A/N: Hello!! I've started another one. Aren't I crazy? I think I am. This one's a bit…more light-hearted than Heroes Shed No Tears—I hope you like. I really don't know why I'm posting this, because I really should be working on HSNT and ATCC, but I'm a bum and write too many things at one time.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

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HUNT FOR PRINCE CHARMING

Chapter One: Great Ferret Prince and Tom

By VirtualFaerie

Top ten reasons I hate having six older brothers:

10) I get all of their hand-me-down clothes—and I'm a girl. Can you please explain what kind of deal that is to me?

9) Whenever I complain about this, my mother always gives me a lecture about how our family doesn't have enough money to be buying everyone new clothes—therefore the oldest still living in the house gets the new clothes, and the other ones are handed down to the next oldest and so on. That means I usually end up at school wearing the robes Ron had worn the year before—only they're much too big and require shrinking charms—which I have to beg my mother to do because of the stupid rule that won't allow underage witches and wizards to do magic outside of school. I mean, sure I have a few skirts and blouses that are my own, but even those are second-hand.

8) They hog the bathroom. There is no way that you can possibly have hot water (unless you wake up at four in the morning - who wants to do that?) when taking a shower. They also leave tooth paste smeared all over the sink, and shampoo bottles tipped over in the shower, causing all of it to leak out and make the bottom of the tub all slippery--ready for me to slip on—not to mention that it's usually my shampoo that gets tipped over. They also never remember to put the toilet seat up, which results in little spots of pee all over the toilet seat. This means that every time, before I have to go, (no matter how urgent) I must first wipe off the toilet seat with toilet paper. It's disgusting—the lot of it.

7) They never have to do any kitchen work, and that's really (besides the bathroom) the most disgusting work in the house. I loathe washing everyone's dishes and cleaning all of their left over food off. Gross? Very much so. Not to mention all of that grease that gets stuck on the pans mum uses—the smell of that stuff just makes me want to barf—how many times do I have to remind her that I'm vegetarian? Besides, I can't do any of the dishes by magic because of the aforementioned underage law.

6) They tease me—constantly. It never stops; it seems that everything I do is eligible for teasing material. Oh, Gin's going to bed—let's tease her for it. Gin's has to do the dishes—let's watch her so that she gets mad. Such things like that—and others that would take me too long to list.

5) Another reason is this, but it could go under the last. I'm always the guinea pig, for Fred and George that is. All of their new inventions for Weasley Wizard Wheezes, yes, they try them out on poor unsuspecting me. This means I go around for days with my hair blue, or my tongue two times too long—or even a pair of yellow wings sprouting out of my back. Seriously—they're insane.

4) They're bloody loud. Especially in the morning. I swear that I'm the only one that sleeps in. They thunder down the stairs, making the most awful racket in the world while I'm still trying to sleep. And when I tell them (very politely) to "SHUT UP!" from my bed, I usually get yelled at by mum.

3) They're so damn protective. Seriously. If they hurt me or play jokes on me—it's all just fun and games. But catch anyone else looking at me the wrong way (or the right way) and they'll have a wand up their arse in no time. That's one of the reasons I don't think I've ever had a bloody boyfriend—and I'm 16 for christssakes.

2) They all play quidditch. What's so great about it anyways? It's a bunch of sweaty people (in an organized activity! *gasp*) riding on broomsticks with a bunch of balls. That didn't come out quite like I wanted it too, or maybe it did, but you get my drift. And they're so masochist about it, when I still wanted to play, they wouldn't let me because I'd get hurt, or it was too rough, or it wasn't a girl game. Anything they could come up with.

And the number one reason is:

1) Ron's best friend is Harry bloody Potter.

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I hate girls that giggle—giggle a lot I mean, like nonstop—without stopping, at every little thing a guy says. Come on, is a guy supposed to be attracted to that? Giggling at all his stupid jokes, half of which don't even make sense, or just happen to be plain crude; not that I don't mine a crude joke here and there, but some guys just take it too far, you know?

