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There were a lot of things that Pansy Parkinson had thought that she would do with her life.
Once upon a time, she had dreamed that she was going to manage to become Draco Malfoy’s wife—that she would have made her family proud, defied the odds, and landed one of the best matches within the United Kingdom. Maybe not the best, but certainly higher up there than her mother had been able to hope for, than her father had hoped for when he found out that he had a daughter instead of a son like he’d so desperately desired. But no, as lucky as Pansy had been to be born in the same year as a Malfoy heir, she wasn’t lucky enough for the rest of the cards to lay out just right for her to keep him for her own.
Particularly not when Astoria Greengrass was in the running.
She’d dreamt that she would spend her life buried in some little apothecary in Romania during the war. She had hoped beyond reason that she would manage to get there.
Pansy hadn’t.
Then her dream shifted during her final year of schooling in France—she had spent her sleeping hours dreaming of Potion cauldrons and healing spells and a man that didn’t bloody exist as far as she could tell.
Until she got back to London.
Then it became abundantly clear that for all the talk about a new world being born—for all the conversation that was around them changing the narrative of division—the simple reality was that it was all just talk.
Instead, the only job that Pansy had been able to get anywhere near being a healer in her lifetime was that she was going to go through and be their bloody receptionist.
It was humiliating.
Even Blaise teased her about it from time to time—at least not as much as Theo did, particularly when he would bring her lunch in a bloody brown bag like his House-Elf hadn’t gone through and made a gourmet lunch that rivalled some that she had when she was travelling. Those were the moments that Pansy absolutely bloody hated Theo Nott. The rest of it didn’t particularly seem to matter when it came down to it; after all, Pansy was only a receptionist.
“You haven’t taken the healers their owls?” Healer Blainey said, shaking her head before she let out a heavy sigh. “I really don’t understand why anyone hired you, Parkinson.”
“Maybe because—” Pansy bit her tongue a she started to snap back, swallowing the words before she forced herself to let out her breath slowly. “I had the qualifications necessary and an added bonus of being familiar with healing procedures and spells so I could triage when the lobby is rather overwhelmed, or at least I would expect that was a portion of it.”
“Or because your family bought your way into this position,” the older woman snapped, narrowing her eyes. “The owls need to be delivered to the healers promptly, Miss Parkinson, not neglectfully as though you choose what is and is not urgent.”
She couldn’t snap at this woman—and what was worse was the fact that she knew it. Blainey knew that if Pansy had any hope of managing to get into the healing program, she had to play nice. Pansy had to play by the rules and she certainly couldn’t be biting the head off of one of her supervisors just because they felt like they had more authority than they really should. “Of course, ma’am,” she said, ducking her head in mock deference for her before she cleared her throat, slowly wrapping her fingers around the bundles of letters that had come in. “I’ll change the procedure that had been agreed upon moving forward—there had been some previous conversation about delivering them twice a day.”
“Again, you aren’t the one that should be prioritizing the importance of the owl or not.”
Clearing her throat, Pansy stood, her black heels clicking against the floor and the hem of her dressed brushing the tile. “I did not mean to presume, thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
And with that, Pansy snagged her cloak from the coat rack and slipped it on, the soft fabric brushing her exposed arms. It was normal in Muggle fashion—the robes not being the primary thing that you spent your life in, and frankly during the summer months Pansy was immensely excited about the fact that it was finally picking up traction in the Wizarding world. It was easier to be fashionable, simpler to get dressed, and frankly, she could admit that it made the decorum of the world much easier to navigate. On site, Pansy could easily tell who it was that was of status and importance by how they dressed, and by how they simply didn’t.
Mungo’s had been no exception to the change—picking up the trend quicker for pants when it came to women, navigating the idea that you didn’t have to constantly be wearing a cloak that would snag on one thing or another and even as she slowly delivered the piles of owls to the different department heads, she was immensely glad to see that they were all working on one thing or another and looked comfortable in what they wore.
