Disclaimer: No characters or ideas of the Harry Potter universe belong to me.

This fic starts at the beginning of the sixth book. All of the events that have happened in the previous books are valid for this story except for alterations to Ginny's personal history.

This chapter does not contain any sexual scenes. If I do decide to put some in in later chapters I will put a warning at the beginning of the chapter.

Happy reading!

The Wayward Princess

Chapter 1: The Breaking Point

Ginerva considered it a miracle that she had made it into the Slytherin dormitories without being noticed by anyone. Her body was weak, hands trembling as she lifted one of them up to knock on the wooden door. She had to do it. There was barely any other choice. Of all the things that she had done the previous year nothing seemed to have mattered. At this point it was getting very hard to compose her expression and not let the anger show. The tears could not be stopped any longer. Every night she fell asleep crying, body shaking violently from the onset of pain. It was stupid really to do this to herself. None of it should have mattered. But she was such a young child back then and it was more than easy to tempt her, to show her what kind of delirium of pure pleasure darkness could bring.

Of all the things she did now, all the things that were considered to be the epitome of existence by those of her own age felt nothing more than mediocre. She had tried, however, tried everything that her classmates thought was fun to do, but nothing has worked and she was at the end of her patience now.

Her antics have become…..childish to say the least. Her grades have slipped from the top of the class where they have been at the end of her third year right to the very bottom where they were when she left the school after her fourth year.

Her parents had been concerned, of course. They even gave her a few stern lectures over the most recent summer but all of the words had sailed over her head. If Ginerva concentrated hard enough, she could see her mother's pained face as she looked at her only daughter. But there was nothing that they would do, and the redhead despised them for that. Her mind was too clouded by that point not to lash out at Arthur and Molly, and even then there was nothing that they did apart from confining her to her room for almost the whole summer. Ginerva didn't mind: it meant less time looking at the helpless faces of the rest of the Weasley clan.

Her reputation among the teachers went down along with her grades. Too many boys have found that it was a very easy task for the girl to permit them to touch her, kiss her. The short skirts and tight tops that were purchased from Muggles shops left very little to the imagination.

Any friends that she might have had were gone. Half of the female population of Hogwarts was jealous and the other half was disgusted. She did not care.

Ginerva felt broken and forgotten and this was her last resort. If nothing came of it she would be at wits end.

It felt like a lifetime has passed before the door swung open. Her breath stilled as her eyes fell on the half-naked figure standing just a couple of feet away from her.

"Who is this?" the voice was slightly groggy from sleep, but still retained the coldness that she often associated with the person. The Malfoy heir looked with slightly bleary eyes at her hooded figure. That picture would have been adorable had his wand not been pointed straight at her. The hand that held it had a sure grip on the wood, despite the tiredness of its owner.

"Malfoy," she spoke softly, a manner in which her fellow students were not used to hear from her. But she was too weak at that point (and frankly too scared of Draco rejecting her) to pull off a confident bravado. Her arms lifted of their own accord, trembling ever so slightly as they lowered her hood, revealing her face to the blond. A few moments of silence passed as she waited with baited breath.

The Slytherin stepped aside to let her in without any question to the Gryffindor's great surprise. She was not expecting that. Maybe he was just prone to let in beautiful young witches who came to his rooms in the middle of the night like his reputation suggested.

Those notions quickly left her mind though when in one motion he used his left hand to slam the door closed behind her and lift the wand that was held in his right hand to place its tip right under her chin, effectively holding her in place.

A different kind of fear coursed through her as the wood created a small but painful bruise below her face.

"What do you think you are doing here?" he ground out harshly, his expression conforming into one of malicious anger.

Shallow breaths left her lips as her eyes remained locked with the ones of the Slytherin. As much as she wanted to at that moment, she couldn't back away now. "Please," the word was barely above a whisper as it left her mouth. By all the Gods, if she ended up dead by the end of this night she would not care. Her arms felt like cotton candy, filled with nothing but air as they rose to the strings that held the cloak together. The thick fabric dropped from around her, leaving nothing to cover her naked form.

"Take me," she whispered, desperation leaking through the words. Moments passed and both of them remained completely still. Her eyes lowered from his, unable to take any more of the intense stare of the grey orbs.

Not a word was spoken and Ginerva even begun to wonder if he heard her at all. Surely he understood what she meant. But he didn't move, didn't touch her. The stillness seemed to last forever for the young witch. Her eyes closed, the delicate skin scrunching up to control the tears of desperation that threatened to seep through. Breath hitching, she gathered all the courage she had left inside her and looked back up at the wizard in front of her.

