Disclaimer: We, the sixsexypsychos do not own any recognizable characters or settings. All recognizable creative property belongs solely to a one JK Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.

Authors Note: This chapter was written during our recesses. Cheers, and enjoy!

Writers: (In sequence of appearance): Gothrine, Metalla and Sylphera. (Mostly Gothrine and Metalla, because Sylphera was too busy fiddling with the composer on Gothrine's mobile to write…)

Chapter 2: Curiosity Oblivated the Squib

Harry ran his hand through his hair agitatedly. What the hell was Filch doing in McGonagall's office? And a toad? Was it just his eyes playing tricks on him or did he see Filch talking to the dead creature on the second floor?

A wave of jealously coursed through him and he took a steadying breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. After all that he had done for his head of House, the moments they had shared; their night time trysts in the Chamber of Secrets… (Who knew that the Transfiguration professor had a thing for Parselmouths?)

He shook his head incredulously, ridiculing his own paranoid thoughts. It couldn't be – not after what they had shared last night. Besides, he was after all, The Boy Who Lived and quite recently, The Chosen One and Argus Filch was merely an inferior, grubby caretaker. No, he, Harry Potter, the one who faced Voldemort countless times and had survived each encounter, could not lose to a mere squib.

He turned his head when he heard someone approach. His heart did a double somersault when he saw that it was professor McGonagall.

"Minerva…"

She cast him a warning glare. "Hush, Potter. Not now in the hallway… the walls have eyes and ears…" she looked around, letting her gaze rest on the portraits pointedly.

"But Miner – professor," he corrected hurriedly, seeing her black expression. His hands itched. Oh, how he wanted to touch her; to feel the smoothness of her skin rubbing against his, the delicious friction, to taste the sweetness of her lips…

She saw the fire in his emerald eyes and frowned severely at him, struggling to squash her own ignited passion. "Come, Potter, to my office… We won't have enough privacy here…"

He followed her readily, like an obedient puppy and a small skip in his steps. Turning around the corner, he shyly slid his hand into hers, fighting to keep the colour from rising to his cheeks.

They passed a dark classroom where Peeves, was hiding dungbombs under chairs and on the ceiling.

"Now, now, Potty!" he sang in a singsong voice when he caught sight of the unlikely lovers, "Been a naughty boy now, have we?"

McGonagall released her student's hand immediately and glared dangerously at the poltergeist. "Peeves!" she barked, "What are you doing? Shall I call the Bloody Baron?"

Peeves stuck his tongue out and made a very rude gesture at the professor, and zoomed over their heads, cackling wildly. McGonagall shook her head in frustration and they continued down the hallway. They paused in front of her office door. McGonagall opened it with a flick of her wand, dropping the wards first. She indicated with a tilt of her chin and Harry entered the dark room before her.

Minerva glanced back at both ends of the corridor to make sure that no one was around before entering her office and shutting the heavy door with a tight click. She immediately raised her wards again.

Harry slowly paced across the dark room, patiently waiting for the Transfiguration professor to acknowledge him. He traced the tips of his fingers along the smooth, polished wood of the large desk, as vivid images of their passionate moments flashed through his mind; the hard surface pressing against his bare back, their tangled, entwined bodies…

He grinned slightly when he remembered hissing endearments to her in Parseltongue. Somehow, their tender love-making drew in snakes into the secret chamber. They had watched, hissing and writhing together in an undulating mass.

Minerva was apprehensive at first, of their spectators, but her attention was soon elsewhere when Harry had brought her to her peak over and over again, squirming in wanton lust.

"Potter… Potter!" she called, waving her wand in his face, bringing a reluctant Harry back to reality.

"Now, as you can see, Potter –"

"Harry," he corrected.

"Potter," she said firmly, "Much as I would like to continue this… this relationship of ours, I suggest that we take a break for the time being, as the situation clearly does not allow it… It is certainly not appropriate for a teacher and a student to… carry on," she blushed furiously before glaring at him meaningfully.

Harry did not bother to hide his disappointment. He folded his arms together, leaned back against the desk and heaved a huge sigh. He knew something like this would happen sooner or later… preferably later… blast her idea of propriety!

He stared at her for a moment, as though trying to read her thoughts. "Okay, if that's what you want," he finally said, struggling with his emotions but hid it with a seemingly unconcerned shrug.

