Second Resort

Harry eyed the big bed in the beach-side apartment.

"There's plenty of room for two," said Daphne, who picked up a discarded Hawaiian shirt and went to the en suite. She came back only wearing the shirt, and turned the bed down.

"Um, Should I sleep on the couch in the lounge?" asked Harry.

"You're welcome to nap with me," said Daphne, "Don't go feeling me up in my sleep."

Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable and had to go put on dry board-shorts anyway, because he'd been surfing and showering off. He lay down next to Daphne who was lying on her back.

"This is a nap, before dinner," said Daphne, "Because I'm tired from surfing."

"Okay," said Harry, and he took off his glasses, and lay back. The pillow sucked him down into sleep.

Harry woke up with something heavy on his leg. And something in his chest. He opened his eyes and squinted. The clock on the bedside cabinet said it was nearly seven, but he had a Daphne Greengrass sleeping on him. She was on her side, her knee on his thighs, her left arm all over his chest. It was, thought Harry, not actually uncomfortable, and pleasantly warm – the day was cooling off.

He lifted his head a little, and realized something disturbing. Daphne had not put knickers on, and with her thigh across his, the shirt had rucked up a bit. The temptation to put his right hand on her thigh was pretty overwhelming. Harry resisted it with iron self-control.

He turned his head, her face was too close to see. He flailed about with his off-hand, and found his glasses and put them on. And now he could see her sleeping face. She was actually drooling on the pillow, which was oddly cute. Her nose had a few freckles across it onto her cheeks he'd never seen before. And it wasn't his couch at Grimmauld either. He looked down her body. The shirt might be covering up her chest, but it was quite clear her bust was right there. Harry looked at her leg and hip… and was almost thankful that his shirt covered up her … lap. Almost thankful anyway.

"Daphne?" asked Harry.

"Mrgh," she grumbled.

"Daphne, it's probably time to wake up?" asked Harry. She opened one, slightly bloodshot eye. "Mrgh?" she said. Harry wondered if she needed to wear sun-glasses while surfing somehow. After all – those eyes…. Harry blinked and tried to regain his train of thought, distracted by a warm Daphne and her… eyes and lips and… well everything really.

"It's nearly time for dinner, I suppose," said Harry. She stared at him, and moved her left foot. All the way over his leg, hooking her heel around his leg, and slid her left hand right across his chest to hold him, and pulled herself closer. "You're warm," she said softly, and blinked slowly.

Harry eyed her hip.

"Do you need a signed invitation?" asked Daphne.

"I'm hungry," admitted Harry.

"Harry?" asked Daphne, "you're turning me down for dinner?"

"Um," said Harry.

"And you would like food more than me?" she asked, rocking her hip very distractingly against his thigh.

"Um," said Harry. Who certainly didn't have food issues. He was quite normal.

"Harry?" she asked, "we could get food later. The restaurant's open till nine-thirty."

Harry couldn't help staring in the direction of the restaurant.

"Potter?" she said more firmly "Have you … got issues with food?"

"No I'm fine," said Harry. Who certainly didn't remember starving at his relatives till he went to Hogwarts, and every summer. And who didn't have snacks in his drawers at work, in his bedroom at home, in the library drawers, the kitchen drawers, and in his robe pockets. Well, just a little, in case he had ever low blood-sugar. Which was medically inadvisable.

"Fine, let's go eat," said Daphne, rolling off him, and standing up.

And she grabbed some clothes and went to the en suite – the shirt was quite long enough for her to use as a nightgown, coming out quite quickly in board shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and sandals. Harry put his sandals back on, and they walked out of the cabin; closing the door, Harry remembered only afterwards to check he still had the card for the door, and they strolled over to the Hotels' restaurant building. Hawaiian music played, but Harry was disappointed to still not see a roast piglet. There was, however, plenty of food at the buffet.

"Lobster!" said Daphne, and she had a plate in her hands and was headed for the lobster quicker than you could say, well 'lobster.' The sever put a half-shell that had been baked and looked kind-of-cheese-saucy on her plate, and smiled.

Harry got things he recognized, and a few he didn't, and a small portion of the lobster filling from the server. Harry assumed that the things you had to be served were the expensive ones… like the lobster. Daphne had waited, holding her plate, and headed off to a table, and put her plate down.

"You can choose not to help me with my chair," she said, "but it counts against you later."

Harry pushed her chair in for her, and sat down opposite, and seeing Daphne put the napkin on her lap, did the same.

