Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of his affiliates. I do, on the other hand, own Margaret and Alana. Blaire and Larissa are entirely too fiesty for anyone to own them. Seriously.

A/N: I've had such writer's block with this story. I think I'm getting bored. The next chapter hopefully won't suck. I'm going to definitely write one more chapter after this, but tell me if I should just nip the thing in the bud.

4:15 PM

Random Hallway in the East Tower

So it's Thursday night, the first official appointment with my therapist post-well… you. I have no idea where I am right now. McGonagall gave me some directions written on a piece of paper, and a sympathetic look that screamed, sorry-I've-been-a-bitch-I-didn't-realize-you're-a-hopeless-nutcase. Hey, maybe my mother's overbearing attitude and her need for me to be smiles and sunshine all the bloody time will get an O in Transfiguration.

Anywho, I'm standing in front of this locked door. I knock lightly, twice. The door just swung open to reveal a tall, thin, brunette with horrible posture. She can't be older than her late 20s, but is dressed like she's 45. Her name is Dr. Pricilla, but I prefer to call her Dr. P, or strictly Doc. Not for any particular reason, except that it irks her mercilessly. Which makes me giggle. She's inviting me in now… super. I hope you're going to be reading this, Doc. Because I hate you. And everything you stand for. And you smell like a nursing home. So… HA!

6:03 PM

Gryffindor Common Room

That wasn't SO terrible. We discussed my "feelings." I told her I didn't have any bloody feelings, and to just read the diary and get this whole mess over with. She flipped through to make sure I was actually writing in it, but didn't read in enough detail to see my note that I left for her at the end. Now I just feel silly. She applauded me for actually writing in you as she asked, but thinks I still need work. And, apparently, an attitude adjustment. Lovely.

I have advanced potions again tomorrow. I had previously imagined that once the first class was over and done with, I wouldn't be as upset about it. I was seriously wrong. I am stressing. A lot. But, I suppose I'll ponder that further, because Larissa and Blaire are motioning for me to join them in going to dinner. I guess I'm sort of hungry. It better not be pumpkin.

7:14 PM

The Great Hall, watching hilarity ensue

This needs to be documented. I am currently witnessing Barbie herself being rejected. By my brother. With the assistance of Hermione. It's like a train wreck, and I just cannot look away.

Alana sauntered up to Ron, face coated in makeup, wearing a metallic-colored halter dress with what can only be described as "fuck-me" shoes. You know the type. Clear plastic stilettos, usually seen on women twirling around a pole… yeah. She nudged Hermione out of the way, and leaned over the table facing him, exposing some serious cleavage. Is that a freckle on her left tit? Oh Merlin. Look away, Ginny, look away! She started talking about how she ::sob:: has no one to go to Hogsmead with this weekend. Okay, now that you're up to speed, she's touching his arm, and his hair, and OH MY GOD SHE JUST TOUCHED HIS FACE. She has yet to stop talking, she's using every ounce of tart-like charm that she has in her yoga-ed out arse. My poor dimwitted brother doesn't have a chance against this girl. He needs his other half, well, other two halves… other two thirds? I don't know. That's irrelevant. He needs Harry and Hermione. Ron is stuttering, looking to them for assistance, essentially pleading with his eyes. Hermione visibly moves Alana out of her seat, turns to face her, and blatantly states, quite loudly, like she was explaining something to a very dumb, very small child, "He does not want to go to Hogsmead with you. He does not want to spend time with you. You could offer him a chance to play in the Quidditch World Cup AND oral sex, and he STILL wouldn't want you. Leave us alone, you tarty little harpy." With a shocked gasp, and a look of sheer disdain, Alana just stormed out of the Hall. I'm putting my quill down so I can stand and applaud. Excuse me.

I'm done. That was excellent.

1:37 AM

Kitchen. Dobby, let go of my leg. I adore you, but I'm quite content. I ate a quarter of a cake. Fine, maybe just a hot chocolate?

