Funny, I liked it.

That made me giggle lots.

HAHAHA! Just thinking of someone saying that outloud to their parents... See my mom would be like... Uh huh... 'course he is... Let's go get your yearly checkup...

Funny coincidence, I was watching the pepto bismal commercial when reading this... I had to re-read it a few times to make sure I didn't just make it up in my head.

All's fair in love and war...

My brother does too...

Oooo... now I can't wait for the next chappie!

Really good chapter
i loved it!
PAMS!

Eviee <33

Great post!!

I kinda felt like you gave up on the story it made me sad

Loving this, still Brad is still his hilarious self and so is Ally. It's just your writing, you are so creative when it comes to humour

K xx

***



Day 1, Part 8

GROUNDED. Can you believe it?

Who gets grounded on vacation??

As soon as we finish dinner, Brad grabs his hoodie and heads for the door. The older kids have some sort of nightly bonfire thing right on the beach. It sounds like a lame way for boys to set things on fire without getting in trouble and girls to snuggle up on strangers without being called names, but it sure beats lying around the cottage.

Only Mom stops me before I even make it halfway to the door. “You can’t go,” she points a finger at me like she wants to jab my brain into submission.

“But Mom…”

“You can’t go,” she repeats. I’m not deaf, though. Just stubborn.

“Why?”

“I still don’t like that you wandered off in the village earlier, and your attitude hasn’t been particularly winning lately. I think you need some time to cool off and readjust.” Mom talks pop psychology but what she really means is ‘grounded’. I can’t go to the bonfire.

That sucks.

Brad slips right out the door without even one backward glance, and I’m alone with a grumpy mother. “That’s not…”

Her finger wiggles in my direction again. “If you say anything about how Harry Potter never got punished, I might lose it. Just… don’t.”

Honestly, I was about to say that it wasn’t fair, because it just isn’t. Brad isn’t an adult, and no one throws a fit when he hangs out with new people. Maybe it’s a thing because I’m a girl or the youngest, or maybe they just don’t trust me, but it isn’t fair. This is vacation, and as I’ve said, no one gets grounded on vacation.

And the thing about Harry never getting punished isn’t true, but I don’t want to give Mom any ideas. When people got upset at Harry, he ended up locked in a cupboard or sorting newt eyeballs or cutting words into his own hand. A little forced quiet time pales in comparison… even if it isn’t fair.

“And maybe if he’d been punished every once in a while, Harry Potter wouldn’t have been such a moody teenager during that whole fifth book. Someone needed to send him to his room for a while instead of treating him like he was such a special snowflake,” my mom is ranting about Harry Potter. A little knowledge is a very dangerous thing. She started reading the books to bond with me over mutual interests, but she hasn’t made it all the way through the sixth and seventh book. And she has seriously uninformed opinions that show she’s clearly not a true fangirl.

For example: Harry is not a moody teenager in OotP because no one ever grounded him for talking to strange girls. He was a moody teenager because Voldemort was living in his head. No amount of grounding will drive out the Dark Lord.

Point to Ally.

Dad looks over from where he’s washing the dishes, and we exchange a LOOK about Mom getting all worked up. “Honey, I think you’re losing this one.”

Mom shuts her mouth with a little click, nodding at Dad like he’s Dumbledore and Gandalf rolled into one mega-genius wizard sans beard. My Dad… when he isn’t sleeping or vegging in front of the TV, he has stuff to say. “Anyway, you can’t go.”

Because the bonfire sounds really lame anyway, I should shrug it off, but it’s hard to lose a fight. “I thought this was a democracy. Where are my rights?”

“Honey, we’re in England.”

Point to Mom. “But we’re American.”

“Contrary to popular belief, the US is a republic,” my dad offers from the kitchen. Thanks, Dad. Super time to pitch in. “Not a democracy.”

“I would like to formally protest my lack of representation in the government that is my family,” I turn back to Mom and stick out my lip.

“Honey. I love you.” She grabs my head and gives my forehead a wet kiss.

Did I win? Did I lose?

I have no idea, but I retreat to my bedroom and let the door swing behind me. Arguing with the people who control your allowance and curfew is usually a pretty stupid effort, even if it is occasionally satisfying to get in the last word. Unfortunately, my mother is also ace at last words.

