Chapter 2: the meeting

"Harry! There you are," his aunt gushed, a fake smile on her horsey face.

Narcissa turned at the sound of his name, sucking in a slight breath at her first full sight of her godson. She had seen him before at the Quidditch World Cup, but she had been with Lucius and Draco and had needed to maintain appearances of a good little Death Eater trophy wife. Now, however, she had the luxury to study this son of two of her closest childhood friends. What she saw nearly broke her heart.

James had always been the epitome of an athlete; tall, handsome and arrogant. He had stood an even six foot, with a wiry frame of muscle over his deceptively gangly body.

His son, at sixteen, was barely five foot eight, and Narcissa would've bet that he didn't way an ounce over one hundred and forty pounds. The only instant resemblance to his father was the hair; dark and permanently windswept, even when there was no wind to mess it up.

James had been a lion; bold, with big gestures and wearing his emotions on his sleeve for all to see. Harry, on the other hand…Narcissa's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the way he balanced slightly on the balls of his feet, crouched low, ready for fight or flight. Emerald green eyes watched her warily, like a wounded animal who hasn't decided whether this new threat was friend or foe.

"Mister Potter." She greeted him quietly with a slight inclination of her head.

"Mrs. Malfoy." He replied coolly, not moving.

"I trust your aunt has explained why I am here?"

"She has." Again, the two worded answer. Not quite openly hostile, but with enough of an underlying threat that she knew he had his wand nearby and was perfectly prepared to use it, Restrictions on Underage Magic or not.

"In that case, shall we?" She deliberately turned to face his aunt, who was motioning for him to get his stuff. "Mrs. Dursley, it's been a pleasure. Thank you for your time, and for taking care of Harry all this time." She ignored the muffled snort in favor of keeping the plastic social smile on her face as the Muggle woman babbled on about being grateful to her for taking Harry away.

In the meantime Harry had returned, lugging his trunk and a distinctly ruffled snowy owl in a cage. He glanced at his aunt before beginning to turn away—only to hesitate and turn back. "I would say thanks as well," he said darkly. "But considering that you have made a point of letting me know that every moment of my miserable life in this miserable house has been by your leave, I won't. Oh, and there's always the part where you agree to turn me over to the wife of a Death Eater. So goodbye and good riddance Aunt Petunia. I hope you get everything you deserve."

With that he sent a slashing glance at Narcissa. "If you're serious about this godmother nonsense, let's get on with it."

"Very well." She replied, striding calmly to the front door.

"You're going to use a portkey in broad daylight, in a Muggle neighborhood. Are you crazy?"

She arched one perfectly pale brow at him. "As it so happens, I drove here."

"In a mere Muggle vehicle? What, no flying carpet? I thought you Malfoys hated everything Muggle." He sneered, following her out to the impressive Mercedes town car and stowing his belongings in the trunk before getting into the passenger seat.

"Sarcasm does not become you Harry, nor does being rude. I know you do not trust me by virtue of my family. I can only offer the facts that I am unarmed, have not yet requested your wand, and have Dumbledore's magical and physical signature verifying that I am indeed your godmother and new legal guardian."

"You WHAT!" He grabbed the papers from her and scanned them. There was Dumbledore's mark-a phoenix in outstretched in flight on his Burning Day. Right below it were two more faded signs; one of an outline of a tiger and the other a familiar stag. His jaw dropped. "You knew my parents?"

She smiled, tapping the console three times with her wand. The car roared to life and drove away from the Dursley residence. "It will take us to our destination without prompting." She answered his frown. "As for the rest, I will explain everything once we are home. It is a story that my son must hear as well, for it involves him almost as closely as it does you."

Harry snorted rudely. "Figures."

"I do not condone my son's actions over the past few years Harry, but it is not without complete cause. You might empathize with him a bit more; you two are the halves of a seamless whole." She smiled faintly at his skeptical look, but said no more. "Look, we approach the Black Sanctuary."

Harry's brows rose at the unusual name but he said nothing as he studied the large property with interest. From the outside it looked like a stereotypical haunted mansion; tall, dark, and imposing. He was not allowed to inspect the inside at his leisure because he was immediately ushered down a series of hallways. "Is my son home?" Narcissa inquired, never pausing in her brisk stride as her butler joined them.

