Disclaimer: I do not own anything related or even closely related to the Harry Potter franchise.

A/N: a challenge one-shot issued by Koukla22… it's the most random thing I've ever written and I hope you guys like it!! The challenge requirements are at the end of the story :) oh, and y'all don't get offended by anything, especially their speech. It's called dialect and it's a literary device. Just in case anyone finds fault with anything.

The Challenge

1) Rating - At least a T rating

2) Dean Thomas must be your central character.

3) Dean must appear in a ship with TWO of the following characters: Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang, Hermione, Fleur, Tonks, or Pansy Parkinson.

4) Part of the story must take place in America.

5) You must include the following words/phrases/comments: baseball, "So, you're the flavor of the month!", William Shakespeare, "Ugh...", "I had to have penis reduction surgery", reverse psychology, "I just got a manicure", macaroni and cheese

6) You must include both: Romance and Violence

The title comes from the song, "Yellow" by Coldplay

Turn into Something Beautiful

It was a hot, stifling August evening in the coastal city of Biloxi, Mississippi. Right on the Gulf of Mexico, Biloxi was home to humid days and muggy, muggy nights.

Dean Thomas sat on his grandmother's porch as she stood torturing him slowly. And by torturing him slowly, she was actually braiding his hair.

"Ouch! Grandmum… that hurt," Dean winced as Hattie Carlisle, his maternal grandmother, put his hair into cornrows.

"Boy, how many times do I have to tell you to call me meemaw? We don't need none of your fancy-pants British talk down here. I knew it was a mistake letting your mother go all the way to England and end up getting knocked up by that good-for-nothing father of yours."

"Gran… I mean, meemaw, you tell me that every time I come and visit you," Dean said as his eyes filled with involuntary tears.

"Well, it's true," she replied. "I always told your mama that she should raise her babies down here in Biloxi where everything is right. She got you up there in that private school full of ninnies teaching you God-knows-what. Ain't nothing wrong with a good American public education," she complained.

If there were two things on earth that Hattie Carlisle loved, they were her grandchildren and complaining.

"I like my school in England," Dean said.

"Hmph," Hattie replied.

Dean smiled and then winced again at the pain at his scalp. "Meemaw, why on earth are you doing this to me again?"

"Hell, baby, you come 'round here with your head looking all scraggly and I won't have no grandson of mine walking around Biloxi with some raggedy-looking head. I got a reputation to keep."

Dean nodded and tried to focus his attention on something besides the immense headache he was getting. His eyes drifted towards the coast, where his grandmother's house was situated.

He had been visiting Biloxi, Mississippi for as long as he could remember. Usually his siblings would come with him, but this summer, the summer before he started his training at a private corporation as an advertising representative, he had come alone to his grandmother's beach-house.

His past year: being on the run from Death Eaters, Voldemort and the corrupt Ministry had called for a much-needed vacation.

"Dean-bean?" Hattie called his name, bringing him back from his thoughts.

Dean cringed at the awful nickname that had been bestowed upon him since his first trip to Biloxi. "Yes?"

"Now, I don't want you getting into no trouble. I just got one more braid and then I need to head on in to start supper. You know you're free to roam about, but don't you let me catch you hanging 'round those Cardon boys down the street. They's nothing but trouble," she said.

"Yes, I know meemaw," Dean said dully.

"There, done," she claimed. "Nice, conservative cornrows for my baby. None of that twisty-turny, loopy loops braids. Nice straight 'rowed braids."

"Thank you," Dean said and turned around to give his grandmother a hug.

"Boy, you are getting so tall," she said as she looked up at him. "Now, go on and get… I'll see you back here at suppertime, seven o' clock as usual. I'm making your favorite: Mississippi mudslinging macaroni and cheese."

Dean laughed and kissed her cheek before going down the steps of the porch and onto the beach.

He ended up on the boardwalk, sitting on a bench, watching the beach-goers enjoy their summers. A young couple, holding hands walked along the sand. Dean watched them as they laughed and talked about something… looking horribly in love.

