FIC: Kindred Souls (Prologue) - 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.)
KINDRED SOULS by D. J. Orlovský
Prologue
Filch pulled out his mop from the bucket and with angry muttering began cleaning away the remnants of squished flobberworms from the floor.
"Little, blasted, ungrateful ... " Filch fumed.
"What are you doing?"
Filch turned around. There was the young Potions Master at the door and his black eyes watched him with suspicion. Although this man was a teacher at Hogwarts two years already, Filch didn't see him much. The professor was a taciturn loner who rarely left his office and quarters.
"I'm cleaning, professor," Filch grated out, the question making him angry.
"I can see that," said the professor coldly.
Snape – that was his name, remembered Filch.
"Why are you doing it now, in the middle of the night?"
"Because I couldn't get to it earlier. I'm up to my eyes in work!" Filch tried to keep his tone respectful.
Professor Snape watched him laboriously scrub away bits of flobberworms stuck to the floor before saying: "Let it be. Mr Weasley serves his detention tomorrow. I think I have just found the right task for him."
Filch straightened up and looked at Snape in surprise. In all his miserable time in this school, this was the first professor who made the smallest attempt to alleviate his difficult ordeal.
***
Filch sat on the stairs trying to put Mrs Norris’s forth paw into a warm gaiter, but she was putting up a good fight.
"Come on, you know how your paws got frostbitten last week," Filch coaxed her.
"You are going to Hogsmeade?"
Filch looked up and his eyes met the black orbs of the Potions Master. He was still trying to force Mrs Norris‘s kicking leg into the gaiter and thus managed only to nod his head.
"Pick this up for me and bring it to my office in the evening," Snape said and handed him a folded piece of paper.
If Filch were honest with himself, he took it from him only because he was fascinated by his long slim fingers.
***
Filch knocked at the door to the professor's office and after a reserved invitation he entered. Embarrassed, he clutched a crumpled box in his hands while Mrs Norris entwined his ankles.
"The cat will stay outside," Snape ordered without looking at Filch.
Filch stopped in his tracks and wondered if he shouldn't take offence.
"What did you do with it?" Snape snapped. He crossed the room in a few strides, pushed Mrs Norris out into the hallway and as soon as the door was closed he snatched the box from Filch's chilled fingers.
"I'm sorry, the road was icy," said Filch defensively.
"Oh, really, ice in January? Who would've thought?" Snape sneered.
Filch wanted to be affronted but the Potions Master had just opened the box to check the contents and Filch's curiosity got the better of him. As inconspicuously as he could he craned his neck.
"Curious?" Snape sneered and took out a bag with some herbal blend.
Filch watched raptly as he opened the bag, careful not to spill its contents. Then he took out a piece of white paper from his desk and poured some of the fragrant mixture onto it. Then he rolled it all into a neat cigarette. Those hands – Filch didn't know anyone with such hands. And the way he furrowed his brow in concentration ...
Snape lit the cigarette, took a drag and blew out smoke. Then he handed it Filch.
Filch hesitated.
"Go on, sate your curiosity," Snape invited him in a slightly mocking tone, but Filch almost didn't notice because it certainly wasn't his "curiosity" that he thought of in connection with the word sate.
At last he reached with his hand for the cigarette. He didn't want to be put to shame. He slipped the cigarette into his mouth as he had seen Snape do it a moment before, took a drag, and went into a coughing fit.
"You shouldn't inhale it when you aren't used to it," Snape sneered and took the cigarette back from the coughing man.
"What the hell is this?" spluttered Filch.
"Medicine," answered Snape vaguely and leaned against the edge of the table.
"For what?" asked Filch surprised.
"Nerves," said Snape.
"Hm, that's something I could use too," murmured Filch. "For nerves," he added when he saw Snape raise a questioning eyebrow.
"Really?" drawled Snape.
"Because of the damned students," complained Filch.
"Ah yes, they are an annoying lot," agreed Snape. "They can never appreciate the precise and exacting art of potions; they have no sense of a work well done."
"Exactly," agreed Filch. "They detest work. All they know how to do is taunt."
"And disrupt classes."
"Shout in the hallways."
"Wander in the night."