As I’m in the middle of thinking of all the different synonyms for ‘pink’, I fall asleep.

She has a point. That should be against the vacation rules or something.
Awe, but what about Al? He'll probably be there! And what if he meets a Cho Chang type??

at this entire bit. Seriously. I was having a bad night and this just put me in a super good mood. Point to you.
Super funny and fantastic chappie! Please PAMS!

That was great! If I hadn't met you, I would have thought you were Ally's age. You really get into her head. She's adorable. And her mom feels real too.

Anyway, I can't wait to read your next chapter!

haha, brillient!
I LOVED it
I feel the same when im arguing with my parents, you never win LOL!
PAMS, i want to read more!

Grounding on holiday is not allowed!!!

Great Post!!

K xx

Gosh, guys. I'm SO SORRY that I stink. I can't believe it's been so long, but I intend to update again soon. Really. I'm in the zone and making Ally talk to me. Starting. Right. Now



***



Day 2

As soon as the sun hits the pink and white striped curtains, I am awake. The cottage sits silent, aside from annoying snoring that could be either my dad or my brother. Regardless, it means the same thing – I’m the only one awake for now.

I need a plan for the day. It’s pretty clear to me that, if given the chance, Brad and the parentals will do their worst to keep me from having fun on this vacation. I’ve already been grounded once, and Brad’s skills as a stalker are more than a little alarming. The boy has ‘creeper’ written all over him. But I figure that if I can just get out of the cottage without detection, maybe I can actually spend time on the beach today.

Maybe I can find Al.

In super-stealth-ninja mode, I pack my big beach bag with all the essentials. Sunscreen, bug repellant, extra glossy lipgloss, a towel. I remember my bathing suit this time, and I carry my flip-flops in one hand, held away from my body. They’re still a little slimy from yesterday.

The hardest part of packing my beach bag is that I simply cannot fit all of my Harry Potter books into it. I can fit two of the smaller ones or one big one, regardless of how much I unpack from the bag. I can fit two big ones and the relatively tiny Philosopher’s Stone into the bag without my towel, but even I know that going to the beach without a towel is just stupid. How hot would I look trying to shake dry like a dog?

Because I like to read the books in order, I decide to take Sorcerer’s Stone and Chamber of Secrets. There. Decision made. Only… I change my mind as soon as I reach my bedroom door. If I’m trying to read up on Al, then I need to take Deathly Hallows. He’s only in the Epilogue, but for purposes of research, it’s all I’ve got.

Finally FINALLY, my bag is packed, and I’m ready to hit the beach. The house is still quiet, although I can’t hear any snoring, and I steel myself for the run to the front door. It’s one straight shot, with the hardest part being the first few steps past the other bedrooms. If all goes well, I’ll stop in the kitchen and grab some fruit or whatever is sitting out on the counter, but if my ninja hearing picks up even the slightest squeak of floorboard or bedsprings, then I’m gone.

I open the door and tiptoe into the hall.

“Hey.” Brad sits on the couch with his arms crossed, staring at the blank TV screen. “What are you doing?”

“Eating… breakfast?” With my bulging beach bag slung over one shoulder, I stroll past him into the kitchen and stare dolefully at the only thing sitting out. The towel flavored bread. Yay.

“You packed heavy for breakfast.” He follows me into the kitchen and drapes himself over the counter. I haven’t done a single thing wrong yet, but I can’t meet his eyes. Whatever else is true about Arm Pit, he isn’t as dumb as he looks. I’m pretty sure he knows.

“Just the essentials.” I drape the towel over a chair and seat myself on it, bread and book in hand. Look who’s a good liar NOW.

He peeks into my bag. “Sunscreen for the kitchen?”

“I’m very concerned about skin cancer.”

“Uh huh.”

Somehow, I stomach one whole slice of towel bread with orange jelly, even with Brad staring at me the entire time. He has officially upgraded to ultra-creeptastic in my book, what with watching me eat like I’m trying to smuggle diamonds out of the kitchen disguised as dry bread. As soon as I swallow the last bite, I stick out my crumby tongue at him and shove away from the counter.

