Just a random idea I had today, I can't believe that I actually finished it. It gets kinda crap towards the end, but anyway, Read and Review please, critiques are very welcome.

DISCLAIMER: If I owned Harry Potter, I would be rich, and I would have Voldemort in my basement. Oh wait, I do have Voldemort in my basement :P

Voldemort: LEMME OUT!

Me: SHUTUP! (throws frying pan)

Voldemort: 'THUNK' *faints*

It was a bright, sunny day in Diagon Alley, but Harry Potter was too busy thinking about himself to notice. Dumbledore had sent him on a highly top secret mission to Borgin and Burkes to purchase a large bag of illegally imported orangedrops. Dumbledore had chosen Harry for the mission because Harry was protected by the 'indestructible' power of love. Harry shuddered, thinking of the way Dumbledore had eyed him during his speech.

"By Merlin, I still can't believe Dumbledore is gay, and... oh look at you handsome!" Harry had caught sight of his reflection in a shop window, and was hastily distracted from whinging by ogling himself. He posed, smiling and winking at his reflection, before adding in a little wave, standing in the middle of the alley, looking like a complete idiot. People had started to stare, and whispers were circulating, questioning his sanity.

Suddenly, a few stray clouds blotted out the sun, and Harry's reflection disappeared, giving him a view into the shop, which happened to be Flourish and Blotts. Just behind the glass window, browsing for books, stood a highly shocked Draco Malfoy whose mouth was hanging wide open. They stared at each other for a full minute, before Draco recovered and smiled, sending a small, shy wave back at Harry. Turning away, Harry facepalmed and walked quickly up the street, away from prying eyes. This was definitely not his day.

Back in Flourish and Blotts, Draco Malfoy was confused. Extremely confused. He had thought Potter liked him. All those taunts back at school, and then his smile and wave through the window earlier, just to have his hopes crushed. He sniffled a little, and then glanced around quickly to make sure no one had witnessed the events, before putting his 'tough guy' mask back on.

Draco had always been very feminine. When his mother was pregnant with him, she performed a gender selection spell, so that she would have a daughter, but it went horribly wrong.

So, he wondered, if Potter hadn't been waving to him, then who had he been waving to? Draco turned around suspiciously, and saw to his utter horror, none other than Lucius Malfoy, his father, who was holding a bag of spell books and blushing profusely.

Draco sighed. Could this day get any worse?

Harry walked slowly into Borgin and Burkes, letting his sickly green eyes adjust to the dim light. What he saw next paralysed him with fear, which then turned into confusion. Voldemort was examining a glass display case filled with all sorts of jewellery, and a shop assistant was standing a metre away, offering advice whilst shaking from head to toe.

The assistant spotted Harry and rushed towards him, nearly tripping over his own feet in prospect of getting away from the dark wizard.

"Ah Harry Potter, what are you in need of, sir?" asked the pale faced assistant, who was still trembling.

Harry didn't speak. He was eyeing Voldemort, who had stopped muttering to himself and had turned his head slightly so he could hear the conversation better.

Harry leaned down with the pace of a snail, and whispered into the assistant's ear, "I'm here to collect a 'package' for Dumbledore, of you-know-what." He leaned back, and resumed staring at Voldemort from the corner of his eye.

The assistant nodded fiercely and stage-whispered back, "Ah, yes, I will go get the orange drops now," before hurrying off to the back room. Harry facepalmed for the second time that day, then casually strolled over to Voldemort, who had returned to looking anxiously at the jewellery.

"So... what's up?" he asked Voldemort, trying to sound casually uninterested.

Voldemort glanced at him, before his gaze returned to the display case. He took a deep breath, and prepared to answer, though what Harry heard was definitely not what he expected.

"I'm going thoo a danthe in a fu' dayth, and I nee' nu' eawinths." He answered, with a horribly noticible lisp. (I'm going to a dance in a few days, and I need new earrings)

"Oh." Said Harry, "Would you mind maybe repeating that, I didn't quite... understand... n-never mind." He trailed off at the murderous glare that Voldemort was giving him.

