Warning: Please note that some stories may be rated NC17. If you are under the legal age of adulthood in your country of residence, or if you are offended by the idea of slash (stories containing male/male sex) or adult themes, including BDSM and other sexual kinks, please go and find something else to read.
The
Seeing Eye Knows All
written for Leogryffin's
plot bunny meme.
Pair: Sybil
Trelawney/Argus Filch
Rated: PG
Sybil patted herself down with another layer of
White Shoulders. She stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom high atop the
North Tower. Seeking some way, any way to soften the extreme lines and hard
angles of her twig-like figure.
"Ooo, extra powder, must have a hot date tonight!" the mirror chimed at her.
"Cheeky bitch," Sybil mumbled, barely noticing as she pulled on her soft green cashmere sweater then hooked on her most sparkly and dangly earrings. They had all 12 signs of the zodiac hanging from little shiny chains. Sadly she placed her eye glasses on. Blind as a bat without them, but they marred and hid what little beauty remained to her after all these years. Still, Argus didn't mind. So why did she care?
And Argus called to her. She could feel him in her blood. It was midnight and she left behind all the noisy bangles, clunky rings, and ridiculous necklaces. Left it all behind as she descended the tower and answered the call repeating in her heart like far away tribal drums summoning the gathering. Come . . . come . . . come
She knew Argus would hear it too, though she hadn't seen him. She hadn't been down from the Tower all week. The house elves saw to her needs, and she had no desire to face the sneers of her so-called colleagues or the titters of faithless children. She headed in the direction her heart tugged her.
*****
"Thank you so much Argus. I have been a terrible keeper for Fawkes. Neglecting his care so badly. We are very fortunate to have you." Albus Dumbledore smiled as brightly as Fawkes perch now shined.
" 'T'weren't nuttin', Headmaster. Just a bit of scrub and polish, you know." Filch answered. "Wouldn't trust it to the student's detention. Needs to be done right, it does."
"Indeed it does, Argus. Indeed it does." Dumbledore appeared lost in thought.
Filch gathered the rags and brass polish into his bucket and drew himself up to take his departure.
"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore suddenly offered a bag full of lemon sweets hastily drawn from somewhere in his robes.
"Oh no, Headmaster. I wouldn't be needing any of those." Filch's head dipped in embarrassment. Everyone, at least the adults, knew those lemon drops were contraceptives and accepting them was as good as admitting you were going to get shagged that night. The Headmaster's little joke, as it were. Filch knew he hadn't a chance of getting shagged anytime soon. Sybil'd only acted on impulse that once. He hadn't seen her since and couldn't' come up with a good enough excuse to venture up to the North Tower in hopes of casually meeting up with her.
"Here Argus, take them," Dumbledore said, with purpose, as he shoved the bag into Filch's reluctant hand. "Restricted Section. Now."
Sure that students were out of bed after curfew, Argus headed to the Restricted Section of the library straightaway without bothering to drop off the polishing bucket. He slowed and entered the section quietly, prepared to tackle and twist the ear of the first brat he found. Why else would Dumbledore send him here?
There!
He heard breathing just on the other side of this aisle of books. Silently Argus Filch, terror to the students of Hogwarts crept down to the end of the aisle and around, and then sprang out into the next aisle, bucket in one hand, bag of sweets in the other. "Gotcha!" he yelled.
Sybil gasped and stared at Argus.
"Lemon drop?" he said with a leer.
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