Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]

The Way I Am by dobbyismyhero22
Chapter 1 : Headlines, Swear Jars, and Food Fights
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 27


Font:  
Background:   Font color:  


You know it’s bad when you’re halfway through having a merry breakfast by yourself and your father comes in, flanked by your she-devil step mum and mini she-devil step sister, all looking deadly serious and downright pissed.

 

Their expressions just read ‘You’re in deep shit.’ Then again, when am I not in deep shit?

 

“Would you care to explain this?” Dad asked as he slammed down this morning’s Daily Prophet on the table.

 

There was a picture of me getting escorted from a club in London by muggle police with a headline that read Minister’s Loose Cannon Daughter Strikes Again.

 

Well fuck, they make me sound like a serial killer that just went on another midnight rampage.

 

I picked up the article to read what trash Harper Skeeter had to say about me this week.

 

Riley Wilson, daughter of Minister for Magic Thatcher Wilson, notorious for getting herself into trouble and tarnishing her family name nearly every other day, was spotted by this reporter getting kicked out of a muggle nightclub around midnight last night for underage drinking. Even though Miss Wilson is seventeen and therefore legal in the Wizarding World, in the muggle world it is considered illegal. Whether Miss Wilson was aware of this law or remained blissfully ignorant as she shoved tequila (a type of muggle alcohol) shots down her throat is unknown. What we do know is that Miss Wilson was allegedly pulled from the bar by security after yelling at the bartender for not serving her and her close male friend, Brady Parrish. Speaking of Mr. Parrish, while our sources tell us that in fact Wilson and Parrish are not dating, we cannot help but wondering if this is a lie. Parrish and Wilson have been spotted together various times over the past couple of weeks, and if you recall in last week’s issue, they were caught in a passion filled snog outside of a muggle restaurant in downtown London. Is Riley Wilson really still single? Has she actually been dating Parrish for months now in secret? Or does she just want someone to fill her sexual needs after her ex-boyfriend, Jason Wood, son of the retired star Keeper of Puddlemere United, broke her heart in May when he was caught cheating with Witch Weekly model, Darcy Palmer? Will the minister ever be able to control his daughter? Or the more important question, if he can’t control his own family, how will he be able to control the Wizarding World?

 

One day I will string Harper Skeeter and perky blonde hair from a quidditch hoop and then pummel her with bludgers, mark my words.

 

She was wrong on several different accounts. The bitch needs to check her facts before printing a story in a national paper.

 

First of all, I do not drink tequila. That stuff is trashy. Whiskey is much more classy.

 

Second, I was not bloody yelling at the bartender. I was merely calling him a dumbarse in a slightly raised voice for not realizing that there were at least fifty other people inside the club that were most definitely not eighteen yet and that he shouldn’t be singling out me just because my fake ID isn’t exactly official looking and has a picture of a sixty-four year old woman on it.

 

Third, Brady and I are absolutely, in no way dating. The papers neglect to realize that we’ve been close friends, practically best friends, for years. We only snogged because Jason was with Darcy AKA tramp that stole my boyfriend, and Brady had a plan (which he decided not to inform me of) to make Jason jealous by snogging me. Even though I wanted to kill him when I saw all the cameras flashing, coming out of completely nowhere, I had to admit that the plan worked out brilliantly. Although I did feel awful for Brady when he ended up with a black eye, but then again, it serves him right for kissing me without permission.

 

And seriously? Did they really need to bring up the fact that Jason cheated again? Honestly, they’ve put that in the last six articles that were written about me. Way to rub the salt in the wound a little deeper, guys.

 

“Well?” My dad asked in a ‘fatherly’ voice, despite being hardly a father at all, with his arms folded sternly across his chest. Char was standing to his side with her lips pursed and expression similar to the one she would have if someone shoved horse crap underneath her nose. Sutton was leaning against the doorframe that leads into the foyer with a haughty, shit-eating smirk across her face.

 

“Well what?” I asked innocently, raising an eyebrow, true to the smart arse that I am.

 

“Do you want to explain yourself?”

