“Pansy, we aren’t getting married.” He liked using her name. Kept saying it like he was cultivating it, nurturing it, tending to it like one of his plants. She could hardly help it though, being named after a flower. Nor could she help that she was on her way to being a little bit drunk with an equally tipsy Neville Longbottom. “You keep saying that, Longbottom. But I’m owling my mother as soon as we’re back at the school, and telling her to send an interest request. It makes perfect sense.” [In which Pansy's in the market for a husband.]