Ginny Weasley's Diary

Monday, 24 October 1994

Life is a celebration to be joyfully gathered up in one's arms, to be hugged and squeezed until it falls lifeless upon the carpet! Blast and bother. I meant that to sound a bit cheerier. Never mind, I, Ginny Weasley, have been asked out on a date! At last I am rewarded for all my hard work, having spent weeks and weeks and weeks - well actually days and days and days - circling the castle under escort by cruel task master/weight trainer Blaise Zabini and former kindly friend but currently cruel co-trainer Lisa Turpin. End result is, well, I'm not bony like Susan Bones, but am far less bulky than Millicent Bulstrode. In truth, that is not saying much as most barns are less bulky than Millicent.

My efforts towards adopting a healthy diet and exercise have paid off! Not to brag, but in point of fact, in an effort to eat a healthier diet, I now routinely eat greens. In point of fact, I ate greens only yesterday. Actually, come to think on it, while what I ate was green, it was not actually a vegetable, but was lime wine gums. And in another point of fact, limes grow on trees do they not, and that is surely what counts? But that is neither here nor there, fact remains; all my hard work is at long last rewarded!

Never dreamed I would accomplish set goals so quickly, so effortlessly. All evening yesterday I practiced looking 'intriguing' into mirror. Rather a bother because cannot manage to lower eyelashes entrancingly without actually closing eyes. How can I gauge the actual effect of my eyes on a boy if my eyes are shut? Why must being sexy be so d. difficult? And anyway, what in blazes is sexy anyway? Would be helpful if had some idea of what exactly wizards think of as sexy. I mean, all witches have the same equipment so why do wizards find some witches so much more interesting than others? Before the end of summer holiday, I asked Mum about the matter and she said 'make no mistake Ginny, what boys want are girls who are sweet, thoughtful and clean.' Sweet, thoughtful and clean? Honestly. Brumhilda Gawkins of Hufflepuff is a sixth year. I reckon, she is sweet enough, is quite thoughtful and is known to wash her hands hundreds and hundreds of times a day. And yet, as far as I know, Brumhilda Gawkins hasn't had a date ever. I pointed out to Mum that my older brothers have shown no interest at all in sweet, thoughtful or clean girls that I know of. I even heard Fred making a comment to George - when they didn't know I was in the next room - that he fancies unclean girls. Ok, what Fred actually said was he prefers 'dirty girls' but that makes no sense whatever. What I have noticed is that my brothers, seem most interested in girls with great big bosoms, tiny little bums and pretty faces. Mum responded to my observations by sending me upstairs to tidy up my room. How does she expect me to puzzle things out if I'm always tidying my blasted room? Perhaps Mum thinks cleaning my room gives me time to think on things. Brothers' rooms are hellacious mess, which one supposes explains a lot about how brothers' minds function with so little sense or logic.

But who cares a fig about brothers! I want to dwell in the lovely thought of my having been asked out on a date over and over again! There I sat, in library - get ready for this - I was studying! My dear friend Lisa, who is a steadfast Ravenclaw, takes her self-appointed responsibilities as my academic mentor quite seriously. She says if I do not improve my study and work habits, she will owl my parents and recommend Mum and Dad save themselves a spot of bother, and just enroll me in good muggle public school now, rather than wait for Dumbledore to snap my wand in two. I told Lisa such a suggestion would be a complete waste of her time as

if I flunk out of Hogwarts my mother will murder me, so there is no need for my parents to form any contingency plans. Lisa is so like my mum on the topic of my education I sometimes suspect Lisa is actually Mum, spying on me under influence of Polyjuice Potion.

So to keep Lisa from rounding on me, I have resolved to make more effort to stick to the goals I made at start of term: to achieve high grades in manner of Hermione Granger, the devoted swot friend of annoying-brother Ron and nearly-a-brother Harry. Say, I just now realized that Hermione is sweet, thoughtful and clean, and she has never had a date either. Peculiar that is. I mean, Hermione, she is much less bulkier than any barn. Very much suspect Ron has noticed so too.

