Bill grinned. "Any minute now," he promised. "She was doing last minute tidying or something, so she sent me on ahead."
"Hi Fabien," Neville said. He knew as much about babies as he did about blenders, which was nothing. Fabien gave him a doubtful sort of look and burrowed further into Ginny's shoulder.
"All right, I've got the chair set up now," Molly called over. She had brought out a high chair which looked about a hundred years old. Neville knew without having to be told that every one of the Weasley children must have at some point sat in it, even if it hadn't been in use while they were on the run. "George, get the potatoes out of the warming oven, there's a dear - Ron, fill the glasses. Bill, how long do you think -?"
The fireplace flickered into life and Fleur came spinning out, as easily and gracefully as could be imagined. She went around happily greeting everyone before rescuing Ginny by lifting Fabien out of her arms and into the high chair. Fabien looked very displeased at being trapped in it, and looked about to wail, but Fleur very quickly produced a toy - apparently out of thin air - and gave it to him.
The whole thing was loud, and bustling, and not at all what Neville was used to. At the Academy, the group meal they had once a day was held in near-silence, with one or other of the teachers watching over them. Since then most of his meals had been with only one or two people, and when he'd dined with a group it had been subdued, either by necessity or grief. This was something else; and as Ginny led him into a chair between her and Bill, he found himself rather overwhelmed.
"Fabby DOWN!" Fabien yelled, throwing his toy across the table where it hit Ron in his long nose.