 

“There’s really nothing to explain, Father.” I responded nonchalantly, and his expression quickly took a turn from pissed to furious. The only thing I could really focus on though were the little gray hairs showing through the black on his head. I didn’t bother telling him though. The one time I told him that his nose was slightly crooked and he spent a week at St. Mungo’s after trying to fix it himself.

 

You know for a minister, he’s really quite stupid.

 

“Underage drinking, getting kicked out of clubs, fornicating with random blokes that you’re not even dating in public? Do you realize how bad this makes us look? People don’t even think I can control my own family! How do you think people will be able to trust me as their minister?” Dad demanded angrily, balling his hands into tight fists.

 

“Why can’t you just be more like Sutton?” Char asked and turned to gaze adoringly at her daughter who quickly changed her expression from ‘I like watching you suffer, bitch’ to ‘Precious little angel’.

 

I think I am seriously the only person on the face of the universe that can see through her shit.

 

“Because I don’t really fancy having a stick the size of a football field shoved up my arse, thanks.” I snapped and both Char’s and Sutton’s lips pressed into a tight line making them look constipated.

 

“Riley! Apologize to your sister!” Dad all but bellowed, his face turning redder by the second. By the end of this lecture he’s going to look like a fire truck that had just been binge eating chili peppers for six hours.

 

Step sister,” I corrected automatically, my face setting into a scowl and golden brown eyes narrowing when he acted like I had any type of blood relation to that bitch.

 

“And I want a sickle for the swear jar for using the ‘A’ word,” Char sang as she dangled the jar full of sickles, knuts, and galleons that came out of my allowance and clanked it around loudly in my face. I stared her down for a few seconds, hating every thing about her from her flat gray eyes to her fake blonde hair that she spent way too much time teasing in the morning, before fishing a sickle out of jeans pocket and bitterly throwing it into the jar decorated with flower and smiley face stickers.

 

For the record, the swear jar is the dumbest idea in the entire planet.

 

I have to give a knut any time I say damn, bloody, or piss, a sickle any time I say arse, bitch, or shit, then a galleon anytime I say fuck.

 

Or in Char terms, the ‘D’ word, the ‘B-double-O’ word, the ‘P’ word, the ‘A’ word, the ‘B’ word, the ‘S’ word, and the ‘F’ word.

 

She’s like a prudish two year old with boobs and a wedding ring.

 

Oh and the best part is that when the swear jar gets full with all of my money, Dad, Char, and Sutton take it to go buy Sutton either candy, clothes, or if I’ve been particularly bad that month, designer sunglasses.

 

The one time I said fuck so many times when I was on my period the week after Jason cheated on me that they bought Sutton a brand new broomstick.

 

The bitch doesn’t even play quidditch, or know how to ride a broom for that matter.

 

“Ooh, it’s getting pretty full!” Char squealed while jiggling it around excitedly. “What do you think you want this time, Sutton honey? I know you’ve had your eyes on that Burberry scarf for a long time!”

 

“That would be wonderful, Mum!” Sutton chirped, and faux sweetness was just oozing out of her pores as she gave Char a quick kiss on the check and stared at the jar of money hungrily, so eagerly waiting to sink her claws into it.

 

I got up from my chair, threw the rubbish leftover from my breakfast which was just a banana peel toward the bin, and turned without bothering to see if it went in to go to my room because I was literally unable to listen to those fake imbeciles any longer without screaming.

 

“Riley, don’t forget that the Potter’s last day of the summer party is tonight. We’re leaving at five o’clock sharp.” Dad reminded me and Sutton squealed with delight while I internally groaned and stomped the rest of the way to my room and slammed the door.

 

It’s not that I don’t like the Potters because I do. Hell, Ginny was like my second mum growing up along with Hermione, it’s just that I hate being forced going to parties just because I’m the minister’s daughter and I’m expected to behavior a certain way.

 

Then again, this party was better a whole hell of a lot better than the New Year’s Eve and Christmas Eve ones because while those are full out balls with dancing and fancy dresses, the end of the summer one is just casual with family and friends.