The front door is only a few feet away, and I mentally gauge whether I can make it to the door, unlock it, and get outside without Brad getting in my way. He’s fast and bigger than me, but I am really motivated.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Brad casually saunters between me and the front door. He is such a JERKFACE. If I wasn’t particularly attached to my copy of Deathly Hallows, I would check this heavy tome straight at his head. As it stands, though, I just repack my beach bag and head toward my bedroom.

“I’m going to read in my room. Some people have trouble respecting personal space.” He just grunts in response as my bedroom door swings shut. Great. Right back to where I started.

I am the epitome of maturity as I loudly face plant onto the sagging mattress, even as it squeaks in protest. This. Is. Not. Fair. I want to go outside. I want to see the beach. I want to do it as far away from stupid older brothers as possible.

After about fifteen minutes of my head buried in the pillows, I hazard a groundhog-like excursion from my lair. My door swings open silently (miraculously!), and I press one eye to the crack.

“Hey.” Brad is sitting RIGHT. THERE. In the hall. Staring at my door.

If he wasn’t my brother, I could get a restraining order out against him. As it stands, though, all I can do is press my mouth to crack in the door and say loudly, “You need a HOBBY, loser.”

“It’s called sister-watching, Ug. There’s a handbook and merit badges and stuff.” If that’s true, there is a whole subculture of weird out there that I would rather not know about. I slam the door.

Again.

Brad has totally forced my hand, leaving me with only one option. It isn’t pretty, and I might get in even more trouble, but above all other things, he must not win.

As quietly as possible, I shove my window open as far up as it will go and climb through it. Watch the bedroom door all you want, big brother. I’m totally gone.

I don't mind; it's totally worth the wait

It most certainly did

I wish I could be like a Ninja, but I'm too clumsy
I'm the same way, except one time, I got impatient, and just skipped the middle books, and went straight to Deathly Hallows
Skin Cancer is a very important issue.
Doesn't he have something better to do than be a complete creeper?
Haha, I was wondering, throughout the entire thing, when she would just climb out the window.

Fantastic post as always! And Please PAMS when you get the chance

Loved this chapter... Ally is the best! I love that she wants to take all her books to the beach... Like she would have time to re read them all. And in this chapter... her brother reminds me of me. I was always making sure he was kept in line.

Hah love the chapter
Sneaking out of the window...brillient!
Brad is annoying
PAMS!

Eviee <33

Great chapter - worth the wait

Hope something exciting happens!

K xx

Once again, guys, thanks for being patient. New characters make things hard, but I think I've captured this one just as I imagined. Hope you enjoy. More to come.... SOON.





Day 2, Part 2

The beach is kind of beautiful in its own murky, moody way. The cloudy water laps half-heartedly against the dock pilings and the pebbly sand, which is a marked difference against most of the beaches I’ve experienced before. Ocean beaches with fine white sand and white breakers creating a cacophony of background noise heard from miles away. The dark, cold waves of Lake Erie, where Brad and I insisted on going after that rubber museum, only to race back to the car after a few brave drenchings.

But this lake is calmer, even if it has the sort of beauty you admire like a puddle of oil in a parking lot. You know you shouldn’t find it pretty, but you just keep seeing the rainbows inside. I like the way the sand is studded with flat, smooth stones, just as I like how the slough and hiss of the green water suits the low hanging fog still wound around the trees and buildings across the lake. It’s gloomy, almost creepy, and it appeals to my mood and that corner of my heart that wants England to be as Potterish as possible. This is a beach where the Trio might have camped while they were hiding from Voldemort, a place Dumbledore might have sought horcruxes, a spot wrapped up in its own secrets and magic.

Or so I imagine.

In less than an hour, when the sun burns off the fog and the rest of the kids in these cottages wake up and come outside, the charm will be broken. I guess maybe the busy beach will have its own charm, and I’ll be able to find Al and hide from Brad much better, but I’m glad I got to see the lake like this.

Around a bend in the shore from our cottage, I hunker down between a little crest of hill and a fallen tree. The location is perfect to see the dock and part of the path without being immediately visible, and it gives me a nice lonely view of crumbling castle wall reflected in the water.