Anyway, I decided to make amends with Lisa, Mum, whomever she is. I went to the library where I sat reading up on dark magical creatures for my Defense Against the Dark Arts Class. I was just getting bored enough to cease study and seek out this week's Savvy Sorcerers magazine to look for pictures of the Chuddley Cannons' Chaser, Dashly Studforth when a wizard, took a seat by me. I happened to be reading up on Hinkypunks - not the most fascinating of creatures. It dawned on me then that I had seen said wizard before. He was Slytherin and surely just out to take the mickey out of me. Slytherin boys live to torment innocent and pretty Gryffindor girls such as myself. Worse, a few of his friends were at the next table, staring at me like they were a pack of wolves, and I was a marinated piece of lamb chop.

"Hello. Are you Ginny Weasley?" asked the evil and disdainful Slytherin fiend.

"The same," said I with my nose in the air, but not too high, so I could practice staring up through my eye lashes in seductive manner. Was not interested in the wizard, but practice makes perfect. I took note that when I said I was Ginny Weasley, the boy's hair did not fly up to resemble nearly-a-brother-Harry's cowlicks, nor did the Slytherin boy grab his textbooks and flee for his life, which often happens whenever anyone learns I am 'the' Ginny Weasley of dratted Chamber of Secrets.

The suspicious, brown-eyed, disdainful Slytherin fiend gave me his name - Wilbur or something. Then he asked, " What are you studying Miss Weasley?"

"Hickey-pinks," said I. "I mean, hickey-spunk - ah - I mean hinkypunks."

Strongly suspect the sorting hat landed me in Gryffindor only because my face so often matches the Gryffindor house colour - RED.

"Fascinating creatures," said brown eyed, curly-haired Slytherin fiend. "An uncle of mine told me once he followed a hinkypunk into a bog and only just made it out with his life. Say, Miss Weasely. What do you think of Mad-eye Moody, the new Dark Arts Professor?"

GAK! Suddenly found myself in dire need of an intelligent comment in manner of a swot, like nose-in-a-book Hermione Granger. Recalled that only this morning Hermione made such a comment concerning Professor Moody. Quickly made decision Hermione would forgive me if I plagiarized her thoughts, after all, she has loads of thoughts and would not miss one. I said, "Professor Moody is overly suspicious, but he certainly knows his Dark Parts. I mean, he certainly knows his Dark Arts."

Damn me.

The brown eyed, curly-haired Slytherin boy smiled and said in slow, I-just-bet-it-was-sexy voice, "Really? Yes, I suppose Professor Moody is a good professor all right. Certainly Moody knows more than that git Lockhart from a of couple years ago."

Then the adorable brown eyed, curly-haired, cute wizard laughed! Had a lovely deep voice. Swear I saw a whisker on his chin. Not long, but definitely a whisker as had sort of a curl to it! Always fancied a wizard with a beard.

Slytherin wizard was definitely not winding me up! Sat and talked with yours truly for nearly a half hour. It was nearly dinner hour before wizard said he regretted (!) that he had to leave. He made to leave but then asked if I would fancy going to Hogsmeade with him on Saturday!

I'll never know why I did not die on the spot! Thought he must be joking but he said, again in deep absolutely-for-sure-sexier-voice, "yes, we can meet around 10.00 Saturday morning. Meet you at the bottom of Gryffindor Tower. Laters."

Did you ever!

Left library, returned to my room and ever since have mostly stared into mirror and thought about what to wear on Saturday. I have no clothing worth wearing on a date. Have wondered if Hermione might lend me a jumper? She has that lovely fluffy white one that would go nice with my ginger-as-the-cat's coat hair. No, had better not - Blaise has told me more than once.

'Wearing a jumper is one thing my little sweet little Gryffindor, filling a jumper is quite another.'

Tuesday, 25 October 1994

There is an old Goblin saying that father repeats all d time, and now I finally know what he means. 'May you live in interesting times'. Although maxim sounds as if one is wishing someone well, the thing is actually a curse.

Damn it all; I live in interesting times.

This morning I was late for History of Magic. First of all I only planned to go to Professor Binn's boring class in the first place because Lisa - untrusting soul that she is - asked Blaise to peek into my classroom on his way to forth year Transfiguration to make sure I was in my lesson. So anyway, I was headed to Binn's boring lesson and I rounded a corner and bumped right into MALFOY! The cheek of the brute, hiding around corners, waiting for young, innocent, red-haired witches to bump into his broad chest which is not unlike that of his father Lucius 'kiss my arse if you have the Galleons or guts to pay for the experience' Malfoy.

