Most Singularly Repulsive Man, Neville/Filch, R, ~225 words
"Mr. Filch," said Neville, "I want you to know that you're the most singularly repulsive man I've ever known. And I've had Voldemort within inches of me."
Filch did not change expression, but then, he hardly had in all the years Neville had known him. There was always an underlying squint that colored every look on the man's face.
"Still," Neville went on, "you've got integrity, in that you would never betray someone you felt it was your duty to serve. I'm hoping that you'll consider me, one of Hogwarts' professors, in that category."
"Might. Depends," said Filch, eloquent as ever.
Neville sighed. "The greenhouse needs a new supply of mandrakes. And it's not good to have them all come from one source, as the cross-breeds won't take if you do that." He knew better than to wait for Filch to ask what he meant. "Mr. Filch, I'm asking you to join me tonight at midnight for a wank over the Hogwarts historical burial grounds."
Filch's squint never wavered. "Duty of the school?"
"Duty of the school."
The squint turned sly. "Do I have to keep mum about it?"
Another sigh. "Suppose I can't stop you if you won't."
"Good." Filch turned to go. "I need the occasional tale to keep Mrs. Norris the Second jealous. Y'know how them younger wives take a man for granted."