Blue Hawaii

Chapter Three

"Here it is." Narcissa ran a long finger across a mostly red and orange floral sundress made from a filmy type of gauze. The neckline plunged into a low vee; a slit ran sharply up either side.

Molly blushed. "Oh, I could never...."

Narcissa waved her hand and pulled the dress off the rack. "Nonsense. It matches your hair color perfectly." She held it up against Molly; it was at least several sizes too small but that didn't stop Narcissa. "Hold this." She fumbled in her handbag for a moment, then came up smiling. In her hand was a small vial filled with a swirling turquoise-blue liquid. Narcissa's eyes gleamed as she shook it back and forth.

"What..." began Molly.

"Oh, you're going to love this!" squealed Narcissa. She marched Molly toward the counter, plunked the sundress down, and fished once again in her bag for her room key. "It's on me!" she smiled with obvious delight.

"I could never let you... Arthur wouldn't want..." Molly protested, but Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

"Hush, sweetie, it's a gift from one girlfriend to another." She signed her name to the receipt with a loopy flourish. "I prefer quills and ink," she whispered, "but these ball-point pens aren't too bad once you get the hang of them. Come along." She pulled Mrs. Weasley out into the corridor and into a nearby room marked WOMEN. Once inside, she giggled like a schoolgirl and pressed the vial into Molly's palm.

Molly inspected it, suspicious. After all, her husband and Narcissa's husband were mortal enemies. What was Narcissa asking her to ingest? She rolled the vial around in her hand and a label caught her eye: Sev's Super Slimming Serum. "What?" she began.

Narcissa's eyes twinkled in excitement. "I swear by Salazar Slytherin's socks, Molly, this stuff is so amazing!" She glanced around, making sure they were alone in the room, and lowered her voice. "Okay. When I was preggers with Draco, I gained... well, let's just say I got huge, okay? And back then, Lucius and Sev--you know, Sevvie Snape? the Potions teacher at Hogwarts?--well, they were really good friends. So, after Draco was born and I was sitting around feeling all sorry for myself because I was so bloated that Lucius wouldn't even look at me... Sev whipped me up a huge supply of this! It's awesome! He's so unbelievably skilled at potions, you know? He should go into business. I could market him like this--" she snapped her fingers--"if we could just get him cleaned up and looking a little more presentable."

Molly looked at her reflection in the mirror, then at Narcissa. One of them was tall and slim and gorgeous with perfect proportions. The other simply was not. "Well, you see," she said quietly, "I don't mind how I am, I'm quite comfortable with it."

"No kidding," said Narcissa. "I know you're fine with it. But come on, sister, give it a try, reinvent yourself for the occasion. It doesn't last forever or anything, just a week or two. Drink up."

Molly still wasn't convinced, but... what could be so bad about it? Just for a try? "I never like the way potions taste," she argued feebly.

Narcissa waved away her concerns. "Odorless and tasteless. I've got about a hundred vials left in my private storeroom at home--I usually only have to use them after the really big feasts that last for days and days. When you come over after we get back, I'll show you all the neat stuff I have in there." She giggled. "Even Lucius doesn't know about it. He told me to get rid of anything having to do with Sev after they had their big falling out. But I'm not that stupid." Her lip curled into a sneer quite reminiscent of the one her husband usually wore, although on her the effect was rather charming. "Bottoms up, girl! How else are we going to get that bewitching spell you want to learn off on the right foot?"

"Right," said Molly. She uncorked the vial, then very hesitantly lifted it to her lips.

"You're acting like it's going to kill you or something," Narcissa cooed offhandedly. "I'm not the one in our household who poisons their friends for a lark--go on, drink it all or it won't work!"