 

I used to always play with the Potter and Weasley kids when I was little and practically grew up at their houses because my mum was such good friends with Hermione and Ginny after working with Hermione and rooming with Ginny when they were in school. James, despite him being two years older than me, was actually my first kiss and vice versa. I was eight and he was ten, and he kissed me behind Ginny and Harry’s broom shed in their massive backyard. Immediately afterward, James said and I quote ‘You smell pretty rank, not going to lie.’

 

You try smelling like roses after playing tag for two hours and then quidditch for three, James Potter.

 

Now every time he sees me, without fail, he shouts “My first snog!” and then proceeds to fuck up my hair. Every. Bloody. Time.

 

Al and I used to spend hours in the kitchen making all of these weird concoctions of recipes and pretended that we were mad scientists. He honestly liked baking way too much back then. I’m pretty sure that James still calls him a poof for that.

 

Rose was pretty much my best friend when we were six but things are completely different now. She’ll always say hi to me and smile, but something’s off about it. It’s strained and fake. While Rose is infallibly kind and would never hurt a soul, she does have her standards. She surrounds herself with the right kind of people… The kind of people that don’t get kicked out of nightclubs for screaming at bartenders.

 

Lily’s the only one that I still regularly associate with, and she’s probably my closest friend in Hogwarts after rooming with her for nearly seven years. She’s oddly corky and weird compared to her exceedingly normal, but funny, older brothers, but I like her that way. She’s completely different than the rest of the trash that resides at that school.

 

Hugo was always the one that I didn’t get along with. Not saying that I hate him, he just annoys the shit out of me. Always has, always will. He thinks I’m a pain in the arse so it evens out pretty well.

 

Our fighting rarely ceases except when we were younger, it was the ‘I’m going to pull your ear until you start to bawl your eyes out’ and ‘I’m going to pull your hair until I rip a huge chunk out of your scalp’ type of fighting. Now, it’s more of the ‘I’m going to whack bludgers in your direction even though we’re technically on the same team’ and ‘I’m going to curse your shoelaces together right before you start walking down a staircase so that way you fall on your arse and I can watch you suffer’ type of fighting.

 

I’m pretty sure we’ve gotten about twelve times as violent over the years, but I rather enjoy it that way. Although, I did have a bruise the size of a grapefruit from that trip down the steps.

 

I hopped into the shower at about 4:15, giving me just enough time to quickly shave my legs, dry my long, thick, dark brown strawberry scented hair with my wand and then fishtail braid it, and change into a white eyelet summery dress with a jean jacket and strappy brown sandals before charging down the steps less than a minute before five.

 

My dad was dressed in light blue wizard robes that he would most certainly be boiling in by the end of the night. I guess he didn’t get the newsflash that it’s still summer. Char was wearing bright violet robes with a god awful amount of make up that hid her naturally semi attractive face. Sutton was wearing a low cut light pink tank top with a horribly short white flippy skirt to impress James or his cousin Louis, no doubt.

 

My father ignored my protests to let me apparate on my own, (probably so he could keep an eye on me. He didn’t want a repeat of the Ministry’s Charity Ball incident where I apparated to Brady’s house rather than showing up. For the record, you’d try to escape too if you had to listen to old farts drone on and on about nonsense of five hours) took my arm, and we disappeared three seconds later.

 

Literally, we had been there no more than a half a minute before James came running towards us with his arms wide open, ready to wrap me up in a hug. “My first snog!” He yelled, ruffled my hair, and planted a kiss on the top of my head causing Sutton to glare jealously at me, which she did every time James did this routine.

 

My dad looked like he was refraining from shooting James a dirty look, but then decided to go create meaningless small talk with Harry who was in the middle of enjoying a funny conversation with George before my dad had to ruin it.

 

“Nice going for getting kicked out of that club, Riley. Super classy,” He joked, and put an arm around my shoulder causing Sutton’s death glare to intensify even more, but he remained oblivious of course.

