The Ring

Disclaimer:If I owned 'Harry Potter', why would I be writing this!?

Rating:  CHANGED to R for mature content, swearing, and violence.

Author's Note:Will have T/G and D/G, not sure which is the general one.Is gonna be hard for me to decide if Draco's gonna to be Good!Draco or Bad!Draco.  Bad!Draco is my fave.  Please R'nR!

Note: 'The Ring' is not like the ring in LotR, though it has a few traits of it, except that Tom can control it no matter where he is.  More about this follows in future chapters.

Note #2: Ginny's full name is actually Ginevra (middle name: Molly), not Virginia, as many had thought, and still think.  I thought it was Ginerva, but it was actually Ginevra, sorry!  I've edited the chapters now, but if you see Ginerva, report it to me and I'll change it.

I, I, I am falling down

Try and stop me

Feels so good to hit the ground

Try and watch me

Falling on my face

It's an upulant human race

And I,

I am falling down

- Falling Down, Avril Lavigne

The Journal of Ginevra M. Weasley

August 29th, 1996

Forever Falling

Forever falling I was.  For who, you may ask?  No, not that fool, Potter.  But someone very much like him.  And yet not.

Long midnight lashes, with unruly jet-black hair.  Sly and clever.  Intelligent.  He had charm and grace, in which I've never seen in a man.  Man; that is the word I used to hate and love to describe him.  When I was 11.

I had been a naïve little schoolgirl.  An 'Innocent little Mary-virgin schoolgirl', he used to describe me.  Well, that was until he took my innocents. And, not to mention, my virginity along with it.  Bastard.

Who, you may ask am I talking about?  The great Heir of Slytherin, the smartest most handsome person on the face of the Earth (when he was young at least) (tied next to that hot Draco Mal – er, never mind, that's not the point), the most powerful Sorcerer of the Age. Ever.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.  Or more commonly known to all; the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort,  You-Know–Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

No one but myself has ever known my feelings for the infamous Dark Lord.  My stupid mudblood-loving parents, male siblings, and so-called friends, thought, and still think, that I hated, loathed him.

And in a way, I do.  I love him so much it hurts to think about my heartbreak when he was gone.  And yet, I loathed him with the might of a thousand suns for leaving me.

In a way, it is his fault.  Him, being oh-so-confident that we – no, he, it's always about him – would win the battle.  And, only to lose the war in the process.

Everyone thinks that the Great Boy-Who-Lived he should've died in my opinion –had saved me from my death.  But, no, he had simply foiled our plans of World Domination and the Enslavement of Mudbloods, Half-borns and Muggles.  He didn't save me at all.  Just caused me much grief.  I loathe him with the intensity of more than a billion suns.

And he destroyed my darling basilisk!  Tom had said that I could order it around as much as he could, and it was partly his and mine.  It belonged and was bound to follow the orders of all Heirs of Slytherin.

Tom poured part of half of his soul into mine, and I he.  So I was part Heir, too.  I had just figured that out too late, during the summer before my 2nd Year.  Seems I lacked in intelligence in my 1st year also.  Pathedic of me, really.

Oh, I swear on the Chamber of Secrets, that if Tom ever comes back, I'm going to KILL him.  Then, ressurect him again, to his misfortune, by the life force of Scar-head, that I'd'vekilled.  Oh, that'll teach him.  He'd always wanted to see Potter lying on a cold stone floor, screaming in pain and agony; slowing rotting to a bare skeleton.

Tom could be as charming and conceiving as a snake, and as much as an insufferable git as the Malfoys' are!  And they can be pretty damn annoying, too.

If it was one thing I adored and hated to do to him, was to upset him.  I loved the way his eyes swirled to a deep red crimson, with his pale, grey ones.  And he'd hurt me deeply next.  I loved and hated it at the same time.

The way he'd attack me so slyly, so sudden, that my eyes always widened in surprise, no matter how often he'd done it.  He's a masochist, yes, I know that.  He loves the way I upset him, and hates it as much as I do, that I had the bloody gall to annoy him, the Great Dark Lord.

As he hurts me, violating me to the depth of my soul, he gets turned on (by me, so easily), and I felt a hardening bump by my thigh.

Oh, I remember the night he took me.  He led me to the Room of Requirement, put a Silencing charm on the emerald green drapes, and stripped me of my second-hand robes.  As he moved his expertise hands (I had scowled at the thought of him doing this with his other whores) along my body, moving in perfect rhythm with his, inflicting feelings I've never felt before.

He took me slowly, and I felt pain beyond imagining.  He though, seemed to be enjoying him very much, and started to quicken his pace.  After a few more rounds of pain in his powerful thrusts, I started to feel a glorious release; the pain subsided, and I was soon moaning in bliss.

That night, was the night he'd taken everything from me.  From my innocents, to half of my soul, to my virginity.  In a way, he's filled a hole no one could before, and left it even more empty than ever before.

I started menstruating when I was 9, yes, so I secretly had thought of sex, but of course had never told of anyone.  I remember being emabaressed by my annoying brothers when I started to gain weight faster, and I was soon 3 pounds more than Ron.

A/N: During puberty, you gain weight and height rapidly, if you are confused.

At the age of ten, I'd began to think of masturbating.  But due to my annoying neurotic thoughts, which were desperately mixed with my erotic ones, I was too worried that I'd be caught. As I tended to moan myself to awareness when I'd dreamt being touched, by someone; any guy, that just wanted me.

Such naughty thoughts kept evading my mind, that I had trouble sleeping, because I'd found myself moaning myself awake more often.  So I told my mother I'd had trouble sleeping, and needed a batch of Dreamless Sleep Potion, and she responded quickly, to my relief.  I could go back to sleeping like normal people without erotic thoughts invading my dreams.

I still dream about him sometimes; either about him talking to me about his plan which included me.  It had failed, 'cos of that damned Scar-head.

ANYONE ELSE READ THIS,DON'T TOUCH

THIS PART OF THE PARCHMENT.

'OBLIVIATE!' the journal suddenly seemed to shriek in the silver-blonde's head.  He looked down at the page he was reading and frowned.  He had finally gotten hold of the Weaslette's precious journal, that she took and wrote in everywhere, and it was blank!

Dammit, he thought furiously.  He'd crack this bloody book's secrets out soon, if his name wasn't Draco Lucius Malfoy.

What he didn't know was that everything he'd recently actually read in that book, was completely erased from his memory by a very powerful Memory Charm.  Draco also didn't realize the small note that was automatically written, after he'd foolishly laid his hand down on the place where the last bits of text bore a warning.  As he slammed the dark ebony cover down in frustration, the note at the bottom had already disappeared.

Ha, you touched it.

A/N:  Sorry for the short chapter, 'll try to update more often w/ longer chapters. Flame if you want - don't give a damn.

 - Death Immortalitis