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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: 114298; Chapter Total: 4256







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The Book of Athena


Thou tellest my flittings;
put my tears into thy bottle;
are not these
things noted in thy book?

(Psalm 56)


“He’s here to kill you?” blinked Ginny at Harry, then back at the newcomer.

“Exactly as he says,” nodded Spiro sternly, his wand still pointed at Harry.

“And why, if I may ask?” said Ginny, who – for some reason – couldn’t take the threat seriously. Harry seemed way too relaxed for someone who was just about to be murdered, and the attacker looked everything but dangerous.

“I’ll kill him for seducing my sister, then leaving her in trouble!” Spiro said fiercely.

Ginny arched an eyebrow at Harry, who was resting his chin in his palms, rolling his eyes.

“You’ve already tried to kill me three times, Spiro…” Harry sighed.

Nikias the restaurateur came out of the kitchen, up to the bar and waved at them. “Hi, there, Spiro, how’re you doing?”

“Perfectly well Nik, thanks, because today I’m finally taking revenge on Leto’s evil seducer!”

“Oh, Leto… your little sister,” Nikias nodded with a grin. “A drink for you and your lady, Colin?”

“Two Mavro Daphnes, Nik,” Harry replied.

“C…Colin?” Spiro stuttered, his wand-hand trembling. “Isn’t Dudley your name?”

“Why do you care what it is?” Harry shrugged, leaning back into his chair.

“Because I want to know what name to write on your grave!” the Greek fellow shouted, riled by Harry’s nonchalant behaviour.

“You know…” Harry looked up at him, “if you really meant to, you would have killed me long ago. Also, you’re holding that wand wrong for the Killing Curse. Bet you couldn’t even perform it.”

Now Spiro’s face was as red as a beetroot and Ginny thought he was fuming so spectacularly that smoke was coming out of his ears.

“Okay, I can’t, so what!?!” he yelled. “Are you feeling happy now?”

“’Course I am,” replied Harry. “If you used Avada Kedavra on me, you’d end up in the Labyrinth. I don’t have the heart to be the cause of your getting into there.”

“Why do you think I would get into there? Why not you?” asked Spiro. “You definitely belong in there…”

“Perhaps I would, but you wouldn’t,” Harry replied. “My heart would bleed to see you sent there…”

A little explanation to the unknowing reader: the Labyrinth was the Greek wizarding prison on the island of Crete, built according to the original plans of Deadalus. The prisoners who were sent there usually went mad – and not because of the Dementors, for the Labyrinth wasn’t guarded by any of them, but because they got hopelessly lost after a while. They found food and water on every second corner, so they never starved to death, but spent all their time wandering around on the corridors, often finding that they arrived at a place they had already been to five times before… one inevitably went mad in there.

“Don’t… don’t tell me you’d feel sorry for me!” Spiro’s voice rose in pitch, and his right hand was shaking so madly that he almost dropped his wand.

“Of course I would be sorry,” Harry replied quietly. “Why do you think I asked your sister for a date here a month ago?”

“To… to shag her!”

Harry shook his head. “No. I did it to tell her to try and dissuade you from joining the Circle, Spiro. I wouldn’t say you’re not talented, but… er… well… you are definitely not Circle-material. I knew this from the beginning and I thought you’d be risking your life too much if you joined.”

“Aha! I’m not good enough, am I?” Spiro stamped his foot. “Sorry to disappoint you Dudley… or Colin, or whatever, but it’s too late! I’m a member – since yesterday!”

“My condolences to your sister, then,” Harry said.

“So, you’re still thinking of my sister! So you admit that you’re the father of her child!”

Nikias arrived at their table with the two glasses of Mavro Daphne, a famous Greek red whine. “Have I heard it right?” he turned to Spiro cheerfully. “Are you going to be an uncle? Congrats! And Colin’s the father?” he squinted at Harry with a mischievous grin.

“Am not,” Harry replied.

“Are too!” Spiro shouted, grabbing his wand (still pointed at Harry) so tightly that it almost cracked.

“Is that what your sister says too?”