Odorless and tasteless my ass, thought Molly as she tried hard not to gag. It smelled vaguely of vinegar and petrol mixed with essence of rose, and tasted like one of Fred's--or was it George's?--dung bomb cremes that they liked to slip in with the sweets... wait! Did Narcissa just say something about poison? She'd definitely have to remember that and report it to Arthur. But then the most wonderful flavor filled her mouth, like hot mulled cider topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. She felt the warm potion slip down her throat and promptly forgot any mention of anything suspicious as she shut her eyes in rapture. This was the most wonderful sensation in the world, like floating weightlessly in a just-perfect not-too-hot, not-too-cold bath. Like floating through space, looking around at the stars. As if there were not a care in the world... she was definitely going to send an owl to the Headmaster when they got back and recommend a pay raise for the Potions teacher....

"It totally rules, doesn't it?" Narcissa laughed. "Omigawd, Molly Weasley. Take a look at yourself!"

Molly opened her eyes and peered into the mirror. Looking back at her was someone she recognized, but barely. She wasn't as tall as her new and now forever best friend Narcissa, but they shared some of the same Amazonian proportions: hourglass figure, tiny waist, ample chest, killer legs... yes, she was still herself, but enhanced... she raised her hand to her mouth. "I--I can't believe it!" Then she started to laugh. "I haven't looked like this in 30 years!"

Narcissa held out the gauzy sundress. "Go on, then, in there, put it on. I'll be right here."

Molly ducked into one of the stalls to change--this was unbelievable! And all this time she'd been avoiding using magic to do anything for herself. Well, all that was a thing of the past now--she would hunt down Snape and have him mix her up a hundred vials of the stuff too. The sundress slid easily over her head and shoulders, settling perfectly onto her new size six frame. And Narcissa had been right, the dress was absolutely made for her; the reds and oranges in the flowers offset her own complexion beautifully. A brand new feeling settled onto Molly's shoulders. For the first time in a long time, she felt... no, it wasn't confident, she'd always been confident. It was something different. It was absolute mastery and a feeling that nothing could touch her, nothing could hurt her. Was this how Narcissa felt all the time, so in control? Was this what it felt like to be a... a Malfoy?

She touched her wand to her old clothes, shrinking them into a tiny package and banishing them to her purse. Opening the door, she strode forward thinking, wait, I don't stride... well, I guess I do now!

Narcissa beamed at her, taking her by the hand. "Now, let's get up to my suite and order in some shrimp cocktails and a couple more of those blue drinks. We have a lot of charms practice ahead of us."

Molly cast one glance back at the mirror, then tipped her head and laughed. "Bring it on," she said as they walked out the door.

***

Lucius plucked the tiny umbrella out of the tall glass of ice water and threw it to the ground, stomping on it with the heel of his boot. "Stupid fucking umbrellas," he muttered. He drank the contents down in several gulps. It really was too hot. Picking up the newspaper and his sunglasses, he hoisted Narcissa's beach bag onto his shoulder. Time to go inside for a while. Time to cool off.

Slowly, he walked away from the pool and back toward the hotel. A slight breeze ruffled his hair away from his back. The air conditioning felt divine once he got inside. Fucking leather pants, he said to himself. Who the fuck goes to the tropics wearing leather? Anything but this, anything but this. He was so preoccupied and so laden down by Narcissa's heavy bag that he didn't notice until the elevator door closed that Arthur Weasley was standing in the corner.

"Oh, fuck," swore Lucius. "What are you doing here, Weasley?"

Arthur shrugged. "The boys and Ginny were all swimming, Molly's off with your wife. Thought I'd head up to the room and try a couple experiments with the eckeltricity."

"Electricity," corrected Lucius.

Arthur shrugged again, but his ears reddened. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"Cooling off," he said shortly.

"I meant in Hawaii," said Arthur.

"Ah. My wife's idea," Lucius admitted. "She fancied a trip. And you?"

Arthur smiled. "My wife's idea," he said. "Never been able to take her anywhere before, not really."

"Shame." Lucius looked at the buttons by the door. "What floor are you?"

"Floor?" Arthur looked perplexed.

Lucius shook his head. "What floor is your room on, Weasley?"

"Oh! Fourth."

Lucius pressed 4 and P. "You see, Weasley, Muggles made elevators in a relatively stupid way. You actually have to press these buttons to make them go to the floor you want; it doesn't work by osmosis or Floo powder, or even by the formidable presence of your Muggle-loving desires, regardless of how hard you might concentrate on getting there."

