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SIYE Time:12:43 on 29th March 2024
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If The Fates Allow
By AgiVega

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Category: Post-OotP
Characters:Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny
Genres: Drama
Warnings: Sexual Situations, Extreme Language
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 596
Summary: Ginny has been forced to marry Draco Malfoy, but her heart still belongs to Harry. Will she ever be able to break free from this unwanted marriage? Will Harry help her? A story of passion, blackmail, Greek gods and a most surreal place for playing Quidditch! Join Harry and Ginny on their odyssey through despair and hope, faith and love, amidst Voldemort's machinations!
Hitcount: Story Total: 114352; Chapter Total: 4120







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Author’s note: evil chapter ahead, beware!

“Life is a great surprise. I do not see why death should not be an even greater one.”
(Vladimir Nabokov)


21st May, 2004, a cafeteria in Athens

Spiro was idly playing with the tea-spoon in his coffee, cursing the day he had first thought of joining the Circle. Had he not wanted to join it so badly, then his sister wouldn’t have wanted to join too. Had his sister not wanted to join, then she would never have met Jason Stephanides, and if she had never met Jason, then Jason wouldn’t have got her pregnant.

Damn Jason.

Spiro felt like he could have strangled the man if he had had the physical power, which he did not. Anyway, he was stirring his coffee, nervously. His sister Leto had gone into labour a couple of hours earlier and Spiro simply couldn’t bring himself to stay in the Circle Headquarters and listen to her screams, or to watch Jason hurry to and fro with basins of hot water and stacks of dry towels.

He could have asked Phaedra to let him join her in her quarters, but ever since her husband’s death, Phaedra had been totally unbearable. Well, from a certain point of view Spiro could understand her; no one in her condition would have been less grouchy, but – even if Spiro didn’t admit it to himself – she scared him.

After telling his sister ‘now you see why you shouldn’t have got involved with that buffoon Jason,’ and her throwing ancient Greek vases at him between two contractions, Spiro decided to put as much distance between himself and Leto as possible.

So, playing with his tea-spoon in a Muggle cafeteria, he listened to the talk of a rather burly blond man and an ugly, bony woman at the next table. Not that their conversation was anything of interest to him, but it still engaged his attention a bit and took his mind off his sister giving birth and the urge to throttle Jason, who had still not proposed to her. How dare he??? – Spiro fumed in himself.

The waiter stepped to the couple at the next table and gave them the bill. The blond bloke handed the waiter his credit card.

“Sorry, but we do not accept credit cards, Mr… Dursley,” the waiter said with a rather bad English accent, reading the name from the blond man’s card.

Spiro’s eyes widened.

“Typical, I’ve been warned that this place was the end of the world, but I never thought I couldn’t use a bloody credit card here,” Mr Dursley fumed.

“Dudley dear, I think I have some cash,” the woman told him and started searching for her purse in her handbag.

“Thanks, Priscilla, honey.” The blond man smiled at his companion as she paid the bill.

As soon as the waiter passed, Spiro sprang up from his seat and walked over to the Dursleys’ table.

Dudley looked up at him with a frown on his fat face. “What do you want? Haven’t we just settled the bill?”

“Oh, no, I’m no waiter.” Spiro shook his head. “I’ve just overheard that you were called Dudley Dursley, sir, and I was wondering whether you were the same Dudley Dursley who died last June?”

Dudley and Priscilla exchanged a look suggesting that they both thought the chap was mad.

“Do I look dead?” young Dursley asked.

“Well, not really… I think I phrased the question wrong.” Spiro grabbed a chair from his own table and pulled it to this one to join the Dursleys. “Please, don’t take me for a fool, Mr Dursley, but I happened to know someone who went by the name Dudley Dursley for a while. Some say his real name was Harry Potter, but…”

“Harry?” Dudley gasped. “That bastard was using my name?”

“Yes… and he happened to die using your name, so I was wondering whether you knew him.”

“Well, I bloody well knew him,” Dudley said with disdain. “He was my cousin. Dead, is he?” Spiro nodded. “Hm, truth be told, I’m not at all surprised. He was always looking for trouble… how did he die?”

“Drowned, as far as I know.” Spiro shrugged.

