A/N: Hi there. Well, this is my first ever Draco/Pansy … in fact, I think it's my first fic with Draco involved …

Anyway, I hope it's alright. It's just a quick one-shot that I wrote in about an hour.

Please review and tell me what you think of it. Thanks. xx

Hurt

"Draco. Draco! Please!" Her hurried footsteps echoed off of the corridor's walls.

"Pansy, will you stop following me?!"

Draco stopped in his tracks, whipping around to look at the black haired witch. Her robes were flying open, revealing her dishevelled school uniform. Her eyes were watery and her make-up was smudged. This wasn't the Pansy Parkinson he knew. She cared about her appearance over everything else in the world.

"Draco," she half sobbed. He looked at her expressionlessly.

"What?" he asked.

She blinked, as if to clear her vision.

"Pansy, what is it?"

"You haven't been to a meal in four days," she said softly, looking up at him. "You look like you haven't slept in days either. You disappear at night, and don't come back until late morning. Draco, what's going on?"

Draco looked down at her green watering eyes. "Why are you crying, Pansy?"

"Because I'm worried about you!" she said angrily, blinking furiously, but this only made her tears fall faster.

"You never cry," he stated, staring at her. She swept the tears away with her hand, glaring at him.

"I've never had much to cry about! What are you trying to do, kill youself?"

"It'd be nice," he muttered, looking away.

A sob wracked through her body at this. "What's going-g on?" she gasped, wrapping her arms around herself.

Draco looked at her, slightly scared that she was crying. "Pansy …" he faltered, looking into her tear filled eyes.

"Tell me what you're doing, Draco," she said steadily, looking straight into his steel grey eyes.

"I can't," he said quietly.

"Tell me!" she shrieked. Draco put a hand over her mouth a little too late.

"Will you keep it down?" he snapped. "I don't exactly think getting caught tonight would be the best idea for me, under the circumstances. Pansy, why do you care what I'm doing? We're Slytherins. We don't care. We're renowned for it," he said quietly, pulling her to the side of the corridor. She bit down on his hand, and he pulled away with a gasp.

"We don't care about anyone, but our own," she whispered furiously. "Draco, are you going to get hurt?"

Draco leant against the wall, and regarded her. She looked genuinely worried about him, just like his mother was. Maybe she did care … but he wasn't used to it at all. He was used to having her follow him because she had some insane crush on him … not because she was scared that he would get hurt. This was a totally different side of Pansy that Draco had never seen before … in fact, he was quite sure he was one of the first.

"Are you going to get hurt?" she whispered, anger gone from her voice, and fear seeping into it. Her eyes were wide, and he face was paler than usual.

He looked at her for a long moment. She genuinely cared. "Most likely," was his simple, painful answer. He turned and leant his back against the cold wall, staring into the blackness.

She didn't speak for a second. And in her silence, he was sure she was staring at him, those green eyes filling with tears once more.

"Is it The Dark Lord, Draco?" she asked softly.

Draco's head snapped round to look at her. He bit his lip, then turned back around. "If I tell you, you could get hurt, Pansy."

"I don't care. Let me help you."

"I don't need help," he said in a clipped, icy tone.

"Draco," she said softly, "What is He making you do?"

"I can't tell you. Please, Pansy, you need to go back to the dungeons."

"Not without you," she said firmly, blowing her fringe out of her face, and crossing her arms.

"Why do you care?" he asked again.

"Because!" she cried.

"Shhh!" Draco insisted.

"Because," she whispered furiously. "Is it so hard to believe that someone actually cares about you?" she hissed.

"Yes," Draco answered, staring at the opposite wall, which was mostly in shadow.

There was silence again, where Draco just stared at the wall.

"It's a shame that you've inherited so much from your father - as much as I respect him - and so little from your mother, Draco."

He looked at her again. "I'm proud to be like my father, Parkinson."

She shook her head, a wry smile on her face. "That's just it, isn't it? Too proud … will never except help … tries to be fearless … I know you're scared, Draco. I can see it in your eyes. You're terrified. If you were more like your mother, you would accept a little of the help … you'd see love right in front of your face, because you'd have the sense to see it." Draco's eyes travelled all over her face, resting once more on her green eyes.

"You don't love me," he stated, shaking his head. "It's just an infatu -"

"No." Her eyes filled with tears again. "It isn't, Draco. I wish it was."

He turned to look straight ahead once again. "I wish I was more like my mother too," he said softly. "She has some humanity. My father doesn't. She cares."

"Can't you just tell The Dark Lord that you can't do it … that you -"

"You can't tell The Dark Lord anything, Pansy. He'll kill me if I don't do it. He'll kill everyone I care about."

Pansy fell silent for a moment. Draco started slightly when she put her hand on his arm. "Why you, Draco? Why not Professor Snape, or any of the Death Eaters? Why did it have to be a sixteen year old boy?"

"Punishment to my family … for my father's … slip-ups."

"The Ministry?" she asked in hushed tones. Draco nodded, leaning his head back to rest it on the wall.

"I've said too much, Pansy. I can't talk about this anymore."

Pansy withdrew her hand from him, and leant on the wall beside him, her shoulder touching his arm.

"Let me help you. What is he making you do?"

"No, Pansy, I can't tell you. If I could accept your help – believe me – I'd accept it. But I really can't. I'll be killed, without a doubt. If I do it on my own, and succeed, my family might live."

"Oh, Draco," Pansy said sadly, leaning her head on his shoulder. He automatically put an arm around her. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"And I don't want you to get hurt, so, please, go back the common room."

He moved away from the wall, and away from Pansy. He turned to look at her.

"But thank you."

She looked up at him, confused. "What for?"

"I'm not sure," he said coarsely, as he pulled her into an embrace and leaning down so his mouth was inches from hers. "All I know is I'm grateful, and I have the sense to see it now."

"To see what?"

"You," he whispered huskily. And with that, he placed his mouth lightly on hers – not at all like the kisses he was famous for, which were lustful … rough, even.

Pansy melted into him, letting her body be dragged closer to him by his warm arms.

Soon, Draco pressed his lips harder against Pansy's, and moved her around so that she was between him and the wall. He cupped her face in his hands, pinning her to the wall with his hips. Pansy moaned slightly, and parted her lips. Draco pulled away, and opened his eyes to look at her.

She still had her eyes closed. She was breathing heavily and her cheeks were tinted pink, in contrast to the pale colour they are usually. Draco leant his forehead against hers, causing her eyes to open. They looked at him lustfully.

"Go back to the dungeons, Pansy," Draco said, just above a whisper. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away slightly. She looked up at him, concerned. "I'll be fine, Pansy. Just go back to the common room. Please." Draco dropped his hands from her neck. Pansy stepped away from him, and stared. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, then faltered, closing her mouth again. She blinked, causing a tear to fall down her cheek. And with that, she turned and left the seventh floor quickly.

Draco leant against the wall, watching her go, before he left to complete his task. To kill Albus Dumbledore.

Review please? Thanks. xx