A/N: as promised, here is the inserted chapter. Would have been up sooner, but i had problems logging on, the system might have been down. Anyway, here it is.

The next weekend, James decided that it would be appropriate for him to visit his new godson. He knew there would be documents to fill in, though none of the specifics, and besides, he wanted to meet this Potter look-alike.

That morning just before eleven, he changed from his usual school robes into an emerald-green, silk dress shirt and smart black slacks. He topped this with an open black robe. Carefully, he stood in front of the mirror and reapplied the concealing make up on his scar. Turning slightly to check that it wouldn't show up with the light on it, James studied himself. He looked every inch a respectable young Slytherin gentleman, but there was still something missing. His hair, tied back in the fast and practical way that was about the only thing he could do, was fine for a teacher, but didn't have the same sense of elegance as the rest of his outfit. He freed it and brushed it out. Much better.

Moving quickly through to the open fireplace in his living room, he threw in a pinch of Floo powder.

"Albus Dumbledore's Office!" he called, stepping in. He felt a tug, like he was being sucked down a huge vacuum cleaner, then he was spat out unceremoniously, sprawled on the headmaster's carpet. He picked himself up, looking regretfully at his now sooty clothes. Why did he insist on having such problems with something he'd seen six year olds manage impeccably? A quick 'scourgify' and he turned to Albus' desk. The old man was smiling at him, looking as though he was trying very hard to conceal his amusement.

"Why couldn't I have taken the stairs?" James muttered.

"James, my boy, what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I could use your Floo. Our fireplaces aren't connected, are they?"

"Not entirely, you can use them for conversations, but they have been blocked from allowing you to travel through them. Might I ask your destination?"

"I thought I'd visit my godson."

"Godson?"

"Harry Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy's son? Who's the lucky mother?"

"Blaise, her maiden name was Zabini I believe."

"Give them my congratulations please. The Floo powder's on the mantelpiece."

James dug around on the cluttered shelf until he found the pot.

"Malfoy Manor!" he called, and vanished.

He fell out into the entrance hall of the huge Malfoy home. After brushing himself down and straightening his hair again, he pulled the summoning bell for a house elf. One appeared with a pop in front of him. James noted with approval that, though it was wearing the customary pillowcase, it looked new and freshly laundered. A far sight from Dobby's miserable rags.

"How may I be helping you, sir?" the house elf said, bowing deeply.

"Mr Evans to see the Malfoy family."

"One moment sir, I will just locate the master. Ah yes, if you would follow me sir, Mr Malfoy is in the family drawing room."

James followed on, attempting to present the image of a confident young pureblood. It would have been so much easier if he, like Draco and most other young boys, had been doing this since he could walk. His friend had once confessed to having had lessons in how to speak to different people, the five types of smile (patronising, sucking up, genuine pleasure, the arrogant you-are-not-worth-my-notice sneer and the you-are-privileged-to-be-in-my-presence half smile) and many other things, all before he went to Hogwarts.

At last, they came to a small door. The house elf pushed it open and stepped into a small, cosy room, much the same as a normal living room. Draco was sitting on the floor playing with a little baby while a lady, presumably Blaise Malfoy, was sitting, reading by the fire.

"Mr Evans to see you, master."

Draco looked up.

"Thank you Hobby, that will be all for now."

Hobby bowed himself out. When he had gone, Draco scooped his son up into his arms and stood up, coming over to the door.

"James!" he said, smiling openly. "It's about time you came over."

"I sometimes think Severus is right," James replied wryly, "it does often seem like a lost cause attempting to teach anything to the little wretches. The Slytherins are the worst, definitely. But now, might I be introduced to your lovely wife?"

James smiled winningly at Blaise, who had put aside her book and come to stand beside her husband.

"Of course. Blaise, this is James Evans. James, Blaise Malfoy."

"A pleasure to meet you, James," Blaise said warmly. "I've always known of you, of course. I believe you were almost legendary at the University."