“Serves him right,” Dudley replied. “No wonder he did; my parents kept paying for me to have swimming lessons, but Harry never got any. He didn’t even deserve them, the little idiot.”

“Exactly, darling,” cooed Priscilla.

“Er, this is my wife, Priscilla.” Dudley turned to the Greek wizard. “We are on honeymoon right now, you know. And your name…?”

“Papafotiu. Spiridon Papafotiu.”

“Do tell me more about my dratted cousin’s death, Mr Papafotiu, will you?” Dudley said delightedly.

A tall man who had just arrived at the cafeteria rubbed his hands together upon hearing the name. As Spiro embarked on the story about how he had thought Harry had impregnated his sister and had also murdered a Sicilian, the man’s mouth tucked into a smug grin. “Papafotiu, eh?” he whispered. He had been following this chap for a while because he had found that the boy resembled the one on the Diggory’s photo. However, until now, he hadn’t been a hundred percent sure that this was indeed the person they were looking for. “The Dark Lord will be very pleased… very pleased, indeed.”

* * * * *


Around the same time in far-off Great Britain Ginny doubled up in pain. “This can’t be…” she wheezed, gritting her teeth. “Too early… two weeks early…”

When her first contraction ended she finally realised that she was standing in a pool of amniotic fluid – she hadn’t even noticed it, the pain had been too intense. She stumbled to her wardrobe to get a dry dress and with great difficulty changed into it, then sank onto the bed, her mind reeling. She had so hoped this wouldn’t happen for another two weeks – could this mean something was wrong with the baby? Her heart clenched at the thought of her child being ill, and then she realised that the child’s health condition wouldn’t even matter if it came to the world with black hair…

A picture flashed into her mind: a picture of Draco pointing his wand at the newborn and shouting Avada Kedavra

A wave of hysteric sobs came over her, tears splashing down her front in a little cascade – however she didn’t care to change into a dry dress again.

That was how Blinky found her a quarter of an hour later when she entered with Ginny’s lunch.

“Mistress!” the house elf hastily put the plate down on Ginny’s bedside table and ran up to her. “What has happened, Mistress? Is Mistress feeling all right?”

Ginny stopped sobbing for a second to look at the elf, but instead of replying she clutched at her bulging belly, moaning.

“Oh no! Is it time?” Blinky gasped.

Ginny nodded mutely, gritting her teeth against the howl of pain that wanted to escape her mouth. “Can… can you help me?” she stammered a minute later.

The elf’s ears drooped. “Blinky is very sorry Mistress, but Blinky isn’t a trained midwife… Blinky has only seen the birth of her little sister, but that was ages and ages ago!”

Ginny reached out and grabbed the elf’s arm. “I don’t want you to help me with the delivery… but go and get that mediwitch… the one who came here last time.”

“Blinky is sorry, but Blinky has heard that the mediwitch moved out of the village…according to Wrinkly it was Master who paid her to leave… because she had been the one to tell you your pregnancy… Master knew the mediwitch suspected the child wasn’t his, and…”

“…and Draco doesn’t want a single soul to get to know whose the child is,” Ginny finished the elf’s sentence.

Blinky nodded.

“Then you have to help me. Even if you don’t know much about deliveries… please, Blinky. Don’t leave me… I can’t do this alone.”

“Blinky won’t leave Mistress, Blinky promises,” the elf said compassionately. “Blinky will get Bobby and Wrinkly to help, too… if Mistress doesn’t feel uneasy about having them here…”

Ginny’s mouth tucked into a sad little smile. “I have gone through enough not to feel embarrassed in front of two male elves. But… what about Draco? Is he here? He’ll know I’ve gone into the labour, and perhaps he’ll want to be here…”

“Blinky does not know about Master… he left an hour ago, perhaps he will be back in the afternoon, perhaps he won’t…”

Ginny wished that Draco wouldn’t return, at least not until the baby was born.

* * * * *


“Good catch, boy!” Godric Gryffindor gave Harry the thumbs-up as the crowd in the Elysium stands roared and brandished their banners.

