A/N: Why am I rewriting this, you ask? Because my first draft was just that—a first draft. The spelling mistakes & some of the things I wrote in here are just down right embarrassing. But I feel like this story had some potential, & it's kind of my baby, so I'm redoing it the right way. I guess I'm not expecting TONS of reviews…(except for those of you who haven't read it yet, of course!!!)

Professor Minerva McGonagall moved swiftly and pointedly through the rows of students. She began giving the instructions to our class in her usual brisk voice.

"For this section of the year we will focus on goal setting," she said sharply. From my spot in the back row, I let out an involuntary groan. I silenced it quickly, surprising myself as much as anyone that I'd let it progress to the audible stage, but it was too late. She'd heard me.

"Yes, Miss Bell, goal setting." she said, eyeing me pointedly. "I believe this class somewhat lacks direction and inspirations, so I want you all to quickly come up with something you want to achieve this year and ten requirements to get attain it. Wands away, quills out, and begin."

I let out another long and laborious sigh. Quite a few people around me turned around to laugh, but I hadn't meant for it to be funny. I hated goal setting, I always had. Mostly because there was nothing in my life I thought needed changing. Sure, I spent a fair amount of time in detention, but I still got very high marks, I was on Gryffindor House's quidditch team, I had a lot of friends, and people generally tended to think that I'm fun to be around. Or at least fun to laugh at. I'm not bad looking either, I thought, as Roger Davies, number two heart-throb of Hogwarts, turned around to laugh at one of my grumblings and stared just a bit too long into my eyes, which I'm told by Alicia are just the right shade of "sparkling bright blue".

Professor McGonagall clearly seemed to have noticed my perfection as well, because she stopped at my desk and stared at my blank paper. "Well, well, well, Miss Bell, nothing to improve on, I see? Might I then give a few suggestions? Perhaps getting to class on time or learning to control your tongue?" Her eyes narrowed and she raised that infamous one eyebrow. Seriously, why does she even HAVE two eyebrows? So she can raise just that one? Because every other time she's frustrated they knot together and just end up looking like the woman has a unibrow. I was not intimidated by the eyebrow, however. It had been my longtime companion these five years. I responded to McGonagall in my usual style.

"Oh jolly good, Professor!" I said congenially, purposely laughing. "Me. On time and under control. Imagine!"

I swore I saw her turn a smile into a grimace. "Yes, well, that doesn't mean you shouldn't try--"

I continued to smile up at the woman who had learned to bear the troublesome burden of having me in her class until she turned her back and then I stared down solemnly at my blank parchment. It wasn't like I hadn't tried to fix those little personality flaws. But somehow, no matter how hard I tried, I was always, always late to everything and every little thought that popped into my head popped out of my mouth. And it was usually loud. Angelina says I'm an embarrassment a lot.

But, I thought shrugging it off, I'm happy being me. My loud, exuberant personality had sort of become my trademark. And I liked myself, at least most of the time. Nope, I wasn't goal setting on how to become boring. I just needed a good subject...

My eyes wandered off to where four of my five best friends were sitting in the middle of the classroom. Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan were sitting together, heads bent over each other's assignments, scratching out and filling in various comments on the other's paper which were apparently very funny because the pair of them kept doubling over in silent laughter. Behind them, George Weasley was asleep with Alicia Spinnet next to him, slowly edging away from the puddle of drool that was steadily making its way toward her paper. Fred Weasley and I used to sit behind these two until Professor McGonagall had one day decided it would be beneficial to the class's learning if we were separated after managing to transfigure Marcus Flint into a giant buttocks. (My idea, by the way). Anyway, now we sit in opposite corners of the classroom, which makes this thoroughly un-fun class even worse.

The Weasley twins had been my first friends at Hogwarts. From the moment they decided to hex my cat a disgusting shade of pink and I had pummeled both of them over the head with my broomstick (which was confiscated later), we had come to a unanimous decision that we were simply "meant to be". And I liked them both quite a bit, but somehow I had always been closer to Fred. We had clicked immediately when we discovered our mutual appreciation for fake vomit and there had been no turning back since. Which was just as well, really, because George has spent most of his teenage life mucking up things with Alicia. Supposedly, they're best mates as well. Probably even more so than Fred and I are. There wasn't a soul alive in Hogwarts that didn't fervently believe that George and Alicia were madly in love and would someday get over themselves and finally get together.

Kind of lucky, I thought enviously, watching Alicia's blonde head bounce up and down as George woke up suddenly, frightening her. Where the hell's my soul mate that I'm supposed to have met at the age of eleven? Suddenly, it hit me.

Love! That was it! That's what was missing in my life and needed to change--love. From a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend--this had to be the perfect one.

Not that I'll find it any time soon, I thought dismally, casting my eyes about the classroom at all the worthless duffers I was classmates with. But no matter. It was all in fun, anyway. I scrawled "The Perfect Boyfriend" across the top of my paper in my big, loopy handwriting, and proceeded to fill in the ten requirements as indicated by the illustrious Minerva McGonagall. At the end of class, my list read as such:

1. Must wear shoe size 11.

2. Will play the piano most exquisitely.

3. Has the ability to share what I'm thinking without me having to say it.

4. Will dance with me in the moonlight.

5. Will call me "Kate" instead of "Kates".

6. Never uses the word "chuckle".

7. 6'2"

8. His wand's made of mahogany wood.

9. Teases me about being short, but won't let anyone else.

10. Has the perfect kiss.

I smiled down at my impossible, yet very complete list just as McGonagall called the class to order to start the lesson of the day, which appeared to be vanishing spells. Wish I could vanish Warrington, I thought, watching the blob of a Slytherin examine a bogey he had just extracted from his nose. I glanced at Fred, who sat behind said scourge of the earth, and who waved his wand in the mocking pattern of a vanishing spell at Warrington, grinning at me. I returned the smile and glanced a little unnerved at number three on my list. Then I laughed at my own stupidity. Coincidences! Never can discount those.