I open Deathly Hallows to the end and read the Epilogue through twice. The Epilogue is a bittersweet thing for true fans, or at least for the true fans that I’m allowed to speak for – which may be just me. Writing-wise, it’s sort of crappy and uneven with the rest of the book. In a better world, JK would have stopped with Harry wanting a sandwich. Imperfect, unfinished, but honest. The Epilogue feels like an attempt to finish off a beautifully wrapped, expensive gift with a dingy ribbon. But for someone who is not just a fan of the books but is also a fan of Harry and his world, the Epilogue gives you a promise that Harry finally got the life he deserved. I might cringe over how all the neat edges feel like JK is writing her own fanfiction, but I can’t help but enjoy imagining the after-the-war life she created for him.

“And what’s this?”

My little moment of reverie is broken, and I glance up from the lake to find that Harry-Potter-face-but-not-quite peering over the log at me. Not Al, but the brother I sort of met yesterday. If you call getting mortified by your own brother in front of someone ‘meeting’ them. He’s all cocky grin as he slides over the log and crowds into the little nook I’ve made for myself.

This boy is Brad’s soul mate, I swear.

“Nice little spot you’ve found here.” And he’s suddenly taking up all the space. I’m not really sure how he does this, considering the fact that he’s not brutishly big like my brother and the spot seemed practically roomy minutes ago. Might have something to do with the way his leg is touching my leg.

And ick. I think I’m blushing.

“What are you…”

“Don’t be unfriendly, Al’s friend. It’ll make me feel unwanted and hurt my feelings,” Jim splays out on the pebbled beach, managing to take up even more space.

“Ally.” Although I kind of like being Al’s friend. And I’m pretty sure he knew my name before he invaded my space.

“Al and Ally. Almost seems like fate, dunit?”

I sigh and wrap my arms around my knees, attempting to keep my leg from touching Jim’s. Briefly, I wonder if I remembered to brush my hair this morning.

“Magic, maybe?” I’m fishing for a reaction from him, but Jim just gives me a measured look before bursting out into laughter. No one likes to be laughed at, even when they say things they know to be stupid. Uneasily, I laugh too, just to show how very very much I am kidding.

Magic? Yeah , right.

“You’re a right laugh, kid.” He prods my thigh with his elbow. I like ‘kid’ a lot less than I liked ‘Al’s friend’. He can’t be much older than Brad, who is only two years older than I am. Definitely not old enough to be calling me a kid. Jim must be able to sense my mood going sour, because he prods me again with that pointy elbow and tries out another cocky grin.

Not my type. I blush again anyway.

Awwww, she needs to give him a chance! Instead of NO NO NO. *pokes her*

Awesome chapter. I love the way your charries feel so real.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I ADORE Ally Cope.

I just caught up for the first time since last August. I'm beyond ELATED to have found this again. Ern, you are the absolute best. Seriously. I love your stories and your writing and your characters and your humor and your life.

Whew. This story... is a keeper. Mmm. Makes my heart happy.

Of course, of course; many, many times



Love, love, love it! And I was thinking the same as Droo; I love the way your charries feel so real, too.

Anyhoo, great chappie, and I can't wait until the next. Please PAMS!

Awesome chapter! (:
i don't like the sound of this Jim kid though
pamspamspams

New :read!:er!
As of now, I worship you. :worship:

I love this! PAMS

READ THIS ALL THE WAY THROUGH IN ONE SITTING AND I AM OBSESSED. okay, sorry for the caps lock i guess it is a bit unnecessary but it really isn't. This is such a great story. I guess part of it is because I am totally like ally and this story would be my absolute wish! and i find myself thinking lots of the hp related things that my family wouldnt understand. I LOVE THIS!!!! PAMSX3287503985470325702938730

Hehe, thanks, bud. I should have figured YOU would be a Jim fan.

Yay! I'm glad you came back. You've been missed tremendously. Come back again?

Thank you! That's the best thing you can say, actually... that my characters feel real to you. It's really nice of you!

Nooo, and he's not going anywhere, is he?

Welcome, welcome! Happy to have you. No worship necessary.

Welcome to you too! I think we're all a little Ally inside, which is why she's so fun to write. And read, I hope. I'm really glad you're enjoying her story so far.

***



Day 2, Part 3

Among the top adjectives used to describe me by my friends and family, I think talkative would rank high on the list. Chatty, maybe. ‘Never shuts up’ and ‘verbal diarrhea’ might also make an appearance, but only if Brad is the person asked.

