Part 5

"…usual run for children's books is 20,000."

They appeared as a network of complex mathematical curves; smooth and bold, dark but soft.

"…no review copies were issued - but the author revealed someone close to Harry dies. Many bookshops opened specially in the middle of the night…"

Her head leant closer to his, and they bounced playfully for a moment before settling.

"…could buy Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire as soon as it was released for sale at midnight."

He contrasted this in every way; a light-ish blonde which couldn't settle on one shade, short, falling flat over his forehead. His eyes gazed blankly at the news reader with the lightning scar, his lips curling up at the corners as his wife stroked his chest, mischief in her eyes. He tightened his grip involuntarily, pulling her millimetres closer.

She laughed silently, her short breath tickling his neck. His gaze flickered away from the screen to momentarily meet hers. Brushing those dark, soft curves aside with delicate precision, he pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes for the moment, before directing them back towards the television.

Enough.

Rachel rose quickly, mumbled something about being back in a minute, and stalked the empty hallway to the kitchen.

She doesn't love him.

Her eyes closed temporarily, and she took a deep breath.

She never loved him.

A lover of her own would have noticed her hands shaking. She sat down, and crossed them over her chest, reaching back over her shoulders towards his. He gripped them, pushed them forwards as he leant over her body, his head falling into line with hers. She closed her eyes for the kiss, falling so far from reality that her whisper was unintentional.

"Pierre…"

"Rachel."

Her whole body fell instantly to its normal position and froze.

"Red or white?"

She stood up slowly, moving with a slow certainty towards his back. He looked over his shoulder to hear her response, and she smiled, taking the final few steps quickly.

"I'm not sure…" She looked over him at the bottles, her heart excited, not from her plans but from her thoughts. "Red looks nice."

He nodded, stepping away to pull a corkscrew from the drawer. "Sophia liked that one when we bought it last time."

Rachel turned away, reaching up to a cupboard for three wine glasses. The fluttering in her chest spread upwards, and her head suddenly felt weightless, so that she had to hold the counter to remind herself of reality. She left the glasses by her hand while Pierre poured, following him back to the living room in a trance, before settling back down in her chair. Her eyes settled lazily on the second half of the late night film, leaving her mind to play out an hour of giddy amusement.

***

They pulled at the gas cylinder with all four of their hands, wincing as it scraped audibly over the flags, before rolling it into place by the barbecue. She looked up at the clear sky as Eddie fiddled with the tap.

"Lucky the weather turned out so good." He followed her gaze, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

"Not a cloud in the sky." He gave her a childish grin, and she smiled reluctantly. Eddie turned back to the barbecue and rolled his eyes, knowing she wouldn't relax until they arrived.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. The greetings were outwardly polite and inwardly awkward for all but the two youngest, and Rachel led them quickly through the house to the garden.

"Eddie, I told you to put fresh clothes on when you'd finished cleaning that thing!" He pulled an incredulous face for the benefit of the guests, who he had turned to face. The party was headed by a young man, with a light stubble and a wild mane. Childish arrogance was in his permanent smirk and his flamboyant clothes, but manhood was in his eyes and the way he stood tall by his mother. Her face was tired with travel and the beginnings of age, but even after an early morning and hours in airports, her eyes betrayed an unbreakable passion, an indefinable spark. The daughter was instantly recognisable as her mother's, but she seemed calmer, quieter, fading happily into the background with her younger brother. His hair was blonde and straight, falling as low as his ears, and he walked slowly.

"I'll go upstairs in a minute, put a shirt on if you like." He teased her as he looked over to the youngest two boys. It was evident from this short encounter that they were quite different people, despite sharing identical bodies. They both dressed smartly for boys of their age, in identical clothes, though one had kept himself neat, whilst the other sported unbuttoned cuffs and hair that begged to be combed. They looked with an eager intelligence at their surroundings, weighing up the garden with an easy confidence. Eddie's first thought was that they were the kind of children he would enjoy teaching. Rachel watched them too.

"It doesn't matter." She held his arm tightly, and he frowned, watching her face carefully. He wondered why on earth she still seemed so worried, but sighed, knowing better than to ask right now. He shook Sophia's hand and introduced himself.

(All of the news reader dialogue in this part was taken from this BBC news article, ./onthisday/hi/dates/stories/july/8/newsid_ , so obviously credit for that goes to the BBC.)