Harry grinned at the Captain of his team, feeling happier than he had in a long time. For the third time since he had arrived at the Underworld, he had managed to get the Snidget from under Brutus’ nose. Brutus, who had considerably fewer teeth after their first match against each other, was scowling at him, flanked by the fuming Rasputin and Salazar.

Harry ignored the dark glances from the members of the defeated team, and let the cheering crowd suck him in. There were still many people who wanted his signature, and more and more came from Tartarus – obviously the inhabitants of Tartarus had had enough of Dolores Umbridge gloating about having Harry Potter’s autograph and wanted to get one for themselves. As a symbol of their respect, some of them handed Harry something what vaguely resembled a dog biscuit, and even though Harry thought it was rather a weird custom, but he didn’t have the heart to refuse to accept the ‘presents’. Perhaps the people in Tartarus were all thinking like Aunt Marge, believing dog biscuits to be a wonderful and satisfactory gift.

It again took hours for the crowd to thin, and it was already dusk when Harry set off for the Potter house. His parents had already gone home, his mum surely awaiting him with a delicious treacle tart. His mouth started to water at the mere thought of getting a treacle tart. No one could bake such wonderful tarts as Lily…

The evening was beautiful, balmy and extremely romantic with rose-bushes growing all around, their sweet fragrance filling the air. On evenings like this, Harry wished more than ever to be able to leave the Underworld at last and rejoin Ginny. Really, he realised, in less than a month Ginny would be free from The Fates Charm and they’d have a chance to start a new life, together…

Damn it, Cedric, why can’t you return at last? he thought bitterly, when suddenly he heard a scream inside his head:

*On your right, Harry!*

He turned right to see three trollish figures emerging from the shrubbery, each holding huge boulders. It had all happened so fast that not even with his 360 degrees vision would he have been able to notice the source of danger quick enough.

Without thinking he whipped out his wand and shouted Reducio! at the boulders zooming in his direction. The huge rocks exploded into little pieces, some of them hitting the trolls (or whatever they were), aggravating them. The three huge figures lunged at Harry with their fangs bared, growling menacingly. Harry wasted no time shouting Tempus Glacietur! and making his attackers become petrified.

“Well, that’s settled,” he murmured, as something huge and extremely heavy knocked him off his feet.

He couldn’t move, for the heavy thing was standing/sitting/lying on his back. He had dropped his wand after the impact and couldn’t see it anywhere near him.

“Cerberus, you bad doggie!” came an angry voice as Charon the boatman of the Styx hurried towards them. “What did you think you were doing, leaving your post and attacking dead people?”

“Er… actually I’m not dead,” Harry said, “but I’d be grateful if you told this oversized puppy to get off me…”

Charon pulled a dog biscuit out of his pocket and threw it over his shoulder. Cerberus immediately jumped off Harry, searching for the biscuit in the grass.

“Harry, are you all right?” Linda ran into view, panting. “I saw… I saw those things attack you and wanted to shout at you, but someone grabbed me from behind and pressed their hand over my mouth, and… Oh, I was so worried…”

“I’m fine.” Harry sat up. “Good that I got this invulnerability thing, otherwise the puppy would have crushed me… as must have been the intention of the person who set him on me.”

“Do you think someone wanted to use my doggie to harm you?” Charon breathed. “Oh, such evil people! I bet it was someone from Tartarus, only they are twisted enough to lure my puppy away from the river… wonder how they did it?”

“With a heap of dog biscuits, I presume,” Harry suggested and emptied his pockets, letting at least six biscuits fall onto the grass. So, the Tartarus people’s ‘presents’ hadn’t been presents after all… they had been given to Harry with the intention of making him smell of dog biscuits. “I wonder who the master-mind behind this was?” Harry remarked. “Salazar? Or one of the Borgias? Hm. Wait till I tell people that someone wanted to do me in using dog biscuits.”

“I’ll report the case to Hades at once,” Charon said. “What about them?” he pointed at the frozen trolls.

“They won’t wake till morning, I used a long-term version of the Time Freezing charm on them,” replied Harry. “Hades can send people to collect them tomorrow.”

After Cerberus had picked all the fallen biscuits up from the grass, Charon led him away, telling him off for letting evil people lure him away from the Styx.

