the bright rays of sun shone through the window panes, casting a warm light into the curtains of your four-poster bed. a mess of limbs, hair, and various blankets were sprawled over the mattress.

neville’s arm was draped lazily over your midriff, a leg between your two. you’re face was half buried into the pillow and neville’s arm.

it was a pleasant sunday morning. it was silent besides the sound of soft snores and rustling as body’s moved around. your roommates had left early that morning to see the quidditch practice, which left the perfect amount of time to sleep in with neville.

neville shifted, nudging you with his head. “flower..” he groggily murmured, placing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

he placed a hand in your hair, smiling to himself as he ran his fingers through the strands. “flower…” he sang, kissing your cheek.