Rachel!
It was a quiet morning in the Corner household. Breakfast was made to perfection, their newborn was happily and silently rocking in his cradle, and the older children were peacefully coloring in the playroom. Mornings were often a time of relaxation in the home, because it was before the busy schedules of the day were allowed to take hold of their emotions and stress Rachel or himself. Gabriel sat quite content with his copy of the Daily Prophet, slightly, but comfortably, slouched in a kitchen chair opposite of Rachel's.

He wasn't reading, or at least, not comprehending much. His mind had trailed back to a somewhat strange (and drunken) conversation he'd had his with friends a few nights ago. They were crowing at him about how Rachel had fled the country when he'd told her he loved her (something they had learned about from another drunken experience of his----) and it caused him to think about her return. They had definitely reconciled, reconciled so well that they produced their now one-month year old son...but Gabriel was recalling quite vividly the very large, missing piece of the story.

"Hm," he let out thoughtfully, putting down the paper and staring across the table at Rachel, his chin in his hand, elbow pressed against the wood. Interesting.