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Rose let out a quiet sigh of contentment and relief as she stepped past the wards and into her flat. As much as she loved her job, there was nothing quite like home.
Especially, she thought, as Bill - who had been summoned to the foyer by the chime of the wards - picked her up and swung her around before lowering his mouth to hers for a thorough kiss, a home with her husband in it.
Eventually, the kisses trailed off into nuzzles, although her legs still remained wrapped around his waist and one large hand still cupped her bottom.
“Good trip?” Bill asked, like they hadn’t spoken by mirror nearly every day.
“Good trip,” Rose agreed. “3-1’s not bad at all, especially considering we only lost against Salem because the Snitch decided to show up two feet away from Gataki.”
Deciding to play professional Quidditch in the United States had been one of the best decisions Rose had made. Since most of the country was mad for Quodpot, not Quidditch, she got to play the game she loved without the soul-destroying celebrity that would have come with it in Britain or even most of Europe.
That being in New York had meant she’d run into Bill Weasley - who had not gotten any less handsome, brilliant or dashing in the years since they'd last seen each other - had just been icing on the cake.
“Not bad at all,” he said, smiling up at her. “In fact, I think it’s something to celebrate, love.”
Rose grinned. She knew exactly what kind of celebration her husband likely had in mind. “And I suppose you have plans?”
“You like my plans,” Bill retorted.
Considering said plans usually ended with Rose sated and fucked out, she had to admit that the man had a point. “Touche,” she said. “So what’s on the agenda for tonight?”
Bill grinned at her. “I know how you and the team eat on roadies, love.” Rose pouted, but conceded the point; even with a stasis box full of Bill’s cooking tucked away in her bag, the temptation of dives and junk food was still strong. “So I was thinking, I feed you a nice dinner and then take you to bed. I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”
“And I’ve missed you right back,” Rose told him. Beds felt too big and empty without Bill in them with her these days. “Give me twenty to get a shower first?”
“Or I could join you,” Bill said, eyes dancing with wicked promise.
Rose stuck her tongue out at him. “You just want to see me naked and wet.” It was not a complaint, mind.
Bill laughed and kissed her, shifting her into a bridal carry, and fuck, that would never not be hot, how he moved her like she weighed nothing at all, and started making their way to the bathroom.
When she and Bill had been designing their apartment, Rose had only insisted on two things - that it be only a single floor, so there would be no stairs for there to be cupboards under, and a ridiculously luxurious bathroom. The prefect’s bathroom had left an indelible mark and even with all the charitable donations she made Rose had plenty left to indulge herself.
Bill carried her to the shower - if they stepped into the tub now they wouldn’t get out for hours - and Rose happily ogled her husband as he undressed, robes falling away to reveal broad shoulders, trim waist, long legs, and tanned, tattooed skin. He’d always been fit - Rose still blushed at the memory of one afternoon the summer she’d turned fourteen, when she’d been reading on the ledge of the room she and Hermione shared with Ginny every visit to the Burrow, and Bill and Charlie had decided to degnome the garden… and in Muggle cutoffs, no less. Rose had been proud of herself for not falling off the windowsill, and was only a little embarrassed still by how many fantasies that afternoon had led to. She'd always had a bit of a thing for Bill, and years had just added to his appeal. Even his scars only made him look more dashing, in Rose’s opinion. Merlin knew, she could throw no stones when it came to scars.
She took her own robes off, blushing slightly at the leashed heat in Bill’s eyes. Even years into their relationship, it still surprised Rose a little how desirable he found her. Not that she was complaining about all the times her husband showed her just how much he wanted her.
She stepped in, sighing as the water - the perfect temperature, thanks to magic - hit. Nothing like a shower, especially if there was a sexy man sharing it with her. They stood under the stream for a minute, just letting the water do its work, before snagging loofah and gel and starting to wash each other, the delicate scent of orchids and juniper filling the air. Rose took her time running the loofah over Bill’s skin and hers, careful to avoid certain parts, grinning at his laughing, “Minx,” - there’d be time enough for that sort of thing later. Eventually, though, the lure of dinner proved too strong, and they reluctantly dried off and got dressed, albeit in little more than under-robes in her case and pajama pants in his. It would soon be coming off, after all.
Bill carried her back to the dining room, where true to his word, there was a spread waiting for them, just the smells making Rose’s mouth water.
For a large part of her life, food had just been fuel. She’d been too grateful to have it when she was at the Dursleys, and even seven years at Hogwarts had only been able to do so much to ease her trauma. After she’d graduated, being able to eat when and how much she wanted - having the money and freedom to do so, no matter where in the world she was - had helped, but it was only after she’d met Bill that she’d really been able to heal. He was Molly Weasley’s son, and food was how he showed love. It wasn’t just that he was an amazing cook, or that he introduced Rose to cuisines she would never have thought to try on her own while never pushing her more than she was willing to be pushed - it was that, with him, food wasn’t her responsibility. After years of being a glorified house-elf, and then having to expend the energy to find food if she wanted to eat, having a husband who took care of it for her (unless she was travelling, of course) was a glorious thing. Bill had courted her over homemade pasta and kebabs and sushi, taken her to every kind of restaurant from dive bars to Michelin-starred fine dining establishments, shown her food could be just as pleasurable as the conversation during or the sex after.
Tonight he’d pulled out all the stops, like he did whenever she came back from a trip. Small plates, Rose’s favorite, and all the things she loved - crab-stuffed mushrooms, French onion soup potato cups, cowboy caviar, mini samosas, and cider to go with. They ate with their hands, feeding each other as much as themselves, and by the time it came to dessert, Rose was just as ravenous for other things.
Fortunately, chocolate mousse was just as delicious licked off each other.
Later, Rose lay in her husband’s arms, tracing idle patterns on his chest, sated in more ways than one. This wasn’t the life she had expected to have when she’d stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, or even after she’d defeated Voldemort. It was so much better, and best of all? She had years and years more of it to look forward to.