Knocking on the door mostly closed, Pansy cleared her throat for a moment before nudging it open, “Excuse me, I hope that you pardon the interruption, but I have some correspondence for—”
“Oh shit,” the occupant said, tugging his slacks back up around his waist before he cleared his through. “Look—”
“Sorry, I’ll come later,” Pansy said, wincing when her words hit and she felt her cheeks redden, taking in his open shirt, the muscles. that had been carved over time, the ink that marked the skin, the dark numbers that had written this man’s reputation for him when the war was ending. “I didn’t mean—not like that, not because—Merlin,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “I’m sorry, Healer Black, your door was left open a bit and I didn’t assume that you had anyone in here.”
“I didn’t,” he said, clearing his throat as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Pansy bit her lip. “You have some owls for me?”
“Mhmm,” she said, feeling the flush burn across her chest, the pink standing out against the black of her dress—to match the heels—as she tried to ignore the fact that this meant a variety of things. This meant that he was likely relieving his own tension, his fingers wrapped around his cock, fisting it as he moved in a steady motion and—Pansy cleared her throat to force herself to focus. “Healer Blainey requested that I bring them whenever they’re coming in moving forward, and I expect that you were looking for one from Lupin.”
“Sit,” he motioned, buttoning a few of them on his shirt as he eyed her, his glasses low on his nose as he watched her, a small smile on his lips. “We both know that you know more about healing than you like to tell everyone and it would be good to have another perspective on these letters.” Pansy hesitated for a moment at the offer, and it was just enough for her mind to flash back to what she’d walked into, her eyes darkening for a moment before the man’s lips were tugging into a smirk, clearing his throat. “Actually, bend over the desk. We can talk about that later.”
Of all the things that she figured that she’d experience in Mungo’s, this wasn’t one. Not that she should say that she was ignorant to the fact that there were more rooms being used than that strictly held patients. There were more interoffice romances than what one would like to believe. And if Hermione Granger was to be believed, it was definitely something that was supposed to be on daytime television than it was supposed to be in a bloody hospital. But Pansy had never anticipated that Sirius fucking Black was going to tell her to bend over a fucking desk.
“No.”
She could feel the fact that her knickers were damp, her thighs rubbing together and while she might be able to say no with all the will that she had mustered, it certainly didn’t mean that Pansy meant it. And it most definitely meant that she was painfully aware of the fact that she didn’t mean it.
“I’ve already said it once, this is the last time that I’ll be repeating it, love,” Sirius smirked, raising an eyebrow as he flicked the door closed with his hand, the wandless magic moving it and the latch falling into place with a quiet click behind the woman. “This is my office. Bend over the desk.”
Pansy’s eyes flashed for a moment as she looked at him, swallowing slowly as she counted in her head, waiting to see whether or not he was going to push it again or if he would leave it—if she could leave it and walk right back outside that office and pretend that the offer had never been laid bare on the table in front of her at the bloody office.
And as it turned out, Pansy’s self control when it came to this was a lot worse than her control was on her mouth—at least when it came to mouth off to her superior that could effect her bloody job.
Her heels were quiet clicks across the floor until she hit his rug, the fabric deafening the sound and causing the quiet to sink back over them while his eyes focused her carefully. Following her fingers as they pushed the cloak off of her shoulders and dropped to the ground, unbuttoning the first few buttons on her blouse before Sirius reached out and stopped her, hooking his finger underneath her bra, the lace between her breasts straining with the aided stress. “I already told you want to do, Pansy, and it wasn’t remotely this.”
“Sirius,” she said softly, whispering as her teeth sunk into her lips and swallowed hard. “Are you sure this a good idea? Here? Anyone could bloody hear us.”
“Anyone could listen if they want to learn a thing or two,” he said, shrugging his shoulders before he pulled her blouse open, the thread holding the buttons together snapping and the little ivory pieces falling to the ground. “Besides, isn’t that what bloody Silencing Charms are for?”
“Is this what they’re for?” she asked softly, her fingers curling underneath the waistband of his slacks, fingernails gently scraping against the skin of his cock. “Because you certainly weren’t using one when you were fisting this monster right here.”