Everything that occurred next was very sudden. The searing anger that she saw in his eyes propelled the Gryffindor to flinch and move away from him violently. She would have fallen into a graceless heap had his hand not wound itself around her upper arm in an iron grip. A whimper left her lips before she could stop it, her body still trying to move away from him until he jerked her back towards him, his expression morphing into an ugly snarl.

"You stupid, stupid girl,' Draco hissed between his lips, his fingers digging further into her skin to communicate the message more clearly to her.

Those words seemed to have sparked a fire inside her, something that finally pushed her to choose between fight or flight, told her that coming to a private dormitory of a Slytherin as dangerous as the Malfoy heir would never have been a safe and sound decision.

"Let…let me go," Ginerva said with some hesitation as she to wench her arm free from him.

That action however, caused the blond to slam her mercilessly against the door.

A sharp yelp left her lips, the violence being completely unexpected.

"Oh no, Ginerva," Draco whispered darkly as he leaned in to her ear. "I think I am going to enjoy what you have offered."

The shiver that ran through her at those words was not pleasant at all. It was one of fear, terror more precisely, as the Gryffindor's mind wrapped around just what he had said.

"You are one beautiful kitten. It's a shame we barely see any of your kind in the dungeons," Draco said, his lips tickling her ear. The young man's voice grew softer and gained even more of a dangerous edge that it did not have before.

The free hand that was not holding her arm in a tight grip rose and the witch - who was in a state of shock - flinched and moved away from it as much as she could, more scared of it finding its place on one of her more intimate body parts than the pain it might inflict. But she found neither was the case as it rose to stroke her locks back from her face.

She had no idea what had happened to her. One moment she was in complete control of herself and the next, she was pushed into a pit of fear by the Slytherin. How the Gods have played her. The sole reason she came to this place was to gain as much attention as she possibly could, to prove something. Choosing one of the most dangerous students that inhabited the castle was the main criteria. But now fate was laughing in her face and the Slytherin Prince had her firmly in his grip, quite willing to do anything he wished with the body that was offered to him.

The fact that she had changed her mind did not matter to him at all; in fact it only seemed to encourage him. A sick feeling started to form at the pit of her stomach.

"Do tell me, Ginerva, are you still a virgin or has one of those boys you always have around yourself been allowed inside you already?" he continued in the same one as the back of his fingers gently glided over the planes of her face.

The shocked and fearful trance that the Gryffindor has been in seemed to snap at the sound of those words. Something very ugly reared its head inside of her being and in the next moment the girl spat into the Slytherin's face.

The unexpected action caused Draco to recoil from her and loosen the grip he had on her arm.

"You sick pervert!" Ginerva screamed as her hand flew to his face and left a red mark on it with a resounding slap.

There were more screams and erratic movement that followed; she didn't really remember all of it. All she could remember were the tears that finally broke loose of her eyes. They were the tears of a lost hope, of an ending.

She didn't have a lot of time to linger on such thoughts, however, because soon her own scream was piercing the air, the sound amplified by bouncing off the walls of the room. The Cruciatus Curse had only been aimed at her person for a second, yet that had been enough to achieve its purpose.

"Pathetic little Gryffindor," Draco snarled as his arms snatched the girl up from the air just as she was about to fall to the floor from the aftershock of the curse. Was it disgust that she heard in his voice? Thinking back to this night a few days later she would not be surprised if it was.

A breath had lodged itself in her chest after the scream and she struggled to regain it as he held her against him. Her entire body trembled and soon enough the trickle of tears turned into a great stream and her form begun to shake violently.

A sound of disgust came from the wizard that was holding her as he dragged her to the bed and threw her on top of the mattress. Shoulders shaking, she lay there and let the tears flow, completely forgetting that her entire body was on open display to the wizard in the process. It didn't matter; nothing seemed to matter at that moment. She had lost her last chance. What on Earth was she to do now?

Soon after he deposited the witch on his own bed Draco laid the cloak on top of her shaking body. His eyes did not linger on the figure that he hid under the fabric. He stepped away from her and to the fireplace that still held some burning embers from when they had been lit earlier that evening.

Ginerva was in pain as she lay on the bed. The Cruciatus Curse had triggered something in her, broke something loose. The emotional pain that had been building with an immense speed over her fourth year of wizarding education was crushing the girl in its full strength right now. Now, in one of the first days of her fifth year, she could not wait any longer. Heart wrenching sobs abused her throat and the dark green sheets below her were soon made wet with tears.