“No, she says it wasn’t you, but I know she’s just covering for you, you evil, foul, Don Juan! But I’ll be fair and I’ll defeat you in a proper wizard duel, pull out your wand you scurvy dog and fight!”

“Don’t make me.”

“Aha! The great Dursley chickened out!”

“Great Dursley…” Harry savoured the sound of the phrase. “Would you care calling me Big D?”

Spiro blinked stupidly. “Why?”

“Big D’s my cousin and a famous boxer. Any bloke he beats up will be very sorry… the same stands for me. Don’t cross me if you don’t want to be very sorry. In your own interest.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, not after you got my sister pregnant!” the Greek wizard spluttered.

“How many times do I have to tell you it wasn’t me? Never even touched your sister.”

“Then who was it, eh?”

“Presumably someone very, very short-sighted.”

“What… ; what do you mean?” Spiro was truly getting confused.

“I mean she strongly resembles a mixture of Millicent Bulstrode and Dolores Umbridge,” replied Harry half to Spiro, half to Ginny. The latter couldn’t hide her grin. She was finding the situation less and less dangerous and more and more amusing. Clearly Spiridion hadn’t understood what Harry meant and was at the end of his tether, shaking with rage.

“I don’t care what you’re raving about, Dursley, pull out your wand and fight like a man!”

As though nothing had happened, Harry lazily reached out for his glass of wine.

“Cheers,” he glanced at Ginny and downed the wine in one gulp, then made to put the glass back on the table, but instead of putting it down, he raised his arm in the blink of an eye and thrust his elbow hard into Spiro’s stomach.

The Greek fellow doubled over, but before he could even straighten his back, Harry’s fist had knocked his wand out of his grip and in the meantime tripped him. Spiro landed on his back and blacked out.

Seeing Ginny’s concerned expression, Harry shrugged.

“Knocked his head against the floor, but nothing serious, don’t worry.” He picked up the wand of his ‘attacker’ and sat back at the table. “Ah, see, Nik’s bringing our gyroses!”

The restaurateur stepped over Spiro’s unconscious body and placed their dinner in front of them.

“Didn’t want to use spells and take the place apart, Nik,” said Harry cheerfully. “I had to do it the Muggle way…” he grinned at Ginny. “The real Big D would be green with envy, he never managed to knock someone out in four seconds. Don’t worry about him, Nik, he’ll be all right.”

“Who’s worried?” Nikias smirked. “Spiro’s been looking for trouble, he got it. I’m just wondering what to do with him now?” he pointed at the inert body of the foolish Mr Papafotiu.

“We’ll take care of him, won’t we, Ginny?” replied Harry helpfully. “Do you have a free room, Nik?”

“One or two?” asked the owner, who had some sort of a small hotel above the restaurant.

Ginny was just about to say ‘two’, but Harry was quicker:

“One, my cousin and I don’t mind sleeping in the same room. Actually we’ll bring Spiro up there and look after him until he comes around.”

“You have a good heart, Colin,” the restaurateur beamed at him, “and a charming cousin, too.”

* * * * *


“Since when have I been your cousin?” asked Ginny ten minutes later, dropping herself into an armchair in their room above Nikias’ tavern.

“Since you don’t seem to be too closely related to me,” Harry replied, letting Spiro’s body (that he had carried upstairs with Mobilicorpus) fall onto the carpet. “I couldn’t have said you were my sister, could I? And I supposed you wouldn’t be too happy if I called you my girlfriend…” for a moment their eyes met, remembering what it had been like to be boyfriend and girlfriend. “… not anymore, that is,” Harry added and looked away, busying himself with Spiro. He conjured ropes to bind the chap’s wrists and ankles together and pulled out some of his hairs.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked.

“I need his hair for Polyjuice.”

“Polyjuice? What for?”

“Before Spiro arrived to kill me, I was just about to tell you about the Book of Athena.” Seeing her bewildered look, he carried on. “It’s a very special book that’s in the possession of the Circle. Some say the book was written by none other than Pallas Athena, the goddess of wisdom. ‘Course I don’t believe it, but it’s still a great book and it might help us.”

