characters in this story are owned by J.K. Rowling; I'm only borrowing them... not using them for profit, just
Blue Hawaii ©2003
by Lady Narcissa. Rated R for Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll. & language. This is a ridiculously out-of-character
romp just for fun. And yes I know, it's completely anachronistic but I couldn't resist the Power Puff Girls.
'I don’t want to go to Hawaii.' Draco’s drawl echoed off the polished marble walls of Malfoy
Manor. 'It’s boring. Muggles go there to do… stupid Muggle things, like surf and swim. They stay in the sun for
hours and tan.
I want to stay home and study the unforgivable curses. I want to learn to make people suffer.'
'Oh, nonsense, darling. Everyone who’s anyone is going to Hawaii this
holiday.' Narcissa checked herself in the mirror, blowing a kiss at her reflection ('to die for,' the mirror confirmed).
She brushed the hair out of her eyes. 'That’s better. Now… we’ll have to take you shopping at that delightful Muggle
department store for a swimsuit, Drae.'
Draco let out a huge, deep breath. He knew his mother—this was one battle
he actually stood a chance at losing. All right, he decided, he’d play along for now. But there was no way he was
going to take the best two weeks of summer holiday and go to some… some… resort. The very thought of it made the blood turn to ice in his veins. There was no
way Father would to agree to this anyway. They had never taken a family vacation; they weren’t about to start now.
'Ooh, love, Daddy’s home.' Draco could have strangled his mum; her singsong
voice was driving him absolutely crazy. 'Let’s tell him together. One look at these lovely brochures, there’s not
a chance he’ll turn us down.'
The front door banged open, then slammed shut. Although his mum was oblivious
to the ever-present dark cloud hanging over Lucius’ head, Draco knew it was there. He smiled a little in anticipated
triumph. If Father was in his usual bad mood, so much the better. This ridiculous idea of his mum’s was sure to
'Narcissa!' came a commanding voice. 'What is this… this mud doing in the entrance hallway?'
Narcissa squeaked, then shrugged her shoulders conspiratorially at Draco.
'Coming, sweetie—ever since we lost Dobby, it’s been hard to keep up with it all,' she called toward the front
of the house. 'Perfect,' she whispered to Draco. 'This will be great! Once he knows how overworked I am, there’s no way he’s going to refuse this little
Just wait, thought
Draco as his mum grabbed up a sponge and can of Mrs. Skower’s Magical Cleansing Powder and headed toward the front
door. Draco followed, deciding not to be seen. This was one conversation where he’d really rather be a fly on the
'Mmm.' Narcissa planted a big wet kiss on Lucius’ lips. 'Welcome home,
baby.' She leaned over, wiping away the mess on the floor. Draco noticed that, much to his disgust, his mother’s
v-neck shirt had plunged quite low, threatening to expose her voluminous breasts dangerously. So those were the 'lovely brochures'
she wanted Father to take a look at… Her rear end made a slow grind in the air. She rubbed the sponge over the
mud, then picked it up slowly and smiled at Lucius. She licked her teeth.
Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick.
Draco wanted to stop watching, but he hesitated. The mini-drama unfolding was captivating in a revolting sort of
way. Voyeuristic though it was, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away.
Lucius smiled, and it was a slow, sinister sort of smile. He took the
sponge from her hands and dropped it deliberately back onto the floor. Then Draco watched as his father leaned
forward and whispered something into Narcissa’s ear—no, wait, he’d actually licked her ear.
Now I’m definitely going to be sick.
Narcissa laughed, running her index finger across Lucius’ lips, then
placing the finger into her own mouth. Lucius put his arm around her and they walked away up the stairs, toward
the master suite.
Hidden behind the tapestries, Draco shook his head. Disgusting. And he knew right then and
there that no matter how well he argued his case, his family would be taking a trip to Hawaii.
'Ron, Ginny, Fred, George—oh, sorry dears, George, Fred, is everyone
packed?' Molly Weasley counted the suitcases in front of her. 'Who did I forget?'
'Me,' said Harry with a grin.
'Of course, dear, how could I?' Mrs. Weasley shook her head. 'Come on, then, the car is waiting outside.
Arthur!' she called. 'Fred, where is your father?' She glanced at the clock on the mantel; the hand containing Mr. Weasley’s
name pointed to 'Home.'
