FIC: Kindred Souls (Chapter 2) - Snape/Filch - NC-17 Title: Kindred Souls Author: D. J. Orlovský Translation (from Czech): 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.)
A loud thud on the door was followed by a bang and the sound of something metal falling down the stairs.
Snape curled his lip. "Do you have to make so much noise, Filch?" he asked and took a drag from his joint.
Cursing, Filch squeezed through the half-open door and threw a dented bucket on the floor.
"This is a sabotage! This is the second bucket in one week which tried to bite off my – bite me." Filch's face was red but it was hard to tell whether more from anger or shame.
"What a tragedy," said Snape and nodded to the place on the desk beside him.
Snape silenced him by offering him his joint, Filch took a drag and blissfully blew out a smoke.
"Bastards," he finished his rant. "And when I tell Dumbledore about it he does nothing. Nothing. NOTHING!"
"I've heard you, I'm not deaf," Snape scoffed and took the cigarette away from him. "What do you expect, Filch, this is Dumbledore. Tell him that You-Know-Who is preparing to strike, and Dumbledore will rouse half the ministry. Tell him that the brats are stealing from your supplies and he will merely smile his manic smile of a senile old man and wave it away."
"Someone stole from you?" Filch was all agape.
"I didn't say that," Snape muttered and handed Filch the joint.
"It's still unprecedented how far the students dare to go." Filch frowned. "Potter arrives in that stolen car and nothing happens. He paws through my personal correspondence – and nothing again! He attacks my cat –"
"Filch, such an ignoramus as Potter could've hardly attacked your cat. A spell of that kind requires brains, which rules out Mr Potter and effectively any other student at this school." Snape sneered and took the joint back from Filch.
"And Dumbledore? He just says be patient, we shall cure her soon," fumed Filch.
Snape handed him the half smoked joint and took a worn pouch from his robes.
"I feel like shagging," Snape remarked offhandedly.
Filch, however, paid attention to his joint, kept muttering unflatteringly about Dumbledore, and didn’t hear Snape.
"And that fop Lockhart -"
Snape looked at Filch a bit peevishly.
"Just to think that he told me, me you see, that he could help me, that ... that ..." Filch was so agitated that he opted for taking another drag, rather than finishing his thought.
"Ah yes, Lockhart," scoffed Snape and lit a new cigarette. "A dolled up ponce with the intelligence and abilities of Neville Longbottom. I can tell Dumbledore a hundred times that I'm fully qualified to teach Defence – and in fact he knows that I am. Every time he just shoots me that mock-indulgent smile of his and launches into a speech about my own good."
"I can't believe that the ponce has the audacity to act superior to me! And Dumbledore puts up with it! I'm telling you, Dumbledore is –" Filch choked.
Snape looked up and saw Dumbledore in person, standing in the doorway. Snape apparently didn't find the silence in the least awkward; however, Filch fidgeted and tried to hide his joint, which only brought more attention to it.
Dumbledore broke the silence, "I have been looking for you, Severus."
"Clearly." Snape smiled slightly and with a certain impudence took a drag from his cigarette and blew out the smoke.
"It seems a few students were experimenting with potions and it got a bit out of hand," Dumbledore said. "Mr Talbot has complications and absolutely refuses to take them to Madam Pomfrey."
"Mr Talbot?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought I was going to hear about Mr Potter."
Snape took a drag again and briefly closed his eyes in pleasure. "What is it that he can't take it to Pomfrey?" he asked.
"It seems that his ... erm ... phallus split." Dumbledore winced slightly.
"His what?" Filch interjected.
"His dick split in two," explained Snape. "That's what happens when they try to brew aphrodisiacs and fail in potions."
It split? mouthed Filch and his eyes glinted.
"It can wait till morning. At least he won't do it again," said Snape in a bored tone.
After a moment, Dumbledore nodded to express his acceptance of Snape's decision. On his way out, however, his gaze lingered a split second longer than it should have on the cigarette in Snape's hand.
"Do you want some?" Snape asked.
Filch looked at Snape almost disbelievingly.
"I –" Dumbledore took a breath but Snape was already on his feet, handing him his joint.
"For nerves," Snape said.
Filch gave Dumbledore a dark look.
Dumbledore hesitated a moment but then he accepted the joint. When he took a drag Filch couldn't suppress a snort. And when he started coughing, Filch felt malicious glee.
"You shouldn't inhale it when you aren't used to it," he advised a bit snappishly.
"So this is how you two spend your evenings?" Dumbledore asked, seated himself on one of the rickety desks and took another drag. He was more careful this time, but still coughed.
"Better than playing bridge," sneered Snape and extended his hand towards Dumbledore to take the joint back.
"I thought you'd given this up," remarked Dumbledore.
"As I've said, it's good for nerves." Snape shrugged.
Filch made an inconspicuous gesture which was supposed to convey to Snape that he should show Dumbledore out as soon as possible. Snape either didn't see it or he didn't understand it.
"These days everyone needs something for nerves," Dumbledore nodded.
And Filch's stomach plummeted. What if Snape didn't want to understand his gesture?!
"Are they going to close the school?" asked Snape and after taking a drag offered the joint to Dumbledore.
Filch felt as if he was loosing his exceptionality, his unique place in his Potions master's life. It was he, only he, who could once a week sit in this musty room, smoke with Snape, and, when Snape wanted, have a good fuck. Filch's feelings were bordering on jealousy.
"Very probably." Dumbledore sighed and took a drag.
Filch wondered how to get rid of the headmaster because he more and more felt that he needed to prove to Snape that he was the only one who could fuck him this well. And that it would be therefore advisable for Snape to stop chatting with the headmaster and send him on his way. Although the idea what Dumbledore might do if Filch were to bend Snape over a desk and drive his cock into Snape's arse held a certain apppeal. The only failing of this image was that it was followed by the thought of what Snape would probably do to him. There was nothing Snape could do to him for his ideas, though. Filch moved a bit and inconspicuously rearranged his trousers which began to feel rather tight in the front.
What if he got to his feet right now? He would twist Snape's hands behind his back and press him against the desk. Snape wouldn't wrench away, Filch was sure of that. Not that Snape didn't have any strength in his arms, but strength wasn't everything. And Snape didn't know how to fight.
Filch imagined Dumbledore's shocked expression when he would pull down Snape's trousers. And a spark of amazement when Filch would show him how nature had endowed him. Snape would, without a doubt, call him names and Dumbledore would make a quick retreat. Or would he join them? Would the Headmaster of Hogwarts watch his caretaker thrust his above-average cock into his Potions master's skinny, pale and so deliciously tight arse? Who knows, perhaps it would turn the old geezer on, too. Although Filch doubted that Dumbledore had anything between his legs anything that could work. So why was Snape chatting with Dumbledore instead of sending him to hell?
Filch was so preoccupied with his thoughts spurned by jealousy and spite towards Dumbledore that he noticed he was leaving only when Dumbledore said, "You should cut the smoking," and disappeared through the half-open door.
Snape stubbed the joint out and fixed his eyes on Filch. Or rather on the bulge in his trousers.
"Are you planning to go hold Mrs Norris‘s paw or are we going to fuck?" asked Snape matter-of-factly.