“Help us? How?” Ginny eyes widened. “Does it have information on the you-know-what?”

“Not directly. This book doesn’t give the answers to questions like ‘how can I make 5000 Galleons a day?’ or ‘how can I get rid of my annoying mother-in-law?’. No. It tells you whom you should ask to get the answer to your question.”

“Weird,” she said contemplatively. “Dose it mean that you ask the book how I can be freed, and it’ll give you the name of the person who can free me?”

“Yes, or the name of the person who knows what to do or where to go.”

“But… why do you need Spiro’s hair to read that book?”

“Because I quit the Circle, Ginny. If I were going back with Phaedra, they might allow me to rejoin them, but since I’m going alone, I might get into trouble. They don’t really like people who are unfaithful to them, you know. But Spiro here just said that he got made a member yesterday, and if I go there in his form, I won’t get into trouble. Certainly you’ll have to take care of him, we can’t have him bursting in on me when I’m looking like him, the Circle people would easily find out which one of us was the real Papafotiu.”

“I don’t think he’ll be bursting in on you, especially with his arms and legs bound,” Ginny remarked. “But tell me, how on earth are you going to get Polyjuice? It takes a month to brew, and we can’t keep your little assassin friend here for a month not to mention that Draco might find out by then and… and…” her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “What if he… he… cuts the…?”

“He won’t,” Harry reached out and pulled her to himself very gently. “Draco wants to have you as his wife, and if he cuts Arthur’s hair, he’ll lose you. Of course he’ll lose you either way, because we’re going to set you free and watch him explode with rage.”

Ginny produced a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sniff. “But Harry… what… what if he gets to know that I ran away with you and gets so angry that he cuts it? I don’t want dad to die.”

“See, that’s why we have to act as quick as possible. That’s why I’m going to ask the book tonight. And don’t you worry about Polyjuice. I have connections in Aesculapius’ Apothecary. They always have some Polyjuice ready, you only have to add the hairs.”

“Isn’t it… illegal?” she furrowed her brow.

“Naturally it’s illegal, but the salesgirl is a good acquaintance of mine, she’s always ready to help.”

Ginny was just about to ask Harry how good an acquaintance this salesgirl was, but thought better of it.

“Be careful, Harry,” she leant over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Don’t worry about me,” he grinned at her, “just take care of Spiro. Cast a silencing charm on the room, we don’t want people to hear him shouting for help. And let’s hope that no one from the Circle tries to track him. Oh, and give Beaky something to eat, will you?”

“How, if I may ask? Nikias has closed already and I can’t conjure food out of thin air,” Ginny replied. “It’s seventh year material, so I missed it.”

“Right.” With a swish of his wand Harry conjured a big heap of raw meat, then took the Disillusionment and shrinking charm off the Hippogriff who tucked in immediately.

When Spiro awoke five minutes later, the first thing he caught a glimpse of was a huge beast munching on chunks of bloody meat only a foot from where he was lying. What could he do? He fainted again.

* * * * *


Draco entered the Leaky Cauldron and headed for a table at the farthest corner. Since it was almost midnight, there were barely any guests, most of them shifty-looking goblins and ugly hags. Tom the bartender served Draco his favourite Firewhisky and warned him that he’d be closing the pub in fifteen minutes.

“Fifteen minutes will suffice,” young Malfoy nodded grimly.

As Tom disappeared behind the counter, a slender figure descended the stairs.

“Draco Malfoy, if I’m not mistaken,” she said, stepping to the table in the dark corner.

“Phaedra Potter?” he looked up, but her face was in the darkness. “Please, have a seat.”

She took place next to him, her features immediately illuminated by the single candle on the table.

Draco had to force himself not to gasp. She was beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen… her eyes were huge and dark, and so heavily lidded that it reminded him of his Aunt Bellatrix. Her lips were full and reminiscent of a rosebud. A bit like Ginny’s… Her skin was darker than the usual, it looked like that of the Patil twins… and her hair – it was wavy and a bit unruly. Had it not been jet-black, it would have strongly reminded him of that of the Mudblood Granger’s.