"How dare you purposely bump into my bosoms!" said I. "I know your kind! Only out for a quick feel and the pleasure of vexing sweetly beautiful girls! You Draco Malfoy ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

Well truth be told, I didn't really say the above. I think it came out more like, 'How dare...' and then I froze in panic and all the spit in my mouth dried up. I certainly would have said the above, if my salivary glands had not chosen such an inopportune moment for dysfunction.

Malfoy flicked his eyebrows at me in that maddening manner he has. I don't know whether the boy has an unfortunate tick or if he thinks flicking those pale brows that decorate that pointy face of his is cute or sexy. Funny. It just now occurred to me that I may be unclear on what boys find sexy, but by Merlyn, don't I have dead clear idea of what is sexy in boys! Anyway, Malfoy wiggled his brows at me and said in manner of the wealthy and bored.

"Say, you, 'the littlest Weasley'. Did I see you sitting in the library late yesterday afternoon with what's-his-name?" [Oh, for the record, Malfoy didn't say 'what's his name', he said the wizard's name, which I am still struggling to recall having forgotten it again, d me.]

Godric's Galloping Leghorns! Malfoy not only noticed I am alive, but also took note of with whom I sat in manner of jealous suitor. Hello! Could Malfoy be the 'secret admirer' who returned my lost nomadic knickers earlier this month? Hello! Can my life have turned around, to place me at the very gates of my future happily married life as wife to extravagantly wealthy wizard? At that very moment it suddenly occurred to self that my hair was not combed! GAK! Meant to comb stubborn red hair before leaving commons, but forgot. Knew my wild hair must resemble a red Orpington rooster sitting on my head! Then worse, suddenly recalled that annoying brother vile-Fred pointed out to me at lunch that I had a milk mustache. I recalled vividly how I stuck out my wicked tongue at aggravating brother, but do not recall having remedied milk mustache with quick lick. Furiously began to rub and lick my upper lip. Malfoy eyes grew wide as he watched me licking my lips. It occurred to me - might Malfoy be impressed with my efforts to clean my lips as my clever Mum pointed out to me? Hurrah for clever Mum!

Where was I? Oh yes, attempting to answer Malfoy's not-any-of-his-business-really inquiry as to the company I kept in the library on previous afternoon.

I answered Malfoy. I said plain as punch, "yes," and I had my eyebrows raised in manner of witch as cheeky as any Malfoy alive.

"Oh," said Malfoy, the dreaded boy.

Waited for Malfoy to say something else but he just stood there looking bored! 'Aha!' thought I. Malfoy is too overcome with jealousy and sense of having lost beautiful young red-haired, third-year witch, and as such is too broken hearted to say anything! How much emotion poor Malfoy covered up with his flat, uninspired sounding 'Oh'. It was sad really. Anyway, then evil but disheartened Malfoy gave his eyebrows one last flick, turned and walked away. Why must school uniform include dratted robes, which cover that which is so interesting about retreating boys?

Oh, who am I fooling? Most likely brown eyed, curly haired cute wizard what's-his-name must owe money to Malfoy who is searching high and low for his Knuts. I suppose just the same, I must remember to brush my hair one hundred times tonight. I don't know why, but that's what all the witches in Savvy Sorcerer do, give their extravagant hair 100 brush strokes every day. Amazing that models in fashion magazines have any hair left to speak of at all.

Wednesday, 26 October 1994

I had to hunt twenty minutes to find Blaise, Lisa and Neville this morning so we could go on our walk around the castle. You would think they would take my exercise routine more seriously! I must walk to maintain figure and trim down a bit more before important date on Saturday! I finally found BZ & LT hiding in plain sight in the foyer. We found Neville and dragged him kicking and screaming off for some exercise too. The boy acts as if a walk in sunshine will kill him in manner of a vampire! Some people just don't know what's good for them.

It was a lovely day, having ceased raining during the night. We tramped along in the mud under the lovely clouded sky, and half way around the castle, Blaise stopped walking and grabbed me by the arm. He escorted me away from Lisa, and Neville.

