Random idea, a one shot from Pansy's POV about Draco concerning the way she looked after him when he was mourning Hermione.
Why did you make a promise if you could not honour it?
You promised to love me, to be with me forever and yet as I grope my way through this abandoned building, shrouded in eerie darkness you are conspicuous by your absence. All the times you held me close, whispered into my ear and cried into my hair, all the times you were as low as it is humanely possible to be and I stood by you.
You were a shell, often I would sit opposite you at a table or in two opposing chairs as if there was a wall between us, and your eyes despite seeing were blind. You didn't notice me, love me when I too was wounded and the wound was raw, open and stung me every day.
I was hurting, and yet I worried about you, you were the one I poured my love and life into; I devoted my energies to caring for you and nursing you back to life. Holding you beneath the stars as you wept like a child and slept like a baby drained me so that I could barely stand.
All that care and love wasted, spilt carelessly into an ocean of loss and dispersed by the hungry waves, and by your hand.
I'm not too stupid to realise that I was merely something for you to hold as the rage, and misery swept through you in alternating droves. I lost my status as a human being, as a person and became an object there whose purpose was to comfort you.
And now you're dead, selfishly and irreversibly taken from me.
Who is there to help me?