Chapter five: The Good Guys do their thing
"This is sad, I won't be able to swim!" Pouted Sirius as he floated along beside his three companions. "I've never even liked swimming to begin with, but now that I absolutely can't even attempt it, I feel rather…distressed." Had he been human, there would have been big, shiny tears sliding down by now. Real or not, they would have been there.
Arthur was beaming slightly as he glanced around in awe at all the muggles. "Look…that one's even talking in another language…" He whispered to Ron, tugging his son's shoulder as his Weasley eyes flittered from tourist to tourist. The younger Weasley merely shrugged away and looked at his father with a weird expression, glancing at Harry as if he had just seen an unidentified occurrence. Harry stifled a snort and wrapped the pearly white towel about his waist a bit tighter…ever since that escapade with Myrtle in the prefect's bathroom, he couldn't be too careful.
Once at the pool, the four found seats right beside each other, and plopped down upon them as if this was quite normal, and that they were all extremely used to sitting in front of large pools in the hot sun; this was, of course, not at all the case, but they wanted to seem like old pros because there was also a group of lovely women sitting right across from them, and they seemed to be playing the staring game.
Sirius was enjoying himself immensely with this, having perfected his tactics way back when in Hogwarts, thus, he had the seemingly anorexic blonde on the left under his spell in a matter of moments. Arthur was blushing all the way to his ears, trying to remind himself that he was very married as the girl's friend looked his direction. Ron and Harry were now playing the 'Animal, vegetable, mineral' game once more, having completely forgotten the conquest that had been laid in front of them as most teenage boys are wont to do.
The chocolate factory was everything Remus J. Lupin could have dreamt of and more. He had even asked Nymphadora to pinch him upon their entrance, afraid that perhaps they were asleep back in their room, that perhaps he had just had too much hot cocoa the night before. But that was not the case. It was the most incredible habitat of confections either of them had ever seen, (for it was, at this time, a time of the month that Nymphadora completely detested; and Remus was always poking fun at her when she had chocolate because of all of the myths he had read.).
"Amazing." Breathed Nymphadora.
"Miraculous." Whispered Remus.
"Remarkable." Added the pudgy man with whiskers who was standing unnervingly close to Remus. Nymphadora's gaydar was on, and she looked ready to attack, because no matter what people said, Remus J. Lupin was as straight as an arrow, and she knew firsthand. Grabbing his hand and placing a very risqué kiss to his cheek, she pulled him across the room towards what looked like giant clusters of chocolate, (best of all, when she'd been transferring currencies, she'd found that muggle American money was worth a whole lot less than theirs, so things were quite a bit cheaper.) .
"Mmm, I think we should get a few of these." She commented, digging in her purse for her wallet (which had the Weird Sisters' logo embroidered in lilac across).
"Don't forget these…." Drooled Remus as he stared into a case of giant, chocolate mice (however, in his mind they looked like rats, and what better way to pretend to murder your best-friend-turned-worst-enemy than by having him as chocolate and you eating him; makes revenge far sweeter).
After a good hour of selection, the two came out with a bag that could rival a gaggle of preteen girls at Hollister. It was then decided, that they would save it all for after dinner, and never tell anyone what they had bought, for then everyone would be knocking on their door all night long asking for bits and pieces of chocolate. Thus, the couple stealthily made it to the elevator, passing the very bar where Severus and Lucius were having the drunken time of their lives, without even noticing that the man who had killed the ghost in the room next door, and one of the most wanted death eaters (and now an escapee from Azkaban) were inside. Dropping their newfound treasure on their bed, they began to get ready for dinner.
"Knit one, pearl two. Knit one, pearl two. Knit one…-Kaboom!-" Dumbledore cried, giggling madly and shaking his bushy bearded head. " Gotcha."
Minerva, unfortunately, did not find it as funny as the older man had hoped, as she promptly dropped her knitting in her lap and wagged a warning finger in front of his ghostly nose.
"One more time and I swear I shall impale you on one of my needles"
Now, you and I both know that this would have had utterly no effect upon the apparition of everyone's (well, with the exception of a few) favorite headmaster, however, to him this was the biggest threat of all, for in between the lines it meant that he would no longer be welcome to watch her knit.
"Oh fine. You're no fun anymore." He pouted, sticking his lower lip marvelously further than his nose, making himself look as though he was one of those South American jungle natives with the plates in their mouth.
"That was the most idiotic answer you have ever given Albus, and I would be quite happy if you would kindly shut up and let me concentrate." The head of Gryffindor, and newly appointed headmistress hissed through clenched teeth.
"But it's my only line!" He countered through a wail.
There were long lines at each and every one of the tattoo stands, all of them but one. Billy Bob's Brushed-on Brands.
It sounded safe enough. Besides, they were wizards, they could always counter it.
"I want the big tribal band around my arm, the one with the spikes and the pointy barb like things on the edges." Kingsley stated as he studied the choices carefully, and allowed the assistant to sit him in a seat and begin the airbrushing process.
"Well I was thinking of something a bit cuter…like…a gingerbread man?" Alastor suggested as he tapped his chin in thought.
"You mean like the one on my finger?" Asked the man obviously known as Billy Bob, wiggling a grub-like finger in front of Mad-Eye's eyes, showing a smiling gingerbread man on the very tip.
"Exactly." He nodded, sitting down in the chair and uncovering his shoulder, much to Kingsley's disgust, as the latter had to cover his eyes to keep from being scarred. With that, Billy Bob began to paint on the happy little gingerbread being.