The
Burning Pen
Sickest Lemon Challenge
Challenge Rules
The story content is adult in nature and can
contain graphic sex and violence. Those under the age of 18 are asked
to leave this site immediately. You
are not welcome here. The author is not responsible for those under-aged
who view these works.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to
JKR. All situations are the author's. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Better-Off Forgotten January
Evenings
By anaretaacronycal
“Don’t you dare open that door, Argus Filch!”
The caretaker let his hand slide down his face in exasperation. For the last two
weeks she had been like this when he tried to come and clean her rooms. Once
again he banged on her doors, even though the last hundred times he had done it
had resulted in the same nothingness. “It’s now or never, sunshine. I
don’t have time to come back here later.”
“Then never! Just leave!”
Her voice seemed strange, forced. Not as high and girly as it normally did.
Normally, he had the highest regard for professors, but having a room left
unclean for the last two weeks? That was blasphemous. He had enough trouble with
the scuttling rapscallions that they let crawl around his school with muddy flip
floppers; the teachers should know better than to torture him as well! That was
it. He wasn’t going to take this from her, university degree or not. Just
because she could do a few abracadabras didn’t make her better than him. He
was a Kwikspell graduate!
He raised his wand, his chest was puffed out, his chin up, eyes narrowed- Argus
Filch was going to war. “Alohamora,” he made a simple swish with his wand.
Little sparks fizzled from the end, dropping limply to the ground. Mrs. Norris
mroawed, and when he looked down, he had to do a double-take. “Oh, Sweet
Jesus.”
With a whistle, the door swung open in front of him, and Delores’ face met
his. There was a sort of dumbstruck look on both of them. Umbridge had a sheen
of sweat on her brow, her empty eyes falling from the man down to where the
feline was. Filch had just looked kind of put out, defeated, curious as to quite
how he had pulled this one off.
The cat meowed again frantically, beginning to rapidly lick at herself. First
she started with her legs, then her back; she even thumped herself backwards on
the floor and tried to snorkel at her stomach hair. Every strand of which was
standing on end, split down the middle, making her look very much like an
animated, furry brown chia pet. At last the cat stood, and ran down the hallway.
The caretaker gave a final, burning glare at the now giggling professor. He then
took chase after the feline. “Come back Mrs. Norris! Daddy will shave you!”
His echoing shouts only served to further jostle Delores into conniptions. As
Argus ran down the hallways after his cat, he knew that he had to exact
revenge on that woman who had caused him to taint his baby.
* * *
Outside, snow fell down serenely onto the grounds of Hogwarts Castle. There were
students ice skating on the outer edges of the lake, making snow angels, having
snowball fights. The dastardly Weasley twins were down by the Quidditch pitch,
making a fortress out of never-melting ice. Anyone other than them that walked
into it was likely to be hit by every booby trap hex inside. Argus didn’t know
about this, but he didn’t care about what those little hellions did outside
the castle as long as they kept it out there. If they started hoisting in chunks
of their spell work for nostalgia’s sake-
There might be some problems. Mr. Filch had other obligations at this very
moment, the end of the school day. He found himself again before the Defense
Against the Dark Arts classroom, pounding his fist on the wood of her door.
“Professor Umbridge, I would be most obliged for you to open your door so I
can clean your rooms. You’re running on day 16 here.”
“I said sod off!”
His mouth made a little ‘o’ of surprise at her coarseness. Argus had never
heard her use such obscenities. That was really just too much. He tried the
handle of the door, deftly noticing that when he turned it, it gave. There was
no magic holding this door closed. There wasn’t even so much as a single lock
in place to keep him out. Turning the knob completely, he opened the door. He
softly padded into the room, and closed the door. Argus Filch was the first
person to have ever witnessed this.
One step for man, one giant leap for total mindfucks.
Delores Umbridge sat at her desk, both feet hoisted on the top of the desk, her
hands determinedly working at her core. Three of her fingers jabbed deep into
her pussy time and time again, each time coming out with a little plop, going
back in with a little squish. Her unsheathed fingers were pulling, twisting, and
swirling at her clit, little gasps and sighs dripping from her oversized lips.