Minerva nodded, relieved with this rare display of compliance, particularly when it came to such intimate matters.

"I have a proposition for you," she said with a smile.

Harry raised his eyebrow in a silent question.

Filch shook the jar disconsolately, watching his transfigured willie swirl round and round like a professional ballerina.

"Oh, bloody sod it all!"

First the toad, and now Peeves. Since when did Peeves start sprouting nonsense anyway? Filch snorted, glaring at nothing in particular. Scratch that, Peeves always sprouted nonsense.

Filch paused, his grubby fingers wrapped around the jar protectively. Had he simply imagined the flash of jealously in the young man's eyes when he saw Minerva and him together?

He couldn't help but overhear that blasted Peeves. "Now, now, Potty! Been a naughty boy now, have we?"

The caretaker of Hogwarts was undeniably curious… time for some snooping.

"Come, Mrs Norris,' he called softly before leaving his office.

He carefully tucked the jar into one of his inner robe pockets as he strode into the dim, empty corridor. Mrs Norris followed obediently in his wake, occasionally mewing softly when her distressed master stopped to listen for any unusual sounds, feverishly muttering to himself under his breath.

He rounded the familiar corner, heading to the corridor where the Transfiguration professor's office was situated, slowing down his pace.

The muffled voices coming from behind the door grew louder as he slowly approached, making sure his shuffling feet made no noise.

"WHAT? You want me to WHAT?" a voice which no doubt belonged to Potter shouted in disbelief.

"Really, Potter, it's not really that bad!" McGonagall admonished sternly, "And lower your voice! We might be overheard."

Filch pressed his ear to the door eagerly. Yes, he was an unbashful gossipmonger. He jumped backwards when Harry's voice rose suddenly.

"I absolutely refuse to do it! I don't trust him, Minerva." Harry ground out angrily - ignoring his professor's stern reproach for using her given name, "You know I how feel about that sod. I won't do it!"

"Potter, please act your age!"

"I DON'T TRUST SNAPE!" Harry all but bellowed.

Argus was so stunned by that sudden outburst that he nearly tripped over Mrs Norris when he took a step back.

Peeves had been on to something after all!

He scratched his prickly stubble confusedly as he quietly motioned his cat to keep silent. She stared reproachfully at him. He moved forward again and pressed his ear tightly against the wood.

"Potter," Minerva started again, but was cut off by her student.

"No! I'm not doing it. You can't make me, Minerva," Harry said firmly.

"What makes you so certain that you aren't and I won't?" the deputy Headmistress replied softly.

Filch's ear was already red from pressing too hard. He gritted his teeth in concentration to hear every word.

Harry shook his head vehemently. "You're not going to force me into doing this, Minerva. I know what's on your mind," he said stubbornly.

The professor awarded him with a genuine smile, her eyes glinting with undisguised mischief. She took a step closer to the sixth-year.

Harry abruptly straightened his stance, narrowing his eyes warily as she advanced upon him.

"Please, Harry," she pleaded softly, the light in her eyes softening, "if not for Dumbledore, if not for the Order, then at least do it for me."

"Bloody hell," muttered Filch, feeling quite stupefied. He frowned and pressed harder onto the door, his fingers accidentally brushing the bronze handle.

Harry stiffened at the slight sound and both he and the older woman swung to stare at the door. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was silence by the look McGonagall sent him. She pressed a finger to her lips, signalling for silence.

She strode briskly to the door. The Transfiguration professor held up three fingers. Harry's confused expression cleared and he nodded, gripping his wand tightly. McGonagall wrapped one hand on the doorknob.

Three. Two. One.

She yanked the door violently open and both gasped when a certain caretaker squawked in surprise and collapsed in an undignified heap on the stone floor at their feet. McGonagall glared at Filch murderously and raised her wand at him. "How dare you? I am speechless, Argus!" her wrath bringing out her Scottish brogue, "Really! I see that eavesdropping is not below you." She was near apoplectic with rage.

'Oblivate!'

Filch smiled dreamily as his mind went blank. "Ho hum ho hum…" Filch giggled giddily, his face lit with an expression rapture as he wiggled his finger in front of his face.

Special thanks to: Lossenrhos, Forget December, Blue Eyes and Blue Ink, and Black Knight for the delightful reviews.

Lossenrhors, it was actually a language seminar, not a biology one! We have strange, twisted minds…