Arthur turned beet red. "All right, all right. You've made your point. But tell me, my curiosity's got the better of me, what's Floor P? Where all the prats have to stay?"

An evil grin crossed Lucius' face. "Poor Arthur Weasley," he said with a quiet laugh. "It's the penthouse suite, the best room money can buy."

Arthur frowned; it looked for a moment as though he was going to burst into tears. The elevator door opened.

"Fourth floor," said Lucius. "Enjoy your little experiments."

Arthur didn't move. He was looking very hard at the lights in the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," said Lucius. "If you want to see the penthouse that badly, bloody well just come along."

"Really?" Arthur's face lit up; he reminded Lucius of a grateful dog he'd once picked up and petted after kicking it down the street.

"Really," he sighed. The day was certainly going to hell in a hand basket. He felt in his back pocket for the room card; he managed to free it with a relatively insignificant squishing sound as it wrestled itself from the leather. He slid it into the lock for a moment; the light turned green and the door clicked open.

"Ah! So that's how you get the doors open," said Arthur. "I'd have been standing in front of mine for hours."

Lucius shook his head and walked to the bar. "I'm having a drink. And since I actually made the mistake of inviting you in, you may have one, too." He pulled two glasses down from the shelf. "What's your poison, Weasley?"

"Oh!" Arthur followed Lucius to the bar. "What are these little handles for?"

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Hot and cold water. Really, Weasley, you could do with a few remedial Muggle Studies classes." He opened a bottle of Laphroaig 30-year-old single malt Scotch whiskey, poured a hefty amount into his glass, and took a long sip.

"What's that you've got?" Arthur stopped fiddling with the faucets and looked at the bottle of Scotch.

Lucius' eyes gleamed. "This, Weasley, is one of the finest liquors--Muggle or Magic--on the planet."

"Better than Ogden's?" Arthur's eyes widened; he fingered an electric can opener absently.

"They're not even in the same realm." Lucius filled Arthur's glass with the amber liquid and pushed it toward him. "Stop worrying so much about the electrical appliances and have a bloody drink, Weasley. You can rest assured this will be the first and last time I offer you one without being coerced. I'll teach you how to plug in a mixer later on."

"Really?" Arthur grinned.

"No, not really." Lucius walked from behind the bar and sat in one of the leather chairs by the television. He sipped the Laphroaig, savoring the feel of it oozing down his throat. This was definitely the best moment of his afternoon. No Narcissa barking in his ear, no Draco whining about not having enough poisons in the cupboard. It didn't even bother him too terribly much that Arthur Weasley, whom he absolutely despised, was drinking his 65-galleon-a-bottle Scotch. It was just nice to be out of the sun, out of the heat, away from the annoying people by the pool. Lucius put his feet up on the coffee table, picked up the remote control, and flicked on the television.

Arthur spat out a mouthful of Laphroaig. "What the...." He stared at the television, captivated. His eyes widened in amazement.

"What will the Muggles think of next," said Lucius lazily, tossing the remote down onto the table.

Arthur moved gingerly toward the television. "May I?" he asked. His hand, shaking with anticipation, reached toward the remote.

Lucius laughed. "Knock yourself out. But don't waste any more of my Laphroaig, or I'll banish you to Romania to burn with that dragon-loving son of yours."

Smiling, Arthur picked up the remote; the Muggle news flashed way too much information across the bottom of the screen while the person whose face was talking covered a completely different topic. He opened the little door on the back of the controller; a pair of batteries fell out. "Oops!" he said, his face reddening. He picked up the batteries, holding them as if they were liquid silver. "Fascinating!" He rolled the batteries back and forth in his hand, then put them back inside the remote. Pointing it toward the television, he clicked a few buttons; with each channel change he grew more and more excited. Shows flew past in quick succession: Jerry Springer. Headline News. WWF Extravaganza. Public Broadcasting. Rugrats. Tom and Jerry. Oprah. Die Hard. Lethal Weapon. 48 Hours. Lethal Weapon 2.