I suppose you're wondering why I'm having this sudden hatred for girls that giggle. I'll tell you why. Really. I'm sitting in my bedroom, in The Burrow, (alone) having to listen to girls giggle incessantly. Ron's having a birthday party for Harry, which I was (not so) kindly told to stay out of (by Ron of course), because I was not invited and it was for their friends only. So I'm sitting in my room, staring at the wall, hearing girls giggle at my brother's half-assed jokes.

They invited loads of people from their year at Hogwarts (and who's to say I'm not friends with some of them? Give me a break; I'm not that much of a loner). Lavender and Parvati are down there right now, yucking it up with Seamus Finnegan. You can tell that they both like him, but are too good of friends to each other to admit it. I shake my head in sympathy. They're just going to have a fight over him, sooner or later. I just know it. It happens every time -or at least in every romance novel I read. I'd rather it happen sooner, like now so I'd have something to watch, besides the wall.

Hey! No making those faces at me!

I admit; I have no love life. But that doesn't mean I can't live vicariously through the girls in my novels that have no problem soothing the soul of that mysterious man, or winning the attentions of the most popular guy, or being saved and finding true love, or just randomly snogging someone to find out if they're love worthy or not….Okay, I made that last one up, but sounds like a good idea for a novel, eh? Knew I should be a writer.

But anyways—back to the party. It's not like I really wanted to go anyways (but Ron was being an ass…so…) because it's Harry's birthday. I think I'm beginning to hate the bespeckled git. He's so perfect—it makes me sick. And he's always ignored me—even when I had that stupid crush on him. (Which was promoted like I had a flashing sign on my forehead.) And no matter how hard I've tried to be mean to him this summer, he just keeps flashing that "Just Harry" smile. What a git. Can't he fight back?

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"Morning, Gin," Ron called through a mouthful of eggs. Not exactly the type of thing a girl likes to wake up to first thing in the morning. It was quite distasteful if I do say so myself.

"Yeah," I mumbled, pushing my hair out of my face. I've been letting it grow out—it's gotten very long, just above my waist. I made my way to the kitchen table, taking a seat as far from Harry and Ron as possible, making sure there were no butter dishes in sight.

"Good morning, Ginny," said Harry, looking at me from under his shaggy black fringe. What nice green eyes. Wait! NO! They're HIDEOUS! He's so polite I want to smack him. Fodder.

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled again, wondering where my voice had gone—or at least my normally extensive vocabulary. He raised an eyebrow and turned back to his food. So I decided to add, "What's so good about it?" I may not be the best judge of my tone, but I do have to say I did very well at sounding grumpy.

He blinked. I guess he's not quite sure on how to handle this spitfire Virginia that's erupted over the summer. Figures. "Oh, you know," he said, waving a hand about. It flew dangerously close to the jam. Should I warn him? Of course not.

Yes, just as suspected, his hand landed right in the jam pot. Silly boy. "Oh my," he said in his saintly voice. He looked up to see if mum was in the room. She wasn't.

"It's 'kay," Ron said in-between bites. "Just wipe it off on the tablecloth. That's what we always do."

Harry looked the tablecloth dubiously—his hand too close to it for comfort. Ron knows who was going to have to get the stains out—me. "No!" I cried out, batting his hand away from the cloth. He gave me a startled look.

"What?" I snapped. "You can't wipe your hand on the table."

I looked up and glared at Ron. "Go get him a napkin, idiot."

"I wasn't…" I looked at Harry, who was looking at me quite fearfully. Ah! Success.

Ron glowered at me. "He can wipe it on the table cloth. We do it all the bloody time."

"And who cleans it?" I countered. I hate jam stains.

Ron didn't say anything for a moment. He looked at Harry. "Do it, Harry." I gave Ron my worst glare—he didn't look peeved. Bugger. Got to work on the glare before term starts.

The moment of truth.

"If he does, Ronald," I said sharply. "I'll tell mum about that interesting collection of magazines you happen to have stashed under a loose floorboard." I gave him a sickeningly sweet smile to go with the threat. Ah, the perks of being a sister. Blackmail, was just one of them.