The moan she gave when she tasted the lobster had the hair on Harry's neck standing up. He could only stare at her face. Her eyes closed slightly, and … well Harry just had to stare. She really liked lobster, he supposed.

He tried some, and was surprised at the richness of the sauce, and the cheesy top layer. It was, thought Harry, fairly more-ish.

Daphne looked up from her meal, "This hotel was a good choice, Potter," she said, and looked back down at her plate, "and dinner was a good idea. I didn't realize how hungry I was till it took a bite."

Harry had another forkful. "And you like lobster," Harry said.

"Do you not like it?" she asked.

"Never had it before. It's quite nice." said Harry.

"I think the cheese on the lobster in France was better," said Daphne, hesitating then taking a large fork-full, and chewing, her eyes closing. Harry watched her enjoy her food for a bit… and ate some wings in sauce. Which were okay, but really not a patch on the lobster. But the green salad had something he'd never tasted before in it, and he liked the strong minty taste.

The yellow stew-like stuff was some sort of cooked banana, and that was much less sweet than he sort-of-expected. And there was a hint of curry to it. The goopy purple stuff, he had no idea what it was, but it tasted all right.

A waiter carried a plate past with a steak that billowed meaty smells, so hot it was sizzling, to a couple of diners to Harry's right. From the accent of the man's words to the waiter, they were Americans. Harry pondered that for a moment – and decided it made sense; steaks were best served hot.

Daphne ate lobster till she was scraping the shell out, then picked at the other things on her plate.

"What on earth is the purple stuff you've got?" asked Daphne.

"I have no idea, it's a little starchy," said Harry.

"I'll give that a miss," she said, "The yellow?"

"Almost banana."

"Hmm," she said, and she leaned forward and her fork scoop up some of the purple stuff. Daphne tasted it, and licked her teeth. "Odd" she said, and tried the banana-ish.

"This could be plantain," said Daphne "I think."

"Like it?" asked Harry.

"I'm watching what I eat," said Daphne. So am I, thought Harry. But I don't think you're getting another half lobster tonight.

But Daphne went over to ask anyway.

"Excuse me, may I have some more Thermador?" asked Daphne.

"It's one per guest maam," said the sever apologetically.

"Harry! Come," said Daphne.

Harry got up and walked over.

"Get some Thermador. It's one per guest apparently," said Daphne.

Harry went to get a plate.

"Uh, just one thing, what's your room number?" asked the sever.

"It's um," said Harry, and he got the key-card out. The sleeve said 'Ocean King 3'

"Ocean King 3," said Harry, holding the sleeve where the server could see it.

The server picked up a clipboard and checked it, and stopped, looked at Harry, then Daphne, then the key-card, then the clipboard. "Name of?" they asked.

"Potter, Dr Harry J Potter" said Harry.

The server nodded, and smiled awkwardly, "I'm Chauncey, I just like to say, thank you for choosing the Hotel Wailea beach." Chauncey shook his head, "You're here for two weeks, with the Luau package," he said, and smiled, and this time his eyebrows moved, "Would you both like a second lobster?" Harry was quite sure Daphne squealed before she clamped her mouth shut.

The Lobster was quite good, thought Harry, halfway through an entire one. Daphne slowed down and started alternating eating lobster and staring at Harry. Not his lobster – he checked.

"Hmm?" asked Harry.

"You spoil me," she said, and smiled a little crookedly, "Chauncey had a distinctly surprised look on his face. Was this quite expensive?"

"Well, I'm only taking you here once to find out of we can put up with one another," said Harry.

"And bribing me with lobster thermador?" she asked, licking her lips. Harry's board shorts were thankfully quite roomy as a lot of blood left his brain at that point.

"It's not a bribe, it's dinner," said Harry. "We were just lucky."

"You'll get lucky later," whispered Daphne. Harry felt abruptly nervous. Crikey.

And there were a variety of delicious desserts, including ordinary banana, and bananas that somehow were more cocktail sausage sized. And pineapple. Harry still hadn't seen glazed roast pork, but the Luau would occur- it was part of the booking.

"If we were to get married?" said Daphne slowly, "Would we come here for holidays?"

"Well, not till next summer at the earliest," said Harry. "I don't really get a big holiday till then." He tried not to think too hard about the first part of her question. It was quite a scary idea. It must be, as his pulse was elevated and his hands were sweating. And for some reason he couldn't take his eyes off her lips.

"And the cost?" she asked.

"Um," said Harry, and he mentally shrugged, he might as well tell her, "If your cousins deliver the outcome they talked about, I suppose, every few years?"

"How much, Harry?" asked Daphne gently.