Arthur grinned. "This is fantastic!" he said. "Who knew Muggles could think of ways to make their pictures move this well."

Shaking his head but suppressing a grin, Lucius turned his attention back to the 30-year-old Scotch. His glass was nearly empty; he downed the rest and walked back to the bar. He found Arthur Weasley's wide-eyed innocence quite amusing, he admitted to himself. Pouring a fresh amount of Laphroaig into his glass, he cleared his throat. "Weasley."

Arthur looked up.

"You really should get out more," Lucius said. "You're so fascinated with Muggles; you're the one who's been working for years on the Muggle Protection Act. How can you run about trying to protect them when you don't even understand them." He sipped his drink. "Think about it, Weasley--Muggles don't need our protection. Look at what they can do and what they can build." He gestured around the opulently-appointed penthouse.

Arthur's eyes widened, as if seeing the room for the first time. "How... how big is this penthouse of yours, Malfoy?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow; his lip curled into a sneer. "Bigger than your home, undoubtedly."

"Undoubtedly." Arthur hung his head, resigned. His ears reddened again.

"Take the tour," Lucius offered. "You're in the sitting room. There are three bedrooms off that way--" he pointed to his left--"and two baths in the other direction. We also have a rather poorly stocked kitchen and dining area over there."

"Well." Arthur placed the remote on the table; Mel Gibson and Danny Glover drove after some criminals as the television squawked quietly in the background. "Actually, Malfoy, we Weasleys have made ourselves quite comfortable in the Burrow." But he poked his head around the corner, taking in the view of what Lucius had referred to as being rather poorly stocked. Arthur hadn't seen that many supplies in his own kitchen in many years.

Lucius laughed. "I'm sure you have, Weasley." He opened one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a small plastic bag wrapped tight around something. He opened the bag, breathed in deeply, and smiled. Digging deeper in the drawer, his hand came up around a few other small items; he laid them out on the table: cigarette papers and a silver lighter. He opened the plastic bag and let some of its contents spill out through his fingertips onto a small tray.

Arthur watched in fascination as Lucius expertly rolled the contents into a cigarette, then lit the end. Lucius let it burn for a moment, blew out the flame, and inhaled deeply on the other end. A sweet, pungent odor filled the room.

"Kona Gold," Lucius said, then exhaled. "My sole reason for agreeing to take this ridiculous trip to Hawaii." He handed the cigarette to Arthur, who examined it with a fearful expression on his face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Weasley," Lucius shook his head in disgust, "it's marijuana. Have you never seen a joint before?"

Arthur shook his head, frowning. "What's it like?"

"You have to smoke it to find out," Lucius said, taking it back. "If you're not going to, I will."

Arthur shrugged. "Never tried it before, that's all."

Lucius' eyes narrowed, then he smiled. This could be quite a bit of fun after all. "Go on, Weasley." He relit the end, which had gone out, and took another toke. Then he placed it in Arthur's hand. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. I haven't poisoned it."

"All right, then." Arthur put the joint to his lips and took a deep breath. The end of the cigarette glowed bright red; a dollop of ash fell to the floor.

"Now hold it in your lungs," Lucius instructed. "Shit, I feel like I'm back in fourth year at Hogwarts, teaching Crabbe and Goyle how to smoke out behind the ruddy gamekeeper's hut."

Arthur, eyes starting to bulge, let out the smoke then doubled over in a wracking cough. "Ah, that's nasty stuff," he said between hacks.

Lucius laughed. Watching Arthur Weasley smoke his pot--there was something so absurd about it. This had a lot of potential. Gingerly, Arthur held the joint to his lips and took another toke. He passed the joint to Lucius. He managed to let the smoke escape from between his clenched teeth without coughing this time.

"You are living proof that an old dog can be taught new tricks," said Lucius. He took a long sip of his Laphroaig, one more hit of the Kona, and stubbed out the joint in the ashtray.

"Old dog?" Arthur blinked, his eyes red-rimmed. "You called me an old dog?"