So this has turned out to become a significantly more interesting evening than I had previously assumed. Well, you know what happens when you assume… Actually, I don't know. Something about a donkey. Stupid muggle phrase.

It wasn't all Alana that made it interesting either, although she was certainly a contributing factor. Perhaps I should explain further.

After dinner, Larissa, Blaire, and I all went back to our dormitory, only to find Alana screaming obscenities and essentially wreaking havoc all over the bloody place. Curses were flying, random objects were crashing (since when do we have a ballerina lamp? Anybody? No?)… it was disastrous. Entertaining, but disastrous. It was like someone kept a Blast-Ended Skrewt in a cage too small for a few days, occasionally poking it with a stick, then immediately letting it go without warning, AND handing it a wand. Needless to say, we got out of there as quickly as possible, only to find Margaret sitting in the hallway picking at her toenails.

"Umm… we were thinking about going down to the kitchen… would you be interested in coming? I guess?" Larissa asked her awkwardly. Margaret merely shrugged, stood up, and followed us. Once we got there, after trying so hard to be quiet so Filch wouldn't catch us out after hours, we all just burst out laughing. Except for Margaret, anyway. She just kind of stood there, watching us.

Gasping for air, Larissa said, "Can you believe Tarty McSlutface?! The expression on her face! She was all, 'OMGAWRSH I AM SO HOTT!' and next thing you know she's like, 'OMGAWRSH WHY IS THIS BUSHY HAIRED FREAK HURRTING MY FEEEEEELINGSSSS?! DO SHE KNOOOOOWWW WHO I AAAAM?!'" Her imitation was priceless. Not even remotely accurate, but brilliant nonetheless.

"And what about Hermione?" I squealed, "I'm sorry, I've known that girl since I was 11 and I've never seen her like that! She said oral sex. ORAL SEX, DAMMIT!"

"So she pretty much totally loves your brother, huh?" Blaire said, no longer laughing.

"Yeah, but don't tell them that. I think their brains might explode simply with the suggestion," I replied, still giggling a little.

"Too bad…" Blaire sighed, lighting a cigarette and staring off into space. Or just observing the house elves across the room. I couldn't really be sure.

"Blaire has a cruuussshhhh," Larissa teased in a sing-song voice.

"What? Oh," I said, finally putting two and two together.

"You really didn't realize? I've never shown any interest in guys, I'm a sixteen year old girl, blah blah blah, I'm gay? It's not very hard to catch on to, Ginny."

"I just assumed you lacked feelings, but I definitely prefer reality's reason," I said, grinning.

Larissa started laughing all over again. "You really do have a problem with your people skills, Blaire-bear."

"Yeah, well, I don't play well with others. Remind me not to put that on my résumé."

"Duly noted," Larissa and I replied simultaneously. "WOAH! Get out of my head!" We fell into yet another fit of giggles.

"So… you won't be after my Neville?" Margaret's timid voice came out of nowhere. This only seemed to make us laugh harder.

"I think you're safe, sweetie," Larissa said, patting Margaret on the back.

After gorging on food (Larissa and myself), chain smoking (Blaire. Really, who else were you expecting? ...Diary. Gahh.), sarcastically commenting whilst trying to stealthily sneak in random questions about Hermione (Don't think I wasn't paying attention, Blaire), and sitting awkwardly watching us, as if we were some creatures in a muggle zoo (take a guess); the three of them went back upstairs. I told them I'd catch up; I just needed to talk to Dobby. I don't, obviously. I just wanted to update you while everything was quiet and I could continue living in my head a little bit. That and I've become a little frightened of Alana. I'm hoping the beast is sleeping by the time I get back.

Tonight almost made me forget about Potions tomorrow. Oh shite. I have potions tomorrow. Bollocks.

A/N: Tell me your opinion. Keep it? Ditch it? Write another chapter? Start another story all together? I like to hear your thoughts. Mine are scary.