Disclaimer: Anything remotely related to Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling and I am just borrowing her characters to torture for a bit and then I'll give them back.

A/N: Yes, it's me again. (Groan from the reader) hey – wait! Where are you going? Come back here! Now, this fic is something that just jumped into my head and compelled me to write. It's Ginny's diary of her seventh year, and it's not supposed to be taken too seriously, ok? So here it is . . . drum roll, please . . .

Him? Whaddya mean, him?

Faith456

Chapter one: Out to ruin my life

Monday, September 1st, 1999

4:40 pm

My top five reasons why this year is going to rock:

1. We are of age. We are legally adults now, and we don't have to act like them if we don't want to.

2. We are the oldest in the school. We will rule.

3. More free periods.

4. Hopefully, the boys in our year are now over their tree-swinging, bra strap-snapping, fort-playing phase and have matured into lustful sex gods.

5. No more Percy Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger or Harry Potter around to tell me what to do and just act like- older brothers, really, even if I'm not related to two of them, and one's female.

You might ask yourself, diary reader, why I am writing a diary, given my history. But I bought this in a muggle shop (may the fates bless Hermione for her many great ideas . . . and needs to buy a birthday present for her cousin). It's a red spiral notebook, with lined pages (makes it so much easier to write in straight lines, you know, sometimes I think muggles actually have good ideas. Parchment is so hard to write on), so hopefully Voldemort didn't just pop down to WHSmiths and jumped into a diary before I bought it in order to kill us all.

So, here we are. Well actually, here I am, because you probably don't know where I am. In fact, who are you? What are you doing reading my diary? Fred – George – GET LOST!

Right. Now we've gotten rid of them, I can tell you where we are. Or, where I am, but I think we've already been through that. We are on the Hogwarts Express, headed for our seventh year at the greatest magical school in the entire world. And we're nearly there . . . yay. Although I am fully looking forward to painting the castle red, the downside would be that this year is my NEWT year. Lots and lots of exams, hurrah. And no Hermione. That's like torture, it really is. How are we meant to learn thing when we don't have Hermione shoving revision notes under our noses?

And also, my best friend (well, one of them. I have four best friends) thinks I should be able to hook up with someone this year. I mean, I know I'm not exactly the school, bicycle, but come on! I've had my fair share of boyfriends. Ok, I've had two. But Michael was a whiny-loser boy and Dean and I just . . . drifted apart. Like driftwood or some other random object that . . . drifts.

We're nearly there, and me and my best friends, who consist of Lelya Harris, Willow Jones, Colin Creevy and Darren James, are talking about this year and how we will make it rock. And I am writing in this diary.

"Yeah, Ginny, now that you have no brotherly figures that can rain on your parade, you can unbutton your top two shirt buttons-" Leyla just said, doing it for me. She is blonde, has breasts, top of the year, can pull guys easily. She knows everything there is to know about makeovers and such, and seems determined to get me a boyfriend this year. She hasn't in years before because of Ron . . . lets just say he can be protective. "Wear your hair down, and, pull your skirt up, so it's actually above your knees,"

I tried to protest, you know, but she did it anyway. I mean, my skirt did not reach below me knees. I mean – please. I think even my brothers would allow me to wear a skirt that falls above my knees.

Anyway, Leyla turned to the others for confirmation that she was right (why do they always have to gang up on me?)

"You look hot, Ginny," Willow confirmed. Always the peacemaker, Willow has rarely been heard to be arguing with anyone. She was the first to confirm that Leyla could work miracles. Of course, even though she's naturally shy and not very outgoing, unlike someone we know (coughLeylacough), Willow is quite adept in the dating department. She always has a date for the Hogsmeade weekends and has a list of ex's as long as my arm. Of course, it does help that she has breasts that you can actually see through the school uniform, unlike yours truly.

Darren comes in next with a "Totally sexy," and a waggle of his eyebrows. If Coco the Clown wanted to enrol at Hogwarts he'd probably come as a relative of Darren's. He's a bit of a comedian and the joker of the group. He usually comes out with his best gags when everyone has just taken a mouthful of food so that most of Gryffindor table end up choking and spluttering at dinner. He's tall, blonde and gets good grades and girls with seemingly no effort at all. It must be something to do with the "mesmerising" blue eyes of his . . . although I doubt Snape gets phased by it when he's making Darren's essays. Unless there's something Snape has yet to let on.

