Chapter 3: Punishment

1992

"Hello, Father!" Ginerva said brightly as she stepped into the room where the young man sat. It was dark in there. It was always dark. The underground chamber was one of many that spanned off the Chamber of Secrets and allowed those that carried the blood of Slytherin in their veins the comfort of living spaces where they could bide their time away from those above. And that was exactly what Ginerva was doing.

The flames in the fireplace as well as a number of candles ad lanterns provided sufficient lighting to the small sitting room, where a young version of Tom Riddle was currently sitting with a book in his hands. He didn't look up when the girl entered nor when she greeted him. The only thing he did was turn another page of the book and continued with his perusal of the text, leaving the Gryffindor standing awkwardly a few feet from him.

"Father?" a frown crossed the girl's face this time and she looked worriedly at the man, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. The happy spark that had been in her eyes when she entered had disappeared and her bottom lip has found its way between her teeth. "I'm….I'm sorry I didn't come visit you yesterday. I lost track of time."

Once again no response came from the young man. She simply stood there, her fingers intertwining with each other, feet shifting beneath her. She was squirming already with the mere knowledge that he was not pleased with her. The explanation as to why she didn't come yesterday as she was supposed to didn't even dare to make it to her tongue. And so she stood there silently for a long while. Not a word was uttered, the only sound in the room coming from the crackling fire and the occasional turn of the pages of his book. With each passing minute the discomfiting feeling grew in her stomach. Eventually her head lowered, the pale fingers scrunching up the fabric of her skirt until they turned red with the pressure and the girl tried to speak again. "I…..we…..Fred and George gave me a set of magical cards yesterday and me and my roommates spent the whole night playing with them." The words came out in a single breath and close to unintelligible. Ginerva took in a gasp of air, her head rising slightly, eyes widening as she concentrated them on the stone wall behind him and tried to gather her reeling thoughts.

"That wasn't so hard now was it?" Tom finally spoke as he closed his book calmly and looked up at his daughter.

She bit her lip, no voicing a response.

"Look at me, Ginerva," the man ordered as he rose from the couch, leaving the book behind.

The Gryffindor's eyes darted to his face for a few seconds than to the floor between them than back to his eyes. At the time she had met Tom Riddle and for many years after, the girl wondered why the sorting hat placed her in the house of the lions when she had the blood of the serpents coursing through her veins. Was she not as cunning, and more true to her heart? Not as ambitious but simply free? She knew she was sly, she knew she was ambitious. Those qualities rested deep within her. They were the ones that allowed her to keep all the secrets, to stay quiet for so long. Perhaps it was the endurance and willpower that lay beneath everything else: the kind that did not stop her from looking danger right in the eye.

So she looked on into the eyes of her father with that spark of bravery that was within her.

"I am not pleased to see such ignorance, Ginerva," he stated, regarding her with a stern expression. "You have disregarded your previous promise to me in order to spend more time with the people you already spend the majority of your days with."

A low whine escaped Ginerva's lips before she had the chance of holding it within. Her head lowered in embarrassment, the words having struck true to her behaviour. "I am sorry, Father," the girl's cheeks were red as she whispered the apology. The unnerving feeling in her stomach doubled in intensity.

An impatient sound came from Tom's direction and his hand rose to take a firm grasp of her chin, lifting her head so he could see her eyes once again. "Merely saying that you are sorry is never going to do you any good, Ginerva, despite what the Weasleys might have taught you," he informed her sharply, a certain chill seeping into his eyes.

She didn't say anything in reply, having no words that she could give to him. This was the first time she was seeing such disapproval being aimed at her from the heir of Slytherin and she truly did not know what to expect. Her voice became little, her squirming hands stilling, "I promise I won't forget again."

"I suppose I cannot expect too much from you at this point, can I? You have no true understanding of discipline, after all," a pensive quality has overtaken the man's voice as he studied the child with his dark gaze. "But do not worry, Ginerva. I will teach you what you need to know."

The young witch's brown orbs reflected wonder and dread as they watched the man, completely unknowing what to expect.

What came next seemed dull and embarrassing to the witch. She had been ordered to kneel in the back corner of the room, her legs positioned a few inches away from the stone walls. Tom had returned to his comfortable chair and the book he was reading before his daughter arrived, leaving the girl herself much more apprehensive about the whole situation. Truthfully at that point it just seemed as a more severe version of the punishment her mother had subjected to as a young child. She would have been ordered to sit still somewhere quiet, much to the girl's boredom. It never did much to change her behaviour though. The young redhead would have generally stayed out of trouble for the rest of that day before forgetting about the entire incident when it came to the next morning.

