A/N: Deansy (: I do not own any of the characters. All rights reserved for JK Rowling, the original author.

Pansy was running. Her cloak billowing around her as she ran, staggered and fell a couple of times but managed to get up and run again. She had been hiding for a month now, a month since the end of the war. She did something very stupid back then, suggested they should turn Potter over to the Dark Lord, and this is the consequence she has to pay for that unfortunate mistake. But she had no time to repent right now.

She continued to run, not even bothering to look over her shoulders, just ran as fast as she could. And then she collided into something hard, or rather, someone. She fell back and landed on her bum. Pain radiated all through out her back. She looked up to see who it was, but she was a second too late. The hooded man was already bending towards her and scooped her into his arms like she was made of paper, instead of flesh and bones. The man smelled of sweat, muscular but not bulky, Pansy could say even if she was shaking and her eyes remained close.

"Keep quiet Parkinson." Said the stranger. He really didn't need to say that. She couldn't make a single sound anyway. But the voice sounded oddly familiar. She heard it before somewhere, probably at school, but she can't decide about the owner.

The stranger rounded up a corner and waited until those people who were chasing her ran past. Then he let out a sigh of relief. He was holding his breath, just like she was, and that brought her a bit of a comfort. However, she can't understand why this person saved her, why he didn't just let those hell hounds carry her off and give her the sentence they believed she deserved.

He carefully set her down on the pavement and she tried to steady herself before asking, "Who are you?" The stranger laughed and his cloak fell back. Something unpleasant tugged at Pansy's stomach with the dawning realization as to who had been her savior.

"Hello, Thomas." She said coolly. "Thanks for the ride on your arms."

"No problem Parkinson." Said Dean, but he unexpectedly grabbed her hands and pulled her forward. She panicked. Red alert flags boomed inside her mind. With such unbelievable strength for an underfed skinny girl that had been in hiding from the rest of Wizarding London, she was too strong. She wrenched her hands away and broke into a run, Dean went after her.

He had the advantage of longer legs. In a matter of seconds she was within his grasp, and hooked his arm around her neck. She bit her arm. Dean let out a yelp of pain while Pansy ran ahead, not even looking back. She now regretted forgetting her wand in her shabby muggle flat. Dean however, had not.

"I'm not really supposed to hurt you!" He bellowed. "But I have no choice." He said quietly to himself. He pointed his wand at her and said "Stupefy!". A red jet of light hit Pansy at the back and she fell, stunned. Dean went for her and crouched beside her.

"You've been a very bad girl, Parkinson." He pulled her into a hug, and they disapparated into the cold night air.