"I did." Lucius couldn't help but laugh. Damn, the Kona was good stuff.

"You know what we call you at the Ministry?" Arthur snorted.

"Do tell."

"Well," Arthur said, laughing so hard tears leaked out of his eyes, "we call you You-Know-Who's Little Colonel."

"Ha." Lucius took another sip of Scotch. "That's the best you could think of, is it?" He started to laugh, then couldn't hold back. He doubled over, slapping his leg. "That's actually pretty fucking good, Weasley." Steadying his hand, he took the joint out of the ashtray and lit it again. He took a deep toke and handed it to Arthur, who did the same, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Shite." Arthur let out a deep smoky breath. "I am all fucked up."

"I noticed." Lucius settled back down into the leather chair by the television. "What the fuck does that Muggle think he's doing?" He pointed at the Mel Gibson character, who was popping his shoulder out of joint in a crazed maneuver. Then, Lucius laughed. "I can't believe I'm sitting here with you, Weasley, in the middle of a fucking island paradise, and our wives are who knows where doing who knows what, same with the kids, and we haven't killed one another yet. It's a bloody miracle."

Arthur laughed. "They'd boot me from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department if they knew." He sighed. "Not to mention Molly, she'd hand me my head on a platter if she saw us."

"Fuck-all to all of them," Lucius blinked heavily. "What's the point, Weasley. We're fucking enemies, you and I, but what for?" He rolled up his left shirt sleeve. "See this? You know what it is; I don't have to tell you. Do you know how many fucking times a day I curse this fucking thing? How I wish it wasn't part of who I am? Oh, fuck, hang on..." he closed his eyes tight; his breathing grew heavy and labored. He pressed his palms to his temples, willing the pain to go away.

"Lucius?" Arthur tilted his head to the side, watching Malfoy. He was obviously in a great deal of distress, Arthur knew that much. But he also knew that he was in absolutely no condition to help. All he could do was sit there and giggle and sip on the Laphroaig, which grew even tastier the more he drank it.

"Shit." Lucius shook his head and took deep breaths. At long last he rubbed his eyes, then sat up a little taller in his chair.

"What... what was that all about?" asked Arthur.

Lucius shook his head, pointing to the Dark Mark tattooed on his forearm. "The Dark Lord--there's no bloody escaping him," he sighed. "So, Weasley, now you know. But if you ever tell a single solitary soul, I'll track you down and kill you."

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "Uh, okay. I'll just... uh, yeah, pretend I never saw it, that's the ticket. Don't worry, Malfoy. I'm so fucked up, I probably won't remember anything from this afternoon." He looked dejectedly at the empty glass in his hand.

"That's the best suggestion you've had in years." Lucius stood, rolling down his sleeve. He fished around for his wand, then, grinning, pointed it at Arthur and muttered, "Obliv... obliv... what the fuck is that spell? Shit... oh yes. Obliviate."

A dreamy look filled Arthur Weasley's eyes; he started to giggle.

Lucius refilled both his and Arthur's glasses with more Laphroaig, then sat down a little unsteadily. He picked up the hotel directory on the coffee table and flipped through it. "What do you say to room service, Weasley? I'm fucking starving."

***

Chapter Four

"Here we are." Harry opened the door to the room he shared with Ron, Fred, and George. It was a mess; the twins had scattered their belongings everywhere in a feeble attempt to claim territory.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "You're actually sleeping in this?"

Harry shrugged. "It's a holiday, Malfoy, that's all."

"But there are only two beds in here, and there are four of you. That's disgusting, Potter." He frowned so fiercely he looked as if his face would fold in upon itself.

"Well, we haven't even gotten to the first night yet," said Harry softly. He was keenly aware of the fact that the Weasleys could barely afford this trip, and felt a tinge of guilt over them not letting him contribute at all. After all, he had scads of gold in his vault at Gringott's, and he'd offered to share it with the Weasleys many times. But they had consistently refused his generosity; whether out of pride or shame Harry had never been able to divine.

"So..." Draco said softly, "You're sharing a bed with your best friend Weasley?"

