Diary of a Red Head Chapter 1: Of Red Heads and Worn Knickers, a harry potter fanfic

Dairy of a Red Head

Author's Note: Yes. It's ten in the evening and I've just had this marvellous idea for a Ginny Weasley diary. Honestly. I think she's traumatised by diaries since the one she had in her first year, but I'll let her have one anyway.

Note to people who like to roam the web to sue innocent little writers who live on the other side of the world: I'm not J.K. Rowling. If I was, I would be sitting in my house in Edinburgh, hysterically laughing my head off at this pathetic attempt to write a fan fiction. Yes.

P.S. Note to Dean Thomas lovers: Don't you dare throw cookies at me.

31st of July

9:30 in the morning. I think that's PM?

He's coming! He's coming! I could dance in my room from delight.

Wait.

That's a good idea.

9:35 AM

Never dance in room again.

Ever.

9:36 AM

Must also never sing 'Spell on My Heart' while dancing in room.

9:40 AM

I think I have traumatised Ron for his entire life.

Honestly.

Is it my fault that he barges in on me wearing nothing but my bra and a pair of red worn knickers?

Noooo! I didn't ask him to barge in.

Poor him.

9:41 AM

Poor him! What was I thinking? Now I got back to him for reading my diary to Dean!

Well, technically, he didn't know it was mine.

But still.

Who on earth opens a book called, Transfiguration Made Easy; to Transform in 1001 Ways, anyway?

How could I know that he needed it for his essay?

I had just innocently hidden my diary in a book cover.

And he opened it.

And he bloody read it out loud!

Even the part where it said that I wasn't sure if Dean was really infatuated with me and that I maybe should make Harry my boyfriend!

Dean didn't seem too pleased, really. He said he never wanted to see me again.

9:45 AM

Who cares about Dean?

Honestly.

He had an abnormally large nose to begin with.

If he sat at the other side of the table, you'd still feel it poking into your face.

Okay.

That was mean.

But I won't apologise to him.

Git.

9:47 AM

I still haven't explained why I was dancing in the first place. Harry is coming! Ron has gone to pick him up.

9:50 AM

What will I wear?

10:00 AM

I am not in love with Harry Potter.

4:54 PM

I forgot.

Damn.

How can I even forget such a thing?

4:56 PM

I should have actually felt suspicious when everybody greeted him with a 'Happy Birthday'.

5:01 PM

Fine!

I'll tell you.

Harry was just arriving, looking really pale and skinny, and, of course, mum being mum, crushed him to his half-death by hugging him. And Fred and George clapped him on the back and all. And then he saw me. And he sort of stared.

I mean, really, stared.

Of course, Ron had to be a git again.

'Ginny, why is the area around your eyes blue?

'It's called make-up, Ron.'

'Well, don't wear any. You look like a scarlet woman.'

Die Ron.

DIE.

Note to self: steal Ron's diary and read it to Hermione. Every bloody word in it.

Slowly.

But of course, before I could retort, the whole clump had moved into the kitchen, leaving me alone on the staircase, horrified.

5:15 PM

Should have not given Harry his birthday present.

Never give Harry a birthday present again.

Not when Fred and George are in the room anyway. They'll immediately begin to chant 'His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad'.

Honestly.

I didn't even bloody write the poem!

5:16 PM

Okay.

Fine.

Maybe I did.

5:17 PM

What is it to you, anyway? Are you going to spread word among all diaries or something? HUH, HUH? Well, I got word for you mister, if you do that; I'll personally light you on fire!

5:20 PM

I am threatening a diary.

No wonder Harry thinks I'm pathetic.

1st of August

2:30 AM

I can't sleep. I'm in the kitchen writing now, with a cup of hot chocolate milk. Hermione taught me how to make it last year. Muggles are clever creatures, they really are.

2:32 AM

Mhm ... chocolate milk. Yummy.

2:38 AM

Oh Merlin.

There is something moving outside the kitchen. Where is my wand?

2:39 AM

Left wand in room.

Decided to use gold fireplace-thingy.

It's really heavy. Who makes those things, anyway?

3:00 AM

Turned out that the moving thing out there was Harry.

He scared me to death! I was nearly ready to poke myself with that pole-fireplace thing!

Harry carefully opened the kitchen door and peered around the room. And saw me standing there with a fireplace-thing aimed at him.

'What are you doing, Ginny?' He asked groggily.

'Couldn't sleep.' I said, lowering that fireplace-thing.

Then it was quiet. Then he spoke again, scaring me out of my wits.

'You know Ginny, you really fascinate me.'

Clunk.

Fireplace-pole-thingy fell on my foot.

Ouch.

He nearly burst out laughing.

'I mean in the way of standing in the middle of a kitchen at two in the morning with a poke in your hand. Goodnight.'

And he was gone.

3:01 AM

I'll never leave my room again.