"Lo "Mione," she stepped back, hands on his shoulders and grinning widely, "How have you been?" He ushered her to the side of the fireplace - it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been taken out at the knees by another Weasley arriving for this particular gathering. Unsurprisingly, the Burrow was a sea of chaos already - children sprinting through the house and adults precariously carrying plates and dishes out into the garden (Bill and George nodded and called out their greeting as they trouped passed laden with plates). The Weasley’s kitchen, unsupervised as far as he could see, was in full swing, cooking an entire banquet autonomously. One of the peelers had apparently found a particular potato unsatisfactory however and launched it with prejudice through the open window into the garden (outside, someone let out a furious "What the fuck?!" And someone else shushed them angrily and snapped, "George Weasley, watch your language!").