Ron's eyes widened drastically. "You wouldn't," he breathed.

"I would." I raised my eyebrows challengingly. "Or better yet—I could tell…" I paused for dramatic effect.

"Hermione."

Ron's ears went pink. "Ginny!" he squeaked. I smirked at him.

"What? Didn't think I could hear you saying her name in your sleep? You're bloody loud, Ronniekins," I really do love being so observant. It's really good for teasing—when I do get the chance.

Ron still had this unbelievably shocked look on his face. I looked at Harry. His hand was paused in mid-air, looking at Ron in disbelief. Suddenly, he choked out, between labored gasps. "You say her name in your sleep? I knew you were bad for her…but…"

Ron's lips thinned considerably. "If you say a word…" he said warningly. Harry just snorted. This was a nice reaction. Ron humiliated; they forget about wiping their hands on the table cloth; I'm spared of work, AND I get to hear Ron squeak.

Loffly, I must say.

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On the train to Hogwarts! On the Hogwarts Express! Joy, joy, oh joy to the world! This means a break from my many brothers and parents! (I don't have many of them, parents that is, just two, but I suppose you know what I mean…) Well, almost all of my brothers. Ron will still be there, but hopefully he'll get caught up in some scheme against Voldie with Harry and won't pay any attention to me. Oh, yes, that would be quite lovely I do believe.

Or maybe he'll finally muster up some nerve and tell Hermione that he likes her and they'll be too busy snogging to notice poor old me. Which would be quite nice, because this year I have a goal. Yes, Ginny Weasley has a goal. Amazing, huh? Well, I guess it isn't really a goal. It's more of task really.

I'm going to hunt for my Prince Charming.

Yes, that's right—the chivalrous guy that rides a white horse, wears white armor, and rescues damsels in distress.

Okay, maybe he won't be exactly like that. You know, minus the horse and armor. Who really wears that stuff these days anyway? But anyway, he's going to have to be pretty damn close—especially if he's going to be my Prince Charming. I even made a list of qualities he'll have once I find him.

PRINCE CHARMING QUALITIES

Sense of humor

Fresh breath (Come on—stinky breath?—eh! It's a definite turn-off.)

Great smile (I want my knees to melt and feel like jelly.)

Must be tall (If he's shorter than me then it's a no-go.)

Sweet

Chivalrous (You know it's sexy.)

Doesn't care that I have six older brothers that would gladly pound him six feet under

Nice clothes (Pocket protectors are out of the question.)

High expectations, I know. But I'll only have the best.

Now that you know of my hunt, we shall get back to the Hogwarts Express. (Joy!)

Ron already left me alone (Abandoned for Harry and Hermione. Excuse me while I go curl up in a ball and cry my eyes out. Please note sarcasm.), which is both good and bad. Good because I won't have to see his ugly mug for the rest of the trip—bad because there's no way on earth that I'm going to be able to get my trunk in the overhead compartments by myself. One—I'm not tall enough to even reach the overhead compartments. Two—it's way too heavy—being loaded with my supplies I'll need for my hunt. Plus school supplies.

Now I've got you wondering what supplies I could possibly need on a hunt for Prince Charming—am I right, or am I right? I'm right, eh? Knew it. I guess I'll tell you.

SUPPLIES NEEDED FOR HUNT

Binoculars

Dolcé perfume by Fuma Aromatic

How to Charm Your Guy by Serena Loves

Pudding recipes

Breath spray

Damsel in Distress Handbook (complied by me—bound by yarn, nifty eh? you'll see what's in it as my hunt progresses)

and the most important item of all!

DUCT TAPE!

Now you're wondering what I could possibly need duct tape for. Well, you'll find out. Notice my frantic eyebrow waggling and large grin.

Now time to try my luck at boarding the train. I'll handle the whole getting my trunk into the overhead compartment deal once I get inside. Yes, that's the way I'll go about it. I'll take things as I go. Clever? Oh, yes, very.