Come leaked between her digits like rainwater and drained to unbeknownst areas.
Filch couldn’t help wondering if she cleaned up after herself.
When he closed her door, her hands didn’t exactly stop, but her eyes greeted
him heated and surprised, and her actions slowed, eventually retreating into her
pulling her thick legs down. At that point all Filch could see was a twitch in
her right arm while her right hand sat in her lap, doing something he was not
completely aware of.
“I told you to sod off.”
Filch had pushed his grudge with Delores into the back of his mind after he had
shaved Mrs. Norris last night, but it miraculously made headway when he tried to
make sense of the current situation. “You know, Delores-”
“Professor Umbridge, thank you,” she scoffed.
The caretaker merely chuckled, and walked around the desk to her, standing for a
second with mirth and dastardly deeds in his eyes. Then his arm darted down and
grasped her right wrist, still working under her skirt. He pulled her hands to
her mouth, and while her lips didn‘t budge, he regaled her with a few of his
thoughts. “Delores, my dear, I hope
you realize how valuable this memory I have of you is. Why, this could easily slip
into the wrong person’s hands and be distributed to every warm body in
Hogwarts. I’m sure you have a few
enemies interested in such a goldmine of career, not to mention reputation,
wrecking material. Open your mouth.”
In shock, she did, and he put her fingers in it, without questioning, she sucked
on her coated fingertips. Putting one hand to his chin thoughtfully, and shaking
his other hand idly, his forefinger extended at the ceiling, he remarked, “In
fact, Miss Umbridge. I would like you to get on your knees in front of me.”
A darkness came across her features, her fingers leaving her mouth with a little
pop. “I will not be molested by you,
Mr. Filch.”
“You’re right, you’d rather be molested by yourself, right? I don’t
think you really have as much choice as you warrant.”
The black behind her beady eyes remained, but she slowly lowered from the chair,
down to her knees in front of the caretaker. “I think you know what I expect.
Show me what that tongue can do.”
With an air of defeat, her round fingers went to his pants, circling around the
one button that separated her from complete autodestruct. She didn’t think to
plead, to say this was rape; she was probably thrilled to just be used. His
pants were around the ankles, and she grimaced at the piebald grandpa briefs
which were yellowed with age. “Any day now, Miss Umbridge.”
In disgust at having to touch such classless undergarments, she hooked her
fingers in the elastic and pulled them down quickly. It was like pulling the
band aid off the gash. Do it quickly, and it doesn’t hurt so much. It really
didn’t hurt that much. His cock hung there, deflated, archaic. “You’re not
going to like me if you make me wait any longer.”
The way he said it was normal, raspy- but there was definite threat beneath the
gargle of his voice. He grabbed the back of her head, threading her hair in his
fist, and she saw the small member bounce as blood began to run into it. “Put
your hands on it.”
Delores reached her fat hands to it, putting one palm around the base, and
another above that. Her hands softly ran over the length (length being a
relative word, Filch was just shy of the normal six inches) and for a moment she
marveled over what a soft velvet covered the bloodhard iron beneath. She
hadn’t realized her mouth was hanging open, and it was much of a surprise to
hear his grunt as he thrust completely between her lips. She made a little mmmph
sound, but accepted the face pounding as gracefully as one who hadn’t
yet learned to breath during such an activity could. Her arms flailed, her face
and neck turned beet-red, and Filch smiled, enjoying it. “Sink or swim,
Froglegs.”
After a minute, she began to catch on, breathing through her nose as best she
could when he withdrew, and then expelling hair before her face was smashed into
his pubic hair. It had been a long time since Argus had been allowed to grope
the ugliest girl in the school, and he reveled in the way her lips were tightly
drawn over his cock. It might be a long time until this would happen again.
Wait. Why did it have to be a long time? He had her where he wanted her. He
could continue this blackmail. Good work, old
Filchy-boy. Thinking again to the tight, wet, well-padded mouth, he
pulled out. “Get undressed.”