So why is it that I’m sitting here with a good looking boy, complete with British accent and possibly magical bloodlines, and I cannot think of a thing to say? He watches me expectantly, as if thinking that at any moment I’ll start being entertaining, and I just make my demented goldfish face at him.

It isn’t even that he’s cute or British or magical that is so hard to handle. Al is all of those things, and we manage something resembling a conversation every time we meet. It’s that Jim knows. He knows that he’s cute, and he knows that he’s British and that American girls swoon over crap like that. And if he’s magical, he knows that too.

The other confusing part is that I can’t figure out why he’s bothering. Brad has a small gathering of older girls in his wake everywhere he goes, and I’m sure that Jim could pull at least the same sized crowd. So why the heck is he crammed in between a log and the hillside with me?

My dad would say, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” But maybe I shouldn’t think about Dad, because he’d be pretty shocked by this whole situation. And who goes looking any horse in the mouth, anyway? Other than horse dentists or something.

While I’m pondering horses, gift or otherwise, Jim nudges my leg and gives me that grin of his. “So who are we hiding from then? Al? Ah, summer romance fades so quickly.”

“I’m not,” I jerk my leg further away from him. By now, I’m practically clinging to the hillside, which means another filthy pair of shorts I’ll have to explain to my mother. “My brother was being especially creeptastic this morning, so I had to go out the window just to leave the cottage.”

“You went out the window?” Do I detect mild admiration, Mr. James Potter?

“I thought you were supposed to be nice.” I finally manage to hiss at him with some amount of outrage, although I probably sound more like a leaky tire than anything else. It’s hard to really be irate about getting attention from a cute boy.

Jim just looks amused, though. Not at all put off by leaky tires is our Boy-Who-Lived-Junior. “Says who?”

Says… me. Where was his Gryffindor chivalry? Was it even possible for Harry Potter to have a kid who was sort of a jerkface? I mean… Harry was awkward with girls, but he was nice. He didn’t flirt and make heavy use of the suggestive eyebrows the way Jim does.

But you cannot call a guy out for not being enough like Harry Potter. I’ve tried it before – it makes people cranky to be compared to fictional characters for some reason.

“I just thought you would be.” Lame. I sound super lame, but to his credit, Jim doesn’t jump the log and go looking for an unlame girl elsewhere.

Instead, he spreads in my direction again, a feat I must say is quite impressive. How can one wiry 16-year-old take up so much room?

“I happen to think I’m being very nice. You have no idea how nice I can be.” And I have no desire to know. Why why WHY couldn’t it have been Al who found me this morning? Why did it have to be his hot yet overly pushy older brother?

As if I had conjured him out of thin air, Al peers over the log at our cozy little beach party. Honestly, I have no idea where he came from, but I don’t have much time to think about it. The stricken look is too distracting.

Idea to consider later: invisibility cloak? Al is too young to apparate, but could there be another sneaky way to appear from nowhere?

“Ally? What are you… with Jim?” He makes his own demented goldfish face at us for a minute before fleeing down the beach. Not sure if I ever really saw what fleeing looked like, but it looks a lot like a really nice, cute guy getting smaller in the distance while his annoying older brother smirks at you.

And yeah… smirking? I’m not a fan.

“If this is you being nice, I’m not sure I want to see you being not nice,” I shove him away from me with both feet and struggle over the log after Al. It isn’t the best comeback ever, but I’m not interested in impressing anyone within hearing range.

Without waiting for a reply, I hurry in the direction Al disappeared. Today started on a low note, and it was shaping up to be a really sucky day.

Loved it, especially when she thought of the "Idea to consider later: invisibility cloak? Al is too young to apparate, but could there be another sneaky way to appear from nowhere?"

oooh! yay! I was waiting for this to continue. I am soooo glad she went after Al. and awww he was upset! I LOVE HIM! but i kinda like Jim too, for some reason. I'm kinda torn.

PAMS

Naw, that's kinda cute; jealous, just a bit?

Loved the post, as always! And Congrats on your nominations! Please PAMS!

Loved it! Really well written!
Do i detect jealousy there Al? Awww haha
I want to read more soon! *nods*
PAMSPAMSPAMS!

Eviee <33