#panville

The space is stunning. Green everywhere. Trailing vines and leafy umbrellas frame the entrance, walls, and tables. Entering reminds Pansy of the smell and taste in the air following a bout of heavy rain. Of slippery skin and clothes splattered with mud. Her skin welcomes the moisture. Drinks it in, as if she doesn't follow a strict skincare regimen tailored to her specific needs.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Granger gushes. Beside her, Draco remains coolly dispassionate, arm draped around Hermione's neck like the possessive git that he is.

"Bit muggy, though, isn't it?" Theo grimaces as he pats at his curls, which already look larger than usual. Hermione's hair is in a similar state, but she's too busy making eyes at her boyfriend to notice.

"What do you think, Pans?" Blaise wears a smirk as if he knows exactly what she's thinking.

Pansy takes her time answering. The others glance at one another as she turns one way, then the other. She only has to say the word, and they'll up and leave. They'll complain, but they won't actually fight her on it if she says she'd rather go somewhere else.

"We might as well try it out now that we're here," she says.

The hostess seats them without delay but doesn't take their cloaks. Pansy frowns.

"Don't make that face," Theo teases her, observant as usual. "That's what these hooks are for."

Pansy follows Theo's finger to the metal hooks at the end of the booth. He unceremoniously throws her cloak on top of his own, which means it, too, will reek of his cologne.

The table is made of a heavy wood grain full of whorls and rings that she can't help but run her hands over in appreciation. Rather than fill the holes with an eyesore like epoxy, they've opted to leave them as is.

The entire restaurant is a study in co-habitation, nothing at all like the sorts of establishments she grew up visiting. No formal dress. No starched table cloths. And, obviously, no cloak check.

She may have overdressed.

"So, Pansy, how have you been? It's been a while since we caught up." Granger's eyes are fixed on her in that wide, earnest way that never fails to put Pansy on edge.

Pansy sighs. Draco's brows draw together. Blaise doesn't even attempt to hide his smirk. Theo is in his own little world as he twists and turns to look around the dining room.

Pansy doesn't dislike Granger. At least, not anymore. She's just so insufferably concerned with the people around her, as if any sign of discontent is a personal attack. Draco has tried to tell his girlfriend that Pansy's aloofness is just part of who she is, but Hermione still continues to ask and chatter and accommodate … not unlike another friend of theirs who Pansy wishes was here to act as a buffer.

"Well enough."

"I adore Witch Weekly's spread on your work for the New Year's Gala."

"Yes, the photographers did a wonderful job." Pansy catches herself beginning to preen and returns to browsing the menu in front of her, effectively cutting off the line of interrogation.

It looks much the same as when she first checked before coming to the restaurant. Minor differences highlight the menu's seasonal focus. There isn't a single question in her mind of which dishes she'll be ordering.

"Remind me, again, why we're at a vegetarian restaurant? Last time I checked, we're all meat-eaters, aren't we?"

Theo's grousing isn't surprising. Despite his self-proclaimed ability to "eat anything," he doesn't actually do so. Case in point: Granger's attempt to endear them to fish finger sandwiches, a combination of words that horrified them until they were drunk enough to give the dubious dish a go.

"We're here in support of Longbottom," Draco reminds him.

They continue to argue about the limits of supporting one's friends, both Granger and Blaise jumping in to stack the odds against Theo. Rather than get drawn into the debate, Pansy chooses to instead inspect the list of cocktail drinks.

"You agree with me, don't you, Pans?"

She doesn't even bother to look at Theo when she answers. "I do not care either way."

She doesn't care. Their reasons for being here have absolutely no effect on her own decision to visit.

"See?" Draco's smugness is thick enough to slice. "Pansy knows better than to join the losing side."

"That is not what she said."

"It's called 'tact', you fool."

spark notes version

• Neville POV: Neville as the Sword sorting out his PTSD, anger issues and trauma. Neville is complex in every way he deserves to be after everything he’s been put through in canon.

• From being the child of war to a young adult, he deserves the fully fleshed out character study this fic gives him. It’s generous, heartwrenching and action-packed. Never a dull moment. All the smutty scenes are so intimate they might as well have been married from the beginning.

• Theo insisting on calling him Daddy never gets old + we see a different perspective than the scary Plant Daddy Nev he’s depicted as in BSP (the first installation by WhatMurdah)