"And the Dungbombs!" groaned Filch.
"Don't get me started on those," Snape scoffed. "Last week they wanted to let one loose in the classroom." His ugly smile suggested that the students not only didn't carry out their plan, but they came to deeply regret that they have ever attempted it.
Filch started to feel certain affection towards Snape. At the very least the man shared his view at the world and understood him. He could like his cat better, though, Filch thought.
"Well, I'll get on my way," decided Filch.
Snape watched his retreating back and when Filch reached the door he said: "You can stop by ... from time to time."
And Filch realised that he would – and quite willingly.
***
Filch stood in front of the Potions master's office door and hesitated. Snape did say that he could stop by, but it was a rather half-hearted invitation. It could very well have been made out of courtesy. Despite that, Filch was there and was gathering his courage to knock. Severus Snape was the only person in the school he could talk to, with the exception of Mrs Norris.
Suddenly the door opened and Snape almost ran into him. They found themselves unexpectedly close together and Filch noticed, incidentally, that Snape smelled like the herb he had smoked the last time.
"What are you doing standing behind the door?" barked Snape irritably.
"I - I was just passing by and thought – thought I could drop by," Filch said hesitantly.
Snape had cocked his head to one side as if he were considering something.
"There's something you will do for me," Snape decided and went back to his office.
Filch followed him. Snape took a package from his desk and handed it to Filch. Filch noticed that Lucius Malfoy's address was written on it in Snape's handwriting. Even as a Squib one couldn't live in the wizarding world and not hear about the Malfoys.
"Go to the Owlery and send it with a school owl," Snape ordered and headed to the door.
When Filch returned to the office Snape wasn't there yet. Filch decided to wait for him so he could tell him that the package was sent.
Snape arrived barely five minutes later, a piece of parchment in hand and a scowl on his face.
"The incompetent hag!" seethed Snape, letting off his steam.
"Did something happen? Of course it did! Pomfrey isn't able to give me the list of potions she wants me to provide in time, and she has the audacity to …" Snape threw the parchment on his table. "I have no idea what Dumbledore thinks he will save by not buying the potions," vented Snape his anger, pulling out a worn pouch from his robes and drawing out a somewhat wrinkled cigarette from inside.
He lit the cigarette and blissfully blew out smoke.
"Dumbledore is a curse," Snape grimaced.
Filch nodded and when Snape offered him the cigarette he carefully inhaled. He was just returning it to Snape when there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," said Snape without much interest.
"Severus, professor McGonagall came to see me," began Dumbledore as soon as he entered.
"So?" sneered Snape.
"She tells me you have taken two hundred more points from Gryffindor." Dumbledore regarded Snape over the rim of his glasses.
"So?" Snape refused to be goaded and continued his smoking.
"Do you really believe that it was just?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes," nodded Snape.
"Professor McGonagall feels that you are biased," Dumbledore smiled slightly.
"So?" Snape didn't intend to cooperate.
Dumbledore sighed.
"Well, Severus, I simply wish to ask you to try and be a bit more objective," Dumbledore said emphatically and his gaze wandered to the cigarette in Snape's hand. "And if you really have to smoke this – do it somewhere else, will you?"
"Tsss," Snape hissed like an irritated rattlesnake when the door closed after Dumbledore, but stubbed his joint out.
***
Filch leaned against the door and with some strain managed to open it halfway. They wouldn't move any further. So he slipped into the old classroom. On one rickety desk sat Snape, smoking.
Filch looked around.
"To be rid of Dumbledore comes at a price," shrugged Snape. "Do you have it?"
Filch nodded and showed him the parcel Snape had sent him for. This time, he brought it in good condition.
"I would grow it myself, but here?" Snape sneered as he took the parcel from Filch.
"Isn't it – dangerous?" asked Filch sitting down on the wobbly desk next to Snape.
"Who cares?" Snape shrugged and offered him his cigarette. "No, it isn't," he added when he saw Filch's hesitation.
"I thought this is them, drugs," demanded Filch returning the joint to Snape.
"Alcohol is a drug as well, and Sibyll Trelawney still drinks like a fish." snorted Snape.
