in thought when he suddenly walked straight into someone. He had a habit of looking into the floor as he walked, not very cleaver if one wanted to keep an eye out for mischief or avoid walking into people. He looked up and was just about to apologise when he saw the back of a head that was covered in short, blond, wavy hair that glistened perfectly in the light of a torch. Filch felt the air leave his lungs in a surprised gasp that he did his best to hide (but failed remarkably) and he suddenly got the urge to run in the opposite direction.

"Oh, Mr. Filch!" the man had turned around and as he saw the shocked face behind him the man exposed a wide grin, showing his shining white teeth.

Filch tried to smile but probably just looked disgusted, which he in a sense was. The man in front of him was Glanmore Silvanus, teacher in Defence Against Dark Arts. Popular amongst students as he had an open mind and very fancied by the female students for his good looks and "confident smile", as Filch had heard girls describe it. Filch had to force himself to raise a hand to say hi before he hurried to walk by the man but was stopped as Silvanus grabbed his arm.

"Why the hurry?"

Filch knew he still grinning like fool, anyone could was hear it in his voice. Filch kept his stare away from him, he knew it was dangerous to look at the man and his stupid smile. It was probably magic that had made him so irresistible.

"Work like always, Mr. Silvanus. Now if you'll excuse me..."

The man loosened his grip around the arm and Filch took the chance to escape. He could hear something along the line of "have a nice day" behind him but didn't even try to listen. He had a lot to concentrate on, he told himself, with all the anonymous mischief that had been happening all around school. But Filch broke his own rules and when he was just about to walk around the corner he sneaked a peek over his shoulder and saw Silvanus talking with a ghost. Filch looked away instantly, avoiding the chance of getting noticed but was troubled. He hadn't even noticed the ghost when he walked by.

I must really hate Silvanus, he thought to himself as he put his hands in his pockets and raised his shoulders into the bad posture he always had. He was just about to come with an excuse as to why he hadn't noticed the ghost when he walked by when he suddenly heard a loud bang from upstairs and started running. Almost out of breathe Filch soon reached the corridor on the second floor. All the armours had been knocked over and were laying in a chaos that Filch couldn't even begin to understand.

"Peeves..." Filch said with a rising anger when he suddenly heard footsteps at the end of the corridor. "Who's there?" he yelled but the person was already gone.

Filch cursed. Maybe it hadn't been Peeves this time, but this meant there was a student responsible for knocking over the armours and Filch felt the need to find out who it was and punish them. Hanging for a night by the ankles down in the dungeons would probably teach that troublemaker a lesson. But for now Filch was the one who had to take care of the stupid armours. If only he could use magic it wouldn't be any trouble to fix them all within seconds. But Filch was too proud to ask any of the teachers to help him. No, he wasn't just proud, but he wanted to prove that he could do anything this job had to put in his way. He wanted to prove it for the sake of all those people that used to say he was good for nothing. Determined, he began pulling and fixing them, doing his best to make it possible for people to walk through the corridor.

When he had fixed half of the dozen armours he took a break. He sat down next to one of them, wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his coat and pulled his hair aside. It had been a long time since he last had a haircut with that thought in mind he pulled at the end of his hair. It was almost reaching to the shoulders by now and the tops were worn.

"Time to cut your hair?"

Filch shrugged. It was the exact words that had been going through his own mind but now they were spoken with a silky smooth voice further down in the corridor. Filch tried to ignore the voice as he knew it belonged to Silvanus but when he heard footsteps and was suddenly staring at two shiny shoes he raised his gaze.

"I can help you with that," the man said with a kind smile. Filch shrugged again. He couldn't stand the sweetness in the face when he used that smile. It was just a soft pull in the corners of his mouth but it was a lot sweeter than the smug grin he used amongst other people. Filch had never seen him smile like that in front of anyone else. Filch hated it.

"I can cut my own hair, thank you," Filch tried to smile politely but it looked more like he was about to growl when he pulled up his lip and showed his teeth that weren't even closely as perfectly straight and white as Silvanus'.

"Are you sure? It looks a little…" the man eyed Filch out, making him feel even more uncomfortable, "askew. I could cut it perfectly, really framing that wonderful face of yours."

Filch looked away, pretending he was analysing the armours but was in fact just trying to concentrate on something else to distract himself from his racing heart. He tried his hardest to convince himself that he was just being messed with, like usually, but had a hard time doing so.

When Silvanus didn't get any actual response he took a look around the corridor.

"You are working hard, Mr. Filch. These are pretty heavy and hard to put back, aren't they? You want any help with that?"

"I don't need your magic," Filch hissed. He regretted it the second after. He had never admitted he couldn't use magic, even though it was probably obvious the way he never used it, and he didn't want to do it now either.

Suddenly their eyes met for a split second. Filch's pale eyes were covered with hatred, hiding the shame underneath. Silvanus green ones looked kind, even though he was a little hurt, and soon they curved slightly when he began smiling.

What was wrong with the man? Even back in the muggle school he knew why people acted the way they did but this man didn't make any sense at all. Maybe Wizards had even more screwed up ways of messing with people? If they did then Filch didn't want to know. Getting tied to a tree without any pants was wicked enough.

"If you wouldn't mind leaving I have work to do," Filch said as he stood up and tried to brush the 'argument' off.

He continued where he had left off and did his best to get one of the armours back on its feet. He waited for the sound of footsteps walking away but to his surprise they didn't walk away, instead they got closer and before Filch had realised it the blonde had helped him getting the armour on its place.

"What are you doing?" Filch sounded insulted as he spoke and looked the role as well. On the other side of the metal he could see a charming smile.

"I'm helping you, obviously."

"I said I don't need help."

"No, you didn't," the man corrected. "You said that you don't need my magic. Now let me help you this way instead."

Filch wasn't sure he liked the idea of getting help and especially not from this man but realised it had been a whole lot easier and would save him a lot of time if he did get help. Filch didn't really approve but yet he and Silvanus managed to put all the armours in their places and to clean up in the corridor without the help of any magic at half the time it would have taken for Filch to do it alone. Filch told himself that he hadn't accepted the help because he wanted to but that he had been forced to. Silvanus was a teacher and he felt like he had to be polite to him. He had to, no choice.

"Now will you let me cut your hair?"

Filch who had just been about to walk away suddenly turned around to look at the man, getting ready to tell him off, when he suddenly saw a hand reach out towards him. The slender fingers gently touched the ends of his hair. Filch held his breath and stared at Silvanus who were concentrating at the hair. It was a subtle brown colour and soft to the touch, Silvanus could state as much when he felt the smoothness between his sensitive fingertips. Filch felt awkward and was just about to hit away the hand when he gasped. The fingers that had just been caressing his hair suddenly moved to his cheek and held it gently. Flinch could feel his heart race in his ribcage, drumming at him from the inside and beating in his ears. He felt lightheaded without any reasonable explanation but had a feeling the source was the warmth from the other human being that was lovingly touching his skin.

"Your eyes are amazing," the man said with what could only be described as a nervous smirk.

If you have any thoughts at all after reading this please review.