'Out in the garage, I expect, Mum,' said George. 'He said something about
his plug collection.'
'Oh, for heaven’s sake,' snapped Mrs. Weasley, 'We are not bringing that with us.'
She stormed out to the small garage behind the main house. Ron and Harry exchanged glances as they heard raised
voices. After a few minutes, Mr. Weasley followed Mrs. Weasley sheepishly into the house.
'I don’t know what the problem is,' he said, 'we packed last night, Molly;
Mrs. Weasley shot him a glance that had FED UP written all over it. 'Come
along, Arthur, let’s just go. It’s not often that we get to take such a lovely trip, and Harry with us and all.'
She ruffled the untidy black hair on Harry’s head, making his glasses go lopsided in the process.
Ron rolled his eyes; Harry couldn’t help but smile. The Dursleys had
never taken him anywhere on holiday although they’d gone plenty of times themselves, leaving him trapped for days
and days with crazy old Mrs. Figg. But now that Harry was basically living with the Weasleys every holiday, Mrs.
Figg and her cats were nothing but a hazy memory.
Taking a last, longing glance at the plug collection now piled haphazardly
onto the kitchen table, Mr. Weasley ushered the family out the door into the waiting Ministry car. The entire family
piled in: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny in front with the furtive, black-clad driver; Fred, George, Harry, and
Ron in the back with the luggage. Arthur Weasley turned around and grinned. 'You’re going to have to help us out
at the airport, Harry.' He gave a wink.
Harry had never been to an airport before in his life. In fact, he’d
only gotten his passport through the good graces of the Ministry of Magic, who’d pulled some strings to come up
with a convincing birth certificate for him. None of them had ever been to America before. 'I’ll do whatever I
can, Mr. Weasley,' promised Harry. He thought that was the least he could do.
'Ahhhhh.' Narcissa Malfoy adjusted the sunglasses sitting atop her pert
little turned-up nose. The straw hat with the wide floral band covered her head completely, providing a good amount
of shade. She’d picked a D&G leopard print bikini off the showroom rack in Rome; it fit her like snakeskin.
She sipped something blue and vile-smelling out of a glass with a little umbrella poking out of the top. 'Ooh,
Drae, it’s so darn cute,'
she sighed, examining the orange paper umbrella. 'What will they think of next.'
Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to Opportunities
for the Unforgivable: When, Where, and How by the noted nineteenth-century
Spanish dark wizard Mageroy DeCrucio. He didn’t want to look at his mother sitting there, practically naked, stretched
out on the lounge chair. There was something unholy about the whole situation. In addition, he refused to remove
the towel he’d wrapped around his waist; his mum had insisted that he buy what she termed 'that darling little
Speedo number, the dark green one, right there—no, a small should fit him just fine.' It was a ridiculous excuse
for clothing; Draco couldn’t believe that Muggles actually spent money on something so stupid. At least Father
had the right idea. He sat by the shade of a palm tree at a private cabana. In addition to his silk shirt, black
leather pants, and dragon hide boots, he wore sunglasses—his one nod to the fact that they were in a very, very
well-lit corner of the world. That Lucius had point-blank refused to even discuss purchasing a swimsuit had raised him to near God-like status in Draco’s eyes.
'Come on, love, let’s try out the pool.' Narcissa hiccuped, giggled,
and put the empty glass down on the table. 'It’s hot here, in case you haven’t noticed.' She reached over and grabbed
Draco by the hand.
'No, Mum,' he begged, but she pulled him to a stand. The towel fell away
from his waist; Draco felt pale and ridiculous and very exposed. He moved to cover the tiny swimsuit with his other
hand; he didn’t want anyone
to see him dressed like this.
'Last one in’s a rotten egg,' Narcissa shouted with glee, executing a
perfect swan dive into the turquoise blue of the pool.
'Well, I’m not going to stand here dressed like this, it’s too ridiculous,'
Draco muttered to himself. With a last imploring glance at his father—he was no help, he’d hidden himself behind
the Muggle newspaper to avoid getting involved in anything having to do with water or swimming—Draco took a deep
breath and plunged into the pool.