I pulled my trunk up the ramp that was very conveniently installed near the stairs that led up into the compartments. Very nice of them to put that there, I guess they figured (after all the mishaps years before) it was finally time to give the students a hand at getting their trunks on board.

Once I was on the train, I looked for an empty compartment. It wasn't as if I wanted to sit with anyone. Gods, please spare me. You never know what they might try. For all I know, they could try to talk to me. Imagine that! (This is a place where my duct tape might come in handy.)

Finding an empty compartment wasn't all that hard considering I had talked mum and dad into taking us to King's Cross a bit earlier than normal. Ever notice how we usually always seemed to just get there in the nick of time? Good thing I planned ahead.

So after toting my trunk inside the compartment I went to stand out in the doorway to look for a tall person, preferably of the male persuasion. It's never too early to start looking for that Prince Charming.

Tall person heading my way - nine o'clock.

I sighed and slumped against the doorjamb, too bad it wasn't a person that would help me, considering this big albino git was the most decidedly nasty person in all of kingdom-come. Yes, none other than the Great Ferret Prince himself, Draco Malfoy. That's what I'm going to call him from now on—Great Ferret Prince, only maybe I'll shorten it to GFP. Yes, that's a bit easier to say. Don't you think?

"Oh look," he said. "It's the littlest weasel." WEASEL? I'll show him who the rodent is!

I (very carefully) raised an eyebrow and looked at him as if he were a piece of Everlasting Gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe. It was a look I had been practicing in my mirror all summer. I had been practicing lots of looks in my mirror. Just ask it! I had full commentary running the whole time! "Look who's talking, ferret boy," I responded.

He raised an eyebrow as well. I'll have to admit, his raised eyebrow was a bit scarier than mine. But only a bit!

Did he run out of insults? Why isn't he saying anything? Though I have to say that eyebrow in itself speaks more than enough. Maybe he figures the same thing. How the hell do you retort to an eyebrow?

Oh wait, GFP hasn't lost his tongue. It's still quite firmly attached in his mouth. "Did your brother teach you that one?" he asked. "He's been saying it for years."

Damn Ron! Stupid git is always making me look like an idiot. And who wants to look like an idiot in front of Draco Malfoy? Not me, I'll tell you—that's who. Even though he is an incredible git—he's quite a yummilishious git. He might even be described as sex-on-a-stick. Yes, that would be the appropriate term for the Great Ferret Prince. Sex-on-a-stick. Mmmm.

Oh wait, I'm supposed to be thinking of clever comments! Damn my hormone driven mind! Damn it to hell! I must look like a fish floundering in the air, trying to think of something to say.

Now both of his perfectly shaped eyebrows were raised. Wow, he must pluck or something—maybe wax? Or a spell—it must be a spell. I've never seen a guy with such great eyebrows. Ron and Harry's are a bit overgrown, sort of like bushes or caterpillars. Okay, this train of thought is not helping any. I think I may have Attention Deficit.

"Has Weaslette lost her tongue?"

Then I did the only thing I could think of. I stuck my tongue out at him and stomped back into my compartment. It did show that my tongue was still in my mouth, and not lost at all. I rather think it surprised him too, if the look he gave me meant anything. I suppose the Great Ferret Prince didn't have many tongues stuck out at him.

I waited until I was sure that he'd left, then opened to door for a quick peek. The train had already left the station, and there were few people still up and wandering; I saw a guy heading my way—he was a far ways down, which left time for me to consult my Damsel in Distress Handbook. I flipped the latch of my trunk up and pulled the lid up. I grabbed the book and searched for the page I'd done on lifting heavy objects. It was right next to the instructions about things that you can't reach. Impeccable planning.

Lifting Heavy Objects

Look strained and weak, that way you can at least guilt them into helping you. Make sure you struggle and look like it really is much too heavy for you—even if it isn't. It's a great way to get on his good side—stroking the ol' ego and such. Make your big eyes and say that you aren't strong enough to lift such a thing. Could someone so manly and strong please help you? It would be appreciated—you'll never know how to thank him.