“Did you see your attacker?” Harry turned to Linda.

“No. They grabbed me from behind and held my head in place so that I couldn’t even turn it to look at them. When you froze the trolls they suddenly let go of me, surely afraid of you… they might not have known you had a wand. I turned around immediately to look at them, but they had disappeared into the bushes, and your well-being was more important for me than running after them…”

“Was that you who warned me?” he asked.

“Yeah. I couldn’t shout, but I could send you this mental message.”

“Thanks.”

“Not that you really needed it.” She shrugged. “I just forgot for a second that you were invulnerable.”

“I tend to forget it, too.” He grinned. “Care to join me in my parents’ house for a treacle tart?”

“No thanks.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

“You don’t disturb us. Linda… I know you think I hate you for what happened, but… I don’t. I’ve had eight months to think it over, I am and neither mad at you, nor do I feel ashamed about it. Not anymore. I won’t let it ruin our friendship. Not everyone can say that one of their friends is Voldemort’s daughter, can they?”

She grinned back at him. “Where’s that treacle tart?”

* * * * *


Forked lightning crossed the sky, illuminating the grounds around Malfoy Manor, and also Ginny’s room for one or two seconds. After the thunder, everything went silent and dark again and, the only source of light was that of the five candles standing on Ginny’s bedside table.

The storm had started sometime around five o’clock and didn’t seem to want to subside.

“You’re doing fine, Mistress,” Blinky squeaked, cold sweat beading on her forehead.

“Fine?” Ginny croaked. “It’s been… going on for… what, ten hours now? I’m… not… doing fine!”

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room and its occupants – Blinky got frightened as the sudden light fell on Ginny’s face – it was deadly pale and sweaty, her otherwise glorious red locks plastered to her temples and hanging in a tousled mess onto her shoulders. What scared the elf most was the amount of blood covering the sheets around her mistress, who had started to bleed hours ago. Hours ago… and yet the baby just didn't want to come… What if her mistress bled to death? Something indeed must have gone wrong with the baby, for Ginny should have started pushing long ago, yet she simply couldn’t, for the contractions didn’t come frequently enough.

“Hold out, Mistress, please, hold out!” Blinky muttered as Wrinkly and Bobby entered with a basin of hot water and dry towels. Blinky immediately started wiping Ginny’s clammy forehead. “Does Mistress want some water?”

“No… no, Blinky… I just want… want this over…” the young witch whispered, barely feeling strong enough to talk.

“You’ll get over this, Mistress, just hold out a little more!” Bobby said. “Think of… think of beautiful things, like… holding your baby in your arms!”

Holding my baby in my arms… and Draco coming and tearing it out of my grip… Ginny would have started to sob again at these thoughts, but she didn’t even have enough strength to cry. Think of beautiful things… What? Think… think of Harry… Harry… Can you see me now? See what you’ve done to me? What we’ve done together? Oh Harry, why didn’t I die together with you?


Shortly past midnight the summer storm was still raging outside, the blustery wind buffeting the window-panes of Ginny’s room, but Ginny didn’t hear it anymore.

Blinky, Bobby and Wrinkly looked at the limp figure lying in the bed, blood-stained covers twisted around her body.

“The poor, poor thing,” breathed Bobby. “She could have had such beautiful life…”

“Yes,” Blinky sniffed. “But she won’t… without her son, she won’t…”

Wrinkly heaved a deep sigh. “It was such a beautiful little boy…”

“It was.” Bobby nodded and reached down to snatch a little bundle up from the bed, from beside the unconscious Ginny. “Let’s… let’s bury the poor thing before Master returns… God knows what he’d do with the body…”

“…especi ally because of its looks.” Nodded Blinky, pulling the dirty sheet completely over the tiny boy’s face, concealing his mass of thick, black hair that even in its sticky state stood out in every direction… “I’ll… I’ll stay with Mistress, you two go. And be silent. We don’t know whether Master has returned yet… better he doesn’t know…”

The two male elves nodded and sidled out of the room with the motionless body of Harry Potter’s son.

* * * * *


Harry found it hard to fall asleep after the attack – he and Linda had told his parents about it, and the Potters and Sirius had been exasperated.