Without baulking, he watched her wobble as she stood, unbuttoning her
cotton-pink robes. She was not a very attractive woman. Well, perhaps he should
amend that. Her body wasn’t horrible. She wasn’t fat, merely a small pooch
for a stomach, jiggly middle-aged woman arms, thick legs- She was stout, but not
disproportionate. Her face needed some serious remodeling done, but, hell, so
did his. Argus was sure, if her mouth worked, and if her body was decent, she
had served her purpose.
There was a hitch in his breath as he watched her remove her bra, revealing two
pert breasts. Her face was too ugly, and her personality showed how much she was
stuck up her bosses’ asses to have gotten any real action in the Ministry.
Those were the breasts of a woman who wasn’t young, but hadn’t had children.
She took off her white granny panties, and saw that this might as well been a
Frenchwoman standing before him. “Ever think about pickin’ up a razor?”
Her armpits, arms, and pubic hair looked like they had come straight from the
seventies; afro-tacular. As long as the hair hadn’t congealed over her pussy,
that slight pink he saw through the darkness, he couldn’t care less. Filch
walked over to a beyond-blushing Delores on thin-haired chicken legs, with an
untucked shit, and - what was for him - a raging erection. “Over the table.”
For once in his life, he was drunk on his power. He had never had power over
something. She had been leaning on her desk. Demurely she turned, and leaned
over it. Argus appreciated how removing gravity by putting her in a more
horizontal position thinned her body out. It was also a plus that he had access
to her without having to look at her face. He put his hand in her hair and
jerked her head back, savoring the pained gasp, but also the noticeable arch in
her back, where she pushed her ass onto him.
Filch had wanted to savor taking this woman like an animal, but the first time
he slammed into her much underused, tight cunt, he couldn‘t help himself. His
head lolled back, and hips struggled to crush into her further as he filled her
with his hot come. He let go of her hair and let her head fall to the desk. Even
after he walked away from her, she didn’t move. He hadn’t heard it before,
but the witch was quietly sobbing. “Oh Jesus.”
The short breaths were like knives in his heart. Just because thousands of
people had bent him over the table and packed his shit, he couldn’t do it to
someone else when they didn’t deserve it. She wasn’t another one of them
cold-hearted, little, hexing apes that they taught to rote learn out there.
Argus came back up to her, stroking down her back, leaning over her form
whispering into her ears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll make it better-”
His fingers curled around and he plunged two of them into her warm enfold. What
a vision they must have been to the world. Argus soppily alternated between
dipping his fingers into the honey pot, and swirling them around her very
prominent clit, dreaming about what else him and his newest capture could enjoy.
Umbridge was now trembling and raising her hips in expectation to Argus. With a
slap to her ass, he gave her a dose of his disturbingly unique form of talking
dirty, “Hop little toady, hop!”
All the while he imagined having the woman in schoolgirl’s dress with a long
black wig and giving her Polyjuice Potion or have her glamour her face to be
someone else‘s. Then the man thought briefly on suspending her from the
manacles in his office, and giving her quite a thrashing for her misdeeds this
semester-
What neither of them realized was that Filch’s not-yet-armed threat had
already become a reality. In the uppermost corner of Umbridge’s office was a
disillusioned two-way mirror. And there was a rather sickened guard looking into
his side of the mirror, very snarky that something like this would happen on his
watch of Umbridge. What did humor him was that he had been able to take Lucius
down with him.
“Fucking Christ, Severus, put that mirror away, it’s disheartening to real
sex.”
“If you don’t remember, I am also a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and
I have to report my watch to Dumbledore himself of any strange actions in which
Miss Umbridge… indulges herself in.”
A hand came down on Snape’s black shoulder. “I am sorry, my friend, that you
are alone in the fact that you must watch this. I am trying not to retch and
claw my eyeballs out, so, I’m going to just turn my head this way for awhile.
Tell me when it’s over.”
