Charlie was even glad to see the paint on the front door was still peeling. It was strange how he was endeared to even the little things about his home (although he knew that Hermione would probably start nagging about the paint and a myriad of other little jobs after a few days), and he was extremely glad to be home. Three weeks working away in Sweden was just far too long.
Talking via the Floo just wasn't the same and he wouldn't wait to touch her properly again, to hold her, to feel her... even to touch her hair. Alice was growing so much now, too. He hated the idea of missing out on her 'firsts' and other things that children her age did.
Unlocking the door, Charlie stepped in, instinctively wiping his boots on the mat. He dumped his bag on the floor, looking around. "Hermione?" he called, hoping that he wasn't waking anyone up.