AN- yes, another HP fan fiction that I will start with good intentions, but I will eventually run out of steam and post erratically, if at all. A thank-you to all my readers out there who still stick with my stories, and me. I really do intend to finish all of them by the end of summer vacation. Or next year. Next year is more likely. *Blush*

Summary- It has been 11 years since Harry last saw his school sweetheart turned abusive husband Draco Malfoy. Between seventeen years of abuse from his relatives, and then his husband, Harry is mentally unstable, and has been put under the care of his 19 year old son, Evan, who has a protective streak a mile long, and a bone to pick with his other father.

Background Info-

Evan Potter:

Raised by Hermione and Blaise from 9 years old on

19 years old

Attends a Magical College, that at this time is nameless

Was granted legal guardianship over his father, who has been found mentally delayed by Ministry standards

Harry Potter:

36 years old

Long past of abuse

One son, Evan

Blames himself for making his supposed loved ones hurt him

Draco Malfoy:

39 years old

Reformed alcoholic


One son

Lost all contact with his friends when they found out about him hurting Harry

Warnings- MPreg, Abuse (child and spousal), language, Weasley/Dumble Bashing (don't know why. I love the Weasleys, but I can never make them believable as good guys. I hate Dumbledore, though. As anyone who's read my stories knows.) Also, as none of my characters are in Hogwarts anymore, I totally disregard any and all technicalities. Like the fact that there can't be a three year age gap between people who are in the same year.

Chapter One- August 17th

"Come on, Evan! We're already a half hour late, and you know how pissy Hermione gets when she's kept waiting!" Harry Potter stood at the base of the steps in his two-story house, foot tapping impatiently. How parents raised more then one teenager, he'd never know. Evan was his only, and sometimes he swore the boy was the devil incarnate. Evan Potter was 19 years old, and the total opposite of Harry at that age. While they had the same green eyes, and messy black hair, that was where the similarities ended. On Harry, his eyes and hair, when added to his embarrassing height of five feet, and the bone structure he had inherited from his mother, gave him a soft, Elvin appearance. On Evan, who stood a whole foot taller then his father, and counting, they coincided with his tanned skin and imposing height to make him look every bit the protector he was. Harry rolled his eyes, knowing his son was far too overprotective of him. His son, who couldn't even keep his shoes in the same location for more then an hour.

"Where's my other shoe, Dad?" Evan shouted, hopping around on one foot in his room. All he got in response was a soft chuckle, as a shoe went sailing past his door.

"Thanks!" he called, picking it up and pulling it on. He grabbed his wand and his pocketknife, slipping the items into his pocket, and running downstairs. Some people didn't understand why he only carried his pocketknife on him when he was with his father, but in his mind, it was a given. A habit created from far too much experience. When Uncle Sev said his father attracted trouble, he meant it. Just about every bad situation a person could get into, he'd been in. not counting his school days, he'd been mugged twice, his first apartment had been broken into and robbed, while he slept, unprotected, in his room, and he could hardly leave the house without being hit on at least once. Plus all the crap with Evan's other father, the asshole… it was an unspoken agreement between the men in Harry's life that Evan would keep him safe, no matter what. He'd seen his father cry too many times, had seen fear in those eyes, so like his own, too many times to just stand by unprepared.

Evan skidded to a stop in front of his father, who smiled up at him, taking his arm. They both shut their eyes, and were in Diagon Alley in seconds.

"Come on, Evan. Mione's all angry, look!" his father pointed to a tall, curly haired woman seated at a small table outside of a small restaurant, arms crossed. Evan blushed, and averted his eyes. His first crush had been on her, embarrassingly enough, and he still had trouble looking at her without blushing. Seeing the small smirk on his father's face, he had a feeling he knew about Evan's crush. Hermione stood and waved them over, frown in place.

"You two are late. Blaise went ahead and took Andie to get her robes, so we're meeting up with them at the new bookstore over there. The Book Nook, I think it's called. They sell all of these really hard to find muggle books there, I just can't wait to check it out!" there was a faintly disturbing glint in her eyes that she got whenever books were mentioned, and it was full force right now. Evan groaned internally, both at the gleam, and the mention of Andie. Andele Zambini was the 13-year-old daughter of Blaise and Hermione Zambini, and the girl, while nice enough, had a huge crush on Evan, Ginny Weasley style. Harry smirked, to which Evan rolled his eyes. As if his father could ever intimidate someone with that face. Hermione voiced this opinion.

"Harry, I don't care how many Dark Lords you slay, or how many creepy fans you punch in the face, you will never scare anyone with looks alone. I love you, but you can't even scowl properly. See? It just looks like a pouting child." She poked Harry's protruding lower lip, pulling back before his teeth could close on it.

"I'll have you know, I made Evan cry just yesterday with one of my fearsome glares of doom. Didn't I?" Evan, encouraged by the small foot that was currently attempting to squish his toes, nodded his head, while mouthing 'no' over his head. Hermione started to laugh, but a drawling voice stopped her cold.

"Hey, Granger. Long time no see. You ditch Blaise for this guy here? That's your son over there?" the blond newcomer gestured to Harry with a thumb, not even sparing him a glance. Evan was in front of his father in seconds, a hand wrapped around the handle of his knife. 11 years made no difference. He'd know that voice anywhere. Hermione bristled at the implied slur against her marriage, and pulled her wand out.