"I agree," Colin inputted. Now Colin . . . he's been a mate ever since my first year. He's the only one out of all of them that I told about the Diary Incident. I think it was just because the whole thing affected him as well. I knew he'd understand. Colin's like the boy next door – your best friend, nice to look at, and yet, will always be a friend. Don't get me wrong, I love Colin, I just don't love Colin. He tutors me in Potions, something I will be forever grateful for, and also has an active love life. Puberty blessed its wonders on little camera-snappin' Colin Creevy and matured him into one of those lustful sex gods I was talking about earlier. Perhaps that a little bit of an overstatement, but who cares.

And there there's me. Ginerva Molly Weasley. Also known as Ginny, as not even my mother calls me Ginevra (it's quite a mouthful, you know). I think the only person who calls me by my full name is my Grandmother. And she'll be kicking the bucket sometime soon anyway. She's around one hundred and thirty years old.

I have red hair. Well, that's ok, you might think, but NO. It ISN'T. I blush around everyone; I can never find a colour that'll suit me properly; and my temper control is absolute zero. Also, I can never seem to keep my mouth in check, and I always end up saying something that embarrasses me, embarrasses someone else, or buys me a one-way ticket to detention-land.

AND I'm only reaching a grand old height of 5"5', meaning I'm the shortest person in my year. I think there are THIRD YEARS that are taller than me.

I'm supposed to be smart as well. I mean, I do ok, Defence and Charms being my best subjects, not doing quite as good in Transfiguration and completely bombing Potions. It's not very fair when I have to match up to the 12 OWLs of Percy's. Even Ron set a standard that I'll struggle to reach. But then again, he had Hermione to help him.

Well, this lot might not be up there with Albert Einstein, Merlin, and Hermione, but they're clever enough. Thank Godric Gryffindor's slipper socks I have them.

Leyla just handed me a lipstick. Shock, horror; I don't think I even know how to put it on. I have never worn make up in my life. How would I know how to put Cherry Sunset on?

Leyla eventually had to show me. Sometimes I get the feeling that Leyla helping me is not the best path I can take.

In my dormitory, by wandlight, 12:23 am.

Ok, make that my top FOUR reasons why this year is going to rock.

Guess who the new defence teacher is? Take a wild stab in the dark, why don't you.

It's Harry Potter.

HARRY POTTER! What did I do to deserve this? WHAT DID I DO?

And when Dumbledore announced that Potter would be the new Defence teacher, I said, really, really loudly: "Him? Whaddya mean, HIM?"

I told you I have trouble controlling my mouth.

Oh, Merlin . . . it was awful. They all looked at me like I was mentally insane and I swear I went bright red. Harry looked like he was snorting into his goblet and Dumbledore just was all, "Uh, thank you for that comment, Miss Weasley, now make to my very boring notices that I have to read out every year and bore the pants off every student in school . . . blah, blah, blah, . . . now bugger off and go to bed, you cretins,"

Ok, lets just forget the whole fact that he only graduated from Hogwarts TWO MONTHS AGO, and think about why this person had just made sure that this school year WILL NOT rock:

1. He is Ron's best friend. He will know what I'm doing twenty-four seven. He will tell Ron if I'm being a 'bad girl', who will then tell mum, who will then give me a bollocking.

2. Charmaine Hangleton, who has vowed to make my life a living hell until the day I die, will spread some madcap rumour that we had a wild passionate shag and/or I am madly in love with him.

3. He has seen me in my dressing gown. My dressing gown is tiny. It hardly covers anything. So lets just say he's seen me in my pyjamas.

4. I am a redhead. I will blush even more around him now he is teaching me.

5. He is my older brother's best friend, ok? I know the guy. People will come up to me and go "oh, hey, Ginny, can you get me the answers to the defence test? Seeing as the teacher, is like, a friend of yours? A good friend?"

6. I used to have this stupid crush on him . . . and even though I don't feel that way anymore . . . I still get a few butterflies when he smiles that smile at me . . . but any self respecting female would - I mean, he's gorgeous . . . but I don't like him! Not like that, anyway. I mean, come on. I've grown up. He's a pivotal figure in a war that's ravaging the wonderful country of England right now, and I'm just – what? Ginny Weasley. Petite nobody.

Hang on, that's a thought. Shouldn't he be off being an Auror? Fighting the good fight and all that jazz? Maybe he's just here for protection, or because Dumbledore needs him close by, or maybe because he's really good a defence and is a really good teacher, or maybe he's just the only person stupid enough to take the Defence Against the Dark Arts post.

Either way, I think the phrase I'm searching for rhymes with 'clucking bell'.

A/N2: 24/10/2004 - I have re-written this first chapter. This chapter is the first impression that the reader is going to get of the story and should therefore be good. I don't think I'm going to go through all of the chapters and re-write them; I generally only did this one because I was bored. Anyway, if you're a new reader, then please review. I do love them.