- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Riddikulus
- Genres:
- Slash
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Stats:
-
Published: 08/03/2001Updated: 08/03/2001Words: 581Chapters: 1Hits: 1,802
With Friends Like These, Who Needs Elephants
Gwendolyn Grace
- Story Summary:
- Snape and Filch discover a common interest or two.... (mild slash)
- Chapter Summary:
- Professor Snape and Mr. Filch discover a few common interests. Short, no plot to speak of, and no, there will not be a sequel. Extra points if you figure out the title.
- Posted:
- 08/03/2001
- Hits:
- 1,802
Snape settled on the one comfortable chair in the staffroom with a frustrated sigh. He hooked one booted foot under a wooden chair and drew it toward him so he could stretch his legs as he opened his book. But before he finished even a paragraph, Argus Filch, the caretaker, banged into the room.
"Filthy, cretinous lizards!" He fumed. "That's an insult to lizards, that is," he muttered in a continuous litany. "Damn students!"
"I quite agree," Snape growled from his seat, without looking up.
"They've no respect, no consideration-no concerns of any sort except spending their money down in that village," Filch went on.
"Mm," Snape nodded, flicking back to his book.
"And then they'll come back this evening, mind, with mud on their boots and their robe hems, tracking it all up and down the corridors. Which they'll proceed to do over and over, because they're all so high on sugar from that blasted Honeyduke's, they'll have to run up and down the halls all evening just to get it out of their systems."
"Right," Snape muttered.
"Reading, huh?" Filch said, noticing for the first time.
"Trying to," Snape snarled, but his heart wasn't in it.
"Good book?"
"Not really," he sighed, flipping it shut and looking up at Filch. "But it does list a thing or two I'd like to do to some of those...what did you call them?...cretinous lizards."
Filch's eyes gleamed. "Like what?"
Snape almost smiled. He gazed up at Filch for a moment, considering, but then opened the book to a passage some chapters before his current bookmark. "That." He held it out, pointing to a section.
Filch took the book and began to skim the passage. As he read, he slowed down, savouring the language, and sank into the hard wooden chair. Snape barely had time to get his legs out of the way. Filch looked more and more enthralled as he read, a wild, thirsty look possessing his face. He licked his lips several times. When he reached the climactic paragraph, he smiled greedily. He glanced at the cover before handing it back.
"You know, I've got one of those," he said confidentially.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "You do?"
Filch nodded. "In my office. In the back. Dumbledore won't let me use them on the students, of course. Much as I'd like to."
"Have you ever used it?" Snape heard himself asking, appalled, but fascinated at the same time.
Filch's cheeks coloured a bit. "Once or twice," he admitted cagily. "There's nothing quite like a good bit of torture, is there?" He went on in a conspiratorial tone.
"I agree," Snape said strangely. "There are certain potions, of course, but they just don't have the same effect..."
"Watching your victims writhe in pain..."
"Feeling their flesh give under your knife..."
"Or whip..."
"Or branding iron..."
"Watching the blood form against their skin..."
"And the head games..."
"That feeling of power..."
"And the pain itself, so delicious..."
"It's just so...
"Sexy," both men said together. They looked away quickly, as if having given away too much information. But then it dawned on them that they had the same reaction. Slowly, they fixed each other with an open mouthed stare. Then, in a sudden movement, they stood and pressed their mouths together in a mockery of a kiss.
"Race you," Filch said teasingly.
Snape laughed. "Last one there is the victim first." And he tore open the staffroom door, taking the stairs two at a time.
Why oh why? It just popped in there. Like Ray Stanz and the Staypuft Marshmallow Man. I'd like to disclaim any responsibility for this one, but that would be, well, extremely stretching it. Yes. I did this. Thanks, Miss AmyK. I blame you entirely.