Disclaimer: I don't own Argus Filch or Mrs. Norris -- they are property of J.K. Rowling. I do own the other characters though, and I own the Norris Estate.
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The sun was setting, casting a deep red glow on the beautiful grounds of the Norris Estate. A dying ray of light shone on a stooped man, working hard raking the last leaves on the ground into a monstrous pile that stood over six feet tall. The man straightened his back and let out a huge stretch, letting the sun illuminate his young, pock-marked face. He sighed and un-tensed, surveying his accomplishment with immense pride.
"Ay, that's good," he said. And with that he dragged his rake behind him as he trudged across the deserted grounds to his cabin.
Mr. Argus Filch lived a solitary life. He worked for a Mr. Edward Norris, doing grounds-keeping and gardening and whatever other odd jobs he was offered. The pay was fairly good and it put a roof over his head for no rent at all. Which wasn't something to sneeze at.
Argus had always been a loner. Being the only non-magical person in a family of six, he had felt out of place for his entire life. The magical community regarded him as a failure, a black sheep, a white elephant…whatever you want to call it. Yet he never felt he fit in with the Muggle world either. He knew too much about the other side of life. He knew that what Muggles regarded as "hocus-pocus" was real, and you can't really expect to lead a normal life with that sort of knowledge, can you? So Argus had pretty much given himself up to an isolated existence, and that was fine by him.
Valentine sat at her desk in the bedroom, writing a letter to her friend Helena. It was a rather insipid letter with no meaning and she was basically writing it because she was so hopelessly bored. Edward was away at yet another business meeting. It seemed to Valentine that these trips occurred more often since they had decided to move into Edward's father's old estate in the countryside. She had hoped that it would be the opposite, hoped that since they were now living so far away from civilization that they would have time to be together. But what one hopes for isn't always what one gets.
She missed him. Oh how she missed him. She missed his cologne, the way he drank his tea, the way he put on his coat. She missed his hands, his hair, his eyes…
Valentine shook her head, causing her perfect brown curls to bounce jovially about her round face. She tried not to think about Edward too much when he was away because she always ended up creating this perfect image of her husband that was shattered when he came back and showed his flaws. Like when he left his shoes in the middle of the sitting room. Or when he patted her on the head when she said something silly. Or laughed at his own stupid jokes about politics, economics, or some other kind of hideously dull -ics.
She crumpled up her unfinished letter and threw it across the room into the wastebasket.
The next morning dawned bright and cold. Argus rolled out of bed and threw on some clothes. He ate his normal breakfast of buttered bread and a cup of tea. Gathering up his tool bucket and rake, he ventured out into the day.
Valentine woke up much earlier than she normally would have. After lying about in bed for ten minutes, wondering why she was awake at six o'clock in the morning, she decided to get up and get dressed. Quietly, she snuck out of her room, down the hall, down the first flight of stairs, down the next hall, down the second flight of stairs, past the kitchen, through the sitting room, and out the front door. (She had never appreciated just how large the house was until she had to pass through half of it silently.) The air was crisp and refreshing, but what struck Valentine the hardest was the sheer quiet of it all. The only sounds were the wind in the trees and the occasional twitter of a bird or the rustle of a squirrel as it scrounged for nuts on the lawn. She set off down the path that led to the gardens and started exploring this new world of silence.
Argus went about his daily business, which consisted of making sure the fountains were working properly and that the bird feeders were all sufficiently full. He was sitting on a stone bench, watching a swallow eat a sunflower seed when he heard the patter of footsteps behind him. Whipping his head around, he saw Mrs. Norris walking along the garden path, oblivious to fact that he was there.
Everything was so wonderfully new to Valentine that she could hardly believe it. How could everything look so different when it first woke up? Why did the colors seem brighter, the smells stronger, the feelings purer? She was so astounded that she did not notice the young man sitting on the bench, eyeing her with shy curiosity. She didn't notice the watering can in front of her either. That is, she didn't notice it until she had stepped and tripped on it. She was falling, falling through the air and the ground was coming ever closer.
Then she stopped. Feeling quite confused, it took her a few moments to realize that there were two arms around her torso. Two arms attached to a body wearing a brown coat. Valentine regained her balance and found herself looking into the gray-green eyes of her savior.
It was one of those moments where you don't realize how totally life changing it is when it happens. You think it's just a normal, every-day occurrence that means absolutely nothing. Something that you'll forget about by tomorrow. But it isn't until years later that you realize just how important that moment was.
Argus quickly let go of Mrs. Norris
"Sorry 'bout tha' miss. Shouldnta left it lyin' 'round," he muttered. He bent down and picked up the offending can, refusing to look at the pretty woman in front of him.
"Oh no, it's quite all right. I'm just glad you were there to catch me," said Valentine, looking shyly at the man stooped before her. He wasn't very attractive to look at, and she could only remember talking to him once before when her husband had hired him. Yet there was something about him that Valentine was drawn to. He seemed…lost. As if he didn't know where he fit in or where he was supposed to be going. He stood up, still keeping his head bowed as if afraid of looking at her. Valentine cleared her throat.
"I suppose you didn't expect anyone to be coming down the path this early in the morning." She looked at him curiously.
"No ma'am," he said quietly, his gaze still fixed firmly on his beaten leather shoes.
"I don't believe I caught your name," said Valentine, who was getting rather aggravated at this man's fascination with the ground.
"Argus Filch, ma'am," he said softly, glancing up at her.
"Very nice to meet you properly, Mr. Filch. I'm V--"
"I know who you are, Mrs. Norris." Valentine was rather taken aback at this seemingly rude interruption. She was about to comment on how impolite it was to interrupt when she caught the look in his eyes. He wasn't trying to be rude. It wasn't as if he didn't care what her name was. He simply knew what she was going to say and wanted to save her the trouble, that was all.
"Please. Call me Valentine," she said, although as soon as the words escaped her mouth she regretted them. She was, after all, the wife of his employer! It was hardly proper for him to be on a first-name basis with her when they had just met. Still, there was something about him. Something that suggested he needed a friend, not just a boss.
"If it's all the same to you, ma'am, I'd rather call you Mrs. Norris." Argus was taken in by this woman's outgoing, kind beauty. He had to remain calm and cool and remind himself that she was a married woman, and technically his employer. If he wanted to continue living life as he had, he would have to stick to formality.
"As you wish, Mr. Filch." Valentine was strangely disheartened by this, although she wouldn't have told you at the time.
But by this time, the sun was getting rather high in the sky, the rest of the world was waking up, and Valentine could hear sounds of life from inside the house.
"I should best be getting back. They'll wonder where I've gone." Argus noticed her cheeks turn slightly pink and saw her pretty hands twist in anxious knots.
"Good morning, ma'am," he said, and with that, he walked further into the garden.
"Yes…it is a good morning," murmured Valentine to herself. She turned around and headed back up to the stone manor, wondering whether or not there would be fried potatoes for breakfast this morning.