FIC: Kindred Souls (Chapter 7) - Snape/Filch - NC-17 Title: Kindred Souls Author: D. J. Orlovský Translation (from Czech original): pimpinellae Pairing: Snape/Filch Rating: NC-17 Warnings: use of drugs Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. Notes: Many thanks to rastaban43 for making my translation much better. Summary: How do you think a former Death Eater and a Squib spend their free evenings at Hogwarts? (A story in seven chapters for the seven books + prologue.)
"And Severus, be very careful, they may not take kindly to your appearance after George Weasley's mishap –"
Snape turned at the door.
"Don’t worry, Dumbledore," he said coolly. "I have a plan …"
And Snape left the room.
Filch quietly opened the door of his quarters and peered out into the dimly lit hallway. No, he didn't imagine it. What he had heard was indeed the sound of the front door closing, and now someone stood in the twilight, brushing off snow from his cloak.
Filch was outraged. So here he is, spending every waking hour cleaning away the mess those little bastards continually make, and someone dares to add more to his work? He was about to snap at the person when a thought made him pause. What if it was one of the abhorrent Carrow twins?
The figure looked in Filch's direction and he froze, preparing to shut the door at the first hint of danger.
Filch felt relief flood him.
"Headmaster." He greeted Snape with a nod and opened the door wide.
"Why aren't you in the bed, Filch?" asked Snape in a tired voice.
Filch only shrugged because no answer would be good enough.
Snape took of his black gloves and headed for the stairs. He turned over his shoulder, "Are you coming?"
"Ex- excuse me?" stuttered Filch, startled.
Snape, however, didn't turn back, so Filch had no choice but to grab his dressing-gown, pull it over his striped pyjamas and hurry up after him.
Filch followed Snape, and it became clear that they were heading to the Headmaster's office. Filch grew nervous by the moment. He wasn't aware of having neglected his duties as a caretaker but there were the Carrows – despicable wizarding scum, who treated him like dirt. Those two might have come up with a complaint against him. But, surely, Snape would take his side in that case.
While doubts ate at Filch, they had reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office.
Snape said the password, "Dumbledore", and it seemed and it seemed to Filch as if the word was spat out of his mouth to get rid of its awful taste.
They had never spoken about the manner of Dumbledore's death. Filch didn't find it all that important. Dumbledore was the worst thing that had ever happened to the school.
Snape entered the office, took off his cloak and threw it over his desk, not caring about the parchments littering it.
Filch heard Dumbledore’s portrait ask, "How did it go, Severus?"
Snape took out a half-empty bottle from his desk and poured himself an inch of firewhisky.
"Severus, tell me, how did it go? You know how important this is," Dumbledore pressed him.
Snape drank the contents of his glass in one go and slammed the glass back on his desk.
"Were you successful, Severus? Didn't anyone see you? Did Harry get the sword?" It seemed that Snape's silence made Dumbledore anxious. "Severus!"
Snape looked at the portrait of his predecessor with distaste.
"It's freezing out there, the snow and the wind are in full force, I was there catching cold for Merlin knows how long, and the only thing you are interested in is whether I've done what you wanted," snapped Snape irritably.
Filch stood behind the half-open door, wondering if he shouldn't better go back. He felt uncomfortable there.
"It doesn't even occur to you to let me take a rest, to ask me if I'm all right; all you care about is your cause," hissed Snape.
Filch turned to quietly descend the stairs when Snape sharply barked, "Filch, where are you!?"
Filch reluctantly returned and entered the office. He felt as if all eyes were on him. Professor Dumbledore in his portrait frowned at him over the rim of his half-moon glasses.
"Severus, it's your –" began Dumbledore but Snape cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"You know what, Dumbledore? I have business here with Mr Filch which can't wait. So if all of you could kindly excuse us ..."
Dumbledore's expression was uncomprehending.
"You have portraits all over the place, so would you please get lost for a moment?!" barked Snape.
"I'd say the two of us have more urgent matters to discuss," objected Dumbledore.
"No, we have not," retorted Snape and swept the portraits of the past headmasters and headmistresses with a glare. "You are supposed to serve the headmaster of this school. Whether you like it or not, I happen to be a rightful headmaster of this school."
After those words the headmasters and headmistresses slipped, one by one and with much complaining, out of their frames. Dumbledore stayed last.
"I've meant you as well," snapped Snape.
"Severus," tried Dumbledore once more.
"Either go away or the consequences are on your head," hissed Snape and gestured for Filch to come closer.
Bewildered, Filch made a few steps towards Snape, his eyes darting from the current headmaster to the late and back.
Dumbledore sighed and disappeared from his frame.
To Filch's amazement, Snape took off his robe without a word, unbuttoned his shirt and pulled down his trousers together with the underwear. Then he pulled the armchair away from his desk, comfortably settled in it and threw one leg over the armrest.
Filch felt blood pool in his groin at the sight.
"Well, what are you waiting for, Filch?" prompted him Snape.
Filch went to his knees and licked Snape's quiescent cock. It was still cold from outside and his warm tongue must have tingled Snape pleasantly.
"Yes," sighed Snape burying his fingers in Filch's hair. "Lick it, Filch ... yes, that's it ..."
Filch slid his tongue over Snape's balls, licked the hardening cock, and with one hand took out his own cock from his pyjamas to stroke himself and quivered with delight from Snape's praise.