"That's true," agreed Filch and this time reached out for the cigarette on his own.
"Another dreadful day gone by," Snape rubbed between his shoulders. "You can't even go to the bathroom, because the moment you turn your back the brats destroy something or maim themselves."
"And when you manage to get to the bathroom, you find it flooded by Moaning Myrtle," nodded Filch.
"Or the brats are snogging there silly," sneered Snape. "The other day I caught a sixth-year in the boy's bathroom."
"They are at it all the time," frowned Filch. "Swines, they don't even have the decency to clean after themselves."
"In this case it got a bit out of hand. They are a bunch of idiots who don't use their heads." Snape shook his head.
Filch looked at him.
"He attempted anal sex with a narrow bottle of shampoo," explained Snape.
"Really?" Filch couldn't hide his interest.
Snape didn't look at him, but his lips curled up in a sneer. "Don't try it," he said after a moment. "Or you won't be able to get it out either."
Filch flushed.
"What is it?" asked Snape, amused.
Filch reddened even more and didn't speak.
"Do you find the idea of a shampoo bottle up the arse intriguing?" continued Snape in conversational tone and surreptitiously watched Filch's reaction. "Wouldn't a big fat cock be better?"
Filch felt his face glow hot. At the same time, Snape's words found response in his crotch. The image of Snape sticking his dick into Filch's arse – Filch gulped.
"I," his voice betrayed him and he had to clear his throat. "I said no such thing."
"Oh, sure," Snape stubbed out his joint and jumped down from the desk. "Have you ever done it?"
Filch opened and closed his mouth.
"I'm asking whether you've ever fucked. Either nod or shake your head," Snape said sharply.
Filch convulsively shook his head.
"Fine, everyone has their first time," Snape shrugged and to Filch's amazement turned his back to him and started unbuttoning his trousers.
"What- what- what do you want to do?" stammered Filch and felt his cock harden just from the thought that Snape would be willing – willing to ... with him ...
"Fuck, what did you think?" Snape replied, let his trousers slide down to his ankles and pulled down his underwear. Then he rested his hands on the rickety desk and looked through his curtain of black hair at Filch.
"I- I-" Filch faltered.
"I don't appreciate having to wait," said Snape forcefully.
Filch gulped and took off his trousers.
"And what- what do I do?" Filch asked, unsure.
"Take a guess," scoffed Snape.
Filch approached him from behind and pressed to him. He could feel his erection brushing against Snape's skinny bottom.
"Well, do it already," Snape urged him.
Filch bit his bottom lip and pushed against Snape's hole. Snape lowered his head and spread his legs a bit more, as far as the trousers around his ankles would let him.
"Shouldn't we," began Filch but Snape's growl told him to be quiet. He pushed on, then, and felt himself slide further and further into Snape's body. He thought it unbelievable that he could fit in at all. He heard Snape hiss.
"Damn, you didn't say ..." Snape groaned.
When he was fully sheathed, Filch didn't start thrusting immediately. It was a weird feeling, to be inside the tight arse, and he wanted to relish it.
"Filch," Snape whispered with head lowered almost to the desk.
Filch started to thrust slowly, speeding up with every move. He fucked Snape's arse mercilessly and it seemed that the Potions Master was satisfied. If only the desk didn't creak so much.
Filch closed his eyes. He would always pull out almost completely and then push in to the hilt.
Snape was panting and moaning. He leaned on the desk with one hand and jerked off with the other.
Filch gripped Snape's hips and with a few quick thrusts reached his climax. Snape followed him almost immediately and his semen spilled over the stone floor.
Filch carefully pulled his softening cock out of Snape's arse.
Snape bent down for his trousers and grimaced painfully.
"The technique will need working on," he remarked off-handedly. "And perhaps a mattress wouldn't go amiss."
Filch kept quiet and tried to process what had just happened.
"I hope you won't be so stupid as to tell someone about it," Snape pierced him with his gaze.
Filch zealously shook his head.
"By the way, Filch, that's a cock worthy of a stallion, that you have," sneered Snape. "You could have warned me, man, you know."
But Filch had a feeling that the professor didn't see his above-average endowment as a flaw, rather the opposite.