Smoke Two Joints 2

Legalize it, yeah, yeah,
Don't criticize it!
Legalize it, yeah, yeah,
I will advertise it!

Some of them call it cannabis;
Some of them call it them weed.
Some call it marijuana;
Some of them call it ganja.

Every man got to legalize it, yeah, yeah,
Don't criticize it!
Legalize it, yeah, yeah,
I will advertise it!

Singers smoke it...
And players of instruments too.
Legalize it...yeah..
That's the best thing you can do.

Doctors smoke it, nurses smoke it,
Judges smoke it, even lawyers too.
So you've got to legalize it, don't criticize it!
Legalize it, I will advertise it!

Politicians smoke it... angry children too,
Policeman smoke it, when them a-steal it from you,
We've got to legalize it, don't criticize it!
Legalize it, I will advertise it.

White Rabbit Productions Presents a P. Money Picture:

"SMOKE TWO JOINTS 2"

Diagon Alley, Summer 1996

"I cannot believe this shit!" shouted Draco Malfoy, throwing his pointed hat to the cobble street. "You just want to feel me up, don't you, I'll bet you have a thing for young-"

"Shut you face, boy, or I'll do it for you." The Magical Law Enforcement Service Officer was a hard-faced dark blond woman of about thirty-five. "If you don't want to empty your pockets, I have no choice."

"Fine. I hope you enjoy it, for your sake." The MLES officer put her hand inside Draco's robes and turned the pockets inside out. Draco's wand fell out, followed by a dime bag, and another, and another, and a wallet, and some lint. "Mind my robes, woman, they're expensive."

"You've got more to worry about than the state of your robes, Malfoy," said the officer, checking Draco's apparition license. The picture sneered up at her angrily. "I could put you away for two months for carrying this shit. Planning to sell it too, I'll wager."

"I was going to share it, not sell it," said Draco.

"Like I care. Come with me, we're going to the station." She gave him a sharp push, and he staggered.

"You'll hear from my father about this," snapped Draco bitterly as ropes burst from the officer's wand, securing his hands behind his back. "Nobody pushes a Malfoy."

Meanwhile, at the Longbottom Lake Private Resort

Neville Longbottom held up his hand for silence, and the amiable chatter died down. A number of prominent wizards and witches had met in the Longbottom's ancestral home to discuss a matter of great import: the Ministry's continued ban on Marijuana possession, sale and use. The boardroom was vast and cavernous, and Neville sat at the head of a long oak table in a high-backed chair with red velvet cushions. He was casually dressed in a silk bathrobe.

"Thank you, my esteemed colleagues. Now, if there's nothing that can't wait, we'll take up old business." Snape stood up.

"There's the matter of the hydroponics taxes the Ministry has imposed; that's so unjust I can't even begin-" Neville cut him off.

"Sorry, Professor, that's new business." He looked around. "No old business? Then we'll take up new business."

"How about discussing that tax, then?" cut in Snape.

"Too late, that's old business already."

"Longbottom, the tax is increasing the price of potions ingredients tenfold! I insist that we take up this tax!"

"Well I insist we take up the carpet," responded Neville.

"I still demand we take up the tax!" shouted Snape.

"He's right," said Neville. "You've got to take up the tacks before you can take up the carpet." Snape was furious.

"I give all my time and energy to this council, and what do I get?"

"You get awfully tiresome after a while," said Voldemort, inhaling deeply from a silver pipe engraved with the Dark Mark.

"Lord V., you try my patience," snapped Severus Snape alliteratively.

"I don't mind if I do, you must come over and try mine sometime," responded the Dark Lord, puffing out a cloud of fragrant smoke.

"That's it," yelled Snape. "That's the last straw. I resign. I wash my hands of the whole business."

"A good idea, you can wash your hair too," said Lucius Malfoy as Snape strode from the room, cloak billowing and pipe in hand.

"Now," said Neville, "we've got to start looking for a new treasurer."

"But you appointed one last week, Neville," said Lucius.

"I know, that's the one I'm looking for," said Neville, glancing around for Draco. "He's your son, Lucius, couldn't you at least get him to show up?"