His thoughts drifted again towards his past year. He had hated being on the run, scared for his life, living off of barely anything, always looking over his shoulder… it just wasn't anything he ever wished to experience again.

But one good thing had come out of it all: he had gotten closer to someone he had never really gotten to know. Luna Lovegood had stayed at Bill and Fleur's house with him as they were recuperating.

Dean had always found Luna 'Loony' Lovegood as, well… loony. She was kind, though, and funny at times. During their stay at the cottage she talked to Dean about so many different subjects. Half the time he had no idea what she was talking about, but at other times she would engage him in conversations that were really quite deep and made him think.

It was inevitable that they would become friends. One night… it turned into more.

Bill and Fleur had gone to the Burrow, leaving Dean, Luna, Griphook, and Mr. Ollivander alone in the cottage. Griphook and Mr. Ollivander were situated in their separate rooms and Dean found Luna sitting alone in the den, watching the flames from the fireplace. Her pale skin glowed in the dim firelight, lighting up her silvery eyes.

He had always found her eyes to be her most captivating features. She would always look at him as if he were the most important person in the world.

She was reclining on the couch when he took a seat next to her and they started talking quietly. Before he knew it, they had kissed. And kissed… and kissed… until they had shed their clothes and had sex on the rug in front of the fireplace.

They had never done anything so impulsive before.

From that moment on, they became lovers. Not really in a committed relationship, but 'friends-with-benefits' if you will.

You see, the truth was, Luna had confided in Dean that she had been head-over-heels in love with one of the older boys in Ravenclaw. His name was Trent Beck and Luna had told Dean all about how he had lived in the house next to hers and how she was so excited that they had ended up in the same house at school. She would ask Dean about the best way to approach Trent and the things to do around him.

They knew going into their "beneficial" relationship that it wouldn't grow into anything more. Luna's heart belonged to Trent and Dean was at the point in his life where he wasn't looking for any real relationship.

In time, Luna had come to be his best female friend, with Seamus occupying the role of best male friend. He could tell them anything and they wouldn't judge him, they wouldn't ever put him down, and best of all… they accepted him in every way.

After a few minutes of sitting in the humid heat, thinking about his life back in England, Dean got up off of the bench and headed along the boardwalk, strolling around and looking at the shops.

At the ninth gift shop he had visited, he checked his watch and realized that he still had an hour before supper, so he decided to take the long way back to his grandmother's house and walk through the business part of town where all the buildings, schools, hospitals and city thrived.

Straightening his navy polo shirt and wiping away any sand from his jeans, Dean walked on the sidewalk of the Biloxi main street.

Coming along a deserted street where the buildings crammed together and the alleyways became narrower and shadier, places where a sane, rational person wouldn't go for fear of being stabbed, Dean walked a bit swifter, wondering why it was so quiet and secluded.

Before his thoughts could drift much further, he heard a muffled sound come from the alley directly to his right. The muffled sound turned into a piercing shriek that was quickly stopped and turned into a grunt or a groan.

Knowing the sounds of fear, of fighting… Dean listened closely and peered around the corner of the empty decrepit building that led to the darkened alley. He saw three white men wearing ski masks kicking and beating some poor person on the ground.

Dean gripped the wand he kept in his front pocket. "Hey!" he shouted, grabbing their attention.

When they realized they had been seen, they immediately ran for cover, leaving the person they were hitting on the floor. Dean watched the three attackers climb over the wire fence that separated the alley and he quickly rushed over to the victim lying on the floor.

As he got closer, Dean's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he realized the person was a woman. Anger rose in his throat at the thought that three strong men would purposely beat up a girl. In no way, shape or form was any abuse towards a female acceptable to him.

He crouched down next to the girl. She lay curled up, face down on the cement, her coal black hair clinging to her sweaty shirt.

"Miss, are you alright? Can you hear me?" Dean asked as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Please, please don't hurt me," the girl whispered in a voice so low Dean could barely hear her.

"We have to get you to a hospital," Dean said.