"I dunno, hadn't really thought about it," said Harry. "I'll probably just sleep on the chair." He turned to his suitcase and opened it up. Amid the spellbooks and parchment lay an extra swimsuit. He shook it out and handed it to Draco. "Here you go, Malfoy. Don't say I never did you any favours."

Draco took the suit from Harry and examined it. It certainly was better than the nothing Speedo his mother had bought for him. He watched Harry zipper up the suitcase, idle yet annoying thoughts popping into his mind.

"You know what I wonder, Potter?" Draco said.

Harry shook his head. "But I'm sure you're going to tell me."

Draco snickered. "I wonder why you've hated me from the first time we met."

"Well, we're enemies, aren't we," said Harry simply, setting the suitcase back down on the floor. He looked into the mirror and pushed his hair aside, examining his scar. "I mean, all heroes have to have enemies, don't they, or the story doesn't work."

"What are you talking about." Draco ran his fingers over the smooth silky fabric of the swimsuit. "You're not a hero, Potter, don't make me laugh."

Harry smiled a crooked little smile; it was disarmingly attractive. Again he shrugged his shoulders. "Go on, Malfoy, there's your swimsuit. Put it on, I won't watch."

Draco cleared his throat significantly, then went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He peeled off the Speedo and put one leg into Harry's suit, which was a lot roomier and a lot less embarrassing. This was much better. He pulled on the suit the rest of the way, then opened the door.

Harry stood by the window watching the pool below.

"So," said Draco softly, "are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Harry turned around; his eyes flickered down to the swimsuit Draco wore, then quickly back up to his face.

"Why you've always hated me, Potter. What did I do to you on our first meeting?"

"Oh, that." Harry crossed his arms. "You whined a lot, and then you insulted Ron."

"Hmm." Draco raised an eyebrow. "Interesting how fiercely loyal you are, Potter."

"Well." Harry stood still.

"Well," echoed Draco.

Harry had a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. He's cute, thought Draco, then he shook his head. What was that thought all about? It was absolutely disgusting. But then... Draco knew there was some sort of something between him and Potter, he'd always known it. No one else got under his skin the way Potter did. He could be pissed as all hell at Crabbe and Goyle, and their reactions didn't bother him the way the slightest insult from Harry could cut him to the bone. I think we have something to explore here, Draco said to himself.

He felt like he was watching himself in a movie, walking swiftly across the room. He grabbed Harry by that stupid untidy black hair, pulled his face toward him, and kissed him hard on the lips. Harry didn't struggle, he didn't try to get away. He didn't even appear to mind, but neither did he return Draco's kiss. Instead, he waited, compliant, until Draco had let him go. Then Harry looked into his eyes and smiled, his green eyes twinkling from behind his black-rimmed glasses.

Draco had never kissed another boy before. There had never been another boy like Harry Potter, and he knew there never would be....

"Malfoy." Harry's voice shocked him. "What's the matter with you? You look like you're in another world."

Draco realized that he was still standing across the room from Harry. What had just happened? His eyes widened; he got his answer. Nothing had happened, thankfully; it was just a little daydream. He cleared his throat. "Nothing. I'm fine. We're fine. Shall we go back down to the pool?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure." He clapped Malfoy on the back. "That suit's a big improvement, Malfoy."

And Draco couldn't be sure, but out of the corner of his eye he could swear he saw Potter wink at him.

Or not.

***

"Pectus Animosus, Pectus Mei," Molly whispered under her breath. "Is that right? A two-part spell?"

"Uh-huh." Narcissa leaned toward her reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator, wiping some stray lipstick off her front tooth. "It works great, I'm so proud I came up with it. Arthur will never mess around with another woman after you cast that spell on him."

Molly smiled. This trip was turning out to be a lot more interesting than she'd anticipated. She couldn't wait to try the spell out on Arthur--not that she suspected him of being interested in anyone else, but simply because it would be so devilishly amusing. That might have to wait for the privacy of their own room, later on tonight after Ginny was long since asleep.

