Author's Note: What? An update already? Well, yes. I just finished writing that chapter I realized I had to add into the story, and it made me so happy that I'm posting this chapter to celebrate. Also, this will have to tide you over for a while, as I'm taking off to spend a few days with my sister at my alma mater [yay Homecoming weekend!]. When I get back from that, I'll continue on with editing [I'm up to chapter 16 of 21, and I'm facing a monster of a chapter with chapter 20]. So, do please read on and enjoy!

30 July 2019
Minister Shacklebolt looked up as Harry walked into his office, his dark, matured face grave as he tore his eyes off of the reports he'd been handed that morning.

"I'm in," Harry said.
Kingsley nodded in acknowledgement. "I was hoping you'd say so." He pushed the reports to the younger man. "One of our Aurors was killed in Madrid last night. A member of Corona's team."
"Shit," Harry muttered as he looked over the papers.
Shacklebolt nodded, sighing. "If Aurors are being targeted, the situation is more serious than we thought. Can you leave immediately?"

Alana had told him that the boys were planning him a surprise party for his birthday tomorrow. But if he was taking them on vacation, perhaps the party could be postponed?

"I'll be ready tonight," he nodded.
"Good," Shacklebolt said. "You'll meet Auror Corona in Grenada, then he'll take you to Madrid. Most of the activity is centered on the Spanish-French border, they must have some form of aid in France. You'll need to learn what they're up to-"
"What about Alana and the boys?" Harry asked.
Kingsley's face tightened ever so slightly. "They will remain here, as we discussed. Lady Malfoy must stay within English borders until the visa is up."
"What about when September rolls around?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hogwarts is in Scotland."
"We will discuss it when September nears," Kingsley said. "Until then, she stays here. We will guard her in your absence."

He could read right through that one, Harry thought to himself. Shacklebolt didn't trust Alana not to rejoin the Death Eaters. He wouldn't be surprised if Kingsley thought Alana was supporting the Death Eaters through her former home in France. The Ministry would keep incredibly close tabs on Alana while he was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. Strangely, he found that it made him angry; why should Alana have to deal with such prejudice?

And yet, what could he do to change people's minds? He could state a thousand times that he trusted her with his life- which oddly enough, he found that he did- but he couldn't change what was in people's thoughts. If they had determined to hate her, he was powerless to stop them.

"Will I have any backup?" Harry asked, getting back to the topic at hand.
"No," Kingsley said. "Since the Presidente refuses to ask for help, the only official jurisdiction we have is to investigate the Auror's death and bring him home. Anything else has to be off the books."

Harry groaned softly; this would be a pain of a situation.

Alana looked up as the door opened, a faint smile growing as Harry walked into the living room.

"I was starting to wonder when you'd get home," she said, rising.
"I have to leave tonight," Harry said bleakly. "An Auror was killed last night."

The smile slid off Alana's face as a vague, uneasy fear began to rise in her chest. She knew full well that if Aurors were dying, the situation was getting serious.

Oddly, she found that she was incredibly reluctant to let Harry leave, to risk his safety again. She'd been like this ever since the [confusing, pointless, meaningless] kiss, and she didn't understand it. Why was she acting like a blushing schoolgirl with her first crush? She felt nothing even remotely romantic for her pseudo-husband, why was she reacting like this?

"Oh," she said blankly. "Of course. What happens to the boys and me?"
Harry cleared his throat. "You'll stay here. When September comes, Shacklebolt will probably have you come to Hogwarts with the boys and me. Er… is there any way the boys can throw the party now?"
"I'll go see," she said.

The party ended up being very small and quiet- Ron, Hermione and their children, Molly and Arthur, George and his family. They had supper, Harry got his presents, and they sat around talking, reminiscing about Hogwarts and the glory days.

Alana glanced at the clock and stood. "Bedtime, boys."
"Aww, Mother," James whined.
"Nope," she shook her head, deaf to the boys' pleas.

With a sigh of defeat they stood, James stepping forward and hugging Harry.

"Night, Dad," he said. "Happy Birthday."
"Thank you, James," Harry smiled, ruffling James' hair and kissing his forehead. "I'll be home soon."

Alana could feel the partygoers' eyes on her, watching her reaction to this touching scene of domesticity. She refused to pander to them and their watching her like a menagerie animal. She masterfully kept her serene mask in place as she ushered her sons upstairs.

She supervised the nighttime ritual of pushing, slapping, face washing, poking, teeth brushing, pinching, giggling, changing, racing and leaping into beds with a smile. Everything was topsy-turvy, but here with her sons everything was alright, it felt like nothing had changed.