“I think it’s over.”
Lucius turned to see a once more fully functional Filch ramming into Umbridge.
He threw himself up from the chair, groaning violently. “I am going to fucking
KILL you, Severus.”
The Professor’s eyes barely gleamed with his humor, a smirk on his face now.
Then a thought dawned on him. “I should not be punished alone for this
occurrence. I say, go down with the ship and make sure to drag down the rest of
the bloody crew.”
“What do you suggest?”
* * *
Albus sat down in his chair, pulling his pensieve close. He poured the contents
of the vial Severus had given him into the cement birdbath. The classy, cement
birdbath. He wondered what Severus found so important he couldn’t tell him
aloud…
* * *
The room seemed to spin, so much blood was gone from his head. In his hands were
clenched torrents of the bed sheets. “Harder, Bella, harder.”
His snakelike penis writhed in her fisted grasp, growing larger and darker by
the moment. Bellatrix’s face was in a veil of her own dark hair as she stared
down at the Dark Lord’s ass, concentrating on the task at hand. Her charmed on
penis thrusted deeply into the dark recesses of Voldemort. Her other hand ran
around the opposite side of him, cradling his balls.
She kept driving into him relentlessly, making sure to correctly stimulate the
male g-spot while giving her Master his reach around. He panted beneath her, and
she smiled to know how much he enjoyed this. She had told the others that they
didn’t know the Dark Lord as she did, and they scoffed at her. Voldemort could
only allow one person to know his little secret, and with her more than
fanatical loyalty, she was the only one entrusted with this information, this
challenge. She was as indispensable as Wormtail.
Knowing he was about to orgasm hard, she took one hand off to hold onto his hip.
Bella slammed into him hard, feeling vaguely the illusion of sperm shooting from
her fake member. The Dark Lord spilled himself onto the black silk bed sheets,
and then collapsed onto the bed in his own come. With a true smile at pleasing
her master, she leaned over him and ran her nails down his back sensuously,
raking them over his ass and cupping them together. She then slid out from his
tight ass and sat back to scourgify the both of them.
“Finite Incantatum.” Her huge, fake penis dissipated.
The Dark Lord didn’t like the feel of rubber, insisting on a real-feeling
penis. Stretching her long legs, Bellatrix decided to move, sliding off the bed.
There was a knock at the door, and she grabbed her robes. Looking over at
Voldemort, he seemed indisposed. She cast a glamour over her face to look like
him, and opened the door just enough to see that. “Yessss?” she hissed.
“My Lord, Severus and Lucius send their regards.”
He handed her an envelope and she quickly snatched it, crucioed him for
interrupting her, and slammed the door closed. Gathering the scroll off
the vial, she read the parchment. “To our Lord: Your servants have humbly
gathered information of the Ministry worker currently staffed at Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is best illustrated with a memory, however we
must warn you that it is graphic in nature and unpleasant to lovers of aesthetic
vision. You have been warned, but I’m sure the information can be used in the
future should we need to harvest this official. Sincerely, your Servants,
Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy.”
Glancing over, the Dark Lord was sitting up, his red eyes boring into her. It
unnerved her, because he normally napped after one of their ‘meetings’.
“You have my face on Bellatrix.”
Her eyes grew large. “Yes, it was necessary to fool the messenger, my Lord, my
deepest apologies. This is yours,” she swiftly handed the message and vial to
him, who raised his wand to check the package for any tampering. She removed his
face from her before he could give her a second interrogation. Voldemort stood
and walked over to a cabinet, pulling out his pensieve. “I wonder what
in the hell thossse two are up to.”
They both leaned over to peer at the memory, and twenty minutes later came back
into focus in the real work. Voldemort turned to Bella with a look of utmost
disgust, as if talking to himself he said. “Oh, the only good thing about you
Umbridge, is you make everyone else look sexy,” he shook his head, trying to
rid himself of the shock of that viewing, “Go and get Severus and Lucius. I
think I need to Crucio them. Repeatedly.”
The End
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