Things You Can't Reach

Jump up and down lots. You may look like a dog jumping for a treat in the process, but the overall effect is…well, effective. Then turn with big eyes and say that you are much to short to reach such a thing. Could someone so manly as him help you? It would be greatly appreciated.

Easy enough. I put the book back in my trunk and closed it. I checked the hall to see if the guy was still coming—he was—and pushed the door all the way open, so he would get a good view of me being helpless and very damsel in distress like.

Close up I saw that it was Seamus Finnegan. Quite a delectable male specimen; and tall!

I tugged on the trunk, pretending to pull with all my might. I really couldn't lift it, but I couldn't help not playing it up just a bit.

"Ooh," I groaned, "Much too heavy!" I said, just a Seamus passed the doorway. He stopped and back-tracked, peering in at me curiously.

"Having trouble?" he asked kindly.

I turned to him with wide, limpid eyes. Or at least I like to think I did. Don't spoil it for me. "Yes," I said. "My trunk is too heavy for me to lift. And I'm not tall enough to even put it in the compartment," I finished mournfully.

He gave me a gentle smile. "Let me help you," he said. Score one for Ginny!

He came in the compartment and lifted my trunk with ease, putting it up in the overhead compartment skillfully. I wonder if he did this often. Maybe that's the reason he was walking down the hall—he was looking for damsels in distress to rescue! How very sweet of him.

He turned back to look at me. I smiled sweetly. "Thank you very much. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

He gave me a toothy grin. Nice teeth, I observed. White and straight - just as they should be. "Don't worry about it. Not a problem helping out a buddy's little sister," he said, backing out of the compartment.

He was only helping me because I'm Ron's little sister! Oooh! That git, I'm going to show him! He gets in the way even when he isn't around! I hate having brothers, but I think I've already mentioned that.

I gave Seamus one last smile and shut the door sharply after he had left. That whole ploy was ruined—a waste of time! The only thing I had to show for it was a neatly stowed trunk. I flopped over into a seat and crossed my arms angrily. Things would be better at school. They had to be. They had to be. At least there would be guys from different houses. Ones that wouldn't be acquainted with Ron (stupid git).

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Oh bollocks. I've really got to go. I do not know a time when I've had to visit the loo more. –And I hate using the Hogwarts Express restrooms. Something about using the loo on a moving train unsettles me It's kind of weird don't you think? What if the train jerks and - eww. Okay, I really need to stop this train of thought. Really.

I jumped out of my seat, leaving my robes just in case someone came—I didn't want anyone to take my compartment. I shut the door and started towards the girls' bathroom.

I got inside and saw Hermione muttering charms under her breath and poking her hair with her wand. Despite the fact that my bladder felt like it was going to burst, I felt that there was a snide comment needing to be made.

"Who're you trying to impress?" I asked with a grin—it may have been more of a grimace because of the sharp pain shooting through my pelvic area, but I like to think it was a grin. Just be nice and humor me—I'm a poor, sick, little girl.

Hermione frowned at me in the mirror. "No one," she mumbled. She looked over at me one more time, and her eyes widened. "Did you know that TOM came to visit?" she asked. "I've got some presents if you need any for him."

"What?" I choked out. Tom? Why was she talking about Tom? And why the bloody hell would I want to give him a present? What did she mean did I know he visited? Tom…no. I could see myself paling in the mirror. "Tom?" I breathed—my skin had gone cold and clammy. I couldn't believe her; she had just said it so casually—as if it were nothing at all.

"What?" Hermione said. Then her eyes widened again and she clapped her hand over her mouth. She looked at

him, horrified. "I—oh, my—I didn't mean him! I meant your period!"

"What?" Now I was just feeling confused, not to mention my bladder felt like a ticking time bomb.

"You know—Time of Month…" she was looking nervous. "You started," she said.

I WHAT? I looked over my shoulder and saw a red stain blossoming on my behind. "Oh gods!" I shrieked. I had left my wand and robe back in the compartment.

Hermione made a pained face. "I have some tampons…" she said slowly.