"He told me he was stopping by Knockturn Alley to buy some of Borgin's new stuff on the way here. It's supposed to be more enhanced than even Matilda Sprout's..." Lucius trailed off as a floo-comm rang. All the wizards and witches checked their pockets before Lucius pulled out a small black box. "It's mine."

A miniature image of Draco's face appeared in the box. "Father, I've been arrested for possession! You'd better get down here; they're going to throw me in a holding cell! The officer pushed me!"

"Bastards!" yelled Lucius. "Nobody pushes a Malfoy!" He apparated instantly, without standing up. This proved uncomfortable, as he nearly fell when he appeared in a sitting position in the middle of the MLES London reception area. He shoved the other witches and wizards out of the way to reach the front of the queue, where he was greeted by an obnoxiously cheery young wizard.

"How may I help you, sir?"

"My son, Draco Malfoy, is being held here. I need to see him at once," said Lucius, struggling to keep his composure. "And I would like to talk to the arresting officer."

*****************************

Draco struggled, but to no avail as officers pushed him into the public holding cell, affectionately known as the Drunk Tank. There were a surprising number of people inside, considering it was a Tuesday afternoon. He supposed it was because it was summer. Trying to avoid some of the grungier inhabitants, he noticed a familiar figure sitting in the corner, head in hands. He walked over, and the person turned.

"Granger?" said Draco, taken aback.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

"They got me on possession. You?"

"Inappropriate charms on a goat." She giggled.

"Let me guess, you were smoking up in Florean Fortescue's and some old witch reported you."

"Yeah, it was pretty funny." Hermione's eyes were bloodshot, but she and Draco were both laughing. "Say, shouldn't you be being mean to me?"

"Not anymore. Lord Voldemort has decreed that both muggles, muggleborns and magical folk are equals and deserve the right to partake in all of the gifts of Jah freely; my father agrees with him. They are working with Dumbledore and Longbottom to bring the Ministry around. Which reminds me, I was supposed to be at a meeting."

"Heheh, meetings are boring," said Hermione. "I was supposed to be not here, I think."

"Makes sense to me," said Draco. "You got any weed on you now?"

"I stashed some in my shoe." Hermione looked around. "Does anyone know where my damn shoe is?" she shouted suddenly.

"You're wearing your shoes, Granger," said Draco with a grin.

"Sure, I am," said Hermione, but she took off her left shoe and withdrew a small, squashed bag. Draco took his pipe, silver and jet, carved in the likeness of a dragon with jade eyes and engraved with his name, from his robes. Luckily the MLES officer hadn't taken it.

"I've got nothing to smoke it with," said Hermione.

"Well then we'll have to share pipes, as friends must in a pinch," said Draco.

"Friends?" asked Hermione. "You're going to be my friend, Draco?"

"I don't see why not...Hermione."

"Damn you, woman!" shouted Lucius at the top of his lungs. "I demand to see my son!"

"Your son is not to be seen right now, Mr. Malfoy," said the arresting officer.

"You'd better not say another word to him until the family lawyers get hear," said Lucius in a low tone, "or else...well, let's just say that the Death Eaters may be inactive, but I still know a few tricks."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Malfoy?" asked the officer angrily.

"Gods, woman, how thick can you get? Yes, I am threatening you, in the plainest language possible. Now let me see Draco!"

"No."

"Imperio! Now can I see my son?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Malfoy sir," said the woman tonelessly. Lucius took out his pipe.

"Smoke this, officer. I'll be right back out."

"Thank you sir, Mr. Malfoy, sir. Hey, this is good..."

"Father!" yelled Draco when Lucius entered the room. "I'm over here!" Lucius unlocked the cell with a spell, and Draco gave a yell. Hermione tossed him some gel.

"You dropped this."

"Oh, thanks Hermione." The rest of the prisoners, mostly homeless folks, were making for the exit. Hermione walked with Draco ahead of Lucius, who was taking his pipe back from the officer. When he took the Imperious Curse off of her, she grinned broadly.

"Thanks, Mr. Malfoy. I enjoyed that. May name's June, Mr. Malfoy," she shouted as he walked away. "Call me?"

Draco was taking with Hermione. "Say, d'you want to stop by the Manor? I could show you my room; I added some neat stuff. I've got a white leather beanbag chair..."