This water’s not bad,
he thought. Maybe his Mum’s idea hadn’t been completely horrible. As he knew all too well, sitting on a broomstick looking around for
a snitch he’d never be able to catch wasn’t going to help him build muscles. Not to mention that the way he played seeker couldn’t possibly
win him any girls. Not in this lifetime.
Draco swam quickly across the pool, putting as much distance as possible
between himself and his extremely weird parents.
'Fred—no, George—oh, whichever one you are, come along then.' Molly Weasley
stood directing a long line of red-headed people and one person with black untidy hair and glasses. She tilted
her head toward the swimming pool. 'There you go, now, boys and Ginny, remember to use plenty of sunblocking spells
so you don’t burn. As soon as your father and I get everything unpacked, we’ll be out to join you.'
Fred and George broke into identical mischievous grins.
'And no Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George!' admonished Molly.
'Remember, we’re in Muggle territory. We have to act like they do.'
'Where’s the fun in that,' sniffed Fred.
'We could have such a time with them…' sighed George.
Molly’s smile faded as her eyes narrowed. 'If I hear one bad report about
the two of you, you’ll be banished to the room the entire rest of the holiday.'
Mr. Weasley hung his head and nodded in agreement. Personally, he wouldn’t
mind if his sons had a bit of fun, so long as he was there to fix the problem afterward. 'Listen to your mum, boys,'
he mumbled. 'Join you presently.'
'Come on, Harry. Race you to the pool.' Ron was already sprinting across
the flagstone terrace, Ginny at his heels. Harry waved good-bye to Fred and George, who were deep in conversation
over how to have what they termed 'just a bit of fun' without their parents finding out. He joined Ron and Ginny
at the pool’s edge.
'Oi, it’s warm,' Ron said, a blissful smile on his face. This was the
first time he could remember since Egypt that his parents had been able to afford a family trip that didn’t involve
Floo powder. He’d been just as surprised as anyone when his dad won the Annual Galleon Draw contest for the second
time in three years, but he wasn’t about to complain. Although he liked to gripe about playing second fiddle to
Harry, Ron had to admit that since they’d met, his life had gotten a lot
'Too bad about Percy.' Harry had just joined Ron at the pool, dangling
his feet into the water.
Ron gave a forced smile. 'I’m so busy with my cauldron bottom reports—I
haven’t got time to go frolicking around some Muggle idea of paradise,' he said, imitating Percy’s pompous tone precisely. He shrugged. 'His loss, isn’t
it, Harry. Come on then, let’s go swimming. Ginny, you fancy a dip with us?'
Ginny blushed. Ever since the end of her first year at Hogwarts, she’d
been ridiculously tongue-tied around Harry. The idea of standing next to him in a bathing suit was almost more
than she could bear, but she’d managed to find a cute one that just matched the shade of red in her hair. Maybe
it wasn’t so bad. Not that he ever looked at her in that way, but… so long as he was around, there was always a
small chance. She jumped into the pool, splashing water all over Ron in the process.
'Oi, Ginny, what’d you do that for,' he snarled.
'Shut it, Ron!' she squealed, paddling out of the way as another swimmer
cut right in front of her. Ginny couldn’t help but stare—the woman who’d just swum past them had to have the most perfect body Ginny
had ever seen. She looked down at her own barely emergent chest and blushed. What she wouldn’t give to have a body
like that woman’s! Then Harry would definitely take notice.
Across the pool, Draco Malfoy watched his mother swim as gracefully as
a dolphin, splashing and paddling. Where had she learned to swim like that? He pulled himself up and sat at the
side of the pool. He’d lost sight of Narcissa for a moment and scanned the horizon.
'I don’t believe it,' he said, eyes widening. His mum had just swum past
Potter and Weasley—or was he seeing things? He shook the water out of his eyes and peered across the pool again.
No, it was no mirage. Even Weasley’s ridiculous sister Ginny was there. Draco’s heart did a nasty thump-thump-thump
in his chest. Just when he thought things couldn’t have gotten any worse….
Narcissa swam back across the pool, drying her hair with her new fluffy
pink Power Puff Girls towel. Lucius watched her from behind the safety of his newspaper, smiling. She looked much
more than hot in her bikini, dripping wet—in fact, she was downright sizzling. He lowered his sunglasses and caught her eye. Narcissa winked, then joined him
at the cabana.