“Monster is a little rough,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “I like to think that I know how to use it and not remotely abuse anything.”
Pansy shrugged a shoulder, biting her lip for a moment as she looked at him before she slowly turned around and carefully pulled her skirt up, the black lace of her knickers stretched across her arse while she bent over the desk. Her breasts pressed hard against Sirius’ desk, the parchment that he had spread across the wood before she arched her back, looking behind her to see Sirius with his eyes glued to her rear. “You know, this is anticli—”
Sirius cut her voice off with a Silencing Charm and his hand connecting with her arse, the slap ringing through the office for a moment before he moved to soothe the spot, releasing the charm to allow her to react. “You keep thinking you can get mouthy in the office, love, and I don’t think that you want to accept the fact that I’m in control here.”
“Sirius,” she whispered, pushing her arse back towards him, trying to get him to touch her again as she muttered, “I’m not mouthy.”
“Mouthy,” he whispered, pressing his mouth against the shell of her ear, slipping his fingers underneath the lace covering one of her arse cheeks. “Besides, I happen to like that about you, in the right context.”
“You like that I push back to your patients when they get difficult,” she muttered, her eyes sliding closed, resting her forehead against one of the pieces of parchment. “Merlin, Sirius, will you—”
Another spank rang out through the office and Sirius heard the whimper that she let escape her lips before her hand slapped over her mouth and she shook her head. “It might not be what you’re wanting, love, but it is what you’re getting after how much of a bloody tease you’ve been all fucking day.”
She couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes—but she did at least have enough control over herself to not say anything, instead rocking her hips back against his hand, letting out another soft whimper and smiling softly when she heard him groan and felt his nails dig into the flesh or her arse. This was something they had both agreed could never happen inside the walls of St. Mungo’s. Partially for his own reputation but mostly for the fact that they both knew she’d never have any hope of getting into the healing program is she was shagging one of their top healers already—after all, you couldn’t have the appearance of favourtism. And yet…
Even Pansy could admit that she didn’t expect Sirius to drop to his knees, ripping her knickers in one clean go before she had a chance to protest. and his fingers pressing inside of her before she could even think about what he was doing.
Yeah, this was one of the things that she bloody loved about the man.
As he worked in fingers in her, Sirius’ teeth sank into the flesh of her arse and a yelp escaped her lips, shaking her head. “Merlin, be gentle, Sirius! I don’t need to be walking around with teeth marks all over my fucking arse!”
Sirius laughed, shaking his head before he let his mouth cover her cunt, his tongue joining his fingers and spreading her wide. The gasp that echoed through the room was laced with pleasure, the sensation making Pansy’s nerve vibrate as she stood on her toes, pressing up closer towards Sirius as she swallowed hard, “Salazar fucking Slytherin, Sirius,” she muttered, swallowing hard. “Merlin, did you already come before I came in here?”
He couldn’t resist the chuckle that escaped his lips, the vibrations coaxing another moan from Pansy before he pulled back slightly and pressed a kiss against her thigh. “I would have if my girlfriend wouldn’t have interrupted, but I also wouldn’t have needed to if it wasn’t for my girlfriend wearing a skirt that was tighter than anything I’ve ever seen and bloody black knickers under her clothes that showed through that blouse in the right light.”
“You noticed,” she said with a grin.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You did it on fucking purpose?”
“You left before I woke this morning,” Pansy said with a shrug, swallowing hard. “I figured that you deserved a punishment.”
Sirius’ eyes about rolled into the back of his head at that, groaning before he placed his mouth right back where it was at, his thumb brushing against her clit at every movement, feeling her walls tighten around his fingers and tongue before he stopped and pulled out, watching as she pulled around the empty nothingness that was now inside her, the whimper from the loss escaping her lips. It was one thing, one thing that meant that he could sit back and do something reckless as one of the top Healers at Mungo’s—he knew that he could get away with a lot and he knew that no one would care that he was shagging the receptionist, but they would care that the receptionist was shagging one of the Healers.
