Author's Note: I know most people would have made more of this chapter- added much more detail, possibly even turned this into two or even three more chapters. But I wasn't really interested in the specifics for this chapter; I was much more interested in Harry's reaction to the situation he's found himself in. This is also the last chapter dedicated to establishing the world of the story; the actual meat of the plot kicks off in the next chapter, and from then on it'll be pretty much constant action. Enjoy!

Special Thanks: Thank you to Aaron W for your kind review. I'm glad you enjoyed Harry and Alana's reunion, and hopefully you'll like the development of their relationship. Thank you also to those who've put me on your Story Alert, I really appreciate it!

01 July 2019
Harry stood in the room he'd occupied for the last month, blinking at the pile of letters he'd allowed to build up over the last week. Missives from the Hogwarts governors, reports that the Minister wanted his opinions on, offers from Moody for small assignments, increasingly annoyed letters from Hermione demanding to know where he was, notes from Ron asking him to come home so Hermione would shut up…

He sighed. He had put his life on hold for the past month, putting off the moment when he had to end his vacation into fantasy land.

He had meant to stay for a weekend, spend time bonding with James. He would arrange something with Alana so he had some sort of visitation rights to James, and then he'd go home to his own life.

One day with Alana Montblanc and her boys had completely changed his plans. One day was all it took for Harry to realize he was in trouble.

After that first weekend, upon seeing the misery that James couldn't quite hide at the prospect of being separated from his father, Alana had invited Harry to extend his stay with them. Caught offguard by her spontaneity- and her uncharacteristic offer- he had agreed before he had a moment to think. While Harry had Apparated home to gather together a trunk of supplies, Alana had directed the house elves in moving Harry from the small chamber at the far end of the house to a more spacious guest room closer to the family rooms. She'd even written to her probation officer, explaining that Harry had come to visit her [leaving out the bit about James being Harry's biological son, of course] and requesting that he alert whatever authorities or colleagues who would need to contact Harry as to where he would be. That taken care of, Harry had returned to Montcrief Manor to settle into his visit.

He found it easy, so very easy, to pretend that he fit into their family, that the days he spent with them meant something. They would wake up and eat breakfast together- in the kitchen, instead of the formal dining room where they took supper. Then Harry and the boys would go outside and play while Alana tended to matters in the house. Sometimes, though, they convinced her to postpone her duties, and the four of them would go tromping through the meadows and forests attached to the estate. Afternoons were dedicated to studies and practice- James had homework from Hogwarts, Julian had piano lessons. And then both of the boys would run outside, and Harry would teach them some of the finer points of Quidditch. In the evenings the boys would play games in the house, and if Alana didn't join them she was reading. After the boys went to bed, Harry and Alana would sit on the balcony with a glass of wine.

It was easy, so very easy, to pretend that he fit into their family, that the chair at the dining room table was his, that his place was beside Alana. It was idyllic here, with them, as if this place had been saved for him all these years.

But, he had to constantly remind himself, it wasn't real. He might spend his days playing Quidditch with the boys, but they weren't his sons. Alana might be relaxed and even somewhat friendly, but they were polite acquaintences at the best. This may be a perfect vacation, but it wasn't real life.

And it was easy, so very easy, to forget all of that.

Sighing and shoving his hands in his pockets, Harry walked downstairs. From the lack of sound, the boys were probably outside, which meant that Alana was likely in her office.

Alana's ground-floor study was sunny and open. It faced the south, so the room caught sun all day long, and Alana could keep an eye on the boys when they were outside. The room was painted a muted sage green, with white trim and wooden wainscoting, also painted white. The furniture had also been painted or upholstered white. On one side of the room was a fireplace with a white marble mantle, around which were clustered a pair of armchairs and a coffee table, on which were placed a few books and a small vase of wildflowers, which the boys gathered for her daily. On the other side of the room several bookshelves lined the walls, packed with the books that Alana didn't want to keep in her extensive library. Standing free before them was Alana's substantial desk and wingchair, the only things in the room she'd left in their original earth tones. The desk was free of any clutter or knickknacks; she only kept the task at hand before her, a lamp, a container for her quills, an inkstand, and another small vase of wildflowers courtesy of her sons. By the dark wood desk stood a cart with a tea service, which Alana's well-trained house elves kept perpetually fresh. In the center of the room stood a waist-high table that bore an enormous centerpiece of white and green blooms and ferns. Along the south wall were two sets of French door that opened onto the terrace that overlooked the backyard.

Harry had to smile as he walked in; the room suited Alana exactly. No wonder she spent so much time here.

The woman in question was dressed in all white, pressed linen trousers and a sleeveless cashmere top and pearls in her ears and around her wrist, her raven hair pulled into a soft French twist. She sat at her desk, leaning over a piece of parchment. Her quill moved smoothy, evenly. She was probably dealing with bills, but the moment she sensed Harry's eyes on her, she looked up and dropped her quill, flexing her fingers.

"Harry! Come in," she beckoned him.
"You busy?" he asked as he walked in.
Alana waved a dismissive hand. "It can wait. What can I do for you?"
"I'm gonna head home," he replied. "In the next day or two."
"Ah," she said.

She said nothing as she stood and fixed herself a cup of Lady Grey tea, and walked to one of the French doors, her wide-legged trousers gently swishing around her low-heeled shoes. She took a sip of her brew, her eyes on her boys.

"Have you told James?" she asked without turning.
"Not yet," Harry replied, joining her. "I thought we should settle things first."

Alana nodded, but didn't speak. Harry paused, then spoke again.

"For the rest of the summer, it'll be very… difficult, for me to get away," he said. "Usually I split my time between Hogwarts and the Ministry."
"And now we've cost you a month, so you'll be even busier," Alana supplied.
"Yes," Harry nodded. "But nothing can make me regret the last month. If you and the boys could come to England-"
"Ah, but you forget, I'm exiled from England for life," she cut in.
"Yeah, I know, but maybe if I spoke to the Minister-" he said.
A short laugh escaped her. "I doubt he'd agree, even for your sake. He's not exactly my biggest fan."
One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. "Well, you did try to kill him."
An answering smile, identical to his, graced her face as she looked down into her tea. "Yes I did."

An uncomfortable silence reigned for a moment. Alana turned from the window and returned to her desk, setting her tea down and absently playing with her star pendant necklace. Harry crossed to her, leaning against the desk.

"At least let me talk to him," he said. "Maybe I can get you a temporary visa."
She shook her head and smiled. "I wish you luck."
He shrugged. "I'm the Savior. That's gotta count for something."

The next two days passed quickly, with Harry answering letter after letter while packing to leave. He spent a full day with the boys, promising them he would be back just as soon as he could. He left after they went to bed, a fugitive slipping into the night.

The entire trip home, he pondered the question of how to get Alana and her boys to England. If only he could persuade the English and French governments to let Alana return… but how could he assure them of her good behavior?

And why, he might add, was it so tempting to bing Alana back into his life? Why wasn't he content with what he'd achieved? Alana had agreed to an amicable relationship so Harry and James could get to know each other; he even held hopes that she would allow him to officially claim paternity over James, to make him heir to the double fortune he'd inherited from his parents and Sirius. Why not leave it at that?

Why was he so bound and determined to pick Alana apart until he understood how the pieces worked together? Why was it easy, so very easy, to fall back into her mysteries?