"Yes, my lady. He is awaiting you in the spare workroom, as requested."

"Very good. Keep everyone away unless I say otherwise; I want no interruptions." She commanded. He bowed silently and melted into the shadows.

Harry searched but couldn't find where he had disappeared, and there was no pop signaling Apparition. Curious, he took a step away from the door, only to be stopped by Narcissa's voice. "Come, Mister Potter. It is time you learned of your true family history."

Wary, he followed her into the sparse room. Draco was standing by the window, looking around the room with disgust. At the sight of his mother he immediately began to complain. "Mother, what is this all about? Jones said you requested that I await you here, but-" He noticed her companion. Silver eyes met emerald green--right before they narrowed in recognized hatred. They both went for their wands with the speed of a striking snake—only to have them jerked out of their hands by Narcissa's disarming spell, followed by two quick immobilizing spells.

"Before you two do all of Voldemort's work for him and kill each other listen to me!" She snapped. "I am going to release the binding spell. You will each go to one of the seats across the room and sit down. You will not speak. You will not curse. You will not even look at each other until I am finished. Do you understand?" She finished with silky menace. They nodded stiffly. No fool, she loosened the magical bonds enough for them to follow her command, but not enough for complete freedom.

When they were both seated, she resituated the bonds to stick them to their chairs, ignoring their growls of frustration. "Enough." She ordered, agitation making her glow with suppressed power as it answered her need. Taking a deep breath, she took the third seat facing them.

"In my child hood," she began quietly. "There were seven reigning pureblood families. The Blacks, the Potters, the Malfoys, the Patils, the Parkinsons, the Weasleys, and the Zabinis. Myself, James Potter, Sirius, and Regina Patil were slightly younger than the other children, and therefore gravitated towards each other. Sirius was one of my best male friends-as much as any respectable young lady could have such a relationship. I even dated James briefly—before helping him realize Lily was the one for him." She smiled softly as both boys' eyes widened in surprise.

"Lily Evans was the smartest witch in our year. She was beautiful and feisty—and a Muggle-born. I was pure, but I was a Ravenclaw, and thus not quite as tightly bound to the traditional lines of hatred drawn in the sand between Gryffindor and Slytherin. After a year of competing in everything, we became best friends. I was maid of honor at her wedding."

Both boys stared at her incredulously.

"James named Sirius godfather to you Harry, and Lily named me your godmother." She got up and began to pace, needing the movement.

"By the time Lily found out she was pregnant times had darkened. She was a mediwitch, as was I." She took a deep breath. "Lucius was the first to take the Dark Mark, unbeknownst to me. All I knew as that I was a trophy wife trying to produce an heir to a husband made sterile by the Dark Lord's touch."

Harry frowned. It had never occurred to him, but that did make sense. Voldemort feared and hated everything good and light, with the topmost of that being love. A child was a physical symbol of that love. His Mark was a symbol of hatred, consuming everything not of the dark.

"I feared the consequences should I tell him what had happened, so I turned to James for help." Turning, she caught the silver eyes of her son, so much like her own. "As a mediwitch I could manipulate your DNA so that you would have pale hair, skin, and silver eyes. Lucius was never the wiser."

"You mean…I'm not a Malfoy?" Draco gaped at her.

"You are a Black." Narcissa replied sharply. "But no. The Malfoy line ends with Lucius. You are the half son of James Potter."

AN: And so it starts. Thank you to Your Mom is My Heart, blue October, Black's Phoenix, Karma, and Vivilp182 for reviewing! In answer to your comment and question Karma, no, Draco doesn't kill Harry LOL. Fair from it, though it will NOT be slash. And this story is very daring; we can definitely say that no one has taken this particular angle before. IF you've read a story like this, please post the link. We have our own plans, but are always interested in reading other author's interpretations. Vivil, your question is answered in the first paragraph of this chapter.

For those of you who have added us to your story alerts, you rock, and we appreciate the interest! Feel free to leave a comment and share your opinion. We await comments, especially after this chapter. And it's only going to get more…interesting. –grin-