"Just leave, Malfoy." She spat, eyes blazing. "I don't care if I did marry your best friend. You hurt mine for eight years, and I will never forgive you for that." Evan felt his father flinch at that, and glared hard at the man. Draco turned to Evan then. His eyes widened minutely, and his jaw clenched.

"You." He whispered. Evan smirked, drawing his fist back.


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When Draco Malfoy saw the two men with Granger, who was, last he heard, married to Blaise, his best friend, he figured he owed it to the man to check it out, break it up. The three were laughing about something, and the smallest, which had black hair and looked somehow familiar, appeared to be pouting. Maybe he was wrong about who Granger had married. As he neared the threesome, it was apparent they were close. The tallest of the three was another black haired guy, but seemed younger then the other two somehow. Pushing the thought out of his mind, he began badgering the woman, mainly for old times sake. Ah, if only the weasel was there, and Pot- No! No thinking about him at all today. It's as if he never existed. You have never seen him naked. You have not had a child with him. Most of all you, have not abused him! But not thinking about him was hard, given how close the strange man's eyes resembled his. Feeling the aforementioned eyes burning into him, he turned, only to be shocked out of his mind. He could practically hear the pieces click together in his mind. The mystery man's eyes looked so familiar because this was a Potter. The wrong generation, but still. This man, this intimidating, angry man, was his little boy. His Evan.

"You." The word slipped out of its own accord. Draco's eyes had just barely begun to take in the appearance of his long lost son, when the third and final person caught his attention. Harry… was the last thought he had, before his son's fist connected with his cheekbone, and he knew no more.

Page Break Kaerb Egap

Evan glared at the unconscious man on the ground, wanting nothing more then to stomp his face in. It would be nothing less then what he deserved. But Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Leave him be, Evan." She soothed. He shook her arm off, glare now aimed at her.

"Why? Because he's unconscious? Never stopped him before, did it?" she didn't falter under his gaze.

"And do you really want to be like him, Evan?" he shook his head angrily, fists clenched. She didn't understand.

"I am nothing like him! I saw what he did to Dad, how he treated him. How he treated me. I refuse to be anything like that man!" Evan's outburst, while feeling relieving, did nothing to alleviate the situation. His father was still near tears, seeking comfort from Evan, who had yet to realize that. Hermione was caught between preventing a scene, and calming Evan down before his accidental magic blew up another building.

"Evan? Evan, you need to get Harry home now. I'll pick up your supplies and owl them to you. Try and get him to calm down, and if he doesn't, call me." Hermione ordered, taking charge. Evan nodded, and turned, picked up his frightened father, and Disapparated on the spot. They landed back at the foot of the stairs, and Evan carried his small bundle up the stairs to his room. He knew before Harry opened his mouth that he would be sleeping here, tonight.

"Evan?" the small voice pulled at his heartstrings. It really was no wonder people looked at the pair and thought Harry was Evan's little brother.

"What is it, Dad?" Evan always felt so awkward, calling Harry 'dad' when he was like this. It was the worst part of his father's illness. Not the protecting him, or the fact that he sometimes forgot where places were, or whom he was talking to, but the inability to connect with him on a father/son level.

"Can you stay with me tonight? I don't wanna be alone. He might come back." Harry's eyes were wide with an impossible innocence in them, one that he should, in all reasoning, have lost years ago. An innocence Evan had not held onto for very long.

"Who's 'he' this time, dad?" every month or so it was a different 'monster'. Usually it alternated between Vernon Dursley and Draco Malfoy, but sometimes it was someone who had hurt him for a shorter amount of time, but just as badly.

"It's the Snake Face. He's in the house, Evan!" Harry's face was a mask of fear, and Evan hurried to reassure him.

"I won't let him get you, okay? I'll keep you safe." He knew arguing that there was no one there would get him nowhere, hence the compromise. He cast locking spells on the windows, doors, and the closet before climbing into the large bed. Harry immediately wrapped his arms around Evan's neck, and snuggled his face into his neck. Evan sighed internally. When Harry woke up, it was going to be awkward as hell. The hardest part for him was how he could swing from totally normal to 'freaky' without any notice, for him or anyone else. There was, as of yet, no way to reverse the damage done to his mind, and just getting through each day was a challenge on its own. Dumbledore had been sneaking 'war funds' from Harry's bank account, so when the war was over, he was left broke. They had relied on Draco for monetary support, until Harry was removed from Draco's loving, tender care, and placed in the care of the Ministry until Evan's 17th birthday, which was when he was granted guardianship over his father. Harry had been in a ministry home for ten years, and the damage done was irreparable. Once, during a lucid period, Harry likened it to the Dursleys with magic. Evan had wanted to sue, but he didn't want to risk losing guardianship. Harry had had his life upturned by switching parental figures too many times, and he valued himself as a protector, above all else. Which was a good thing, because though his father was technically more powerful because of the amount of magic he had, Evan was both physically stronger, and better trained with magic. Harry had, after all, not had the opportunity to go to university. Evan knew that if he had, though, he would have been amazing. Embarrassed as he was at being a father figure to his father, he was proud of all Harry had accomplished.

A yawn from Harry jogged Evan from his thoughts, and he pulled the blanket tighter around them. In all the fog and confusion that came with Harry's condition, one thing was clear: the men who made his father into this poor, childlike creature every night was going to pay. Dearly. There was only one thing he inherited from his other father, besides his height; the ability to lie through his teeth without feeling even a twinge of guilt. And he planned on applying that skill in the days and weeks to come.

AN- How did you like it? It's based very loosely off of my sister's condition, so while the circumstances that brought it on are different, all the aspects are the same.