"No," she said in a louder voice. Dean's eyes widened even more as he realized the girl was speaking with an English accent and not a Southern one that he had been so accustomed to hearing over the past few days.

"You're bleeding," Dean said, looking at her skinned elbows and arms; her legs stuck out of khaki capris, bruised and also bleeding.

He turned his gaze towards her back and saw it shake as sobs racked her body.

"Hey, there… come on now, I won't hurt you. Let's get you to a clinic or something if you can't afford a hospital…"

"No, I c-can't go," she said in her English accent that Dean was slowly starting to recognize. He couldn't exactly place the voice with anyone he knew, but it still sounded familiar.

"You've been beaten up, pretty badly I must say and I really need to see that you get some sort of medical help," he tried again.

"I just n-need some w-water and a few p-plasters," she said softly, her sobs having subsided.

Dean's jaw almost fell to the floor as the girl lifted her head up and he caught sight of her bloodied and bruised face. With all the bruises and cuts, he could still recognize her.

Pansy Parkinson stared back at Dean… as they sat in an alleyway… in Biloxi freakin Mississippi.

"What are you doing here?" Pansy whispered; a look of fear, anger, and confusion evident upon her face.

"I was just about to ask you," Dean replied.

"It's none of your business," Pansy said forcefully.

Dean shook his head, marveled by the fact that she would be hostile towards him after he rescued her. "Come on, we have to get you cleaned up. I know a few healing spells, but they're not that great; they'll just close up any open wounds and disinfect the abrasions."

Pansy's eyes narrowed. "Why are you being so nice to me, mudblood?"

Dean laughed incredulously. "Grow up, Parkinson."

"I don't need your help and I certainly don't need your pity," she said, standing up shakily and losing her balance.

Dean caught her with one arm and raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to help you but I'm not going to pity you. You can do that all on your own."

Pansy scowled. "I DON'T need your help."

Dean thought for a moment. "Ok, then I'll leave you alone in this alleyway and wait for the three stooges to make an appearance again. Hopefully, by that time, your cuts and gashes will have become infected with germs I don't even want to think about… and then maybe later, someone won't be around to save your sorry ass from death."

The reverse psychology seemed to work on Pansy for her eyes filled with sadness as she leaned against him. Her cheeks filled with warmth as she realized how close she was to him… and how his large hand rested on her waist to keep a steady grip on her.

She nodded slowly, giving him the ok to help her.

He helped her sit on a cardboard box that had been discarded in the alleyway. She watched him as he checked the area for privacy and pulled out his wand.

As he started healing her cuts she observed him… his coffee-colored skin looked flawless. Not a blemish or scar rest upon him and she admired the smoothness of its appearance.

His hands were warm as he touched her, making her very aware of how pale her milky skin was compared to his.

She watched his light brown eyes sweep over her body, looking for more cuts and she saw compassion in those eyes. She saw a person who had grown up too fast… who had seen too much.

He really was extra-ordinarily handsome, with his full lips and masculine, strong, bone structure. Pansy had never found herself attracted to a different race… seeing as how she was chasing Draco Malfoy all of her school life.

Turns out she never really liked the wanker, who was too arrogant for his own good… she merely liked the idea of being with the pure-blooded prince.

Dean caught her gaze as she watched his face and she immediately averted her eyesight and felt her damn cheeks blush again. Just great, that's just what she needed, to have him catch her checking him out.

He cleared his throat and held out his hand to her, to help her back up. She begrudgingly took it and found that silence was better than saying anything.

"Ouch," she hissed, holding onto her side.

"What is it? Did I miss a cut?" he asked, holding her up.

She shook her head. "I, I think I broke a rib."

Dean bit his lip. "I don't know how to heal broken bones and I wouldn't want to try in case I injure you more… but my grandmum used to be a nurse, she could help us."

Pansy sighed and figured that her day probably couldn't get any worse so she nodded resignedly and allowed Dean to help her walk.

As they walked, Dean wondered about the girl he was practically holding. She barely weighed a thing, so it wasn't as if she was really hindering his walking… but he just couldn't figure out what on earth she was doing in Biloxi, Mississippi out of all places.