‘Of course it was Salazar’s doing, I’d bet anything it was him!’ Sirius had slapped the table irritably while Lily crumpled her handkerchief nervously.

‘Do you realise they wanted to kill you?’ she had said.

‘I do,’ Harry had replied, ‘but of course they don’t know they can’t kill me.’

‘Just watch out, son, they may have realised now that they can’t harm you, so perhaps next time they’ll try something else… for instance they might put hemlock into your drink when you don’t notice… remember, you can be killed by poisons, for they operate from inside.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ Harry had promised solemnly and told the others that he was sleepy.

However, no matter how drowsy he felt, sleep eluded him for at least an hour, and when he finally managed to fall asleep, he was having nightmares and kept tossing and turning in his sleep. He was having a nightmare about a raging storm, flashes of lightning criss-crossing the sky, and Ginny… Ginny suffering. What’s the matter, Gin? he asked in his sleep, but no answer came. Gin? Gin? What’s hurting you?

Suddenly the dream changed and instead of seeing his lover’s face contorted with pain, he saw his daughter – his living daughter – standing in front of him, looking up at him with green eyes dilated with fear.

‘Don’t be afraid, child, we’ll get it over soon, it won’t hurt,’ Harry told her, his voice high-pitched and cold. I’m Voldemort again, he thought in his dream and willed himself to wake up and not watch what that evil, twisted being was doing to his daughter, but something made it impossible for him to wake up.

The little girl in front of him obediently held out her arm, her whole body shaking with fear. Harry pointed his wand at her wrist, and she screwed up her face when the wandtip touched her skin, for a gash opened on it and, her blood flowed freely out of her vein. Harry’s spider-like left hand clutched her hand, while another – clearly female – hand held a little pot under Amrita’s hand, to catch the dripping blood. Harry saw that Amrita’s lower lip started to bleed as well, for she had bit into it hard to hold back the hiss of pain that wanted to escape her mouth. “I see you have learnt to control your hysterics. Very good, Lord Voldemort cannot stand wailing kids.” With that Harry made a swish with his wand and the gash on the girl’s arm closed, as though it had never been there.

“I haven’t wailed,” Amrita muttered, then cringed, realising that she had just talked back to her grandfather.

Harry felt anger surge up in him and wanted to punish the insolent little brat, but suddenly Goyle ambled into the room, holding a roll of parchment.

“M’lord, this has just arrived from Rodolphus.”

“Read it out, then,” Harry instructed the burly Death Eater, who seemed rather frightened by the prospect of having to read. “All right then, Bella, you read it out.”

Bellatrix swished her wand, making the parchment soar into her hands from Goyle’s grip, then cleared her throat and started to read out the letter:

“My Lord,

I have good news for you. With the help of the photographs you provided me with from the Diggorys' home, I managed to find a person resembling the young man in the photo. Today I overheard a discussion between this fellow and some Muggle, and the fellow revealed that his name was Spiridon Papafotiu…”


“Aha! ” Harry shouted delightedly.

Bellatrix carried on:

“…It is fortunate that Mrs Diggory had a quite recent photo of her nephew among all those decades-old pictures. I’ll keep following Mr Papafotiu, but I’d like to ask you to send me reinforcements, I wouldn’t try to capture the man alone – I don’t want to risk him slipping out of our hands again.

Sincerely, Rodolphus.”


“Good, very, very, very good!” Harry said, feeling such satisfaction as he hadn’t felt for a long time. He started to laugh, his laughter echoing in the dimly-lit chamber…

Suddenly he sat up in his bed, gasping for breath. Had his – Voldemort’s – laughter woken him up?

“I can’t believe it… I was him again… and he’s after Spiro… Why? What does Spiro have that Voldemort wants?” Harry scratched his head, trying to solve the riddle, but he was way too tired, thus unable to think clearly. He bent his head on his drawn-up knees, stifling a yawn. He tried to remember every single detail of the dream, but all he could recall was that Voldemort wanted to catch that idiot Spiro (Harry already felt sorry for the poor chap) and that Voldemort had again used Amrita’s blood. And Amrita had talked back to him! “That’s my girl,” Harry whispered with a grin, feeling very proud of his daughter.

