Sandra Darcy nervously smoothed her fingers through her fair hair; it was her first day working for St. Mungo’s, and she hoped she would make a good impression. She looked around, timidly smiling at the various people who walked around the entrance of the hospital. They ignored her. A man with three heads and wand up his nose was shouting something in fragmented language at his small daughter, who was giggling and pointing at his third head, which was slowly turning purple. She sighed, abandoning her post behind her desk and walking determinedly towards him.

“Sir…please, calm down. We can sort you out right away,” she said in her soft Scottish accent, trying to calm him. The head closest to her shot her a look of loathing and doubt, and he shouted something else, not to his daughter this time, but to Sandra. She winced, cowering a little at the look on his face. This was turning into a rather unpleasant day.

“Come on, sir. It’s the forth floor you want.” A sterner voice sounded from behind Sandra, making her jump. She spun around quickly, the colour rising in her cheeks as she spotted Margaret Barry, the head Healer of St. Mungo’s. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful or wanted the intimidating middle-aged woman to disappear. Margaret lead the man away upstairs, shooting Sandra a look that clearly said she did not approve of her timid approach to difficult patients. But what else was she meant to do? The man had quite clearly been distressed.

Sighing, Sandra returned to her place behind the desk, facing a line of people who had watched the ordeal with badly disguised enthusiasm, all of them now turned to face her, curiosity etched on their features. She felt her cheeks flushing and looked down at her log book, taking the patients’ information as they answered her mumbled questions. Name, age, and infliction were all essential, as were questions such as blood type and allergies. Of course, some people couldn’t answer these questions. They would be immediately directed to the appropriate floor and their illness would be taken care of.

But what with all the pay cuts and strikes, there were less and less healers in St. Mungo’s every day, resulting in patients having to wait with unpleasant symptoms in the hallways and waiting rooms of the hospital. It was for precisely this reason Sandra was working towards gaining her official healing licence. However, the job required quite a bit of on-hands experience, and she had, somehow, ended up working on the desk. As long as she got her qualifications, however, she didn’t mind.

“Hi. D’you know what room Lily Potter is in?” a strangely familiar voice asked. Sandra looked up; half-hoping that it wasn’t who she thought it was. But, as in all such situations, karma seemed to be against her. Her hazel eyes met the grey of his eyes, and she gave a little squeak, reddening even more than usual. Sirius Black, Hogwarts legend and Sandra’s long-time object of adoration, was leaning lazily on the front desk, a cocky half-grin on his lips. His gorgeous, kissable, perfect�”

“Miss?” Sandra started from her mental digression, blushing darker still. Sirius, however, seemed to find her ordeal rather amusing. Lowering her eyes, she scanned the parchment, searching for a Lily Potter on the impossibly long list of names.

“Er…yes. She’s in room…wait. Are you a relative?” she asked, almost forgetting proper hospital protocol. She couldn’t be sending anyone up to see the patients, now could she? She looked up and smiled half-heartedly at him, trying to ignore the blush that she knew would now be causing her to resemble a blonde tomato. Nonchalance, however, did not seem to be her forte, as she could feel her smile slipping with each second that passed: Each second she had to look at his gorgeous face.

“I’m her husband’s best friend. And I was best man at their wedding. And I promised I’d be here forty-five minutes ago, and Lily doesn’t half know some jinxes that could take my ears off,” he responded, laughter in his voice. Of course he’s James’ best friend, Sandra thought miserably, mentally slapping herself for her stupidity. They had spent all their time together at Hogwarts: Indeed, Sandra had thought them fraternal twins. He must think her a right idiot, if he even remembered her from Hogwarts, which was unlikely.

“Oh, okay…” she mumbled, realizing how stupid and inexperienced she must sound. Today was not turning out to be a good day, at least not working at the desk. Maybe room duty later would turn out to be more profitable, and less embarrassing. “She’s in room 5. Would you like me to take you up to see her, or d’you think you can find it yourself? It’s the maternity ward, of course,” she said, trying to sound more professional than she felt. Of course she would love to guide him up to the room. In fact, her mind was already beginning to fabricate fantasies in which she was three dress sizes smaller and more beautiful than she could ever be.

“I think I can find my own way. Thanks though, Sandra,” he said, winking at her before turning and walking off towards the stairs. Sandra’s mouth fell open, giving her the rather unattractive look of a humanoid fish with a red complexion. But none of that seemed to matter. He remembered me. He. Remembered. Me, she thought disbelievingly, staring blankly at the spot Sirius had just moved from. It took numerous prods and inquires of “Madam?” to wake her from her trance.

******

“Mrs. Datson, please don’t do that…” Sandra stuttered, trying to wrench the mop away from an elderly lady who seemed to think it was a broom. “It doesn’t fly…please…give it back…Mrs. Datson, don’t be ridiculous!” She tugged harder at the pole, trying to remove the cleaning utensil from the old woman’s hands. She was surprisingly strong for such a tiny old woman.

