Prologue

I was exercising on my treadmill when it happened. I was running at eight miles an hour with a three percent incline (I'm an Auror; you have to stay in shape.) when there was a sound of shattering glass that came from my daughter's room upstairs. I immediately jumped off the treadmill and nearly fell to the ground; when you get off one of those things, you feel weightless for a bit. However, I regained my balance promptly and rushed up the stairs, skipping a step every so often. I was at the top soon enough and, even though I was desperate for a breath of air, I pushed myself to run towards my daughter's closed, pink bedroom door. I didn't even bother to knock and pushed the door open. Her dresser had been shoved against the door, as if someone was preventing my entrance to the room. I jostled my way in. I gaped at the man, who help my whimpering and terrified daughter. Her eyes wandered to me and I swore, I hadn't seen that terror in someone's eyes since the Battle of Hogwarts, 1998.

After a moment of stunned silence, I met the man's eyes. "Father?" I couldn't help but demand, hurt. I never, not even with all that I knew of him, thought he would be capable of harming a young child. I was looking at the man who had practically raised his three younger sisters.

"You're such a disappointment to me, my child," Father snarled. Evangeline wiggled in his grasp and reach her chubby little arms towards me, but as I reached to grab her, Father yanked her away.

My parenting instincts sank in about then and I growled at Father. "You put Angie down! She hasn't done a single thing to you!" I walked up to him, but he held Angie out the window.

"Why should I feel sorry for this little filthy brat?" Father spat as Angie dangled and cried. "I don't believe there's a single, miniscule drop of magic in her filthy blood. So why should she live in this family?"

"So? She's adopted! I don't give a rat's arse if she has magic in her or not. She's my child."

"Well, of course she's adopted. It's not like you could have a child with him!"

"Give me my child!"

"Why should I?" Father asked, pulling her out from the window.

"She-she's only five years old. She was born mute and became deaf in a car accident that killed her mother and father when she was only eight months old."

"I don't give a rat's arse," Father mimicked. "So what if the child had a rotten beginning? That doesn't mean I care. Maybe she should have a rotten end too, shouldn't she?"

My hands curled into tightly clenched fists. "Put. Angie. Down!"

"I think I'm good," Father responded with a smirk. Before my mind could register what happened next, everything went black.

Hours Later * * *

When I woke later, I was in a hospital bed. I slowly tried to sit up, but a firm and familiar hand pressed against my chest and pushed me back down on my bed. I looked up, then avoided my husband's gaze. I felt like I had failed as a parent.

After a moment of silence, he asked. "What happened?"

My heart sunk and tears filled to the brim of my eyes. "M-my father took her." I could not believe that I was about to cry like a baby.

His warm hand grasped my cool, shaking one. "We're going to get Evangeline back. I promise you. I'm not going to sleep a wink until I find her and your bastard of a father. That I swear."

"I have complete faith in you, but I'm coming along."

"As soon as you're healed," he murmured, grasping my hand.

I smiled slightly at him, relieved he wasn't mad at me for letting Father get away with our baby girl. Harry forgave me, but I don't believe I'll ever be able to forgive myself.

Dream * * *

A small child with long, wavy chestnut hair and natural almond highlights rattle the chains that restrained her tiny little arms against the wall, sobbing her big, chocolate-blue eyes out hysterically.

"It's no use," the cold, sharp voice snarled as the man paced in front of thechild, disregarding the fact that she was mute and deaf. He slapped the palm of his pale white hand against her cheek when she didn't quiet her cries. The sting of the slap startled the child; she had never been harmed by her parents on purpose. There was once when Harry had dropped her against the kitchen's tiled floor when she was three, but even at a young age, she had understood that it had been an accident.

Evangeline now just glared into the gray orbs of Lucius Malfoy's eyes, now cynical of his intentions. The slap he gave her had sent her into a defensive state. Besides, she had often watched Law and Order: Special Victims Unit with Harry before; she knew what kind of men were out there and what tragic things happened to some children her age,

Lucius Malfoy started to approach the girl with a long, leather whip in one hand and table salt in his other. His face sported his heavy, trademark Malfoy smirk.

End Dream * * *

I woke with a start and clutched at my heart. Did this dream mean anything? It wasn't like I was a demigod.(Angie loves books. Especially Percy Jackson and any history books.) I was Draco Lucius Malfoy-Potter. married to Harry Malfoy-Potter. Father of Evangeline Katherina Malfoy-Potter. (her old last name had been Dixon-Grey.) I was the Pureblood (and disowned) son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. I had no godly blood in me. So, if I wasn't a demigod, my dreams meant nothing, right?

Then why did my dream about Angie and Father feel so real?

A/N: So this is my first try at a Draco and Harry. It was written mostly for a friend, I guess. Please review. I'd really appreciate it.