“Potter’s an idiot,” he blurted out. “Not that my wife isn’t pretty, but…”

“Thank you very much for your assessment, of both my husband and me,” Phaedra replied sweetly. “However, I love that idiot and I want him back. I supposed you’d also want your wife back, that’s why I wrote to you.”

“And I’m very grateful for that, Mrs Potter… er… may I call you by your given name? I get sick of the very sound of the name ‘Potter’.”

“As you wish. I’ll be calling you Draco, too,” she nodded.

“Right. So, Phaedra, can you tell me how we’ll find them?”

“There’s a Tracking Charm between him and me, we can follow them with its help.”

“Brilliant,” Draco’s grey eyes lit up. “Can you tell where they’re right now?”

“Not exactly. Unfortunately the Tracking Charm has been weakening ever since he left… me,” she said, not wanting to say ‘ever since he left the Circle’. She had heard enough about this Malfoy chap from Harry not to trust him with things that needed to be kept a secret, but from what she had heard from Harry she deduced that such an untrustworthy, nasty and arrogant person as Draco would be of great help and support in separating her husband from that impertinent little redhead.

“Weakening?” he knitted his silvery-blond eyebrows.

“Yeah. It’s so weak that it shows Harry’s position of one day ago. Yesterday evening he was in Budapest.”

“Capital of Romania?”

“Capital of Hungary,” she corrected. “People always confuse Budapest for Bucharest, but I suggest you don’t tell the Hungarians how much you like their Bucharest, because they’ll be thoroughly hurt.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. But tell me, how on earth are we going to find them if we’ll always be a day behind them?”

“A day? Hm, sorry to disappoint you, but the link will continue weakening, and in a few days we’ll be not only one day behind them, but several days. However, let’s hope that they’ll spend at least a couple of days at one place, allowing us to catch up with them…”

“Do you believe they will?” Draco grimaced.

“No,” she replied honestly. “Harry knows that I might be following him, so I don’t think he’ll stay at one place for more than a day. But you may never know what happens… once they might have to have a break, allowing us to catch up with them.”

“I don’t like this uncertainty,” Draco grunted.

“It’s still better to know that you’re at least trying to get your wife back, instead of sitting here and waiting for Harry to return her to you.”

“As though Potter would do such a thing,” he growled.

“You’re right, I don’t think he would. He loves your wife.”

He glanced at her incredulously. “But then… why did he…?”

“…marry me?” she finished the question. “Because I got pregnant and Harry acted like a gentleman.

“And your child? Did he leave you and your child?” young Malfoy gaped at her. He could imagine lots of things about his old archenemy, but not this. Noble Potter wouldn’t do such a thing, would he?

Phaedra shook her head. “He didn’t leave our child… she died.”

“Oh…” Draco nodded. Something deep down in him wanted to say ‘I’m sorry’, but he managed to fight it back. It was just Potter’s spawn, wasn’t it? Why should he care?

For some seconds Phaedra seemed to be trying to blink back a tear, then she swallowed hard and looked up. “So, are you coming with me or not?”

“’Course I’m coming, I want Ginny back. And if I get to know that they did something… anything… I’ll kill them.”

Phaedra held up her hands. “Easy does it, Draco. You can kill your wife. Killing my husband is my privilege.”

“As you wish, sister,” he smirked, hoping beyond hope that Potter hadn’t yet done anything to his wife…

* * * * *


Lucky that the Apothecary’s open 24 hours a day, thought Harry as he crept through a maze of narrow streets. He had long left the main street – Falaf Alley – of the wizarding quarter of Athens and the farther he got from it, the narrower and dirtier the streets became. A pub (infamous for weekly fights that usually ended in at least one party’s death) to the right, a brothel to the left… catcalling in the night, someone shrieking… heavy perfumes coming out of a house on the corner – opium, for sure…

Finally Harry arrived at a small square with a pathetic little fountain that was trying to send flows of water into the air but at midway the flow seemed to lose heart and drooped like a wilting flower.