 

“Shut up, James. It’s like you’ve never been the center of the papers, Mr. Seventeen Girlfriends In Two Months!” I retorted and James grabbed his heart in mock hurt.

 

“Ouch, low blow, but you know that people usually get kicked out of bars for drinking too much? Not for being completely sober and yelling at bartenders…”

 

I was about to either come up with some kind of trying to be witty comeback or punch him, but Ginny came from behind us and whacked him upside the head. “Stop antagonizing the poor girl!” She scolded and flicked him on the cheek for good measure.

 

“Ouch, Mum! I didn’t even do anything!” James whined, but Ginny ignored him and he left to go annoy someone else with Sutton trailing behind him like a creepy stalker fan girl.

 

“Riley, how are you, love?” She asked cheerfully and gave me a huge hug.

 

“Hanging in there. How about you, Ginny?”

 

Before she could answer though, Char stuck her beak where it didn’t belong. “Honey, call her Mrs. Potter. She’s your elder, it’s rude to call her by her first name.” She reprimanded and then smiled at Ginny like she had just done her a favor or something.

 

I’ve known Ginny since I was two. I can call her whatever the fuck I want.

 

“I actually prefer that she calls me by my first name, thanks.” Ginny said charmingly but I could tell that she was smiling through gritted teeth and I couldn’t help but throw a satisfied smirk at my step mum.

 

“Are you sure, Ginny? I-“

 

“Please, Char,” Ginny cut her off by putting a hand on her shoulder. “Call me Mrs. Potter,” She said and then put an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, love, I want to go show you the new garden.”

 

She pulled me away quickly, leaving a slightly flabbergasted Char behind, but not before I could throw a completely shit-eating grin in her direction.

 

“Wait, where’s the new garden?” I questioned when she brought me into their gorgeous house.

 

“Oh, we don’t even have a garden.” She said, waving me off. “I just needed to get away from that monstrosity of a woman.”

 

I seriously love Ginny so bloody much.

 

“Why are you so awesome?” I asked causing her to grin.

 

“It must be in the genes. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you.” She said and directed me to sit next to her on their massive black leather couch.

 

“Uh oh,” I blurted out, knowing that whatever was coming couldn’t be good.

 

“Yes, uh oh. Do you think you could stay out of the papers for at least one week? You’re going to give your father a heart attack.”

 

“I take it you saw the article?” I asked somewhat sheepishly.

 

“Every wizard in England saw the article, love.”

 

I groaned and hid my face with my hand. “I just don’t understand why people care so much. Like why does it even matter what goes on in my life? If it was anyone else, no one would give two shits.”

 

“Trust me, I know that better than anyone. When I got pregnant with James before Harry and I were married, it was one of the biggest scandals to hit the papers since Viktor Krum was caught cheating on his wife with four other women. It was in the magazines and front page on the Prophet for weeks. And you’re right, if it were some random girl on the streets that got pregnant before she was married, no one would care except maybe her parents. But the problem with us is that whether we like it or not, and whether we asked for it or not, we’re famous and well known. Everybody loves a scandal, you just have to learn not to give them one.”

 

She acts like I want to get consistently called out for everyday mistakes that get enhanced to make them look like absolute catastrophes for all of England to see and hear about.

 

“The cameras just come out of nowhere. It’s not like I’m trying to get caught.”

 

“I know you aren’t, but you need to stop getting into such sketchy situations. No more yelling at bartenders, no more snogging random blokes no matter how fit they may be, okay?”

 

“Will it make you feel better if I lied and said that I’ll try to change?” I asked with a small smirk causing Ginny to grin and playfully shove my shoulder.

 

“Yes, it would!” She laughed, gave me a quick hug, and started to push me outside. “Go find Lily. Knowing her, she’ll be by the table of food shoving appetizers in her mouth at a speed that could rival my brother’s.”

 

And there she was wearing grey cut off jean shorts and a vintage Weird Sisters tee shirt with her dark wavy red hair piled on the top of her head. Not to mention the fact that she was barefoot, as always, with her toes painted each a different, obnoxiously bright color.