"Mother, why is Dad going?" James asked, sitting against the headboard.
"The Minister of Magic asked him to check on something," she said. "He shouldn't be gone long."
"Then why can't we go with him?" James pressed.
"My visa," Alana supplied, taking the fall for Harry. "I have to stay here, and since you're my sons you have to stay with me."
"Stupid Ministry," James grumbled.

Alana's lips quirked in a smile; she had to say she agreed with James' assessment.

"Mother?" Julian piped up suddenly. "Will you tell us a story?"

It was an old ritual of theirs; once, Alana had told her boys bedtime stories nightly, lulling them to sleep among images of ogres and pirates. Lately, that practice had petered off, but Alana wasn't about to ask questions if Julian was reviving it.

"Of course, darling," she said, not missing a beat as she sat at the foot of Julian's bed. "What would you like?"
"Dragons," James grinned. "And treasure."
"And our fathers," Julian added, as he usually did.

Alana promptly launched into it, making it up off the top of her head with the ease of long years of practice. Somewhere between a dragon named Tom and twin princes named Harry and Draco who bickered like James and Julian, and who had to quit their fighting and work together to defeat the dragon, the boys drifted off, their breathing deepening and allowing Alana to follow their progress to true sleep.

Alana smiled, letting the tale die. She tucked Julian in with a kiss to his pale forehead, then turned and sat on the edge of James' bed, gently smoothing her elder son's unruly black hair.

She bit her lip as bitterness against the Ministry welled up in her chest. She knew it was irrational, but she was furious with the Ministry for offering Harry this job, and even more furious with Harry for accepting it. How could they do this to her, to James? She'd gone along with the Minister's madcap scheme to bring Harry and James together, and now the Minister was separating them again. How could he do it?

Alana's mind drifted to Spain. This mission would be dangerous, she knew it; even if Harry didn't court trouble [and that hope had as much chance as a snowball's chance in Hell], he'd be in danger simply because of who he was. What if he died? The thought made Alana's blood run cold. What if she and Harry lost everything they'd been working for before any of it came to fruition? Could she allow Harry to undertake this mission, given all they stood to lose?

Did she have the right to demand that he stay?

She stayed upstairs until everyone left, fully aware that she didn't belong among the circle of Harry's family. In truth, she needed the time to compose herself, to quiet the questions raging in her mind and to stifle her reservations. When she finally came downstairs, she found Harry in the hall, preparing to leave. She quietly watched him check everything, then bit her lip, fiddling with the pendant around her neck. She didn't know why, but she found herself wearing Harry's necklace quite often now. Not every day, but often enough that it was obvious that the jewelry meant something to her. Just what it meant… just what he meant… she wasn't sure, but it seemed to please him that she wore his present.

"Harry?" she said quietly. "You will… you'll be careful?"
He nodded. "As careful as I can be."
"That's not very reassuring, coming from you," she replied, a light smirk on her face although it looked forced.
One corner of his mouth quirked. "I'll write."

She nodded, watching him. For a moment they stood, trapped in each others' gazes, before moving as one and meeting in the middle. He groaned and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

As suddenly as the kiss began, it ended, and Harry had Disapparated before she could draw a breath. She stared at the spot he had been standing blankly, unable to comprehend what had happened or why. After a moment, she silently turned and walked upstairs to spend a sleepless night wondering what was wrong with her.

The office was dark, lit only by the glowing coals of the fireplace. The Spanish Presidente of the Wizarding Government sat behind his desk, his eyes blank, his form utterly still.

When all of his secretaries and underlings were gone for the night, the Presidente stood. He moved smoothly, robotically, no emotion on his face as he walked to the fireplace. His expression didn't alter as he pushed back his sleeve to reveal a Dark Mark, nor yet when he took a pin from the mantel and drove it into the skull's eye, where there was an angry red wound from many previous jabs. Silently, the Presidente squeezed his blood into the fire, then knelt as a face appeared.

"This had best be important," she sneered.
"He has come, my Lady," the Presidente said in a gravelly, unemotional voice. "Harry Potter. Exactly as you said he would."
The Lady's face broke into a delighted, if demented, smile. "Well done, my pet!" she crowed.
"The Star is not with him," the Presidente reported to his mistress.
The Lady made a face, but shrugged. "No matter, we will lure her in later. I want Potter followed. When the time is right, we will eliminate him. No mistakes this time."