Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I'm just borrowing them.

Summary Argus Filch is old and bitter. He has never had one of those 'cute girlfriends'. But a nightmare can realise that he's not that desperate to share kinky secrets in any room with her…

Argus Filch banged his way around the school under cover of darkness, his faithful cat Mrs Norris accompanying him, her large eyes darting from side to side in an attempt to catch out intruders and rule breakers. It was a peaceful night; he'd caught a couple a fifth years snogging in the astronomy tower. Honestly, you'd think they'd go somewhere less predictable! You'd think they'd catch on! Wise up! Learn!

Not that Filch minded of course; extra excuses to hand out detentions to those little snot bags. Oh, how he loathed them. Sweet and sickly, or bitter and rude. It was either one or the other. And all born with the talent he should have been bestowed with. Couldn't the fates see that he deserved it as much, if not more than those smelly little bags of dragon droppings?

He should have ruled supreme the classrooms, impressed the teachers with his ability, had one of those really cute girlfriends that his friends all had! It wasn't fair! Instead, what was he doing?

Oh yeah, he ruled supreme the classrooms. If you counted the floor, with a mop. Oh yes, he impressed the teachers with his ability. To wipe away dust and make the shelves positively GLEAM with joy. Oh yeah, he had a girlfriend. Her name was Mrs Norris and she was a cat.

What a life.

Oh yes, all those lads he had been mates with must be jealous of him now!

Not.

Yeah, they were all living it up, in their holiday homes in Spain, with their six thousand kids and sexy twenty five year old wives, with bottles of champagne and that rubbish! But it was he, Argus Filch who felt accomplished! Yes! He had scraped himself up off the floor, pulled himself together, gotten himself a place in society. So ha! Ha to all of them!

Filch realised that he was shouting this aloud, causing Mrs Norris to give him a few funny looks. He quickly quietened down, and took a shortcut into the Slytherin Common room. He found it a relaxing room to be in. He had always been certain that he would have been sorted into Slytherin, had he been born with the gift of magic.

Filch shuffled round the hard seats, and sat himself before the fire. It was dark, but he didn't mind. It all seemed much clearer in the dark.

"Good evening, Mr Filch. What are you doing in here…?"

Filch turned around to see a short, squat witch with large eyes like a toad. She wore a fluffy pink cardigan, with green bobbles and a small bow in her perfectly curled hair. Her claw-like fingers were clasped together as she stepped towards him. She smiled, toad-like, then sat down beside him. Filch gulped, as though caught out by a teacher when out of bed after hours. A bit like the two kids he'd got earlier. He attempted a smile.

"I… urm… was just having…a rest…. Professor Umbridge… You know, hard work and…all that…."

Umbridge smiled her toad-like smile, and shuffled closer to him. She had a look that a fox might have on its face when cornering a chicken in a coop. Almost…predator like.

"Well, I am glad… a man like you deserves a break, now and again…"

Filch gulped again. He had an urge to run from the room screaming. He was dimly aware of the fact that Mrs Norris had abandoned him somewhere along the lines. He cursed her silently. What a friend she was.

She shuffled closer; they were touching. Filch shuddered.

"So… have you caught anyone tonight, Mr Filch… or can I call you Argus…?" She purred. Filch was getting tired of gulping, but he did so again.

"Yes, to both, I suppose…"

Umbridge's face lit up.

"Oh, really? So… what is your preferred technique when punishing those nasty little wrong do-ers...?"

Filch began to shake.

"Oh…whips…chains…manacles… thumbscrews…. that sort of thing…."

Umbridge arched one pencilled eyebrow almost…seductively.

"Whips and chains, hmm? Well, shall I let you in on a secret, Argus…?"

Argus nodded, terrified. She leant closer, so that she could whisper in his ear seven terrifying, deadly words.

"I like whips and chains, Mr Filch…"

At those words, he jumped up from his seat, his face red and blotchy from embarrassment, and muttered an apology, then attempted to leave. But he suddenly realised that his feet and hands were restricted; he was chained to the seat!

Umbridge cackled and produced a long whip from her pocket. Filch momentarily wondered just how on earth she had managed to fit it in her pocket, but this thought was quickly banished as he realised just what she intended to do with the whip. She was grinning, and she brought down the whip upon him, as she laughed,

"I really like whips and chains…."

Argus filch sat bolt upright in bed, sweating and shaking. What a dream. He had never been so scared in all his his sixty-seven years. He looked around the room, trying to calm his racing heart, and trying to catch his breath. It was all a dream. A figment of our imagination. Just calm down. That's right….

"Why, it's about time you were waking up, Argus, dear… the whips are getting a bit bored…"

Argus turned his head to see her, smirking. And she was the last thing he saw before he fainted dead away.

Argus filch and Dolores Umbridge share a kinky secret in the slytherin common room.

So… um… review!