Author's Note: I'm putting this chapter up in celebration. I very nearly scuttled the plans for P/A 3, thinking it impossible to reconcile the stories I already have with the plans for the third part. However, my main characters put up enough of a racket that I decided to stick it out. This is, however, going to require a complete rewrite of everything I've done so far- these characters have a horrible habit of doing that to me. I really should stick my Dwerger and my legions of heart-grenade weilding ducks on them. However, I will defeat them. Eventually. So it might be a little bit before my next update.

For now, though, let's focus on chapter three, shall we?

Dancing has always been a central metaphor for Harry and Alana- stepping around each other, meeting and separating in a pattern that's best appreciated from outside the situation. I've always considered their story to be an intricate dance, one where you frequently change partners and swirl around the dance floor before being reunited. I guess that's why there are so many scenes in this series where Harry and Alana end up dancing- either physically or metaphorically- around, towards and with each other. Also, as Harry remarks, it always seems that I accentuate a change in their relationship by having them dance. I guess I just fall in love with my own imagery and have to use it as often as I can get away with it. Also, for those of you who don't remember, Harry and Alana's song is Only Hope, by Switchfoot. With those thoughts in mind, enjoy!

01 June 2019
Harry could see why this festival was Alana's favorite. Though the mood was jubilant, the party wasn't rowdy. There were booths of books, jewelry, food and oddities, and there was dancing. She had always loved dancing…

Not that anyone came up and asked her for a turn about the floor. It was clear that here, as in Hogwarts, Alana was an enigma, a mystery both respected and slightly feared. But unlike during her school days, she didn't try to cultivate that mystery or feed her reputation by playing the part of the icy princess of stone. She just accepted their reactions to her, almost as if she wasn't cognizant of them.

He wondered why that was. Why would Alana accept her lot as an outcast? Yes, she had once been the Lady of Darkness, the right hand of Voldemort, his most beloved Star. But she had turned her back on that life years ago. It was known that she had been instrumental in Harry's defeat of the Dark Lord. So why would she not be trying to clear her name? If not for her, than for her sons? For they were surely being hurt by association with their mother. He'd seen it at Hogwarts; despite James' inborn charm and dignity he was often shunned by members of his own House, simply because of his parentage. Why wouldn't Alana want to make it easier for her sons?

Or was it that she couldn't fight it? Was the animosity against her so great that she couldn't overcome it? If that was the case, he would do what he could to change public opinion of her. The world needed to know about her what he knew, thanks to her journal, and for the sake of his son he would see it done.

At one point, James grabbed his mother's hand and dragged her out to the dance floor. She had laughed and willingly gone with him, leaving Harry with her younger son in an awkward silence.

Though his gaze was on Alana and James, Harry used his peripheral vision to consider the pale, blond Julian. It really was astonishing, how much Alana's sons took after their fathers; he couldn't see any of Alana's features in either of them. In addition to physical resemblance, it was clear that James carried a healthy portion of his father's personality. Could the same hold true for Julian?

It was Julian who broke the silence. "You're James' father," he said matter-of-factly.
Harry turned to look at the boy and nodded. "Yeah, I am."
Julian nodded. "My grandmother told me, after Mother came back. Mother said you knew my father, too," he said, considering Harry with gray eyes that were all too familiar.
Harry nodded, trying not to sneer as memories of the snide, arrogant Draco floated into his consciousness. "We all went to school together," he said neutrally.
"Mother said you and Father hated each other," Julian grinned, before glancing out at his brother and biting his lip. "I never knew my father," he said softly. "He died when I was a baby. James is lucky."

Harry blinked, realizing the truth in that. He'd read the reports of Alana's final mission as a Death Eater; Draco had died only one month after Julian was born. Though he'd never thought he would ever see the day when he saw eye-to-eye with a Malfoy, Harry could perfectly empathize with Julian's story.

"I never knew my father either," he confided. "Or my mother. They died when I was a year and a half old."
Julian looked up at him. "Did you go live with your grandmother?"
Harry shook his head. "I lived with Muggles."
Julian's eyes widened. "Really?"

Harry nodded, memories of those eleven unpleasant years flashing through his mind. Julian shook his head.