"Oh, you want to show me your beanbag chair," said Hermione with a wink. "Sure, I'll come see your beanbag chair."

"Oh good," said Lucius, coming up behind them. "Draco really loves that chair, he's been wanting to show it off all summer." All three burst out laughing.

Longbottom Lake, Two Days Later

"Okay, Hermione, go ahead," said Neville.

"Alright. Now I've prepared a lengthy report," there was a deep sigh from Professor McGonagall.

"But it's summer," she lamented.

"Ahem. Now, in this report, I've detailed how, based on Lucius' easy access to the cell where Draco and I were held, I've determined that it would be fairly easy to break into the Ministry and offer the Minister a bit of our product. I'm certain he'll like it after he tries it, and then our problems are solved." She noticed that all of the members of the council were gazing rapt into a shifting psychedelic painting Neville has mounted on one of the walls. "Did anyone hear what I said?" asked Hermione, quite upset.

"I did," said Draco. "I was entranced by your melodious voice."

"Oh, shut up. There's no need to be sarcastic. Just because I was expecting you to do more than show me that chair..."

"It's a very comfortable chair. I could live in that chair, if someone brought me food and drink, and took away the waste..."

"Eurgh," said Hermione, scrunching up her face. "But you'll help me win the Minister over?" she asked.

"Of course. Our country deserves freedom of smoke" replied Draco.

"Okay, let's go."

"Now?"

"Sure, I have nothing better to do."

Ministry of Magic

It was easy enough for Draco and Hermione to just walk into the Ministry. With Hermione claiming she was doing extra-credit research on the social service and Draco stating he was delivering a private message for Fudge from his father, they bypassed the guards with ease. When they came to the Minister's office, Hermione knocked. Fudge answered the door, smiling obligingly.

"What can I do for you, young friends?" he asked.

"Minister Fudge, could I have your autograph?" asked Hermione with a fake adoring smile.

"Who do look like, Gilderoy Lockhart?" said Fudge with a grin. "Now, now, I'm joking, I know I'm not quite as charming as he was, poor fellow. Still, I'd be happy to sign something for you, Miss, why don't you two come into my office? I've got a pen in there somewhere..."

When Fudge leant down to look through a drawer for some clean parchment, Draco leapt on his back and grabbed one of his arms, as per their plan. With his other hand, he plugged Fudge's nose. Hermione took a wooden pipe from her robes and shoved it into Fudge's mouth.

"Gerroff!" mumbled Fudge as best he could. "This is peer pressure!"

"Inhale, inhale!" chanted Draco and Hermione in unison. The Minister couldn't breathe through his nose on account of Draco plugging it, and so was forced to take a huge breath.

Ten Minutes Later...

"Actually, Minister, I do have something for you to sign," said Hermione. "It's a bill drawn up by a friend of ours, Neville Longbottom. Do you think you could sign it and put it through the Parliament?"

"Well, I won't know until I read it. Let's see...

Hey you, yeah you, Mr. Minister man, here's a bill. See you keep harassing us about how we can't smoke our stuff, and we don't like it. So, sign this bill, so it's all good. Okay?

Huh. And below that, it's way neater...

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, do hereby declare my support for Marijuana Legalization...

Well, that seems pretty good. Sure, I'll sign it." And he did.

Three Days Later...

"Dumbledore's booked Phish, we're going to have a big party out on the Ministry lawn after the bill goes through," said Lucius Malfoy. "Although in my opinion, music went downhill since Hendrix died. I remember at Woodstock, he was going on, and on..."

"Mr. Malfoy, you were at Woodstock?" said Hermione in disbelief.

"Yeah, they had some good shit there...that's really all I remember though. I was in America for about ten years there. Met Jim Morrison. A more talented seer there's never been, but he didn't believe any of it. Wrote songs of what he saw instead...you know the American Department of Magic is nothing like our Ministry, it's much smaller over there, less bureaucracy. You can get away with a lot more. That's where all the renegades went, the elves and the freedom types. It's not as good as it was back in the sixties, though..."

"Sixties, eh?" said Hermione, And took a time-turner from the pocket of her robes....