"Um. Seventeen thousand US dollars. About two thousand galleons. They said they expect several thousand a year."

"Five days work at the old job," said Daphne, "Your family income would… cover this one holiday, and all possible Ministry taxes. Without counting your salary, or my business," said Daphne.

"Well, for two weeks. It's less, obviously, for shorter." said Harry.

"Are there price breaks?" asked Daphne. Harry shook his head.

"Oh. So that's why Chauncey gave us second lobsters," said Daphne. "There's obviously fixed costs per guest booking, but if people don't typically stay as long, we're a much more profitable customer." She frowned, "We should negotiate a better rate for our next booking." she said.

"Assuming we come back," said Harry. And her cousin was the accountant? She was good with money, well she did own a bank, he mentally conceded to himself.

Daphne blinked very slowly at Harry, "Short of having your own tropical island, which would clearly have huge logistical issues, why wouldn't we come again?"

Well, we might not get along that well, thought Harry. You might, quite obviously be reluctant to marry me, given your horrible marriage history. We haven't even actually shagged.

"Harry, we should go," said Daphne, licking her lips extremely slowly and suggestively. Harry was exceedingly grateful for board shorts. Well, except she was wearing board shorts too, which was probably just as well. He suspected if she was in the wraps and bikini right now he might have trouble breathing.

Daphne waited till he had the door of the cabin shut before turning and pressing him against the wall with her entire body, and snogging him… And Harry thought he could taste strawberries, for some strange reason. Also, snogging. A bit later, with a lot of holding of Daphne, and her hands going up his shirt, which he'd never expected… she stopped kissing him. "Potter," she said, her mouth next to his ear," if you don't come to bed immediately, you will be sleeping on the sodding couch."

Harry's decided she needed to be held more firmly. Her bum was, he thought, a quite appealing firmness, let alone it's… erotic shape.

"If you turn out to be a rotten shag," said Daphne, "I may well hex you." And she pulled away from him and headed into the bedroom.

He wondered momentarily if she'd take off her clothes artistically, but she actually just got out of her sandals, shirt and board-shorts very quickly, and took off a somewhat unexpected lacy black bra.

She turned the bed down topless as Harry struggled out of his clothes while trying to watch the also surprising skimpy lacy black thong splitting her arse. Harry got onto the bed, and Daphne climbed on, topless, and pressed herself against him. Everywhere her skin touched his felt… almost tingly. Then the tongue-wrestling started again and Harry got a little distracted… and tried to keep his mind on a need to ensure that certain things didn't happen. Coming on her thigh like a teenager, for starters.

But, apparently, she hadn't expected oral sex, and while her quite strong thighs were clearly capable of dislocating his neck, she seemed quite… friendly. Harry imagined Snape only twice while doing his very best to ensure Daphne was quite pleased… and she really did have a remarkably responsive body. Or maybe she just liked him, it was hard to tell now. She moaned appreciatively.

Half an hour later, Harry was naked and panting, and wondering if it would be more practical to just buy a sodding island. Somewhere with lobster, clearly. And a bed. That seemed all he needed.

Daphne had moved to be sitting astride his lap, also naked and panting, and Harry felt that there was little chance of being hexed.

"You," she said, staring at him with those Caribbean-blue eyes, "are quite nice." she said, rolling her hips in a … now somewhat painful way.

"Geroff," said Harry "I need a break."

"You do?" asked Daphne, and she yawned. "I feel tired," she said, and frowned, "do you think – "

But Harry had fallen asleep.

Harry woke up with something heavy on him. It was dark, and he desperately wanted to pee.

Harry felt the … woman lying in him, and remembered some quite energetic sex with Daphne after dinner. She had… fairly surprising flexibility and strength, and… well, looked extremely sexy naked, but felt nicer than she looked. She seemed to be asleep, as far as Harry could tell. He levered her off his lap, and Daphne rolled, still asleep onto her back. Harry sat up, and eyed her in the dim light coming from the curtained window, and the alarm clock. He pulled the covers up over her before she got cold, and slipped off to a loo break.

While he did his business, Harry recalled being suddenly sleepy; unnaturally suddenly sleepy, then he realized they'd both taken time-zone adjusting potions. He would need to read up on them, he supposed. He washed up and went back to bed, slipping into a bed that was warm and smelt strongly of… Daphne Greengrass. And sex, obviously. He tentatively got an arm over her waist, and Daphne rolled towards him, and he ended up, once again, with her knee over his thigh, and her arm over his chest. He relaxed – there were worse ways to end up than being cuddled, he supposed.