Disclaimer: We, the sixsexypsychos do not own any recognizable characters or settings. All creative property (except for this amusing plot(less) fic) belongs solely to a one JK Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.

Authors Note: This was actually written during a seminar, when we were supposed to listen to the lecturers. From a Filch/McGonagall pairing, it came to…this. Still, we haven't decided yet if it really should be a romance fic at all.

Writers: (In sequence of appearance): Gothrine, Metalla and Sylphera.

Chapter 1: Ribbit!

The Transfiguration professor glanced at the clock on the wall. He was late, yet again. Sighing, she proceeded to tackle the pile of homework that needed grading on her desk.

A tentative knock, and the door opened, revealing the Hogwarts caretaker, smiling nervously over the top of his mops. Minerva spun around to greet her guest.

'Ah, it's about time,' she said, 'Are you ready for our session, then?' she asked, moving across the room to pull out a tea set.

Argus nodded, his wide grin exposing a set of yellowed teeth, 'I look forward to it.'

'Now let's go over the basics,' she started, 'Oh, for heaven's sake, sit down and stop fidgeting. The key to practicing a simple transfiguration spell is?'

'Concentration,' replied Argus.

She flashed him a rare smile. 'Exactly. Complete and utter concentration is the means to a successful transfiguration.' McGonagall tapped the edge of the teacup smartly, which in a puff of vivid blue smoke, transformed into a mouse.

Filch nodded eagerly, curling his long fingers in anticipation.

'Do you recall what we've learned in the previous lesson?' the professor asked.

'Yes, of course,' Filch replied, hastily fumbling for his brand new wand in his threadbare robes. He finally found what he was looking for. The transfiguration professor re-transfigured the mouse back into a teacup and inclined her head towards the squib.

Nervously, he licked his lips and his hands shook slightly as he raised his wand. Beads of sweat stung his eye and he blinked them away. He brought down his wand in a violent arch. The teacup shattered and Filch's shoulders slumped in failure.

'Reparo,' muttered McGonagall, and the tiny pieces flew back together. 'Physical strength is not a factor in transfiguration, Argus!' Minerva reminded him, patiently.

Filch shifted his glance up to meet the professor's eye. He relaxed visibly when he saw that she wasn't furious with him.

'Now, try again,' she said, 'Concentrate, focus on the object and imagine it turning into something else of your desire'

Filch did as he was told, eyes screwed up in concentration. Then, waving his wand, he muttered the incantation and knocked the piece of China off the table.

'Argus!' shrieked Professor McGonagall. Remembering the situation, she lowered her voice, 'How many times do I have to tell you? Don't close your eyes while performing a spell.'

'But-'

'Don't argue with me!' she hissed, 'Now, I want you to lie flat on the table!' With an almost casual flick of her wand, she cleared the table of parchment, quills and ink bottles.

He stared at her for a moment, speechless. 'Minerva…' he began, but stopped himself when he saw the expression on her face. He clambered clumsily onto the desk and lowered himself gingerly onto the old oak, hearing it groan and protest under his weight.

Filch braced his upper body with his elbows and stared uncertainly at the professor.

'I told you to lie flat on your back, Argus!' Minerva said sharply.

Filch quickly leaned back down, his back pressed against the cold, hard surface of the polished wood.

The professor smiled and slowly, deliberately, she approached the nervous caretaker. Lightly, she trailed the tip of her long wand from the point of his stubbly chin, down to his neck, tracing patterns through the thin barrier of his grubby shirt.

'I am far from satisfied with your transfiguration technique, Argus. Have you been practicing?'

'Er...' Filch stuttered, his eyes following the tip of the wand as its owner dragged it down the length of his body absently. It paused, hovering just above his most private of parts.

Then, to his absolute horror, he felt an emptiness in the area. He gaped in shock, unable to scream. Something struggled from under his belt – something cold and uncomfortably damp.

A head of a toad poked out from his belt line, its jewel red eyes unblinking.

'Ribbit…'

Filch suddenly found his voice, 'BLOODY HELL, WOMAN! YOU… YOU TRANSFIGURED MY…MY…' he choked, his voice dropping to a whisper before rising again, 'willie… INTO A BLEEDING FROG!' He howled and launched himself off the desk, hopping about frantically.

'It's a toad, Argus,' McGonagall corrected calmly.

'A TOAD?'

The amphibian in question gave another croak and hopped out of the caretaker's pants and out the door.

'No! My willie!'

'It's gone, Argus. There is no point in going after that asset of yours,' Minerva told him evenly.

'GONE?' Argus shrieked in panic, 'How the bloody hell can it be GONE?'

Professor McGonagall merely shrugged.

'I want my… my… I want it BACK!'

'Not until after you've mastered this simple spell, you won't,' Minerva smiled.

Filch gasped and spluttered in disbelief and horror. He stumbled back against the table, nearly knocking over the chairs beside it in his clumsiness as he struggled to regain his breath. His breathing was erratic and his hands gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles were parchment white.

'I'm a no-sex…'

The classroom door flung open ever so suddenly, and a pale boy with jet-black hair burst through. The two adults froze for a moment.

'Professor McGona…'

'Yes, Potter? What is it this time?'

'Professor, I… Whose toad was that by the way?'

She effectively ignored him, 'Meet me in the staffroom in five minutes.'

As Harry left the room, she turned back to Filch, 'As for you, Argus, keep practicing. You will be able to get back your… asset on your own once you've mastered the skill. In the mean time, you'll just have to make do without it.'

Filch walked out, dazed and muttering under his breath. A few paces away, a few first years crowded around something that looked strangely like…

'My will – I mean, toad!'

'Give it here, Mitchell!' cried one of the girls, reaching for the toad which was clutched in the Slytherin's hands.

Mitchell sneered, squeezing the poor creature until its eyes bugged out.

'No!' bellowed Filch, striding forward.

'Accio toad!' The girl, (whom Filch recognized as Savannah Belms of Hufflepuff), yelled, whipping out her wand. The toad zoomed out of the Slytherin's vice grip, emitting a startled croak.

Filch lunged forward and made a desperate grab for the flying toad. His fingers closed around the slippery animal and he stared at the struggling creature for a moment. He swung around and treated the group of first years with a healthy glare. 'Go on! Get out of here!' He watched with narrowed eyes as the students one by one obeyed and trudged away.

Filch waited until they had disappeared past the corner before releasing a huge sigh of relief. He looked down at the slimy animal gripped firmly in his hand.

'You're safe… for now…' he muttered.

The toad suddenly swelled, gave a strangled croak, one last kick and was still. The caretaker loosened his grip on the toad and slowly opened his dirty fingers.

'Sweet Merlin…

His cupped hands trembled as he made his way slowly to his broom cupboard. He reached for an empty jar and carefully slid the dead amphibian in.

'Oh, sweet, sweet Merlin…' he whispered when he realized the implications of the dead toad. Surely that wouldn't mean…? He shoved the jar under his robes, clutched it tight to his chest and dashed down to the kitchens. He threw the doors open, startling the host of house-elves out of his way and reached for the tub of sugar. He heaped generous amounts of the fine grain into the jar, smothering the toad. He rushed to the tap and watched as the water dissolved the sugar.

He held the jar to his eyes and stared mournfully at the spread-eagled toad.

'Pickled willie…Griping gargoyles, I'm screwed…'

A/N: To be continued...?