"What have you been up to, my darling?" asked Blaise, his arms folded all business like. Blaise looks quite scary when he folds his arms.

"What do you mean?" said I, all innocent like. Obviously my budding sensuality was not only attracting wonderful wizard whose name I still can't recall, but I realized I had become so desirable even homosexual Slytherin boys take notice. Maybe yours truly will convert Blaise? If only! Blaise is dollishly good looking with all that curly black hair and those deep blue eyes and, Blaise broke my lovely train of thought.

"Don't play games with me my girl, or I'll give you what for. Now, thanks to you, I had a lovely time speaking with..." Blaise's eyes went out of focus for a few seconds. "I had a lovely talk, all alone last night, just myself and Malfoy. I think I might owe you one."

Blast. Did not convert gay boy Blaise, only got him a date of sorts with Malfoy. Well, I suppose there is enough happiness for everyone in Ginnyland. 'Well hurrah' thought I. Blaise gets Malfoy but I get my darling brown-eyed wizard, what's-his-name. Then I thought, 'hang on...'

"Beg Pardon?" said I.

Blaise looked all agitated. He said, "I was studying at a table in the commons, and Malfoy sauntered over and bunged himself down in a chair next to me..." Blaise's eyes went all gooey like a melted toffee topped knickerbocker glory. "Malfoy was wearing a cream coloured, lightweight, short trousered tracksuit, that hides nothing... Malfoy put a foot up on his chair, you know... resting... slouching... and I... I fell off my chair... I very nearly fainted."

Can well believe Blaise nearly fainted, as he nearly fainted at the retelling! Had to fan Blaise for several minutes. When at last he could speak without hyperventilating, he continued.

"Malfoy wanted to know if I knew what you, Ginny my dear girl, was up to. And I told Malfoy I had no idea what you were up to, except that I plan to kick your third-year arse if you don't start taking your schoolwork seriously. But Malfoy said he only wanted to know if Valen Wilkes asked you to Hogsmeade on Saturday."

Wilkes! Yes, now I remember. That is the adorable, curly haired wizard's name!

I was stunned. I almost never keep such secrets from Blaise, him being my staunch mate, confidant and advisor. I practically broke sacred vows by telling Blaise about my upcoming date. I turned red as Neville's remembrall.

"Did he? Did Wilkes ask you to Hogsmeade? And if he did..." Blaise looked fiercely at me, "...why wasn't I informed, my little red setter?"

I told my darling Blaise, "Wilkes did ask me to Hogsmeade! I can hardly believe it myself yet. Blaise, my life is turned around! Things will be different now. Maybe when I go out with Wilkes, other wizards will take notice, maybe fight wizard duels over me! Maybe everyone will stop thinking I'm some sort of freak because of that stupid Chamber of Secrets!"

Blaise dropped his arms and he stopped looking fierce. He looked at me ever so kindly. "No one thinks you're a freak Ginny," he said sweetly. "I mean, they think you're a lesson skiving, conniving, slightly chubby little red-haired witch, but dear heart - believe me - no one thinks you're a freak."

Blaise promptly handed me his favorite lacey handkerchief, the one with the embroidered silver serpents on it and the Slytherin crest, which I promptly blew my nose on giving serpents a lovely hint of green.

"Ginny dear, be brave for me now. I must tell you a cold and hard truth and you will not like it. Malfoy told me that Wilkes ... is not interested in you as a girlfriend, and does not wish to date you."

I yelped, "You're wrong Blaise! Wilkes ... what's his name asked me out! He did!"

"No dearest. Wilkes asked you out, but he doesn't wish to date you. Malfoy told me that if I was your true mate, I would tell you that Wilkes is only after your..."

I swear I very nearly swooned.

Blaise continued, "Wilkes is only after... your soul."

"My what?" I asked. "I could understand wanting my heart or my lips or even my autographed picture of Gilderoy Lockhart, but my soul? What earthly good would my soul do for anyone?"

"Wilkes," Blaise whispered in my ear, "is looking for Death Eater recruits. You know. To join the Debate Club."

I was stunned. "Me? Join the Debate Club Blaise? But I'm a Gryffindor. There are no Gryffindors in the Debate Club."

