Victoire ran out of the apothecary, flipping the 'closed' sign on the door absentmindedly on her way out. Something was wrong at home, though Victoire didn't know what; Teddy was being less than forthcoming about why he wanted her to return from work early, his messages short but vague. In the first, he'd seemed terribly cross, or else in a panic of some sort -- whatever the mood, he didn't sound pleased. In the second, he tried to reassure her that everything was fine, but Victoire was less than convinced; though she knew that Rita Skeeter was no longer in charge of their fates, her uncle George seemed to be making mistakes almost as often as he was doing things right lately, and to be perfectly honest, old habits died hard. And it had most certainly become habit to move directly into damage control first, before anything else could be considered.
She hardly slowed down when she reached the door of the house she and Teddy were sharing, breathing heavily when she arrived.
"I'm here, I'm-- I'm here," she called, not bothering to take off her shoes as she rounded the corner to the kitchen, which stood empty.
How she had failed to notice the setup when she'd come in, Victoire didn't know, but when she turned around to go check the situation upstairs, she found Teddy standing by the dining room table where dinner was set, and--
"Are those flowers? Are... Oh, Teddy." The tension in her shoulders and the worried lines of her face melted away, replaced with a hopeful smile. She was blushing. "This is wonderful. ... Why...?"