The square was surrounded by houses standing extremely close together, facing away from the square – all you could see from the square was the ivy-covered blind walls of the buildings.

Harry squinted around to make sure that no one was lurking in the alleyway leading to the small square. The streets around were deserted, not even the leaves of ivy on the walls around moved. He tapped the rim of the tiny fountain with his wand and suddenly the flow of water ceased and even the small pool around it dried out in the blink of an eye. In the middle of the pool there was a hand-shaped dent. Without any hesitation, Harry put his glasses into his pocket, drank the small bottle of Polyjuice with Spiro’s hair and placed his – now Spiro’s – hand into the dent. A door appeared on the blind wall of one of the surrounding houses and the fountain began to eject water again.

“Welcome to the Circle of Hermes, Spiridion Papafotiu. Have an enjoyable sojourn,” said a mellifluous female voice as Harry stepped through the door that immediately blended with the blind wall again.

Harry had known the headquarters of the Circle for five years now – Phaedra had drawn him into the Circle right after they got to know each other - so he had no difficulty finding his way around.
He had to get to the library.

Everything was quiet and dark, only a couple of torches illuminated his path.

After ten minutes of winding his way through the gloomy corridors, he reached his destination. He opened the library’s door as noiselessly as possible and closed it behind himself, then headed for the sixth row where he knew the Book of Athena was held on the fourth shelf. He had never ever taken that book into his hands before, but every Circle member knew about its exact place.

He had to question the book quickly and leave before the effect of the Polyjuice wore off. This late at night the Apothecary had only had a very small portion of the draught, the rest had been safely locked in the storeroom and would have needed some complicated wandwork from the shop-owner to open the lock, and she had told Harry between two yawns that she wasn’t awake enough to go and get him more of it. Either he took this one-gulp portion or he should go looking for Polyjuice elsewhere. Certainly Harry could have named at least five other places where people could get illegal potions, but those places were so dodgy and their owners so untrustworthy that he didn’t want to risk buying anything from them.

So, with only one hour at hand (and only 50 minutes left of it) he quickly snatched the book off the shelf and placed it on a nearby table.

Hello, Harry Potter, what can I help you with? the question appeared on the old, yellowish, but totally blank first page with intricate ancient Greek letters.

The book wasn’t fooled by Polyjuice, then…

I need to know how I can free someone from The Fates Charm, Athena, Harry wrote in English, but the goddess of wisdom (if it had really been her who had written the book) seemed to have no problem interpreting it. Her answer was mere two words:

Ask Pythia.

With that the book automatically closed itself.

With a heavy heart Harry headed for the door. The book hadn’t said much. Who was this Pythia at all and where should he look for her? Unfortunately he couldn’t ask further questions from the book, because it answered only one question from anyone. Harry had used his question now, the book wouldn’t reveal him any more.

Well, back to Ginny then, he thought, already dreading how she’d react to him telling her about his unsuccessful mission. He turned left on the corridor and was just about to enter the hall through which he could leave the headquarters, when he caught a glimpse of a door to the right – the last door on the corridor. If his heart had sunk already, now it sank even lower. This door on the right led into the apartment that he had used to share with Phaedra and Daffy.

Normally he wasn’t the type of man to dwell on things long gone, but his daughter hadn’t been gone for a long time, just over a week… forgetting about his intentions of leaving the building as soon as possible, he opened the door and stepped into the flat.

Everything in there looked exactly the way it had the last time he had been in here – the Circle clearly hadn’t given up on Phaedra yet. If Phaedra managed to find a new partner in a month, she’d be able to continue working for the Circle, and surely she’d be allowed to keep this apartment.

Harry crossed the living room, to a cupboard that bore a small wizard photo of a happy family. It had been taken on little Daphne’s fourth birthday – she had received a magical rocking horse that was moving of its own accord when Daphne mounted it. She was squealing delightedly in the picture, mummy and daddy kneeling next to her, flashing their smiles in the camera’s direction.

Harry turned over the picture and let it lay facedown on the cupboard. A single tear ran down his – Spiro’s – cheek, his hand resting on the picture-frame: not wanting to see it anymore, but not wanting to release it either.