That is a true fact. Everyone knows that Malfoy started the Debate Club a year or two ago. But Malfoy quit the club when the members insisted on having a say in matters. Malfoy wasn't about to take a back seat to anyone. So Malfoy 'took his Quaffle' so to speak, and went home. Malfoy was rumoured to be absolutely shirty when 'his' club continued on without him.

"I know dear," Blaise explained. "I'll tell you something of a secret. You know the Debate Club

is 100% Slytherin in its members. It is more than just a rumour that the club is a front for recruiting young, up and coming Death Eaters."

"Who knows?" I asked startled. "Does the Headmaster know?"

"Sure to," whispered Blaise. "A club like that makes it easy to identify those students who might be leaning toward the dark side, doesn't it Luv?"

"But why would they want me?"

Blaise took my hand in his and clasped it in a kindly way. "Yes, you're a Gryffindor and some believe you to be an ingénue, or at worse, the protégé, of 'He Who Must Not Be Named'."

I wanted to die! I broke away from Blaise's grip on my hand, span about and raced all the way b to the castle. Didn't know I could run that far without dropping dead. Blaise chased after me but I outran him. Poor Blaise, he does rather run - only a tiny bit - like a girl, while I run lickity split, in the manner of Ron, Fred and George.

So am not the gorgeous vamp I thought I was. Wizards are not falling all over themselves after me. Please note. As I write this, I am not crying. Will not give evil Slytherin gits the better of me. Am proud of myself. I skived my first class of the day - Binns - and I let myself have a good cry, and afterwards a good pout. At lunch I tracked down Blaise and thanked him for his never-ending kindness to me. Also took his lacy handkerchief with promise to wash it out for him because truth be told, the silver snakes look best without a green tinge.

Saturday, 29 October 1994

My date today was the best fun! Clueless Ron and vile Fred were dead set against my going, but it was no surprise that dear George understood what it meant for me to go.

What a time we had in Hogsmeade. Blaise insisted on taking me on the town, thinking I would otherwise spend the day crying in my dorm room. I assured Blaise I would do no such thing - a blatant lie - but he wisely did not believe me. My darling Mr. Zabini treated me to lunch at the Three Broomsticks. I was a Gryffindor princess. And didn't other witches in the pub give Blaise sweet eyes, and give myself death stares! Afterwards Lisa and Neville met up with us near Honeydukes and we got our colours done at Gladrags Wizardswear!

We were wise enough not to tell Neville about getting our colours done ahead of time. And too right we were, the silly boy pitched a fit and made disagreeable faces as he always does when the Blaise, Lisa and I go all 'girly' on him. Blaise was determined to have Neville's colours done. Blaise told Neville, "what harm is there for a wizard to know what colours witches most fancy him in? Colours don't bite you know!"

We thought Blaise was going to have to place a stunning spell on Neville to maneuver him into Gladrags, but then Lisa wisely mentioned that getting his colours done might get Neville a bit closer to his personal goal of a snog with Lavender Brown! After that Neville practically beat a path to Gladrags.

Afterwards we strolled about Hogsmeade, Lisa hanging on Neville's left arm, me on Neville's right and Blaise happily critiquing us all from behind.

"Good work Lisa! Bet that lovely bum of yours gets pinched three times a day before tea. Ginny, much improvement shown, good girl! Neville dear, for Merlyn's sake, that arse of yours is lopsided. If you'll do those leg lifts I showed you, your arse will be large but firm! You'll have all the witches chasing after you. I dare say you'll have Malfoy chasing you!"

Rather adorable that Blaise can't begin to imagine what a nightmare it would be for Neville to think Malfoy is after him for any reason whatever - especially for a snog!

Annoying thoughts about Malfoy nibble at my brain. What was that evil boy thinking when he raised his eyebrows at me? Was he contemplating his deep secret love for me, or whether to have the shepherd's pie or the fish for his dinner? Also cannot decide if Malfoy was out to foil the evil Wilkes's plans out of his spite for losing control of the Debate Club, or if he was actually attempting to do a good turn for me. Me, a poor Weasley getting a favour from a Malfoy? Right, when horses fly.

Oh. Forgot. Some do.