"I don't think I'd like that," he said. "I like being able to do magic."
Harry grinned. "Are you going to Hogwarts next year? Or Durmstrang?"
"Hogwarts!" Julian nodded. "Mother promised."
"What House do you want to get into?" Harry asked, though he already had a pretty good guess.
"Slytherin," Julian said confidently, surprising Harry not at all. "Like my father. Though Ravenclaw wouldn't be bad."
Harry tilted his head. "You're very much like your father, aren't you?"
Julian nodded. "That's what Mother says."

Harry nodded. He would have replied, had the song not ended and James not led Alana back to the table.

"Not trying to corrupt my son into going into Gryffindor, are you?" Alana asked, one delicate eyebrow raising.
"Hey!" Harry and James exclaimed at the same time in the exact same tone of voice.
Alana blinked. "That was frightening." She shook her head. "Come, young Master Malfoy, we dance."

Julian grinned and hopped off his chair before taking his mother out to the dance floor. James shook his head and took his brother's abandoned seat, rumpling up his already unruly hair.

Harry glanced at his young son. "You and Julian get along?"
James nodded. "I mean, we argue sometimes, but growing up he was my only real friend, and my only family. I love Grandma Narcissa, really, but.. I'm not related to her."
Harry nodded, unsure of how to broach his intentions to his son, who was clearly his mother's protector. "James…" he said hesitantly. "What would you say if I told you I wanted to make us a family? All of us… you, your mother, Julian… Do you think your mother would allow it?"

At the mention of a 'family,' James' face glowed like the sun. At the mention of Alana, however, his face fell.

"I don't know," he said, biting his lip. "She…" he shook his head.
Harry nodded. "I know."
"But…" James paused, then looked up at Harry. "Julian and I both want a father, and a family."

Harry looked at his boy. There it was again, those words that he didn't know how to earn. Yes, he wanted a family- with James at least- and he wanted to be a father. But how did he go about achieving that?

"I want us to be a family too," he said slowly. "I'm not entirely sure how to do that, but… why don't we start with you calling me Dad?"
His heart lifted as James' face brightened again. "Really?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I mean, it's the truth, so why not admit it?" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at James. "When did she tell you?"
"That you were my father, not Draco?" James asked. "I was seven. It wasn't long after you and Mother killed… you know."
"And… how'd you react?" Harry asked.
"I… always kind of knew," James replied. "Grandma loved me very much, but… I knew I wasn't really a Malfoy. I mean, I look nothing like my stepfather, and other than my coloring I don't look like Mother either. I look… I look like you."

For the second time that night, a conversation was cut off by the reappearance of Alana. As Julian sat by his brother, James grinned.

"Your turn, Dad," he said innocently. "Take Mother for a dance."
Alana raised an eyebrow. "What are you up to, James?"
"Nothing!" he smiled.
Her eyebrow raised further, which prompted James to hurriedly say, "We just wanted more dessert."
Alana laughed. "Oh all right, I'll go out and pretend I can't see you getting more ice cream."

Harry smiled faintly, congratulating James on his performance. As the boys scampered off, James no doubt filling Julian in on what Harry had said, he turned his attention to Alana. His smile grew as he glanced at her, happy to see her so relaxed in comparison to earlier in the evening. So he took her hands and led the still-laughing mystery to the dance floor.

All her laughter died, however, when she heard the song that had begun to play.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said blankly. "Is this the cosmos' idea of a joke?"

Harry shook his head, and they began to dance to what the cosmos had apparently deigned their song. They avoided each others' eyes, each lost in memories of the past that was much too dangerous to revisit.

"You know what I've noticed?" he asked. "Every time we dance to this song, it means our relationship changes. I try to figure you out… and you confuse me again."
"I should think you'd be used to it by now," she said, a light smile on her face.
Harry nodded. "It's one of the few things I know I can expect from you."
She bit her lip. "Look, I still don't think it can work, us being friends. But…" She sighed. "I did promise we could try. Come stay with us for a while, maybe we can work something out."
Harry nodded again. "Alright. Do I get to work you out this time?"
A soft laugh escaped her. "Not a chance in hell. A girl has to retain some of her mystery or all the fun goes out of life."