The Dark Lord was fed up with Harry Potter, earrings, and having his lisp made fun of, so he decided he needed help. No, he decided, after all he was the most famous and powerful dark wizard to ever live, he didn't need help, he needed 'not necessarily required assistance'. He pulled back his sleeve, revealing his dark mark, and pressed his wand to it, calling for Bellatrix LeStrange, his recently appointed fashion consultant.

Bellatrix appeared behind Harry with a loud 'pop', causing him to jump violently and turn around. She glowered at him, disappointed, because she had just been in a very heated game of 'Go Fish' with the Longbottoms at St Mungo's, and Alice had even given her a chewing gum wrapper (much to Neville's disappointment).

She strode past Harry, and bowed to her master, who reprimanded her for being so slow.

"Foo'!" He said, and pointed his wand at her. "C'uthio!" at which Bellatrix promptly sprouted an extra nose, due to the mispronounced torture curse. (Fool! Crucio!)

She scowled at him, but nevertheless walked over to him and bowed. "Yes my lord? What is it you needed?"

Voldemort looked thoughtful for a second before answering, "I cah't too'the." Harry cracked up - the lisp, along with the frustrated pout on Voldemort's snake-like face, was too much to bear. (I can't choose)

Voldemort ignored him, but Harry could see the subtle tightening of his fists and wisely quieted down.

"Well my lord, may I ask what you are wearing to the ball?" Bellatrix inquired hesitantly, and received the torrent of information she was dreading.

"I thou'h you'd newa' ath! I hath a great pair of thiver high heelth I'm going thoo wear, and thith wonderful, low-cuth, ho' pinth dreth that I bou'ht lath wee', it ewen hath a buith in bra..." (I thought you'd never ask! I have a great pair of silver high heels I'm going to wear, and this wonderful, low-cut, hot pink dress that I bought last week, it even has a built in bra...)

Harry stopped listening at that point, and walked back to the other side of the shop, when the shop assistant hurried in, clasping a great big box in his arms. It had 'illegal' and 'highly explosive' stamped on the side, along with other things, which Harry wouldn't repeat, out of respect for Voldemort, who had probably never heard such vulgarity in his life.

He took the box, and went up to the counter to pay. Bellatrix's anxious voice filtered back into his conscious once again.

"Yes my lor-I mean my lady-I mean O Effeminate One. Sorry." She scratched her second nose absently. Harry left the shop in a hurry, and apparated back to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Arriving on the doorstep of headquarters, Harry wearily opened the door and stepped forward, after which twenty litres of pumpkin juice, followed by a bucket, fell from the top of the doorframe and onto his head.

Grumbling, he walked further down the hallway, past Sirius's mother's portrait, which was screeching, and into the living room. The room fell silent when he walked in, then everyone turned and stared at him.

He ignored them and walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's study, hearing the conversation resume behind him. Knocking once on the door, which was slightly ajar, he pushed it open, only to drop the candy box and stare in stunned silence into the room.

Dumbledore was looking into his mirror, clips holding his hair up as he gelled his beard into a styled point. His skin had been airbrushed dark blue, and he stared at Harry via the floor-length, room-wide mirror.

"Uh... Smurf?" Harry asked.

"Yes Harold?" Asked Dumbledore is a ridiculously high voice. Harry spied a canister of Helium lying abandoned on the floor.

"Er, my name's Harry, and I got your orange drops." Harry replied nervously.

"Wonderful!" He walked over and opened the box, revealing the sweets, which looked identical to lemon drops. Needless to say, Harry was confused.

"Sir, aren't they lemon drops?"

"Nonsense! They're orange drops. Granted, there is no difference between lemon drops or orange drops, other than the name, but they are orange drops, in any case."

"YOU SENT ME THROUGH HELL AND BACK, WHERE I FOUND OUT THAT DRACO MALFOY HAS A CRUSH ON ME, AND THAT VOLDEMORT IS A TRANSVESTITE, FOR LEMON DROPS?" Harry was fuming.

"Why, of course Harold." Replied Dumbledore, a confused smile on his face. "Orange drop?"