I own nothing except for this sentence. To clear up any confusion, Theodore Nott married Pansy after Draco dumped her when she got pregnant. But that's an entirely different story...
"So this is how it feels to die."
Pansy's eyes flickered open and she stared dazedly at the chaos surrounding her. Blood flowed from the huge cuts that covered her body, mingling with the blood that covered the ground.
"I wonder where Theodore is. I remember him falling; why can't I see his body?"
A movement in the air above caught her eye before the broom-rider vanished back into the haze that hung over the battlefield. The air where he had been glowed with the curses that had been cast in his direction.
"Oh, right. I forgot. Strange how easy it is to lose track of things now. The blood loss must be making me lightheaded."
She watched as the eerie glow slowly faded, only to be replaced by others.
"Fourth years and below were forbidden to fight. But I suppose once the battle had started, there was no one to stop them grabbing their brooms. I wonder if Dennis Creevey's still alive. I'm willing to bet he was the one who had the idea of becoming ambulances."
Horrible screams echoed nearby, and a reddish flickering light momentarily showed through the haze. She couldn't even be certain who had struck. What little humanity there had been on either side had long ago vanished. There were no children on the battlefield anymore. The last veneer of innocence was gone.
"I wonder if Madam Pomphrey is watching after Christopher properly. His nappie probably needs changing. I hope she's taken the time to do it."
An abrupt feeling of guilt swept over her.
"She's busy trying to save all of the people Creevey and the others are bringing her, and I'm wishing she took the time to change a nappie? Diaper rash can be treated. Last time I checked, though, she still couldn't bring people back to life."
The idea struck her as funny, and she tried to laugh. Pain shot through her body, and she dropped the idea.
The smoke in the direction of her feet thinned momentarily as a curse shot through it. An animal-like scream sounded and a shadowy figure fell to the ground, clutching at her side. Footsteps sounded from behind Pansy, and a man swept past her. Long, silver hair flowed from behind a silver mask. Lucius Malfoy then. The woman who had fallen seemed to be struggling to move herself. Pansy watched with a detached amusement.
"Why is she even trying? Doesn't she know that she's dead? Doesn't she realize that we're all dead?"
Malfoy moved closer to the woman, raising his wand. Though her back was to him, she seemed to realize what was happening, for she pulled her arm underneath her in a bracing position. A second later, she shoved off of her supporting arm and lunged for something before her. Her body suddenly seemed to both elongate and compress as it swirled and vanished. The curse Malfoy had thrown at her struck the ground where she had lain.
"She...she got away. Didn't she? That crater doesn't look big enough. I think some of it still hit, and she was hurt pretty badly as it was. Maybe she'll make it. I hope she does."
Malfoy screamed in rage, sounding more like a Fury than a Manor Lord. It was his undoing. A beast sprang out of the smoke, landing squarely on Malfoy's chest. The two rolled out her line of sight, though the sounds of their battle continued momentarily. A loud snap sounded, and she heard the struggle cease. There was a pause, then the werewolf's howl left her no doubt as to who had won. Their fight started her on a new train of thought.
"What happens when I die? I don't want whatever's left of my family raising Christopher. I wish I knew whether Theodore was alive. Then I could just lay back and let myself go."
Once established, though, the thought refused to let her out of its grip.
"I'm seventeen. I have a husband and a son. Do I really want to die?"
She moved her head slightly so that she could get a better look at her wounds.
"It's bad. But I don't think there's anything I couldn't patch up long enough to drag myself back to the castle. Of course, I'll still have to make it through the front lines...I'll worry about that later. Where's my wand?"
The shift in position made her suddenly aware of the splintered piece of wood that was digging into her side.
"Blast! I forgot about that. Now what?"
Her eyes focused in the direction that Malfoy and the werewolf had vanished.
"Malfoy's wand. I'll bet it's still intact."
She snorted to herself.
"Be the first time a Malfoy was ever good for something. Besides Christopher, of course. And Theodore and I are raising him as a Nott. Merlin, can I drag myself that far?"
She studied the terrain. It seemed miles, yet she was pretty sure that they had simply rolled over a hillock that lay fairly near her.
"Come on, Pansy. You've walked over this spot a thousand times. He's just a few steps away. Now, get up! Get over there!"
She lifted herself up on her forearms. One leg refused to work, but she managed to drag herself slowly through the midst of the bodies that covered the ground. The crest of the hill was before her...then almost there...she was over it. Malfoy lay sprawled on the churned-up grass, his head thrown back at an insane angle. She dragged herself closer, freezing as a wave of cold swept over her. The unseen dementor simply swept past without even pausing.
"I must not have that much left. Where's his wand? Oh, there it is."
She tried to roll his body off of the wand and failed. She shoved again, then again...and yet again. In desperation, she turned around and shoved against his body with her back. He shifted just enough that she managed to grab his wand before collapsing across his body.
"Come on, Pansy. You're almost there. Just a couple of spells; come on, something to stop the bleeding."
Her arm remained limply at her side, refusing to respond.
"No! I'm so close! I refuse to die! Not like this, not now."
She felt a tear roll gently down her cheek. Her vision was beginning to dim. Above her, it looked almost as if the smoke was swirling, parting.
"I thought the Muggle idea of angels coming down to get you when you died was just a myth."
An angel was leaning over her, his smoke-stained face creased with worry. For some odd reason, he held a broom in his hand and had a wand tucked into his belt. And he was speaking to her...
"Nott, can you hear me? Try to stay awake, I'm taking you to the hospital wing. Hold on..." His voice faded off into the echos that trailed from the blackness on the edges of her vision. As she stared up into his face, she noted vaguely that he looked a little like Dennis Creevey. A jolting pain went through her, then she had the sensation of flying.