“No, dear, no. I know a broom when I see one; I did fly for the Harpies, you know!” the old woman protested, taking a particularly strong tug and almost pulling Sandra off her feet. She let go of the plastic handle, watching helplessly as Mrs. Datson mounted the “broom” and began to run around the room with cries of “UP!” and “FLY!” Her exclamations, however, seemed pointless, as the mop remained, well, a mop.

Sandra sighed again, slowly walking towards the old woman. As soon as she made a grab for the mop, however, the handle came up and thwacked her on the forehead, causing her to lose her footing and fall onto the cold, tiled floor of the ward. Mrs. Datson cackled excitedly then tottered off towards the hall, still clutching the mop. Sandra stood painfully up, her palm on her forehead, groaned a little, then turned towards the doorway in the hopes of being able to stop Mrs. Datson before she attacked any other innocent hospital staff with the pilfered mop. However, someone was already stopping the old woman.

“Young man, remove you’re hands from my broomstick immediately!” the old woman protested angrily, taking a swing at the man’s head, who Sandra soon recognized as Sirius. She groaned: Perfect.

“Mrs. Datson, please don’t do that,” she pleaded desperately, running as fast as she could towards the old woman and grabbing onto the mop before Sirius could be hit. The old woman kicked her, hard, in the shins, but Sandra kept her grip on the mop, tugging it forcefully from the hands of Mrs. Datson, who promptly stormed off back to her room.

“Sorry about that,” Sandra said sheepishly to Sirius, walking across the room and leaning the mop against the wall. She would have to catch up with Mrs. Datson at some point, but at that moment she really didn’t care about anything except for Sirius’ stormy grey eyes that she knew were fixed on the back of her head. She took a deep breath and turn around, meeting his gaze. In hindsight, this was probably not her best idea, because as soon as she looked him in the eye her mind seemed to melt and form a puddle in the bottom of her shoe. There really was nothing she could think about other than the quicksilver gaze he was treating her to.

“No problem, really. Remus’ nan is a bit of a nutter as well, so I’m used to it,” he responded, grinning. “But you seem to have gotten quite a whack on the head.”

“Huh?” Sandra asked, coming back to her senses rather too slowly. Sirius smirked, pointing to her forehead. She dug around in her pocket and pulled out a small length of string, two pencils, a pair of nail scissors, and a cracked mirror. She glanced in the mirror and spotted the huge bump that Mrs. Datson had caused. “Shit,” she muttered, brushing the swollen, ugly bruise with the tips of her fingers. She looked like she had a second nose growing out of her forehead. Not a pleasant sight.

“You alright?” he asked, stepping closer to her. She took a step back, then realized she was backed against the wall. Sirius stepped closer, peering at the bruise. “It doesn’t look too bad. Well, it does, but it shouldn’t be too bad, pain and concussion wise. I’ve hit my head a couple of times, and my judge of things is when it bleeds, it’s probably a bad sign. But anyway, maybe you should get an icepack on it.” Sandra gazed blankly at him, her eyes fixed on his lips. So soft and alluring and inviting. It took every inch of her self-restraint to stop herself from kissing him right then and there.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just…” She faltered, not able to wrench her eyes from his face. Why was he so damn good looking? It was infuriating. And why was she so unable to get over him? It was ridiculous, harbouring a schoolgirl crush after all these years. He cocked his head to one side, watching her carefully, then grinned.

“Want to go and get a coffee?” he asked confidently, leaning towards her a little, his grin widening as he watched Sandra turned a nice shade of beetroot. “I’m paying.”

“Uhh…yes…no, I…um. Yes….” she managed to stutter, her cheeks burning. Of course he knew she fancied him. Who didn’t?

“Let’s go then,” he said, moving away from her face but grabbing her hand and dragging her out of the room after her. “You know, I’ve been trying to find you for about half an hour,” he said conversationally as he walked off towards the café on the top floor, Sandra walking next to him, her hand still in his.

“Wh�”why?” she stammered, gnawing at her lower lip. He couldn’t be attracted to her. There was no way he was attracted to her. Why would he be? She was not the type of girl boys like Sirius Black liked. She wasn’t especially pretty, she wasn’t especially good at sports, and she wasn’t especially funny. The only thing she was was especially red, and she was sure that was not an attractive quality. Lily Evans had probably told him to come and find her, and take pity on the silly schoolgirl crush she was harbouring. She couldn’t stand that girl.

“Because I think you need a coffee. And you’re a nice person,” he said as they reached the café, opening the door for her and sitting down at one of the many tables. Sandra sat down opposite him, looking resolutely at the sugar bowl. Sirius ordered them two coffees, then turned to Sandra. “And besides, I wanted to go out with you tonight. You up for it?”

*****

I don’t suppose that impresses you much. Sirius and I have gone out numerous times, and I suppose I got more confident for it. I’m still obsessed with him, though. And yes, I do still go beetroot red. I just thought you ought to know how it ended up that the meek little Sandra Darcy snogged Sirius Black, *the* sex god of Hogwarts. And now you know. And you know what else? I’m not giving it up for the world.