Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and Joss Whedon own all. I am but a poor starving artist randomly killing off and resurrecting their characters.
Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson wove their way through the permanent residents ward at St. Mungo's, heading for a bed that, ironically, used to belong to Alice Longbottom. Alice had had a heart spasm moments after her son's death in the battle. 'Sort of like "Mummy's coming"' thought Hermione morbidly, immediately berating herself for that thought. Alice's husband Frank had followed her to the grave a month later. At the funeral they had said the family was all together now. Hermione personally felt it was a horrible thought.
"Hello Draco." Pansy said softly, having arrived at their destination. "How are you today?" The frail-looking blond boy didn't turn his head. Pansy sat down gingerly at the edge of his bed. "Would you like me to tell you how the estate is doing?" In a calm and measured voice, Pansy started to outline the particulars of the Malfoy estate which, according to wizarding law, was now in her control. The Malfoys and the Parkinsons had been followers of the old wizarding custom of arranged marriages, often used to ensure the purity of their lines. Draco and Pansy had been engaged when they were only children, the only thing Pansy remembered of that day was that the children had been allowed to make lots of noise. According to wizarding law, Pansy held the estate in trust for her unborn child, a technical possibility as long as her fiance was alive, although Pansy knew it wasn't a likely one. Still, she refused to concede that Draco wouldn't get better and so refused to pass the estate on to the Malfoy's closest cousin Severus Snape, who was Draco's godfather and the only descendant of the Prince line.
Tears were streaming down Pansy's cheeks as nothing she mentioned of his old familiar abode, the repairs she was doing in one of the wings, that so-and-so house-elf seemed to be sick, that gnomes had gotten into his mother's oleander, nothing seemed to make any impact whatsoever. He just sat there, staring at the wall.
"Draco. Hermione Granger is here to see you." Draco twitched.
Knowing what Pansy wanted from her, Hermione stepped forward, fighting down the panic in her stomach that popped up every time she did this. "Hello Draco."
His head swung around to look at her lazily. "Granger." His silver eyes bore into her like ice. "Is there any reason in particular you are disturbing me with your mudblood self?"
Hermione shrugged uncomfortably. "I just wanted to see how you were."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Now why would you want to do that? Potty and the Weasel not talking to you now?" Tears filled Hermione's eyes as he started to harangue her and her dead comrades.
Once upon a time, she'd asked Pansy why she always brought her here. She could still remember the look in Pansy's eyes as she replied, "Because you make him happy." So Hermione stood there and silently cried, for herself as well as for those who couldn't.