Bill was more than ready for his impending vacation. It seemed that once news had spread about his time away that everyone had decided to bring him every pressing matter under the sun. He had more paperwork on his desk than he'd had in years. He had left his office just a bit later than he'd wanted to with eyes tired and knees twinging with a dull ache as he waited his turn in queue for a floo-ride home.
A salivating smell hit Bill's nostrils with a force that made his mouth water the moment he landed in his own floo. Leave it to his perfect wife to know exactly what his stomach most desired. They had both said it before, but it was lucky Bill had married a French woman with his penchant for under-cooked meat. The French were well-known for it and Fleur's roasts were always the best. Even better than his mum's, though Bill would never in a million years tell Molly Weasley that.
"What's the occasion?" Bill asked with a smile on his face as he meandered into the kitchen, wrapping his hands around his wife and kissing her forehead delicately. "Smells bloody great in here."