FIC: Kindred Souls (Chapter 3) - 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.)
Filch halted in puzzlement. Never before had he found the door to the classroom where he met with the Potions master every Friday closed. That was perhaps partly due to the fact that it couldn't be opened properly, not to mention it couldn’t be closed either. Despite that, the door was closed today. Filch pulled at the doorknob and pushed at the door with all his strength. As soon as he created a wide enough crease he squeezed inside.
Snape sat on their mattress, smoking. When Filch entered Snape looked up and pinned him with an especially unpleasant glare.
"All those safety measures, all the extra work and on the top of that those horrible Dementors," snarled Filch as he lowered himself beside Snape.
Snape looked at him with disgust and didn't offer him his joint. At least not yet. Filch knew Snape was an odd sort of fellow and that he sometimes had to be patient.
"Dumbledore put me in charge of restoring the Fat Lady – that's just like him to force a thankless job on someone else, so he doesn't have to do it himself," complained Filch.
Snape didn't even look at him.
"And this Lupin – can you imagine that he ..."
"Filch, shut up," hissed Snape.
Thus Filch ceased trying to start up a conversation and for a while they sat in a companionable silence.
When Snape stubbed out his cigarette, Filch decided to make the first move. After all, they didn't meet here to indulge in silence together. He laid his hand on Snape's thigh and slowly began to move it towards the professor's groin.
"Is this the only thing that's on your mind, Filch?" Snape sputtered.
Filch's hand stopped still mere inches from it's longed for destination.
"I thought –" Filch began, confused.
"You'd do better if you didn't think," snarled Snape. "And if you got out," he added.
"You mean out – out of here?" stuttered Filch.
"Exactly – out and preferably far away!" Snape hissed.
Filch open and closed his mouth several times like a fish out of water, and then he got up and left.
"And than he threw me out. For no reason at all." Filch scooped cat hair from the brush.
Mrs Norris jumped down from his lap and headed for her bowl.
"I don't understand it." Filch sighed and got up to pour Mrs Norris some dry food.
"Did I say something wrong?" he asked his cat.
Mrs Norris meowed, interested more in the bag of dry food Filch had in his hand than in his misery.
"Do you think he's angry with me?" Filch said worried.
Mrs Norris rubbed against his leg.
"What if the 'out and preferably far away' meant that he's tired of me?" Filch was quite shocked by that possibility and lost in his thought as he was, he returned the bag of dry food into the shelf.
Mrs Norris wrinkled her nose in disgust and went to hunt down a mouse or, better, a house-elf, leaving Filch to solve his troubles as best as he could without her keeping him company.
Snape threw the stub on the floor.
"Where the hell is Filch holed up?" he grumbled angrily.
He had been waiting for him there for ages. He decided not to wait any longer and to take it out on Filch later. What did the man play at anyway, failing to come like this?
Filch replaced a bottle of stain remover back on its shelf in a broom cupboard he used for storing his cleaning supplies. Those disgusting brats scrawled all over the desks. It would be hard to count how many times he had complained about it to Dumbledore and how many times no one was punished. Today he had to scrub out countless offensive words and poor drawings - a considerable amount concerned him, although the snivelling brats had the Potions master as their main subject. One scribble he had left untouched though. It claimed: Dumbledore has a withered little winkle.
For a moment he pondered who might have written it. This moment of distraction proved almost fatal to him - someone grabbed him by his clothes and swiped him inside the cupboard. Filch was pressed to the wall so forcefully he almost lost his breath.
"Who do you think you are?" hissed the Potions master.
"Par- pardon?" stuttered Filch.
Snape didn't answer. Instead he roughly turned him against the wall and reached with his hand into his robes. Filch froze, afraid of Snape's intentions. But Snape merely made Filch‘s trousers disappear and returned the wand back into his robes. Then he hooked his fingers at the band of Filch's underwear and literally ripped it away.
Snape savagely jerked Filch backwards and forced him to bend over. Filch allowed it without protests because he already suspected what was about to happen. He tried not to let it show how much imagining Snape's next action excited him. After all, Snape not only never expressed an interest in exchanging their roles, but also undoubtedly intended this to be a punishment, a show of his dominance. And that was arousing.
Snape breached him hard, almost brutally without preparation, which only reinforced Filch's impression that it was supposed to be a punishment. And at first it was. Filch's eyes almost watered with tears from the pain, but all unpleasant sensations gradually melted in the heat of his lust and transformed into pure pleasure.
Filch came first and Snape followed almost immediately. For a few moments they didn't move. For the first time, Filch was apprehensive of the moment he would have to look Snape in the face.
Snape stepped back and buttoned up his trousers. Filch felt a bit embarrassed, standing there in that broom cupboard naked from the waist down under the fierce look of those black eyes.
"Don't make me wait ever again, Filch," said Snape quietly and there was a dangerous undertone to his voice. Then he turned around and pushed through the door, which closed after him with a thud.
Filch looked around and to his relief found his trousers on the floor. When he bent to pick them up a content smile played on his lips. Snape not only hadn’t lost interest in their meetings, but he showed he was as good a top as he was a bottom. Filch promised himself to subject this discovery to careful study.