Title: Porcelain Doll
Author: Amanda Mancini ()
Rating: R sex and violence, not rated NC-17 for the fact that it's not smut, and this plot is going somewhere.
Genre: Angst/Romance
Summary: DM/GW/Riddle- Innocent Ginny reaches out to the one person who ever needed her. Wicked Draco Malfoy is caught up in the action without any regrets. He's seen death, torture, but only the loss of her innocence can move him to do what is right.
Disclaimer:All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, the plot is all original.
Author's Note:Thank you for the support of DracoGinnyFanfic (.com/group/dracoginnyfanfic). This chapter is kind of short, but to the point... It kind of begins to get interesting. Should all go well, both this AND the next chapter will be released within the next few days. I mean it this time!

Porcelain Doll

Skinny little girl in her room alone
She's got hell to spare
In her home
If you can call it a home

Doesn't want to be
Like anybody else
When no one is around
She talks to herself

... "Pale Green Stars" Everclear

(Timeline: Mid-February 1997)

He hated it when he was rushed. It was a sign of miscalculations, lack of preparation, weakness. hat's when the enemy always gets the better of you. Draco, thankfully, didn't have to worry about his enemies at the moment. No, he had to worry about his allies. It was 9:02 PM, to be precise, and Draco had only just returned from the Hogsmeade trip after having had a late meal at The Three Broomsticks. Sure, he had over two hours to prepare himself for the meeting, but he was used to spending the whole day mentally preparing himself.

There was no cause for worry. Draco knew that everything would go well.

Once again, at precisely 11:40, Draco anxiously materialised to his master's fortress when he felt the burn on his arm. Now, some people may have pitied the boy (Draco Malfoy hated pity.) Others just thought of him as a child, beaten and misused by his father, forced into turning to the Dark Side.

This couldn't have been any more wrong. In truth, Lucious Malfoy hardly ever layed a hand upon his son (and never on his wife, for the record) and hated referring to physical violence when a good verbal thrashing was so much more effective. He hadn't wanted his only son to become a Death eater. No, he hadn't wnted to compete against his only heir. he hadn't wanted them to be equals.

But that was what Draco liked best of all. Under the service of the Dark Lord there wasn't much difference between their ranks. Through the eyes of Voldemort himself, Draco and his father were equals. That was part of what motivated him.

And then there was the power, but anyways...

Upon entering the Dark Lord's meeting hall, raco felt his breath catch in his throat. There she was, Ginny Weasley, sitting on one of the wide flat arms of Voldemort's silver throne. But she was so different that Draco had to keep himself from staring.

She looked older, which must have been the result of the aging potion his father had told him about. She was wearing a long black dress, the flowy velvet going down to her angles, the low cut bodice held up by thin straps. Her fiery orange hair hung loose in ringlets around her shoulders, and her amber eyes observed everything keenly. They were smiling even if her lips were not. Delicate gold chains rested around her neck and on her wrists. She just sat there quietly with her knees pulled to her chest, next to Voldemort proudly.

She was just like a porcelain doll, Draco mused, like the ones his mother collected. Pale and fragile. You could look but you couldn't touch, for one wrong move and it would break. And so, Draco just looked, for Ginny was breathtaking and he was sorry to say that he hadn't gotten her first.

"Psst! Draco!" he heard her whisper. The meeting had ended and once again, it had not really involved him. He'd just been on his way out when Ginny had spoken.

"Draco!" she whispered loudly again and waved shyly, beckoning him closer. "Hi," she grinned. Draco couldn't believe she'd managed to identify him amongst so many others in hoods.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I know your walk," she answered simply. "And the way you stand. There's something purely 'Draco Malfoy' about it."

"Oh, right," Draco didn't know whether or not to feel flattered. "So, how are you?" he continued politely.

'I'm fine, thanks. And you?"

"I'm alright. What are you doing here?" His bluntness startled her and she took a moment before responding.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I just said. You, Weasley, are the last person I'd expect to see sitting on the arm of the Dark Lord's throne."

"Ah," she shrugged. "Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction."

"That explains nothing."

"No, I guess not. This is where I wanr to be, Draco. That's all that matters."

"Where you want to be?" Draco snickered. "Weasley, you're one sick child. he threw his head back and laughed but immediately stopped when he aw the dark look that overcame Ginny's face. Uh oh. Maybe I shouldn't have insulted her... especially when she's so close to the Dark Lord...

"Don't call me Weasley," she spat at him.

"Don't call.. huh?" Weasley? His mouth fell open in surprise. What was wrong with being called your proper name? Afterall, he was called malfoy all the time.

"Don't call me Weasley," she repeated darkly. "I am not like the rest of my family, so don't call me their name."

"Well, then what do I call you?"

"Lady."

Draco wheeled around and bowed in head in respect when he realised who had spoken. Voldemort. The Dark Lord. Master.

"I like that," Ginny said, smiling genuinely.

"Yes, m'lady," Draco said with a half smile, turning to bow to her. She giggled.

"What's that you've got there, pet?" Coldemort's high voice almost seemed louder now that the hall was completely empty. Ginny just grinned and pulled out a pad of parchment and a chunk of pointed charcal that she'd kept concealed on her lap between the folds of her dress. raco hadn't even noticed it before.

The picture drawn there portrayed a scene similar to the one Draco has seen earlier. Black hooded figures with hidden faces all bowing before their leader in a stone room, much like the one he was standing in. In fact, the picture was almost the perfect rendition of a Death eater metting. The only difference was the leader himself. For Ginny hadn't drawn Voldemort but instead had replaced him with what appeared to be a young man., perfectly detailed down to the last wrinkle in his spider-like hands, his jet black hair...

"Is that Potter?" Draco blurted, momentarily forgetting the presence of his master.

"Harry? No, of course not!" Ginny laughed. "Silly, that's Tom!"

THAT'S VOLDEMORT???? Draco couldn't believe it, couldn't believe how Ginny could look up adoringly at the Dark Lord's face and say "Though Harry does look like you."

But potter doesn't look like Voldemort. The daft boy-who-lived most certainly was not bald, nor did he have slits for eyes or a forked tongue. Didn't Ginny realise that when she looked at him? Wasn't she repulsed by what she saw? Or did she see something different?

Draco shuddered. He didn't want to know.

"You were leaving," the Dark Lord hissed. It wasn't a question. Draco supressed a shiver and bowed low to him.

"Yes master," he said. The last thing he wanted to do was anger The Dark Lord.

Ginny cleared her throat loudly and Draco sharply pulled up his head. She was looking at him expectantly, and Draco understood. If only he could ignore the cold, piercing gaze of his master. Alive with malice, those were the very eyes depicted on the boy leader in Ginny's drawing.

"Good day, my lady," he said, not missing a beat as he kneeled down and brushed his lips across the back of her hand. Ginny giggled again and the Dark Lord seemed satisfied as he continued to run his long fingers through her hair. Trying to hide his feelings of disgust, Draco left and highly doubted anyone noticed his exit.

.