He had a feeling that before the Voldemort-dream he had been dreaming about something else… but he no longer remembered what.

* * * * *


Voldemort’s laughter filled the chamber, and Amrita backed away from him, still clutching her wrist. Although the cut had disappeared, it still hurt her, like some phantom pain.

In the next instant her grandfather stopped laughing – and not like someone usually stopped laughing, but so suddenly that it startled her.

She glanced at the Dark Lord’s face to see astonishment on it – or rather was it horror? Could Grandpa Voldemort become horror-stricken? She had never seen him like this… it was scary.

“My Lord…?” Bellatrix spoke up.

“Impossible…” Voldemort muttered.

“What, my Lord?” asked Macnair.

“I’ve sensed him. He’s been looking into my mind again… That wretched little toe rag, he’s still alive!”

“Who?” Goyle blinked.

“Harry Potter, you idiot!”

Amrita clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle the squeal of happiness that she had almost let out.

“A… are you sure he’s alive, My Lord?” Wormtail stammered.

“Of course I am, you fool!” howled Voldemort. “The dead can’t eavesdrop on my thoughts, only the living can do it! And Potter has just done so. Do you know what this means?”

“It means he knows about your plans to catch that Greek chap,” Bellatrix said calmly, though her complexion was rather pale.

“Exactly,” grunted the Dark Lord. “He knows it and he can head us off. We mustn’t lose any time; we have to catch this Papafotiu as quick as possible, in case Potter gets the recipe of immortality before me!”

* * * * *


“He’s… dead, isn’t he?” Ginny whispered to Blinky as she regained consciousness.

“Shhh… don’t speak, Mistress, don’t tire yourself out even more. Sleep,” the house elf said soothingly.

“Tell me, Blinky. I have to know.”

The elf’s ears dropped and her tennis-ball-like eyes filled with tears. “Blinky is so, so very sorry, Mistress! The baby never cried, never moved… he was stillborn… the others went to… to bury him… before Master comes…”

“So… it was a boy, after all…” Ginny said in a wavering voice. She tried to turn in the house elf’s direction, but she didn’t have strength for the slightest movement. “What… what did he look like?”

Blinky swallowed the lump in her throat. “Oooooh, Mistress…” She began to sob, her hands hiding her ugly little face.

“What was he like?” Ginny repeated the question.

Blinky sniffed and wiped her nose on the pillowcase she wore for a dress. “He was… he was beautiful, Mistress.”

“What… what was his… hair like? Red… or black?”

“B…black, Mistress. Jet-black…”

A single tear ran down Ginny’s cheek, but she didn’t reach up to wipe it away, for she felt too exhausted to even lift an arm. “He was lucky, then.”

“Lucky?” Blinky’s huge eyes widened even more.

“Lucky,” repeated Ginny. “He died naturally. I’m… I’m happy he died like this… not by Draco killing him… that would’ve been an… unworthy death… for a Potter. A Malfoy has no right… no right to defeat a Potter… my little one hasn’t been defeated…” Ginny’s voice faltered as a sob broke out of her. However, no tears came with it - her body was shaking with the sobs, but her eyes remained dry.

“What’s going on here?” a drawling voice spoke up. Neither Ginny nor Blinky had noticed that Draco had opened the door.

Ginny didn’t answer and the elf continued weeping.

“I asked something!” Draco snapped. “Lumos!”

His wand cast enough light to illuminate Ginny’s bed. Ginny narrowed her eyes against the sudden, blinding light and squinted up at her husband with an expression very unfamiliar to Draco. He had seen her angry, he had seen her sad, even hateful, but never like this. It looked as though all these three emotions had mixed on her face, along with something indecipherable, something that gave her an almost ethereal quality. For a second Draco thought he was facing Ginny’s ghost, or a Ginny-shaped boggart that would at any second lunge at him…

Finally his stare slipped to her stomach that was slightly flatter than it had been before. The air was filled with the smell of sweat and congealed blood.

“Where’s the child?” he demanded.

“Where you wanted him to be,” Ginny replied quietly.

“What’d you mean?” he furrowed his brow. “Where is he?”