"I fear much is an exaggeration, though I can always try to do my best. I just regret that Draco has never introduced you to me sooner."

"Stop flirting, James," Draco said irritably. "We both know you don't mean it."

"No harm in being polite, is there? Still, I would appreciate it if we could drop the formalities, Mrs Malfoy. I regret that I wasn't brought up to them as you were."

"Certainly, but you must call me Blaise. This is little Harry, as I'm sure you guessed."

"He looks a lot like you, but I think his bones are probably Draco's."

"Have you ever held a baby before?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I'd sit down then, just until you get used to it."

James nervously took a seat on a sofa and Harry was deftly inserted into his arms. He looked down at the slightly pointed face, the silky black hair and the twinkling blue eyes. He really was very sweet. Although he'd never really had any contact with babies before, he thought that Harry was a beautiful child. As he held Harry up against his chest, the bright eyes fixed on his face and a little arm came up. Unmistakably, he brushed the scar on James' forehead, although he was sure it was properly concealed. Harry gurgled, then shut his eyes and fell asleep. Blaise smiled fondly at him, scooped him up and put him in a little cot over in the corner of the room.

"There are forms for me to fill in, aren't there?" James asked quietly.

"As a godfather? Yes, Draco has them. You basically agree to look after Harry's emotional, mental, physical and magical growth and well-being. We're obliged to consult with you before making any large decisions about his life, like which school he should go to."

"I think I could manage that. Is it a magical contract?"

"Yes, but completely confidential," Draco reassured him. Although he didn't know the reason, he knew that James was touchy about some things, especially when he needed to write down his full name. "As soon as you sign it, it vanishes to a special place in the Ministry Archives and it won't be taken out again unless it's needed."

"Fine. Where do I sign?"

Draco produced a roll of parchment and a quill from his desk and indicated the space at the bottom. He quickly stepped away. James skimmed through it and signed his full name (Harry James Evans Potter) in the space. Then he used his wand to make a small cut on his wrist and allowed a drop of blood to fall onto the page just under his name. The parchment rolled itself up and vanished with a quiet pop.

Business dealt with, James spent the rest of the morning chatting with his friends about whatever came to mind. The upcoming Quidditch match was mentioned, memories of their days at University, news of other acquaintances and, of course, as much about Harry as possible. Neither of the doting parents was about to pass up the chance to talk about him to a willing audience.

Just before lunch, the house elf came into the room again.

"Mr Snape has arrived sir. Shall I show him in?"

"Of course," Blaise replied. James tried very hard to shrink into the sofa but Draco pulled him over to look through some Defence books.

Severus himself came through a minute later.

"Draco, Blaise, you're looking well. What are you doing here Evans?"

"Visiting my friends and my godson."

"You agreed then."

"Naturally. Who'd pass up the opportunity to be a godfather?"

"He won't remain this sweet for much longer."

"I know but my godfather put up with me, I'm sure I can do the same with Harry."

"Only one?"

"That I know of. My parents died when I was young, so if I had another, I don't remember them. Of course, during the war there were many casualties."

"True. How is Henry, then?"

"Can't you call him Harry, Uncle Sev?" Draco asked. "Just because you couldn't stand Potter.. . . Merlin, you never even knew him."

"Would you like me to call you Dray? No? I thought as much."

Draco rolled his eyes. This was obviously an old argument.

"Still, Harry's absolutely fine. He had a bad night on Tuesday, but Blaise thinks that was just a one-off."

"That's good, he obviously takes after his mother. We all knew you were an awful baby. No wonder Narcissa had the house elves take care of you a lot of the time. If she even tried to speak to someone else while you were in the room, you'd start screaming."

"I wasn't that bad!"

Severus didn't reply, just raised an eyebrow.

"Are you staying for lunch?" Blaise asked.

"I've got a conference with the Auror's potions master starting at two. . ."

"We're eating very soon. You'll have plenty of time to get to your meeting."

"Thank you for the invitation then. I would be glad to stay."