'Hey baby.' She sat on his lap. 'I hope all this silly water won’t ruin
those nice new leather pants of yours….'
'Fuck the pants.' Lucius pulled her close, traced her lips with his finger,
then kissed her deeply. Their tongues played together, twisting and exploring.
'Ooh,' Narcissa sighed, 'I could just—'
Something lime green and flat caught Narcissa on the back of the head,
then fell to the ground with a muffled clatter. 'Oi! Sorry!' Fred Weasley crashed into the Malfoys, then bent to
retrieve the Frisbee that he and George had bewitched just enough to make it knock into whoever was nearby. He
picked it up and dashed off without a backward glance.
'I apologize for my son.' Arthur Weasley approached the cabana. 'He’s
a little on the reckless side…' He stopped, dumbstruck. 'Lucius Malfoy? Here?'
Lucius removed his sunglasses and raised an eyebrow. 'Well, well, Arthur,'
he hissed quietly, his silvery eyes blazing. 'What unfortunate sequence of events brings you here to ruin my family’s
holiday?' He pushed Narcissa aside—she fell to the ground with a soft 'plop'—and stood to face Mr. Weasley. Arthur
Weasley stood taller than him by a good four inches, which had always been a point of extreme irritation to Lucius.
A look of mutual hatred appeared on both men’s faces.
'Honestly,' said Lucius in a soft and very dangerous voice, 'I don’t
see how you can even pretend to afford being here on what the Ministry pays you.'
Arthur’s eyes flashed in anger; his face turned the color of Ginny’s
new swimsuit. 'How dare you insult me, Malfoy.'
Molly Weasley chose that moment to come trundling over, a bright pink
and white flowered sundress covering her ample and fairly antiquated swimwear. 'Is there a problem, Arthur, dear?'
Then she recognized her husband’s nemesis. 'Oh dear,' she gulped.
Narcissa pulled herself up from where she’d been so rudely deposited
on the ground. 'Who is it, baby?' she asked.
Lucius shot a hateful glare toward the Weasleys. 'No one of importance,'
he said with a good bit of venom, but Narcissa stared at Molly, transfixed.
'Oh—my—Gawd!' she squeaked, 'you’re the Weasleys—Lucius talks about you
all the time!
Of course, he never says anything good about you, but… well, don’t be too insulted, he’s like that with just about everybody.' She extended a perfectly
manicured hand. 'You’ve got
to be Molly! I’m Narcissa, Narcissa Malfoy. Our kids are in the same year together at Hogwarts!' She bounced up
and down on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands in delight. 'I never get to meet Draco’s little friends’ parents!'
Behind her, Lucius rolled his eyes and shook his head, but his wife babbled
on, oblivious. 'Lucius, isn’t she just the cutest darned little witch you’ve ever
seen?' Narcissa put her arm around Molly’s shoulder and steered
her off toward the pool, paying no attention to her charge’s feeble protests, jabbering a mile a minute.
Lucius and Arthur watched the women disappear behind a royal palm; both
men were absolutely speechless. Arthur Weasley’s mouth hung open in a disbelieving gape. At long last he turned
back toward Lucius, who appeared equally appalled at this unexpected development. Mr. Weasley swallowed hard.
'I’m willing—since we’re on holiday, Malfoy—to leave office politics
behind for now if you’ll agree to do the same.' He gave Lucius what he tried hard to turn into a weak smile. Maybe
it would be mistaken for a gesture of friendship rather than disgust.
'It appears,' said Lucius after much consideration, 'that I have little
choice in the matter.' He toweled off the front of his pants, still soaked from his wife’s sopping wet swimsuit.
'You stay out of my way and I’ll steer clear of you. But I warn you, Weasley—' he glared at Arthur—'once we return
home, the agreement is null and void.'
'Agreed,' said Arthur stiffly.
'Under penalty of death.' Lucius’ whisper was inaudible.
'Didn’t catch that,' said Arthur, but Lucius shook his head. 'Well then,
I’ll be getting back there. My sons Fred and George want watching, I think.' A stout palm leaf brushed against
Arthur’s forehead as he turned to leave, knocking his sun hat to the ground. He retrieved it sheepishly, then backed
Loser, thought Lucius.