 

Sure enough, she was busy chewing mouthful of shrimp and she was about ready to shovel an entire potato skin in her mouth at once.

 

It’s honestly amazing that she isn’t five hundred pounds at this point. The girl eats like a trucker that has the munchies.

 

“Hey Lils,” I greeted, and she turned around with her cheeks bulging.

 

“Hey!” She exclaimed excitedly back, spraying my face with her partially chewed up food in the process.

 

“Nice to see you too,” I laughed and grabbed a napkin from the table to wipe my face off.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry about that,” She apologized, but it was dampened by the fact that she still hadn’t swallowed yet so she just ended up decorating my face with even more shrimp and potato skin mush. “Personally, I think it’s a good look for you.”

 

“Do me a favor,” I said as I blinked a piece of food out of my eye. “Don’t speak until your mouth is completely empty except for your tongue and your teeth, alright?”

 

She gave me a thumbs up and an okay sign while winking and started chewing her appetizers. Unfortunately, when she’s not attempting to make room for more food, she’s a very slow eater. Finally, after a full two minutes of silence except for the sound of my impatient foot tapping, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

 

“Okay, you may speak now.” I told her after thoroughly inspecting her mouth to make she that she wasn’t hiding any bits of food under her tongue, which would be a very Lily thing to do.

 

“Thank you for allowing me the use of my tongue.”

 

“Anytime, Lils.” I grinned and patted her on the shoulder as she rolled her eyes.

 

“So heard that you flipped out at a bartender.”

 

Really? It’s not like it was even that interesting of a story and Lily, of all people, who is in her own little world about 99.9% of the time, heard about it. This is when I start to lose my faith in humanity.

 

“How the hell did you even hear about that? You don’t even read the Prophet!”

 

“Oh it was all over the Wiz-Telly. I could barely watch the Cannons game without ‘This just in: Riley Wilson goes mental on local muggle club workers’ flashing across the bottom and top of the screen.” Lily said nonchalantly, popped a cracker with Brie on it in her mouth, and chewed happily while I slapped a palm to my forehead in exasperation.

 

“I’m going to get a drink.” I nearly growled as I marched over to the ‘adult beverage’ table across the yard. I reached to grab a beer, which was the only type of alcohol the Potters had. I popped the cap and a split second before the drink was in my mouth, the bottle was yanked from my hands by none other than Char, of course.

 

And being the complete Debbie downer that she is, she decided to dump out a perfectly good, fresh cold beer on a hot summer day. Horrible, horrible person. And could that be considered littering so I’d finally have an excuse to get her locked up?

 

“I don’t know if you were aware, but I was kind of drinking that.” I snapped at her and she blinked her overly mascaraed eyes as if she did nothing wrong.

 

“The last thing that we need is for you to get intoxicated at a prestigious party to embarrass us even more after you were just caught for underage drinking.”

 

It took me all I had not to punch her in the face.

 

First of all, nobody calls it ‘intoxicated’ except for teachers, cops, and old people. Call it hammered, wasted, pissed, shit-faced, loaded, smashed, zonked, or at least drunk, for Merlin’s sake. Anything but bloody intoxicated cause it makes you sound like a prat. Also, I’d hardly call this party prestigious. I mean, they’re bloody serving beer for crying out loud! It’s a casual family and friends thing, something that Char and Dad clearly didn’t get the memo about.

 

“Newsflash, Char, in case you missed my birthday party that you and Dad forced me to throw, I’m seventeen. There aren’t even any muggles here so what does it even matter?”

 

“Are you becoming an alcoholic, Riley?” She demanded, ignoring my question all together and automatically jumping to the question that makes me look like the one with issues rather than her.

 

For the second time in an hour, I slapped my hand to my forehead in annoyance. By the way this evening is going, at the end of night I’m going to have a red handprint stamped on my face.

 

“No Char, I’m not an-“ I started, but then cried out in pain as I had just received the biggest wedgie in the history of the earth.