Now she was older and had found herself in almost the same predicament. Those were the thoughts that swam around her mind for the first ten minutes at least. It was at that point that her bare knees started to hurt. The tender skin was wedged between cold stone and hard bones that were currently supporting almost all of her body weight. Ginerva hadn't given that much thought when she first lowered herself to that position.

The only measure of time the Gryffindor had during her punishment was the turning of pages of her father's book. She wasn't exactly sure when she started counting every time, but what she did know was that her knees were already sore by that stage. She bit her lip to hold in a whimper of pain as she waited to be released. Four. Five. Six. Her eyes scrunched up and she had to hold back the plea that wanted desperately to be voiced. Merely saying that you are sorry is never going to do you any good. Those were his words; she had to listen to them. Not just to please him, but to prove to herself that she was strong enough. Everything that he had taught her so far had been wonderful and pleasing him had become more than a wish. The Gryffindor wanted her father to be proud of her. Seven. Eight. A whine finally made it past the barrier that she Ginerva had constructed. She squirmed slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position and failing. Nine. Ten. Eleven. The book snapped shut and the girl took in a prolonged breath.

"Very good, Ginerva. You may rise," the Slytherin finally spoke, a note of approval evident in his voice. Two hours had passed since the punishment has started and not one complaint was heard from the girl. A weak smile slipped onto her lips.

1996

Ginerva didn't feel presentable as she exited the bathroom. The dried tears have been washed from her face and the clothes has been straightened somewhat on her frame, but overall the image that she saw in the mirror was not one she wished to greet the most powerful Dark Lord with. Any confidence of her own person seemed to have vanished, replaced only by the vulnerability that didn't allow her to hide any emotions. She had considered lingering on the upper level of the house for as long as she could, but the memories of her father's patience being tested before quickly pushed the Gryffindor towards the staircase.

The house was a small one, containing barely any items that could personalise the abode. The primary colours evident in the interior closely resembled the ones of the thick forest that could be seen from all of the windows. Had the situation she was in been different, Ginerva was sure that she would feel a sense of peace within these walls.

Locating the study took her much less time then she wished it would have. The door was slightly open, providing her enough information about the room at a glance to come to the conclusion that it was the one she was looking for. She slipped in quietly, eyes immediately finding her father who sat behind the large wooden desk. The wizard was looking over some papers before the girl arrived, eyes snapping up at her when she closed the door behind herself. The silence was not broken as Voldemort leaned back in his chair, appraising the witch with a placid expression. She didn't lower her eyes from his, knowing that this was not the time or place to show such submissiveness. When it came to previous disciplinary talks the Gryffindor knew that he would judge her every action and every word, and see how skilfully she could balance on the scale of remaining strong yet acknowledging her misdeeds.

'I wasn't exactly truthful with you when I said we will be discussing your punishment, Ginerva," the Dark Lord begun, his level voice carrying just a hint of the coldness that she saw when he exited the bedroom. His gaze was calculating though, the lack of emotion evident sending more messages than some would have. "A punishment implies experiencing something unpleasant to correct a wrong and be forgiven for it. You have overstepped that luxury," he informed her simply.

Silence fell upon them for a few moments. The dread that Ginerva had felt when she made the journey down the stairs intensified.

"What I have for you are a few options," he continued, the businesslike manner in which he spoke doing nothing to prepare her for the words that followed. "The easiest option is for you to remain as you are, doing whatever you desire, having only to answer to your adopted parents. It is the simplest way. It would cut you off entirely from myself and I will no longer recognise you as my daughter. Your safety will not be guaranteed. As a witch known to have ties with the Light side you will become one of the targets of the Dark Army."

Ginerva stood stock still, her entire body seeming to have frozen. She didn't move or speak, as waves of ice coursed inside her, leaving behind a trail of pain behind them. One would not be able to recognise the man who sat behind the desk as the same one who comforted his crying daughter a short while ago.

"The second option," her father continued, not going the girl much time to think. "You will reserve the privilege of calling yourself my daughter. If you choose to accept this option, there will be a number of conditions that you will have to abide by. You will be completing your fifth year of education in Hogwarts and achieving nothing below and E on all of your OWLs. You will not be permitted to continue any of your relationships that you had with young wizards last year. If you are successful in completing this school year as you have been instructed then I will take you into my home and you will finish the last two years of your studies with the help of private tutors. What you will learn will not deviate a lot from what your peers would be learning. The only addition that I will make would be history and traditions of the pureblood society. After that you will be free to live as you like more or less. You will be viewed as a supporter of the dark army and provided with appropriate security, however you will not be participating in any way in the war."

