Work Text:
There were a million things that Alastor Moody had spent his days doing since he had finished Hogwarts.
He had spent some days bartending at the Leaky Cauldron while he went through his Auror training. That memorable six months where he had been sorting mail at the Owlry under cover before the war really started to hit. Then there was the reality of the ever changing list of things that he did as an Auror, as an Auror supervisor. And then again, when his life shifted after the second war and he came back onto the team and started training all the incoming Aurors—those that had thought they knew what it would be like because they were raised in war, but truthfully, really, had no idea what it was that they were wading into.
Merlin, he had thought that he had seen it all when it really came down to it, but Alastor Moody had never imagined that he would spend his days subjected to a soul bond that he didn’t ask for, hadn’t wanted, and certainly not one with a witch who had a mouth on her to rival most of the Aurors that he had met over the years.
No, Pansy Parkinson was trouble, with capital letters and the constant desire to do something or other that would set his teeth on edge.
Whichever of the old gods it was that had set these bonds in motion had to have a sense of humour, had to have some sort of rule justice that was rolling off of their tongue for all of the things he had done in the war that weren’t acceptable by normal standards, weren’t okay by those that would oversee his life. Pansy Parkinson, without a doubt, was a punishment for the life that Alastor had chosen to live, skirting the acceptability of society and the approval of the Ministry oversight committees—instead, focused on the greater good, and knowing that no matter what, the ends would justify the means in which he had taken to get there.
And for a long while, they had.
“You’re thinking hard there, old man,” Pansy said, crossing her arms against her chest as she leaned on his door. “I would think that might make you keel over and die or something.”
The smirk on the witch’s lips should have been criminal in some way, there should have been some kind of law against the way that she seemed to look and the fact that she always walked around as though she owned the Ministry itself—as though she owned him—and it caused more problems than he’d care to admit.
“Debating how to get you into Azkaban.”
“Now, see, you know that you’d miss me far too much, Moody,” Pansy said, crossing the room and plopping herself on his desk, resting her feet on his thighs before she leaned forward and pressed her elbows against her knees. “Whatcha doing?”
“I’m trying to bloody work, Parkinson.”
Pansy made a dismissive wave of her hand before she reached out, tugging on his hair and pulling him towards here. “Wanna ignore the work?”
“Pansy—”
“I think that there’s a lot that we can get up to, you know. Solidify this bond more and all,” she teased, tilting her head to the side as a ghost of a smile was on her lips. “I think that it could be a lot of fun to make use of this desk and all.”
Sucking in a sharp breath through his nose, Alastor slowly let it back out and counted down from ten. She was tempting, problematic, and a pain in his arse even before the bloody bond had revealed itself, but that had just made it infinitely harder for him to ignore the pull that he had towards her, the reality that he had that he seemed to need her far more than he should. “No,” he bit out. “I have some bloody paperwork to do on the recruits, and you are supposed to be doing something complicated in the DoM and you know it.”
Pansy groaned, her bottom lip sticking out before she let out a soft sigh and swallowed. “Fine, but I expect you to be back at the flat on time.”
“Pansy.”
“With dinner in hand.”
“Parkinson,” he snapped.
“And ready to bend me over the bloody kitchen table and remind me why I keep you around, old man.”
Alastor couldn’t help himself, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around her thighs and pulling her a few inches closer before she let out a noise of surprise and he looked up at her. “We have an agreement. Not in the Ministry, not where people see, not at this point. So, you need to keep up your end of the bargain.”
“Bargain,” she said, her shoulders slipping down slightly before she cleared her throat. “Right.”
“That isn’t—” Alastor let out a heavy sigh before he ran a hand through his hair. “Merlin, do you have to be so bloody difficult?”
“Difficult is something that is in my blood,” she said, biting her lip. “I’ll go back to my office then, Auror.”
Alastor watched her slow movements, the way that she carefully disentangled herself from him before he let out a slow breath through his teeth. “Pansy.”
“Hmm?” She asked, turning around and looking at him with her blue eyes. “Did you forget something?”
He could feel the fact that she was frustrated, irritated, but most of all curious as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her close, pressing a kiss against her cheek and breathing in her scent. “I’ll see you at home, love.”
“Don’t work yourself to death,” she said, giving him a grin before she shook her head. “Can’t have an Auror falling down on the job, after all.”