Something had definitely begun to change in her since she'd drunk Snape's potion, though. Molly no longer cared about whether or not Fred and George had hexed everyone at the resort, or where Ron or Ginny or even precious sweet Harry--who she loved as much as if not more than her own children--had gone off to. She only cared about one thing, and that was finding her husband. She wanted to show off her new magically enhanced physique and see his reaction. And secretly, although she was just beginning to accept this herself, she wanted to find Lucius Malfoy and see his reaction. It was his eyes, those silver eyes, they'd bored into her and she couldn't shake the feeling she got from him. "Oh dear," Molly gasped. She was beginning to feel rather odd....

"What's the matter, sweetie?" Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

Molly flushed red. "Are... are there any side effects to this potion?"

"Like what?" Narcissa pushed her blonde hair back from her forehead with a long red fingernail.

"Any... how do I put this? Any physical side effects?"

Narcissa smiled and closed one eye tight in an over-conspiratorial wink. "Well..." she began, "it does kind of enhance certain intimate sensations, if you know what I mean."

"I think I know exactly what you mean." Molly fanned herself off with her hand. "Oh my. Did Severus design it to be an... an aphrodisiac?"

Narcissa shrugged. "Who the hell cares, it's fantastic, isn't it." She drummed her fingernails on the elevator door. "Come on, elevator, hurry, I miss my Lucius. Luscious. You know that Lucius by himself is three whole quarters of luscious? I can't wait to see my sexy adorable husband."

Three-quarters of luscious Lucius, I can't wait either, thought Molly, although to Narcissa she said, "And I want to see my dear sweet Arthur. I wonder where he's gone off to?"

"We'll find him for you. Now don't forget the spell, we can practice it on him when we find him."

"We?" Molly blinked.

"Figure of speech," Narcissa said noncommittally. "Oh, look, here we are. Let's go grab some more Blue Hawaiis. This is going to be a fun afternoon. Remember: stand up straight, walk tall, don't nag, blah blah blah." She grinned at Molly. "I'm teasing, girlfriend. Getting you prepared to do my perfect bewitching spell." Pushing the keycard into the door, she opened it with a flourish, then turned to Molly. "I can see we don't have to go far to find the boys," she said, gesturing into the room.

It looked as though a hurricane of comestibles had wafted through the room. Silver trays from room service were scattered about haphazardly; plates and glasses were completely devoid of food and drink, although not of small paper umbrellas. Lucius and Arthur sat in front of the television watching the end of Lethal Weapon 2. Arthur bit his nails nervously as he watched a lifeless, weightless movie-prop girl bob back and forth at the bottom of the water; Lucius smiled lazily. He turned around, the half-empty bottle of Laphroaig in his hands. He set it down deliberately on the coffee table.

"Hello, ladies," he purred. His silver eyes, now rimmed with red, darted from Narcissa to Molly--he traced the whole length of her body with his glance--then rather reluctantly settled back on Narcissa. Molly blushed, wondering how much of the glance was real and how much she'd imagined. "How was your little shopping excursion?"

Narcissa walked over and kissed him, stealing back his attention. "Mmm," she said, "Wicked. You two look like you've been having fun." She sniffed the air. "Did you save some of that gold for me, baby?"

Lucius nodded his head toward the ashtray; a handful of joints lay there ready and waiting.

Molly walked around to the table. "Arthur Weasley," she said sharply, falling back into old habits, "is this what you do when I leave you alone for an hour?" She tapped her foot impatiently. "Drink? Drugs? I knew that Lucius Malfoy was a bad influence, but I never..." she stopped. Arthur was staring at her, mouth agape.

"Molly?" he squeaked. "What... what have you... look at you." A grin crept over his face. "You look beautiful. Come here, love, sit with me." He patted the seat of the sofa next to him.

Narcissa winked at Molly. "Go on," she whispered. "Remember, side effects."

Molly blushed, then sat next to Arthur. He looked at her, smiled, and put his arm around her shoulder. Then he turned his attention back to the television.

"It's almost over," he said, "right, Malfoy?"