He decided that he would ask her directly.

"What are you doing here in America?" he asked.

Pansy looked up at him, given the fact that he was a few inches taller, and just shook her head. "I wish I had never come."

"Did you know those men?" Dean asked.

"The ones who beat me up?" Pansy asked, wincing as her side ached. "No, I didn't know them. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time looking for the stupid hotel."

"That still doesn't answer what you're doing here… and why you're alone," Dean said as they crossed the street.

"I still don't understand why you're being nice to me," Pansy replied. "You're just a mud--"

Dean clamped his hand over her mouth and gave her a searing look. "I seriously think it's about time you grew up, Pansy. We're not in school anymore and that whole stupid war proved that blood doesn't matter. I'm willing to forgive and forget because I'm a mature person, I'm not sure about you, but if you want to fix your ribs, then I suggest you find a way to stay civil."

Pansy's eyes widened at his forcefulness and the flurry of feeling flittering through her stomach… and further south. His eyes blazed with determination as if daring her to disagree with him.

She nodded and he removed his hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Dean looked down at her in surprise as they continued their walk.

"You don't know what it's like… I've been raised for eighteen years to think a certain way and forgive me for not immediately changing my views overnight. I do want to try, though. Going through that humiliating war, I saw how dumb it actually was and seeing people die for such a stupid reason, well even I have some compassion."

"Slytherins with compassion… what's next?" Dean joked.

Pansy laughed softly and winced again. "Ow."

"What?" Dean stopped.

"It's just my rib," she said.

"We're almost there," he replied. "You know, you're made of tougher stuff than I thought. Any other girl probably wouldn't have survived that."

"Of course I survived that… as if a few muggles could bring me down," Pansy said haughtily.

Dean gave her a look.

She sighed. "Sorry… well its true. They were nothing but dirty muggles who had no business messing with me."

Dean nodded. "Ok, I'll give you that. They were nasty, but how did you get mixed up with them anyway?"

Pansy sighed. "I was walking through that alleyway looking for the Beau Rivage Resort and Casino. Before I knew it, they had approached me and asked for my purse. I refused to give it to them, because it had my wand in it… and that's when they attacked."

"Why were you looking for the Beau Rivage?" Dean asked as they reached the beach area where his grandmother's house was.

"I'm in this group called Young Witches Worldwide. It's a social group of sorts and every year they hold a convention in a different city. Last year it was in Pretoria, South Africa. The year before it was in Geneva, Switzerland. This year it was in Biloxi. We were supposed to have this big exhibition on the use of magic in the plays of William Shakespeare. Did you know that he used to write about witches and magic because he had dated a witch at one point in his life?"

"Oh," Dean replied in mock interest. "Are you the only one here from Hogwarts?"

Pansy shook her head. "A few girls from Hogwarts are in the group. That girl Lavender Brown from your house is in it… although I can't stand the sight of her."

Dean laughed. "She can be a bit of a gossip."

"A gossip? Lord have mercy, she is so bloody shrill and infuriating. I would have killed her had she been in my house," Pansy said.

"I never really was that close with her, so I'm not going to say anything," Dean said.

"Ugh, do you have to be such a goody-goody Gryffindor all of the time?"

"Do you have to be such an acerbic, disgruntled Slytherin all of the time?" he replied.

Pansy huffed and then stopped, looking over at the group of boys running around in the sand.

"What are they doing?" she asked with her head tilted in an innocent way.

Dean looked in the direction she was staring at. "They're playing baseball. A muggle sport."

"Oh… they don't hit each other with that stick thing do they?"

Dean laughed and earned a scowl from her. "No, they don't hit each other. They hit that white ball."

"Strange sport," she mused. "But then, all sports are strange. Even the magic ones."

"Spoken like a true girl," Dean said.

Pansy laughed and he realized that she actually wasn't as awful as he had previously thought. Sure, she was a downright little bitch back when they were in school. But she had obviously grown up… into a pretty thing, too.