Oh gods, my period—how could I not have noticed? I've been too preoccupied with my hunt—that's how! Oh—what if Seamus saw? Or worse! Malfoy! I think I must go curl up and die now. My bloody period (excuse the pun), this is insane.

"That would be lovely," I finally said, taking a tampon from her hand.

"I could also spell your pants clean if you'd like," she added, looking slightly guilty. Of course, I would let her spell them clean! What kind of person walks about with blood all over her arse…?

"Yeah, that would be great." She spelled them clean and I darted into a bathroom stall. I flicked the lock in place as quickly as I could—my bladder would be exploding any time now. I shucked my jeans so fast I was surprised I hadn't started a fire with the friction.

Ah…relief.

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Okay, adventures on the train are now over—thank the gods; it was a very trying trip if you know what I mean. Thank gods Hermione was there. Now, normally I don't like Hermione; her know-it-all attitude tends to get on my nerves after a while. But, I'm going to be nice to her for at least a week, what would I have done without her?

Even after the whole TOM incident, which I am willing to overlook because of her over-all good intentions. Unless, she's plotting against me, but I really don't think she is—she just isn't that clever. She probably doesn't even notice my newfound repulsion for her. Maybe repulsion is a bit strong, but you know what I mean, right?

Well, after that long spiel, I think I'm ready to go into the Great Hall. I'm really hungry; the Great Hall has really good food—almost as good as my mum's. The only downfall of the Great Hall is that it's full of people. And they're mostly people that I don't want to talk to, or even have to look at. One of the very few people I can stand is Colin Creevey. Why Colin, considering he doesn't seem to be all that bright? Well, the truth is: he only acts that way so that people won't be astounded by his genius. I'm serious—no joke. He's smarter than Hermione—and that's saying something. The only reason I know this secret is because I too am a genius in my own way and also because Colin and I have been friends since our Harry worshiping days (Long gone, thank you very much!).

So, as soon as I neared the Gryffindor table, I looked for Colin's familiar head of straw-colored hair. I saw him sitting near the end of the table, his familiar hair grown—at least shoulder length. Wow—I might even go as far as to say he looks hot like that—not that I'd ever tell him or anyone else that. The last thing I want to do is come across as desperate and going ga-ga for Colin would be considered desperate because he's my best friend and I just don't do things like that.

"Hullo," I said, sliding into a seat next to him. He looked at me and grinned.

"Hullo. Nice summer?" he asked.

I shrugged. "As good as can be expected with the Hero Brigade hanging around the house all summer."

Colin made a face to sympathize. He too shared my "intense dislike" for Harry. It's sort of hard to say I hate my brother, Ron, but I certainly don't like him. Most of the time. He's just got this gitty older brother attitude that drives me crazy. But sometimes it's hard to believe that he's older than me.

Someone tapped me on my arm. I turned to look and found myself looking at Regina. Oh dear gods, someone please save me.

"GINNY!" she practically leapt out of her seat to give me a massive hug.

I gave a weak laugh, "Reggie," patting her back while trying to extricate myself from her grasp.

"I've missed you so much!" she gushed. I blinked for a moment. What did she want me to say in return? That I'd missed her too? It wasn't true! If anything I was thanking the gods for giving me a Reggie free summer.

"Have a nice summer?" I asked, sitting back further in my chair, till my back was touching Colin's arm and my chair was tipped slightly. Please don't let her spit on me…. Please…

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "It was spectacular." Say it don't spray it—who ever said that was a genius, and should also hold lectures for people like Reggie. Her mouth is like a garden sprinkler. Words with S's didn't help much either. "How was your summer?"

"Positively—''

"Wonderful!" I was going to say boring, but….

"Attention!" Dumbledore's voice rang out through the hall. I don't know a time when I've been happier to hear his voice. Reggie looked a bit disappointed as she settled back in her seat. She kept sending me furtive grins though.

I wonder if the girl's rabid.

A/N: Please review! I'm going to try to reply to reviews in this story. I'm going to try. :D