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The redhead felt the man shuffling behind her, so she opened her eyes and twisted her upper half to face him.
“Neville,” she said calmly, “for the millionth time, stop adjusting the covers. You are a grown man. Act like it.”
His blue eyes widened, and his cheeks reddened. The bedsheets were firmly in his grip. “Y-Yes ma’am,” Neville stuttered. He quickly cleared his throat and dipped his head in shame. “Sorry for disturbing you...again, Ginny.”
Ginny sighed and laid back on her side with an eye roll. “You’re a decent bloke, Neville,” she said in the pillow she laid upon, “but I swear I will hex you into the next century if you wake me up again.”
It didn’t bother her that she was sharing the room with Neville; as the Maid of Honor, she would do whatever to keep stress away from the bride. Merlin knows Pansy was a bloody riot without something going wrong at her wedding.
Ginny’s problem was the fact that Neville couldn’t handle laying in bed with her. According to Ron and his wife-to-be, this was some tradition if there were any single men and women within the wedding party. Utter rubbish if you asked Ginny, but she wouldn’t challenge Pansy until after the nuptials were over.
Just as she had gotten comfortable for a peaceful slumber, Ginny felt more movement behind her, and she growled.
“Neville Longbottom—“ she began to say, but she stopped when there was a soft murmur in her ear and a warm arm on her waist.
She glanced over her shoulder to see the blonde with his eyes closed. His steady breathing indicated that he had finally found sleep himself, and his sleepy self wasn’t above cuddling if given the chance.
There were many reactions to the scenario playing in the witch’s mind, but she was too tired to hex properly and ruin the hotel room. She could endure the intimacy for the night as long as it meant he wouldn’t wake her up again.
With a final sigh, Ginny closed her eyes and let her body relax with the man laying behind her. She’d deal with the madness when she woke up.
She wouldn’t see the soft smile that grew on Neville’s face once she succumbed to the deep slumber.
“Goodnight,” he whispered gently as his subconscious self effectively pulled her closer.