He remembered how his house-mates would call her a pug-faced little snot. But she didn't look like a pug… not at all. Her face was actually very pretty, with wide grey eyes and a slightly upturned nose that gave the impression of arrogance and hauteur.

Her shoulder-length black hair had been styled into layers around her face with side-swept bangs that were utterly disheveled due to the brawl.

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was really attracted to her. Turns out, he really didn't know any better.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts. "You know the worst thing about that stupid beating?"

"The broken rib and the multiple abrasions?" Dean replied.

Pansy shook her head. "No. I just got a manicure and now my nails are scuffed up and chipped," she said, holding her slender fingers up to his face.

"Wow… that's not superficial at all," Dean muttered sarcastically.

"I paid a lot for that manicure, thank you very much," she retorted.

"Ok, whatever… we're here now so we can worry about your nails some other time," he said as he helped her up the stairs to his grandmother's porch.

"It's nice," she said.

"What's nice?" he asked, opening the screen door.

"Your grandmother's house. It's really quaint and fits in with the beach setting.

"Dean-bean?" his grandmother yelled from the kitchen. "Is that you darling?"

"Yes, meemaw… I'm home and I brought a guest," he yelled back.

"Meemaw?" Pansy laughed quietly. "Cute."

Dean ignored her and helped her onto the couch in the living room where she gasped in pain. She waved him away when he crouched down next to her.

Pansy looked up when the petite old woman walked in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"So you're the flavor of the month," she mused. "Dean's always bringing a lady-friend over for…"

"Meemaw… don't lie," Dean replied moodily. He turned back to Pansy. "It's my grandmother's goal in life to embarrass me to the point of me never wanting to return here again."

"Don't you go using no threats with me, Dean-bean," Hattie said. "Introduce me to your guest."

"Meemaw, this is Pansy and she broke her rib… I was wondering if you could patch it up for her."

"Why didn't you take the poor thing to the hospital?" Hattie asked with astonishment as she walked to the medicine cabinet across the room.

Dean racked his brain for an excuse. His grandmother didn't know about his magic because his mother had argued that Hattie was old-fashioned and would never understand.

"Um, well she doesn't have any health insurance… so she can't go to the hospital, and she's from England, so her doctor is overseas," Dean cringed at the horrible lie and hoped his grandmother bought it.

"That damned health insurance is the reason this country is going down the toilet, I tell you," she babbled as she fished through her first-aid kit.

After a few minutes she released a sigh. "I'm sorry Dean-bean, I don't have anything that will fix up no broken ribs. You've gotta get her some professional help. There's a free clinic across the boardwalk that's great if you don't have insurance."

Dean and Pansy looked at each other.

"Ok, meemaw, thank you. I'll take her there and then I'll be back for dinner," he said.

He helped Pansy back up and they left the house.

"We can't go to that clinic," Pansy said worriedly. "I don't have any form of identification or any…"

"Don't worry, we're not going there," he said, walking back around the house. "I'm going to sneak you into my room through the window and heal your rib myself. I have a book on home remedies and simple healing spells and I'm going to try my hardest to fix it."

Pansy nodded and realized he was her only hope. "Ok, I trust you."

They walked around to the back of the house and Dean carefully helped her in through his bedroom window, expanding the size of it with his wand and following her in.

He helped her onto his bed after locking his door and closing the window.

Pansy watched him cross the room to his suitcase where he pulled out a book and started reading. Her heart raced with the thought that he would go through so much trouble for her even though he barely knew her. That didn't help the blossoming attraction she was feeling either.

Dean looked up when he felt her staring and smiled at her. "You still in pain?"

Pansy smiled back and nodded. "A bit, yes."

"I've found the spell to fix it, so whenever you're ready, I'm going to um… need you to remove your shirt. You can leave your er, brassiere on… I just need to have the area exposed."

Pansy nodded and began unbuttoning her blouse, shifting her eyes towards the task at hand.

Dean looked back at the book, fooling nobody. He was just as attracted to her as she was to him…

"Ok, I'm ready," she said shakily.

