Compressed
'They should hang them by the thumbs and let them scream.'
People took him for an ignorant fool, but he read stuff. He knew stuff. He ordered books, and he knew that at least 9% of the world's population hated children and their slimy, runny noses. What he hated, however, were teenagers.
Filthy, hormone raged witches and wizards who didn't have high standards and believed every broom closet did the trick. It was disgusting how he had to find them compressing against each other – cheeks flushed and breaths ragged – when he opened the door.
A shriek left the girl's mouth before she quickly tried to untangle her hands and legs from the boy's body as he rushed to grab the green tie and black trousers discarded in the floor moments ago.
Disgusting.
"Get out of here, ya' filthy bastards, before I call Professor Snape."
He would've called the Professor – that was what he should do – if he hadn't told him last year not to awake him for those matters. All he could do was threaten and avoid the second corridor. There was only so much Mrs. Norris could handle in her old age; he did not want to stress her out and he did not want to see the nuisances as they'd come to the world.
Nowadays the little bastards could do anything they wanted at Hogwarts; if it were in his grandmum Augusta's time he'd dump them in the dungeons.
He hated teenagers. They were disgusting.
Not that what he'd found some adults in the castle doing was better.
Disgusting.
Words: 250
Oh, yeah! I was in the mood for a little Argus. I think I ruined him. At least I wrote another drabble of doom. ^_~