“Five feet… under the surface of earth… I presume,” she said, her voice so cold that it sent shivers down Draco’s spine.

“Buried?”

“Wh y… what would you… do to someone… who died?”

Draco looked at his wife’s eyes. They weren’t their usual warm chocolate brown, but pale brown, almost translucently so… and glassy, no emotions mirrored in them.

“How did it happen?”

“He was stillborn, obviously,” Ginny whispered, staring at a dark corner, unblinkingly.

“Oh…” Draco felt like saying ‘sorry’ for a second, then he realised they were speaking of his wife’s illegitimate child, a mere ‘by-product’ of his wife’s frolicking with Potter… damned be Potter, damned be his memory, and damned be everyone who loved him!!!

However - not even Draco understood how or why - something prickled in his chest and he found it suddenly hard to swallow, for some mysterious force had compressed his gullet… Anger swelled up in him, but, he realised, he wasn’t mad at Ginny, nor particularly at Potter, but… at himself.

He was mad at himself for feeling sorry. For the second time in a mere nine months he was feeling pangs of remorse. The last time he’d felt it was after bedding Phaedra and sneaking out while she was sleeping. Back then he’d thought that Phaedra was so different from his wife… now it occurred to him that his wife and Phaedra had a lot in common: they both had had children from Potter, and they both had lost their children and Potter.

“What… what was he like? Did you see him?” He turned to Ginny.

“No, I never saw him…” she replied with such a dreamy expression that one would have easily mistaken her for Luna Lovegood, “but Blinky says he was like Harry… I’m glad he died.”

“Glad?” Draco thought he’d heard wrong. Perhaps the storm raging outside had been too loud and made him misunderstand her words.

“Yeah,” she replied, still not looking at him. “At least this way you couldn’t kill him.”

Draco shuddered. Had Ginny really believed he’d wanted to kill the baby? Draco pursed his lips. Had he ever really thought of killing the child? Perhaps he had, but he’d only said that in his anger when he was first getting to know that Ginny had indeed cheated on him… also, he’d been drunk and he hadn’t been thinking clearly…

“I’m taking you to St. Mungo’s,” he said finally.

“Why?” She sent him a particularly piercing look.

“You’re a mess, Ginny, you need a medical check-up, and…”

“…all I need now… is clean clothing… and to be left alone,” she replied vaguely. “Get out.”

Draco had never been the type to be bossed around, but this time he didn’t waste a moment to comply. He headed for the door, but stopped in the doorway and doubled back. “Er… should you need something…”

“…t hen I’ll call the elves,” Ginny said, her eyelids drooping. Barely had he closed the door behind him, when she fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * * * *


The wind lashed at their pillowcases as they fought their way through the night, one of them carrying the baby boy Potter (or Malfoy? He didn’t even have a name!), the other one holding two spades.

“This will be the right place,” Bobby spoke up and placed the tiny bundle on a patch of grass, under a willow.

They both started to dig, their faces and ‘clothes’ totally soaked as they threw spadefuls of earth over their shoulders, raindrops coursing down their faces, mingling with occasional tears, both raindrops and tears dripping from their long noses…

“What was that?” Wrinkly asked suddenly.

“Bobby thinks it was thunder,” Bobby replied.

“No… it was different.” Wrinkly shook his head.

“A cat?”

“A very soaked cat, eh?”

“Bobby doesn’t know.” Shrugged Bobby and carried on digging.

“Wrinkly heard it again,” Wrinkly said.

“Now Bobby has heard it, too… But what the…” He looked around, searching for the source of the noise. Then his glance fell upon… “Save us…”



Author’s note: thanks to everyone who reviewed since the previous update: Lilyanna, susi, Big dreamer, Pokie4389, Mery, Cole, arios, ally, Erin, Marie, gryffin, Angie, sassygirl, Meganne, sara, Rosebeth, vietgurl0607
Delani
: I’m glad you think my writing style is mature. It took me three years spent writing HP fics to write like this. My first fic on ffnet, for example, started out terribly immature, not to mention that my English was horrible back then. I’m always so happy when people tell me how much I’ve improved! :))
Cata: I can’t promise anything in connection with Amrita. Just wait and see ;)
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