"One would hope--it does appear to be rather endless." Lucius reached forward and lit a joint, handing it to Narcissa, who sat on his lap. She took a hit of the joint, blew the smoke into Lucius' mouth, and held it in with a kiss. Then she offered it to Molly.

"Oh, no, I don't think I could," she breathed. I've got enough going on in my system, she told herself. Arthur reached for the joint but Molly held it out of his reach, handing it back to Lucius. "Come on then," she said, tilting her head toward the door. "I've got something back in our room I need to show you."

"But the film--it's not over," he said. "Just a few more minutes, Moll, all right?"

Molly let out a deep sigh.

Narcissa reached over and tapped her on the shoulder. She pointed to Lucius' wand, which lay on the coffee table.

Molly understood. She fished in her bag and drew out her own wand. Pointing it at her husband, she whispered the words "Pectus Animosus, Pectus Mei." Passionate heart, my heart. Then she slipped the wand back into her purse before Arthur even noticed.

Slowly, he turned to face her. He broke into a bedraggled grin and took her hand in his. "You know what, screw the end of the movie." He stood shakily, pulling Molly to her feet. "Let's go."

"All right, then." Molly smoothed the gauzy fabric of her dress, snatched up her purse, and followed him to the door.

"Thanks for all the... hospitality and whatnot, Malfoy," Arthur said. "You spoiled Ogden's for me for good what with that Scotch of yours."

Lucius nodded and smiled. "I would say my pleasure, but we don't want to get too friendly now, do we, Weasley." He took a hit off the joint Narcissa had just handed him. "Have fun, children."

Molly grinned. "Thanks again."

"Go," mouthed Narcissa, before she turned away to plant another giant kiss on her husband's lips.

Out in the hallway, Molly and Arthur held hands as they made their way to the elevator. It arrived promptly; they got in. Arthur pressed 4 and stood back to wait, beaming at Molly. When the door opened again, they wasted no time getting out. They walked quickly down the hall, not even noticing Harry and Draco heading toward them. As expertly as any Muggle, Arthur slid the keycard into the lock, pulled it out, and ushered his wife into their room. The door opened again for a brief moment as Molly hung out the DO NOT DISTURB sign.

Draco and Harry looked at each other. "Wasn't that Weasley's Mum and Dad?" asked Draco.

"I think so," Harry said slowly.

"Mrs. Weasley--she looked different."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "You can say that again. I tell you, Malfoy, there's something about this place that brings out the unexpected in people." His green eyes shone brightly, then a huge smile played across his lips.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of a thing to say. He only knew he agreed completely with whatever it was Potter had just said.

***

"Good holiday, Weasley?" Ethelbert Perkins bustled past, adding another stack of paper to the in-tray on Arthur's desk, which was already dangerously close to overflowing. "We missed you here at the Ministry, that's for sure. Why, just last week we had to take some enchanted telephones into custody; the owners complained that no matter what they did, the blasted things sang instead of rang. Someone's been messing about with the Muggles just for fun, I say."

"Ah," Arthur acknowledged, distracted. "What's this, then?" He pulled a large package toward him.

"Came in just yesterday," Perkins said, turning to watch his colleague open the box. "We haven't tested it for hexes yet, Arthur, so be careful; it hasn't got a return address."

Arthur shrugged. He was too relaxed from vacation and tired from jet lag to worry about hexes and curses. He pointed his wand at the package; the butcher paper surrounding it fell away. A grin spread over Arthur's face. "Would you look at that," he said with a low whistle.

Crated carefully in straw and bubble wrap and surrounded by a surfeit of tiny paper umbrellas lay a bottle of Laphroaig 30 Year Old Single Malt Scotch Whiskey. A note fell out from behind the bottle as he picked it up.

Weasley, it read, there's no better holiday than the one that's a fond memory. Back to business as usual; don't drink this all in one sitting. Best wishes to your lovely wife. Regards from the Colonel & Lady Malfoy.

Smiling broadly, Arthur placed the bottle and note back into their package and tucked them safely behind his desk. He reached for the tower of paper in his in-tray, whistling absently while he worked.

--end--