It was a while later when the tears and the sounds finally stopped, an eerie sort of silence falling over the room. Ginerva did not speak as she lay among bed sheets that were not her own. She pulled her own cloak tighter around her cool shivering figure, glad to find it giving her some sense of modesty once again.

"Finished now?" the cold unforgiving voice came from somewhere in the room that the girl couldn't see. She turned her head - her cheeks wet and scarlet from crying – and saw the dark foreboding figure of the Slytherin standing by the fireplace – his back facing her. At that moment she found herself eternally grateful that he was not looking for her. She could see him though. The bare muscles of his back were pronounced beneath the taut skin, one wrist holding another at the base of his spine. He was a very handsome wizard – she would give him that – but a heartless one, nonetheless.

Draco didn't wait for her to answer before speaking once again. "Did you really think that the Dark Lord would let you get away with such insolence for so long, Ginerva Armina Riddle?" he asked, his tone harsh and unforgiving.

Dead silence fell upon the room. Ginerva did not move. "How…" she begun to say, but the words were lost before they reached her lips. That name had not been spoken by anyone but her father and to hear the Malfoy heir say it felt very…..foreign to her ears. He knew. But why?

"I would think that a witch of your origins would know not to behave like a common harlot." The insult were sharp and the tone was one of disgust. He was addressing her in a way that one would use to speak to the lowliest of beings, someone who should be grateful for even being spoken to.

"How….dare you…." the snarl left her lips, broken and unsteady. Her body tensed in anger, one arm sliding under her for her to be able to lift her shoulders. "Don't you dare say anything about me! You do not know-'" her angry tirade was cut off by the wizard.

He whipped around, his angry eyes boring holes into her flesh. "Oh, I know enough about you!" he snapped, stepping towards her. "You are nothing more than a spoiled little princess who wanted to get her father's attention. But what you seemed to forget is that your father is the Dark Lord who has far more important things to worry about than a useless little girl."

The distance between them reduced with every word the young wizard spoke, as he slowly made his approach.

"I am not useless!" she shot back at him.

"You are childish at best!" his tone was kept much quieter than hers yet the point was managed to be carried across to the Gryffindor. "You have done whatever you pleased for the past year and it all started after the point Saint Potter announced to the whole world that the Dark Lord was back. Pathetic!" the last word left his lips in a snarl much like it had earlier that night.

His words that were closely accompanied by aggression were hitting her sorest spots. She did not cry this time even though the desire to do so was growing with every moment. To have someone else analyse her behaviour of the past few years so clearly and with such little emotion was both enlightening and angering. These were her thoughts! Her feelings! He had no idea what she had suffered through as she waited every day, every second for Tom Riddle - the man she had met during her first year at Hogwarts - to take her away from this school and into his own household, to teach her what he had promised her, to allow her to touch the power and darkness of magic that she would never have had the chance to without him.

For the two years after the diary was destroyed she had followed his instructions, maintained the high grades that he had helped her establish, and remained the perfect daughter for the Weasley parents. Arthur and Molly had been overjoyed to see their little girl become the model student, giving the credits for such behaviour to the Professors. Ginerva was happy to maintain the façade, knowing that sooner rather than later her father would return to her life. Even though she was not related to the Weasleys by blood, the fact of the matter was, the entire family has raised her since she was a little girl. She owed them at least a little bit of respect for that. And so she remained in their home as their seventh and youngest child, waiting patiently until her father made an appearance.

But he didn't come for her. It had been more than a year and, still, there she sat, yet to see her father when the rest of the wizarding world was always whispering about him.

"He has forgotten he has a daughter!" the young woman hissed with rage that any Slytherin would have been impressed by. But not the one in front of her it seemed.

He was a mere foot away from her when the words left her mouth. His hand moved quickly, giving her no time to see what was coming before it slammed into the side of her face sending her sprawling across his bed with a gasp of shock and intense pain.

"Do not insult the Dark Lord," he said lowly, only small traces of his anger present in the words.

Ginerva's hand rose to cover the burning flesh as a tear slid across it, not daring to look at the Malfoy heir out of pure humiliation.

The slap brought a halting end to the lashes of anger. A deathly silence only punctuated by the girl's small sobs settled over the room once again.

Draco kept his voice quiet as he spoke, eyes resting tiredly on the figure of the girl. "You wanted his attention. He has given it to you. For the duration of this school year, I have been assigned as your guardian by the Dark Lord himself. The matter is unnegotiable. If you ever pull the same stunt you tried to pull tonight you will be disowned. Immediately and irrefutably."