He looked up and took a breath. He met her eyes and gave her a comforting smile as he walked towards the bed with his wand and open book. She looked so ironically angelic in her white lace bra and pink cheeks.

If his skin was like milk chocolate, hers was like the whitest white chocolate. He focused all of his will-power on healing her rib.

Pansy watched as his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on reciting the spell and pointing his wand towards the large bruise on her torso.

With astonishment, she watched as the bruise faded and the pain leave her body slowly. She looked back up at Dean as he watched with the same astonishment.

She suppressed a gasp when he reached out with his hand and touched her skin where the bruise had previously been. His touch was soft and gentle.

He looked into her eyes and she found herself leaning towards him and pressing her lips to his.

In a rapid succession of actions, they had launched into a frenzied kiss that overpowered their senses. His lips were just as soft as his fingers and he tasted like the beach.

Dean smiled against her lips, reveling in her small body beneath his on the bed… how they ended up in the horizontal position was anyone's guess… but she was a feisty little thing, using her hands to rid him of his shirt.

She raked her fingernails down his chest, causing him to groan into her mouth and his little amigo to wake up from its slumber.

She felt his reaction through his jeans and pulled apart from him, her chest rising and falling with her hurried breaths.

"So, is it true what they say about black guys?" she asked with a devious smirk, rubbing herself against his arousal.

Dean hissed and smirked back at her. "Let's just say I had to have penis reduction surgery."

"You did?!" she gasped.

Dean laughed at her shocked expression and shook his head. "No, but it's fun to tease you."

She shook her head at him, but brought his lips back to hers.

He slid his hands to her chest and received a moan from her as he delicately cupped her breast in one hand, running his thumb over her nipple.

"Wait," she pulled back, breathing heavily.

He looked back at her with dilated pupils and waited for her to say something.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked. "I'm not a man-stealer and I know this is impulsive and very spontaneous…"

She was cut off by his lips, giving her the answer that she was looking for.

"Um… wow," Pansy breathed as she came down from the sexual high.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, rolling to his side and bringing Pansy closer to him.

Did he really just have sex with Pansy Parkinson? Was it really the most amazing experience he'd had in his life?

He looked down at her as she smiled back up at him.

With that smile, both of his questions were answered… with a yes.

"So, what now?" she asked, tracing a finger across his chest.

"I think we should get dressed and go have dinner," he replied.

"I meant, in the long-term…" she said softly. "I don't know about you, Dean… but I don't just sleep with random blokes. I… I was wondering if when we um, went back to England, if you would just forget about me…" she said uneasily.

"And I don't just sleep with random girls, Pansy. Face it, you're stuck with me," he said with a small smile

Her face lit up and she kissed his cheek. "Good… now let's go eat dinner and you can properly introduce me to your grandmother, who I might add, is a very sweet lady."

"You only say that because she hasn't braided your hair," he replied as they searched for their clothes.

"Hmm... do you think she'd braid mine like yours?" Pansy asked.

Dean thought about it for a moment and decided he'd let Pansy find out the fun way how painful braiding was.

"You know what? I think she'd love to braid your hair. Make sure to tell her you want them extra-tight so they don't fall out," he said with a hard-to-conceal laugh.

"Silly Dean…" Pansy shook her head. "You forget that I'm a girl and know plenty of things about hair. Girls do much more painful things for beauty than cornrows."

"Yeah? I doubt that," he replied.

"Ever waxed your legs?" she asked.

"It can't possibly hurt as much as getting these stupid braids."

Pansy smirked. "If I get those braids in my hair, then you should get your legs waxed and we can then decide which hurts more."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, it's a deal. I'm not one to back down from a challenge. I still say it doesn't hurt and all you girls are just exaggerating."

"Oh, we'll see about that, Dean-bean… we'll just see," Pansy said with a final smirky kiss against his lips.

Back in England, with the summer over, Pansy and Dean hid their relationship from almost everybody, not finding an necessity in people knowing their business.They were going to tell everyone... just as soon as Dean's leg hair grew back... she was right: it was MUCH more painful than the braids.