It had been why it took him a solid six months and far too much Firewhiskey at one of the staff events to give into the way that she bloody looked in those heels. Then he couldn’t get over the way that she tasted or the way that she always looked like a bloody goddess with his come dripping out of desperate cunt.
Once he’d had a taste, he couldn’t remotely get enough of her.
It was simply why the moment he got his trousers undone and pushed out of the way, Sirius was pushing inside her, their moans mixing together in the room. “Merlin, you fucking feel like that heaven they always talk about,” Sirius muttered, leaning over and pressing a kiss against the fabric covering her shoulder. “You’re fucking—”
“Fuck me,” Pansy whined, pressing her hips back towards him, allowing him to slide in deeper into her cunt, focusing on squeezing him as tight as she could coax her inner walls into doing. “Please, Sirius, Merlin, I needed you this morning and—”
“And what?” he said, his fingers wrapping around her hips and digging in, leaving bruises on her delicate skin, pushing the skirt further up around her waist. “What did you do, Pansy? Did you fuck your hand? Did you come thinking about what it would have been like if I had blown off that Healing that I had scheduled?”
“Sirius,” Pansy whimpered, shivering as he kept moving at a slow, methodical pace. “Please—”
“Did you think about how I’d stretch you? Or was it that you missed the fact that this so called monster is able to press inside you, fill you, that I can make you come without a second thought and you needed that?”
“Merlin—”
“Not here,” Sirius muttered, tugging what remained of the blouse out from where it’d been tucked into her skirt and carefully tugging it off of her, letting it flutter to the ground. “But lucky for you,” he said, pressing his cock further into her, his hips pressing against her arse to the point of almost pain. “Lucky for my little witch, I am here to make you fall apart and fill you right up before you have to go back to that little desk of yours, with my come leaking all down your thighs.”
“Sirius!” Pansy said, pushing herself up and turning to look at him, “You can’t—”
“I can,” he said, leaning in and pressing a kiss against the crown of Pansy’s head. “I think that you need a reminder today that you belong to me, love, and that you are coming home right to me.”
Pansy could feel the blush rising up her neck, biting her lip for a moment before she swallowed hard, “Fuck me.”
“I’m going to come inside of you, love,” he said, nipping at her shoulder. “And I’m not cleaning up the mess.”
“Hmm…” Pansy said, pretending to consider what he was saying before giving him a sharp nod. “Then fuck me before I have to repeat myself again.”
And that was enough to cause Sirius to snap, the carefully coiled control that he had held onto when she stepped into the office unravelling right before him as he picked up speed, his fingers slipping further down and to her clit, rubbing in time with the thrust until they came more erratic and he pressed a kiss against her back. “You can come now, love, you can come now with me,” he muttered, his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades and nipping at the skin that he could see.
The shudder that rippled through Pansy when she came, however, was something that he should have predicted—as was the fact that she screamed his name into the parchment, barely muffling the sound from reverberating throughout the room. The pulsing around his cock, however, her walls tightening around him as though they would strangle him if given the opportunity was more than he could handle, following only a few moments later, the stripes of his come coating her walls and mixing with her release.
By the time that he came down from his high, Sirius had his forehead resting between Pansy’s shoulder blades and let out a soft breath before he nodded his head. “I bloody guarantee this is the one that I get you pregnant.”
Pansy let out a soft chuckle before she shook her head, biting her lip for a moment. “Merlin, if you get me bloody knocked up because you have a spanking kink and a filling me kink and not because we’re trying to get pregnant—”
Sirius laughed, shaking his head for a moment before he shifted, pressing a kiss against her cheek and smiling. “I think that is most of our times, little witch,” he muttered. “But I like to think that we’re always going to be bloody trying to make another Pansy Parkinson.”
“Maybe,” she muttered, wiggling her hips against his. “You realize that you destroyed my knickers, right? I’m going to have to clean up?”
Sirius groaned, dropping his head into Pansy’s shoulder as she let out a laugh, still bent over his desk and his glasses tossed somewhere across that very desk.