The Gryffindor took in a breath of air as her father paused in his speech, her posture as stiff as a rod, eyes glued to the man as she listened on.

"And the last option," Voldemort said, sweeping his eyes over the girl for a second," will require your complete obedience. You will need to achieve nothing less than Outstanding in all of your OWLs. You will let go completely of any romantic notions you had for your fellow students and focus on your studies. At the end of this school year you will be retrieved from the castle and tested on your abilities. As it stands right now your Occlumency shield is almost non-existent, your body is weak and you are not able to handle even one second under the Cruciatus Curse. Come to me in this state ten months from now and I will dismiss you immediately, if you should choose this option. You will be put through a series of tests and if you will attain the level I deem satisfactory in them, you probation period will be over. From that point, I will mentor you myself and when you have learned enough under my tutelage I will make you my Dark Princess. You will be one of the main leaders of the Dark Army with more knowledge of the Dark Arts than anyone besides myself."

Ginerva sucked in an audible gasp of air, her vision swimming out of pure euphoria for a few moments. Yes, this was what she had always wanted, what she had dreamed of since she was eleven years old. It was what Tom Riddle had whispered to her like a lullaby when they sat together by the fire, what filled her dreams at night and drove her on during the day.

There was a smile that started to appear on her lips, however the pure ice that she saw in the man's eyes willed her expression to go back to a stoic one, her body feeling cold once again. There was so much to take in and for a few moments the girl stood completely still before her head lowered and she sank down to her knees.

"Father," Ginerva's voice was soft and showed the vulnerability that was inside of her. "I want nothing more than to learn from you. I….I know I made some great mistakes. Please allow me this opportunity to show you that I can earn back your trust," she begged, eyes staying on the rug under her.

It was truly exceptional how much understanding has come to her mind simply because she was near him. He did not have to say many words. The Dark Lord's disappointment in his daughter could be very clearly seen from the very start. And she felt so weak, to the point where it disgusted even herself. He had asked for her complete obedience and she was more than willing to give him that if only she would be able to earn his approval once again. The first two options that he had offered her flew from her mind completely, leaving and empty pace that could only be filled by her ruthless determination to become what the Dark Lord would be proud to call his daughter.

Voldemort regarded the girl with a cold gaze. "You will not be seeing me again until after you take the OWL examinations at the end of this year. The choices you make between then and now are completely up to you. You are no longer a child and you will not be treated as such. If you succeed, you will have a place within the Dark Army. If not, you will be dismissed. Draco will be available to guide you through some training. You will come to him, not the other way around. He is not your babysitter. He will function as my eyes on you in the school and will inform me if you were following my instructions throughout the year. I suggest you get well acquainted with the young wizard if you want to achieve your goals."

"Draco?" the Gryffindor raised her head in surprise, a frown on her face. The conversation she had with him a few nights ago came back and her cheeks reddened. Getting 'well acquainted' with that particular young wizard was the last thing she wanted to do at that moment.

The Dark Lord did not give a verbal reply to the girl's question, his expression becoming hard as his patience thinned. "He had informed me very clearly about that little stunt you pulled three days ago. Frankly a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse would have done you some good, but like I said, you have overstepped the luxury of punishment. As of this moment, you will be proceeding with a clean slate. I have outlined the conditions to you. If you deviate from any of them you will be disowned. I have no use for a girl who has too many hormones and no focus," the last statement came out as a hiss, striking deep within Ginerva.

The Gryffindor's gaze snapped back to the floor as was put back in her place. A heavy breath left her lips. "Yes, Father," she murmured weakly. "I will do whatever you wish."

Ragged breaths echoed off the bare stone walls of the dungeon cell. The Malfoy heir knelt before the Dark Lord, sweat beading on his forehead, jaw clenched in both anger and pain.

"You are testing my patience, boy!" Voldemort snapped lowly, his wand pointed at the young wizard. Five Cruciatus Curses have already been fired from its tip in the last ten minutes and still it hung in the air, ready to administer more punishment.

"My Lord," Draco managed to say hoarsely, his throat dry. Not a sound had come from him as he was held under the most excruciating curse. He stayed as still and stiff as a rod, muscles contracting as his mind willed them to push the pain away. It was something that his father had taught him to do. Handling extreme pain was one of the skills he had to master as part of his rigorous training.

"The fate of your entire family is balanced on your shoulders right now. Fail me and your father will be spending the rest of his days in Azkaban. You and your mother will be dead if the assignment is not completed before the deadline," Voldemort stated coldly, as he looked down at his servant. "You have been given two tasks: one to ensure the safety and wellbeing of your family and the second to re-establish the rank of the Malfoys at the top of the Dark Army. Already, so few days after the start you are failing," he hissed, the true level of his fury starting to show.