Snape leaned his head back and moaned in contentment.
Neither of them noticed that Professor Dumbledore returned to his frame for a second, just to peer in. When he saw his former caretaker licking his former Potions Master's balls, Dumbledore paled and hastily retreated.
"E-enough," Snape choked out.
Filch pulled away and licked his lips, curious what the headmaster's next wish was going to be.
"Take off your clothes," said Snape gently as he got up.
Filch noted with satisfaction that Snape's legs were shaking a bit. He quickly shed his dressing gown and pyjamas and provocatively stroked his cock.
Snape pushed his hand away and fondled his erection with his own hand a bit. Then he whipped off his cloak from the desk together with most of the paperwork beneath it. Filch understood at once and lowered himself onto the cool, polished wood. He assumed Snape would take him now – hard and fast – and his cock throbbed.
Snape spread Filch's legs and then knelt down. Filch gave a hiss and then a drawn-out moan escaped him when he felt the headmaster's tongue on his hole. The tongue circled around, teasing, and experimentally pushed in. Filch clutched the edge of the desk tightly. He had never even dreamed about that. When Snape took his cock in his mouth Filch almost came right then and there just from the fact that it was Snape, Headmaster Severus Snape.
Headmaster Severus Snape was giving him a blow job!
"God!" groaned Filch.
Snape straightened up and pushed inside in one thrust.
"Yes," moaned Filch when Snape began thrusting hard and wild. Dominance suited the headmaster so well.
They fucked as if their lives depended on it.
As if there would be no tomorrow.
Filch entered the Great Hall, which was in shambles. Upon seeing it, Filch took Mrs Norris into his arms.
The bodies lined up on the floor were yet to be moved. With an embarrassed expression, Professor Slughorn held a shaken Professor McGonagall around her shoulders. Professor Sprout repeated over and over that there had to be a dignified funeral arranged for the dead but she didn't lift a finger. Students huddled together with their parents.
There was no one to secure order. No one to decide what should be done first and what next. To bring a semblance of normalcy to this chaos.
With some difficulty, Filch made his way towards Professor McGonagall.
"Where's the headmaster?" he asked.
Professor McGonagall's face turned ashen and suddenly she seemed more exhausted.
"Don't you know?" asked Slughorn in surprise.
Filch felt his throat constricting.
"Don't know what?" he rasped out.
The headmaster ... Severus ... he is a hero," said Professor McGonagall.
"W-what do you mean?" whispered Filch and hugged Mrs Norris tightly as if she were his shield, the only steady point of his crumbling life.
"He has laid his life for the right thing." said Slughorn. "I'm proud to have taught him. Truly proud. I knew the boy would accomplish great things one day. I knew it."
But Filch wasn't listening to him. He felt as if a huge bottomless pit had opened in his heart.
"No," he breathed. "No, that ... that can't be."
"It's the truth, Filch." Professor McGonagall laid her hand on his shoulder. "We were wrong about him. He was ... a remarkable man ... despite everything."
Filch pulled away from her touch and staggered out of the Great Hall. And then he huddled on the mattress in their old classroom in the dungeons, choking on bitter tears.
Filch watched his reflection in the polished black marble and, as always, felt empty. All those years seemed so far away that he sometimes asked himself if it weren't but a dream and he now cherished only its aftermath.
As usual, Filch again realised with bitterness that he never said goodbye to him.
No posthumous award, and Snape received plenty of those, could express what an exceptional person he had been.
Filch sighed. Mrs Norris was often away lately, which troubled Filch because apart from her he didn't have much left in life.
Apart from her and a gravestone of black marble.
"The Potter boy has arrived for his first year. Just like his father – didn't wipe his boots on the doormat either. They'll never change, they'll never appreciate hard work." Filch moved a gravel-stone with the tip of his foot.
"I've asked Slughorn again to expel Peeves from Hogwarts, and to no avail, as usual. I can't understand why the poltergeist is tolerated here. The young one who's still teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts doesn't look so bad after all. Yesterday, she took points from one snotty brat for throwing dungbombs in the halls." Filch thrust his hands into his pockets. Autumn had come fairly soon this year.
"But that good-for-nothing who teaches Potions – well – imagine he tried to reorganize your cabinet of poisons yesterday. Naturally, I've properly berated him. I told him you didn't wish anyone to touch it. Oh, and Slytherin won the first match of the season and young Malfoy – well, you know how the Malfoys are better than me." Filch paused. "Mrs Norris is away all the time, lately. Don't know what to do about it," he complained. "Oh, and I've repaired that door," he added and fell silent for a long while.
"Well, I’d better be on my way," said Filch finally, bent down and laid one red rose with a long stem on the black marble.
The silver inscription said:
SEVERUS SNAPE The bravest Slytherin Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry born 9. 1. 1960
A dead leaf stuck to the date of death. Filch brushed it off and looked at the two numbers with sadness. Mrs Norris entwined his ankles, meowing to get his attention.
Filch peered down and saw that his cat had brought him a kitten. Filch took the small furry creature in his hand. It was coal black, with intelligent green eyes that pierced him right through. Filch caressed the kitten and turned to go back to the castle. "What are we going to call him, my sweet?" he asked Mrs Norris. "What would you say if we called him Mr Snape?"
Note: The Dialogue at the beginning of this chapter is taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, UK edition, p. 553.