 

Literally, my knickers are probably going to get permanently glued in my arse. I don’t even care if that was too much a visual for you because that’s how much it bloody hurt.

 

I knew who the culprit was before I even turned but my suspicions were confirmed when I saw Hugo standing about twenty feet away, twirling his wand in his hands, and wearing an extremely self satisfied smirk.

 

I subtly tried to reach up the back of my dress when no one was watching to pick the wedgie because it’s very difficult to look classy while dislodging your underwear from your butt crack. Once again, I don’t care if that was too much of a visual.

 

Apparently, it wasn’t subtle enough though because Hugo saw and his smirk immediately widened causing me to chuck up my favorite finger at him.

 

In retrospect, that probably wasn’t the best thing to do in front of my psychotic stepmother because she immediately snatched my arm and held it with her surprisingly strong grip. “Riley, that is completely inappropriate to do here! I want a galleon for the swear jar when we get home too!”

 

“I didn’t even say anything!” I exclaimed angrily, and wrestled away from her grasp, not wanting to catch an infectious disease from touching her too long.

 

“Yes, but using the no-no finger is just as bad as using the F-word.” She said as if was obvious, and she even leaned in to whisper the last part as if she was nervous that someone would hear her almost swear.

 

I stared at her for a few seconds to try to figure out if she was actually serious or just clinically insane. “You’re batshit crazy if you think that I’m going to give you a galleon.” I told her and turned before she could tell me that I owed her a sickle for using the ‘S-word’.

 

It was times like these that I wish I brought my wand with me everywhere because all I wanted to do right now was shoot a bat bogey hex straight in his direction. Instead, I was forced to get revenge the old fashioned way by marching up to the still laughing prat and kicking him in the shins.

 

Instead of rolling around in agonizing pain, however, it only caused him to create more laugh lines on his boyish face. “Please, never have a future career in football.” This caused me to attempt to kick him again, but he easily pushed me backwards so I couldn’t, almost making me fall on my arse in the process. I really wish I had my wand right now. “Merlin, Riley, what’s got your knickers in a twist? Oh wait…”

 

I think now you can fully see why I can’t stand Hugo Weasley.

 

“I know you want my knickers, but I really think you went about the wrong way to get them, love.” I said condescendingly and patronizingly patted his cheek just a tad too violently.

“Please, like I’d want anywhere near your knickers. They’ve probably been touched more than the Hogwarts sorting hat.”

 

“What exactly are you insinuating, Weasley?” I hissed with my eyes narrowing dangerously.

 

“Absolutely nothing, Wilson.” Hugo replied easily, but his smirk said otherwise.

 

“Calling your new captain a whore really isn’t the best way to start off the season.” I warned and this time it was my time to throw a self-satisfied smirk at him as his ocean blue eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

 

“Is that a joke?” He asked in a completely deadpanned voice as his face went hard as stone.

 

“Nope!” I exclaimed cheerfully and grinned widely, enjoying that Hugo was practically squirming at the fact that I was going to be the boss of him for the entire year.

 

“Why would McGonagall choose you of all people to be captain? Is she on crack?”

 

“Oh well that’s simple. Roxy is too young, Lily wouldn’t yell at a blast ended skrewt even if it was gnawing off her leg, Reese is an idiot, and I’m awesome.”

 

“What about me?” He demanded with his eyebrows furrowing together and arms folding across his chest.

 

“You’re also an idiot/prat and a shit Beater.”

 

Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. I mean, the idiot/prat part is true, but he isn’t a shit Beater. As much as I hate (and love) to admit it, Hugo and I are probably the best Beating team to come to Hogwarts since the Weasley twins.

 

To be honest, I have no idea why McGonagall picked me over Hugo. We’re both just as qualified to be captain. He’s even been on the team for a year longer than I have. Plus, he’s ten times nicer and way more understanding.

 

Who knows? Maybe she just wanted a complete hard arse like me to whip the team into shape.

 

“I am not a shit Beater.” He insisted through gritted teeth and balled his hands into fists. “I bet you can’t even name the last time I missed a target.”