"I have called you here to remind you of your task and give you one last warning, because it seems you have forgotten what you are meant to achieve. My daughter is to be made into a leader, not driven further into the submissive state she had pushed herself into. Raise your hand or wand to harm her ever again and I will chop both of your hands off your body," he snapped sharply. "You are not her superior; you have no power to hand out any punishments to her. You will control your anger and you will do as you have been ordered. Do I make myself clear?"

The Slytherin didn't have a chance to reply as the sixth Cruciatus of that night was fired at his chest. A grunt left his lips, his body starting to crack under the immense pressure. Minutes seemed to have passed before the pain receded from his body, even though the curse was aimed at him for only twenty seconds. The blond gasped for breath, hands slamming into the stone floor to support his weight. "Yes, my Lord!" he managed to wheeze out, moisture gathering in his eyes.

"Good," Voldemort stated simply, satisfied that his message was well delivered. The long yew wand was put back into the pocket of his robe as the man turn towards the door. He stopped two feet away from the exit, not turning back as he added one final comment," Your rage is becoming your downfall in your quest to marry my daughter. Do not make me regret my decision."

The door opened as Draco took in deep breaths, his eyes on the floor and his mind filled with the words of the Dark Lord. The only reply he could to the empty room was t to clench his jaw once again as the door slammed closed.

The corridors of the Dark Headquarters were quiet as Voldemort made his way up to his personal study. The hour was close to midnight and many Death Eaters have either retired to their homes or were out completing tasks for their Master. Quiet voices came from one of the rooms on the second floor as the Dark Lord passed the door: two members of the Inner Circle discussing an attack that they would be executing in a week's time. The man didn't pause in his step, continuing on towards the end of the corridor where a low ranking Death Eater was posted on sentry duty outside of his study.

"Master," the soldier bowed from his waist, showing the respect that was required of him. Straightening himself back up, he kept his eyes on the floor as he gave his report. "You have a visitor waiting."

The thin candles that provided all the lightening in the corridor only allowed Voldemort to see the pale face of the robed figure who sat unmoving behind the Death Eater. "You are dismissed," he stated simply towards the wizard, expression not changing as his eyes continued to study the face.

"My…my Lord," the Death Eater hesitated to obey the order – lacking all understanding of what was happening around him. He was more surprised when his Master did not even look at him after such breach of obedience. Not wishing to find himself at the wrong end of the wand of the most feared man in Europe, the stationed Death Eater quickly made himself scarce, leaving the two alone.

No word was spoken as Voldemort reached out and opened the door, waiting beside it. The dark figure rose from the chair it had been seated in, moving into the room few people had ever been permitted to visit. Only after the door was closed behind both of the parties, were the first words spoken. "Lady Vespera," the Dark Lord greeted, his cold voice containing a hint of a drawl. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"My Lord," the woman murmured in return, turning to face him where he still stood at the door. "I apologise that it took me so long to pay my respects after your resurrection," she continued as her hands rose to lower the hood from her head.

An eyebrow lifted itself on his forehead and a gleam of amusement flashed through his eyes for only a second before the layer of ice returned to them. "Your acknowledgements have been noted," he inclined his head simply. "Is there anything else that has prompted you to visit me on this night in particular?"

One corner of Vespera's lips tugged up into the beginning of a smile before she could hold it back, however, in the next moment her expression had settled into one of composed detachment that it held before. "Indeed," she answered smoothly. "I heard talk that you have paid a visit to our daughter today."

Author's Note

A day late on the update, but this chapter is longer than the previous two. A stupid technicality kind of bugged me for the first two days before I could start this chapter. I decided to ignore it completely as it was not relevant to the plot. That technicality being of how Ginny would have been able to physically see Tom Riddle in her first year. It does not carry any importance in this story, as I am focusing on their relationship when I write about Ginny's first year. There will be more segments of that in later chapters in a non-chronological order. Most likely not in every chapter.

Soooooo, this particular chapter really marks the start of the story. Personally, it's my favourite out of the three. Lots of new stuff here and lots of things to look forward to in the future. We will get to find out more about Draco's story as we go on. Oh and Vespera :P . Quite an interesting woman. The idea for her character jumped at me out of nowhere. I actually wasn't planning on writing anything about Ginny's mother but the bare minimum, but I liked Vespera too much not to write about her.

Ginny herself is going to be changing a lot throughout the whole fic and that change will be starting next chapter.

Okay, I rambled on for longer than I thought I would. Please review :D I would love to hear what you think about the story so far. Happy reading and until the next time!