His child… his little daughter… his only child… Somehow he had always considered Daffy as his only child, not having any hope of ever getting a chance to see the other one… to hold the other one in his arms… He had never had another child, for that other one had been held out of reach from the first moment on.

He had fathered two daughters and now he had none.

He didn’t know how long he had been standing there, gazing into the darkness of the living room… it could have been two minutes, but it could have been thirty-two as well. He had lost track of time. He got shaken out of his reverie by the griffin-clock in the hall squeaking twice.

Two o’ clock already? Better be off, he told himself and with a suddenly thought he opened the frame of the picture and took the photo out of it, slipping it into his shirt.

Quietly he left the Potter-apartment, but when he was about to turn into the nearby hall, words caught his ears.

“Have you heard it?” a hushed, but deep and grumpy male voice said.

“I have, Jason… Oh, so terrible!” a female voice replied shakily. “I can’t believe that He Who Must Not be Named could do such a thing! I mean… he’s evil, we all know that, but… attacking Disneyland when it’s full of children…” her voice faltered and she started sobbing.

Harry’s heart sank again, now even lower than before entering his old flat. So, Voldemort had started it again…

Of course he had always known that one day the Dark Lord would come out of hiding and strike again, but he had hoped it wouldn’t happen for a long time…

If he thought it over, it had been a long time… Five whole years had passed since his last encounter with the Dark Lord, and ever since Voldemort had been lying low, licking his wounds, trying to recover from the shameful defeat, having lost almost all his Death Eaters and his pride… Harry had almost done away with him last time… almost. And now it seemed that five years had been enough for Voldemort to gather his strength and return, like some boomerang: whenever you got rid of him (or you thought you got rid of him) he’d return…

“Yes,” the gruff male voice replied to the female. “It was horrible. Sleeping Beauty’s castle is in ruins, the Dark Mark hovering about it, those two Muggles dressed as Mickey and Minnie got the Killing Curse and hundreds of children injured… fifteen of them dead. You don’t want to see a picture of it, Leto, believe me.”

Harry shuddered at the mental image of a destroyed Disneyland, its streets and squares littered with wounded and dead children… his blood boiled with anger. Voldemort had no mercy on anyone, he would be able to murder his own…

“I’m so afraid, Jason!” the female sobbed again. “What will become of our child in a world so full of evil?”

“Shush, Leto… don’t be afraid. You’re a member of the Circle and we’ll protect you and our baby.”

Something in Harry snapped. “Oh yeah?” he stepped out of the shadows. “Just like you protected m… Harry Potter’s daughter?”

“Hey, Spiro, old mate,” Jason – who was built around the lines of Crabbe and Goyle but had a more intelligent face – replied, looking slightly nervous. “Er… how much have you heard?”

“Enough to know you got Sp… my sister pregnant,” Harry corrected himself. He had already regretted losing his temper and jumping out of the shadows – had he controlled himself, he would easily have reached the front door without anyone noticing him. But somehow the memories of Daphne rushing back to him and then the news about Voldemort’s latest act of terror had unhinged something in him… and suddenly he felt the familiar feeling of nausea wash over him, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to cross the hall and get out in time… Spiro’s wide and stumpy-fingered hands began to change back into Harry’s elegant, long-fingered ones, he felt himself growing as though someone had grabbed his hair and started pulling him upwards, and finally he felt something he hadn’t felt for five years: his scar was hurting like hell.

Although he was quite short-sighted without his glasses, he could still make out Jason’s dark features turn even darker and Leto’s piggy eyes widen as they were fixed on his forehead. Obviously the Polyjuice had ended the effect of his scar-concealing charm and it had become visible again.

My, my, we are in trouble…


Author’s note: thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you gave me heart and confidence that perhaps there are still some people who like this… prove it again, and review, please! :)
Angie: some parts of this story IS going to be depressing, but you’ll have plenty of opportunity to laugh, I promise you that.
Mery: you’ll see H/G/D fight, but only later. First Draco has to find H and G.



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