 

Damn, pissed and defensive. Note to self: Insult a man’s (and I use that term loosely) quidditch abilities and he turns into a testosterone filled baby.

 

“I still have more natural talent than you, which is clearly why I’m captain and why you’ll be running twenty laps a practice.”

 

“Oh please, more natural talent, my arse! Remember how last year you took out Professor Longbottom with a bludger even though he was on the complete other side of the pitch? Yeah, that’s not exactly captain material.”

 

Note to self: Insult a woman’s quidditch abilities and things get ugly. 

 

For instance, she might not be able to control herself and she’ll practice her Chasing skills (even though that’s not her normal position…yeah, she’s that good) by picking up a handful of macaroni salad that was one somebody’s plate and chucking it at said insulter’s head.

 

This will cause the insulter to stand in shock for a few seconds before running after the insulted, grabbing her around the waist with a vice like grip, and dumping a plate of baked beans all over her prettily braided hair.

 

Then the insulted will screech loudly, attracting the attention of the entire party including her horrified looking stepmother and furious father.

 

The insulted will somehow manage to wiggle away from the insulter to grab the insulter’s grandmother’s famous banana cream pie, and despite her red faced father’s protests, she throws it with all of her might to hit the insulter, but misses and hits the insulter’s uncle Harry AKA, the savior of the wizarding world.

 

And that’s how Hugo and I single handedly caused The Great Summer Food Fight of 2024.

 

At first everything got completely silent and I’m pretty sure Hugo and I both shit our pants, but you see, Harry doesn’t really fancy getting hit in the face with pie and having cream lodged up in nostrils so he then grabbed his hot dog (that’s what she said) that was loaded up with ketchup and mustard and chucked it in revenge.

 

But unfortunately, Harry’s glasses were majorly coated with cream so his target (us) was completely missed and instead he nailed his mother in law right in the face.

 

And let me tell you, Mrs. Weasley does not enjoy getting hit in the face with hot dogs because she went apeshit and just started beaning people in the head with food from all over the place. For a 74-year-old woman, she can really throw.

 

At this point, literally everybody was turning on each other and throwing some type of dessert, appetizer, or entrée at someone. Oh, except Sutton, Char, and my dad of course. Dad was standing off in the distance glaring at me with the most disappointed and furious look in the world and Char and Sutton were cowering under a table and screaming every time something threatened to stain their expensive clothes.

 

Hugo and I watched everything in amusement from Lily chasing after both of her screaming older brothers as she pelted them with shrimp using her wand to Ginny smashing chocolate cupcakes on her already dessert-ified husband.

 

“Approximately how much trouble are you going to be in?” Hugo asked me and smiled as his dad got a faceful of baked beans like me from Rose.

 

I didn’t even have to think about it when I said, “Too much to even be measured.”

 

“What percent of you actually cares?” Hugo asked, raising an eyebrow, and turning his head to scrutinize me.

 

“About negative ten percent.” I answered after catching his eye.

 

“I’m still a better Beater than you.”

 

“Keep dreaming.” I grinned and squirted a huge glob of ketchup right in his eyes.




A/N: Hello there! So I know you all probably want to kill me for starting a new story when I haven’t updated my other ones in forever, but I couldn’t resist. As soon as I discovered that Josh Hutcherson would make a perfect Hugo, I had to write about him. I hope you like Riley and him so far and just the story in general.

 

Just warning you all right now, this story might, might have some more serious themes in it later. I haven’t fully decided yet but I think that’s the direction that I want to take it in. Don’t worry, it will still have the same humor as my others but it’ll just have a little more drama me thinks.

 

Please leave a review and let me know what you think so far! I LOVE YOU ALL.

 

PS: I don’t own anything!




Favorite |Reading List |Currently Reading



Review Write a Review
The Way I Am: Headlines, Swear Jars, and Food Fights

Review

(6000 characters max.) 6000 remaining

Your Name:
Rating:

Prove you are Human:
What is the name of the Harry Potter character seen in the image on the left?


 

Other Similar Stories


Beware, Mela...
by Nat