Author's Note: Hola! I'm getting past my writer's block, I hope, and recovering from wisdom teeth surgery stuff, so I look like an overgrown chipmunk. It's quite funny, actually. Anyway, say hello to your new friend, Capitulo Diez de la novela del cinco ano en la escuela de Hogwarts de Ginny Weasley. (I do hope I got my Spanish right. Correct me if I'm wrong)

Cheers!

…

Dear Diary,

It is the first of December. Funny how time passes so quickly, eh? It's like it can fly or something…weird. Anyway, I'm up in the owlery, surrounded by owl dung, owls, and owl feathers, at seven bleeding thirty in the morning on a Saturday. And I'm not fuming, or angry, or upset, or any other synonym for mad. I'm just…contemplative. Yes, that's right. I, Ginny Weasley, the non-thinker, is thinking.

"Thinking about what?' you ask.

"Harry," I reply, with a far-off look in my eyes, because somewhere, in the distance, beyond those high stone walls separating me from the sixth year boys' dormitory, I can feel a pair bright green eyes-eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad (oh geez, it'll never escape me)-staring right back at me, dreaming, wishing, thinking of a beautiful, red-haired, golden-eyed, smart, witty, incredibly funny, wise, kind individual named Ginny Weasley…

Aww, who am I kidding? No one, that's the answer. Pfft, beautiful? Smart? Who the heck is this Ginny Weasley? Because I certainly do not know her. She's from Mars! Or Venus, or Neptune, or Jupiter, or Europa, or Guam, or Madagascar, or-

Okay. I think you get the picture.

But I wish Harry thought of me that way! He's so perfect in his imperfections, and I'm just…I'm just Ginny. It's so unfair.

But what happened last night, in the common room, with the Canary Cream, what was that? Was he flirting? Or was it just a joke? Boys are so confusing. How do you interpret these things? Geez. I mean, if he wasn't flirting, and I interpret it that way, then I could destroy everything we have in terms of friendship, and I'd be left with nothing, instead of something. Plus, I'd be embarrassing myself to no end. But on the other hand, if I just left it, who's going to take the initiative? Gosh.

Men…you can't live with them, you can't live without them. Bloody wankers, the lot of them, I say. But cute bloody wankers.

Oh look, someone has come to say hello to me. And…oh, speak of the devil, it's Harry, the very object of my affections…ahhh. He's gorgeous, especially now, with his hair totally messed up and in his pajamas…Shut up, you, they're flannel pants and a huge t-shirt. Harry's not stupid enough to go around Hogwarts in winter wearing nothing but boxers and a dressing gown. In summer, maybe. But not now.

"Hey, Harry. What's up?" I patted the edge of the windowsill. "Have a seat, old chum."

He grinned and sat down. "So…why're you up so early?"

"I could ask the same of you. I'm just thinking."

"Um," Harry nods thoughtfully. "Sounds like fun. I'm mailing a bill. Daily Prophet."

"It does add up, doesn't it," I replied. I watched him tie up his letter. Hedwig nipped his finger playfully and soared off.

"So," Harry said, sitting down. "Watcha thinking about, hm?"

"Oh, I dunno. Stuff."

"Just stuff, eh?" He glanced at me. "You can tell me anything, you know."

I stayed silent, struck by the connotations of his sentence. You can tell me anything, you know.

But the truth is, I didn't know. At least, not until now.

"Okay," I said. "Thank you."

He just smiled, shook his head the teeniest bit, touched my hand, and left.

I stayed, tracing the spot where he had touched me until the sparks died down. I sat in that window seat for a while.

You can tell me anything, you know.

Oh no. Now what was I supposed to do?

Dear Diary,

Breakfast in the Great Hall is a beautiful thing. Owls flying overhead, dropping parcels into the pumpkin juice, ketchup fights between first year boys, a couple people reading the Daily Prophet upside-down, trying to look smart but failing miserably, and just everyone stuffing their faces with all the food they can handle. Me? I'm sitting here with you, writing, waiting for Natty, and munching on a cinnamon waffle. They're really good. You should try some.

Oh, right. Sorry. You can't! Hahaha…

Oh look! Little Miss Sunshine has finally shown up! She looks quite a mess. Everything all right there Natty?

"Er, Natty? Nats? Natasha!"

She jerked her head up from the table. "HUH?"

Oh dear. Looks like someone didn't get enough sleep last night…

"What's up, Nats?"

"The ceiling," she droned back.

Er, okay. I figured as much. Time to try a different track.

"See, Natasha, this is what happens when you're off canoodling with some boy all night. You don't enough sleep and then you end up looking like a plate of scrambled eggs." I patted her head gently. "Get up, Natty. We have school today."

"Do we really?" Natty gave in, grabbing a piece of toast and buttering it half-heartedly.

"Yep. It's a great day we have planned out for us. Care of Magical Creatures first!"

Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed.

"Okay, scratch that. Not a fun day planned out for us."

"Unnnhh," Natty groaned and slammed her head onto the table.

Ouch.

Natty was first to agree with that.

"OW!" she yelled.

…

Silence.

There is never silence in the Great Hall during breakfast. NEVER. Everyone is staring at us.

This is beginning to creep me out.

…

"Natasha? Er, are you okay?"

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M OKAY?" she yelled, pointing to the large purple and blue lump forming on her head.

I quickly took stock of the situation. "Uh, no. Let's get you to the Hospital Wing."

Together we stumbled out of the Great Hall. Madam Pomfrey had a fit when she saw us.

"Miss Weasley! And-who's this? Oh my goodness! Miss Thompson as well? What did you do to her?"

"Nothing! I swear Madam Pomfrey, she just plopped her head down and she's completely disoriented and-"

"All right, all right, now leave! I'll see to this."

"But Madam Pomfrey-"

"Out! OUT! This is my patient!"

Okay then. Mad school nurse on the loose. Run!

Dear Diary,

History of Magic is not nearly as fun without Natty. Especially since everyone seems to be whispering and pointing at me. What the heck is their problem?

A ball of paper just hit my eye.

"Ow," I said quietly, and unraveled the parchment.

"Is it true that you and Harry Potter are going out?" read the note.

Uh, no. Who came up with this idea? And who-oh my god. Turn your face away and never look in that direction again.

It was Alice. As in, gossip queen of Hogwarts! She just smiled at me.

Gross.

Ow. Another ball of parchment.

"Go on! Tell! I swear I'll keep it a secret. Plus, your hair looks gorgeous today."

Oh my god. I won't even respond to these notes. She's trying to bribe me into telling by saying that my hair looks-what was the word she used? Oh yeah, gorgeous. I mean, seriously. How weird can you get?

Not much weirder than Alice, I'll wager.

Okay. I'll sit here and ignore her.

…

This is so weird. Who, what, where, when, and how did someone come up with a rumour like this? It's so…so…strange. I mean, who could have seen anything even partially suggestive between us? I mean, we have a strictly platonic relationship. At least, from Harry's side. But still!

"I saw you two kissing in the common room last night."

Oh f-

I won't write it. I'll say it instead.

Okay, that's better.

KISSING? WE WERE NOT KISSING! HE WAS TRYING TO FEED ME FRIED EEL!

Oh crap. Now I'm in for it. Thank god the bell just rang for lunch. Run!

(You know, I seem to be doing quite a lot of that recently. Running, I mean. Oh well. It'll keep me in shape.)

Love,

Ginny