Word Count: 318
It's the first time in fifteen years that they've come home to an empty house without one of the kids. Fleur stands in the doorway, trying to wrap her head around it.
"Home sweet home," Bill says with a soft chuckle. "You hear that?"
Fleur tips her head to the side, straining her ears. "I do not hear hear anything," she says, lips tugging into a soft frown.
Her husband wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer and kissing her cheek. "Exactly," he says. "When has it ever been this quiet?"
Fleur considers. Truthfully, she can't remember anymore. Their children get along for the most part, but they are still siblings. There has been so much random, petty sibling drama over the years, and it feels like maybe her memories are stained with chaos.
She chuckles. Chaos. From Dominique taking Victoire's eyeliner without permission and using it as lipstick, to Louis trying to fix breakfast and nearly burning the house down. Once, she had worried that motherhood might make her lose her mind. Now, she misses the constant noise. It hasn't even been a full day, and she doesn't know how to cope with an empty house.
"What do we do?" she asks.
Bill considers, brushing his thumb over his chin pensively. He steps forward, his foot coming down on an action figure Louis has left behind. Even without the kids, there is still a subtle element of chaos. Good. Fleur can't imagine life any other way.
Her husband glances at her, a conspiratorial grin playing at his lips as he gestures toward the cake on the kitchen table. "Cake for dinner?" he suggests, raising his eyebrows.
Fleur closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around her husband. "You are a child," she teases affectionately.
"You didn't say no."
With a laugh, she draws her wand, summoning a knife and two plates. "Of course I didn't."