Okay, so...this was a dream I had the night before Half Blood Prince came out in theaters. Yes, weird. Yes, crackfic. Yes, completely inaccurate. Yes, Drarry.

I didn't want to write this because I feel like I wouldn't give the dream justice, but my best friend wanted me to write it, so here it is.

DISCLAIMER!! I do not own Harry Potter, however, I can dream, can't I? :D

**

"Oi, Harry!"

Ron choked on his eggs. "Um, Harry... Why is Malfoy talking to you...in a friendly way?"

Harry ignored him and turned with a bright smile to said Slytherin blonde, who walked up the Golden Trio with a Daily Prophet bundled in his hand. "Hey, Draco! ("Draco?!" Ron sputtered. "Since when do you address him by him first name?") How's your breakfast so far?"

Draco shrugged, standing to the side of him. "Hey, Granger. Hey, Weasel," he nodded to the two of them. Hermione looked perplexed while Ron looked ready to murder someone. "Breakfast is alright, but I hate that the Slytherin table is right next to the wall. I swear, it must be cracked or something because there is a draft over there and it's bloody cold over there."

"Maybe the air conditioning is on too high?" Harry shrugged.

Draco tilted his head in confusion. "Air conditioning?"

"Oh, sorry," Harry waved a hand in dismissal. "It's a muggle thing. It makes the air cooler, and...never mind. Anything good in the Prophet?" Harry asked, motioning towards the paper in Draco's hand.

"Eh," he shrugged, waving the paper a bit. "More deaths, same old, same old."

"Anyone good?" Harry asked, taking a bite of toast.

"Herald Forgleson—"

"Damn, really?!" Harry frowned. "He was my coke suppler..."

Draco sighed, "I know what you mean. I've been buying off him for ten years... Anyway, there was Sampson Abekrot—"

"Yes!" Harry whooped. "I hated that guy."

Draco stood subdued, "He was my uncle..."

Harry's face fell in an instant. "Crap, Draco, I'm sorry, I—look, he wasn't that bad, I mean...he was a gre—okay guy, ya know? And he—" Harry sputtered.

Draco smacked him lightly on the back of the head. "Kidding," he smirked. "I hated the guy too."

Harry glared. "Fine," he pouted. "Ignore my concern why don't you. Well then, who else croaked?"

"There's Wilber Crotain—"

"He's the guy who would perform interpretive dance in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, right?" Harry asked. "He was great."

"I thought it was a woman," Draco said, confused.

Harry shrugged. "Who else bit the dust?"

"Leonard Shamolk."

"He's the bloke who shoved me into you that day in Diagon Alley," Harry remembered.

"Wait, someone shoved you?" Draco asked, taken aback. "I thought you deliberately pushed me into that mud puddle."

Harry shrugged with a slight frown, "I think I told you that multiple times, if I recall correctly."

Draco muttered something inaudible and looked slightly abashed. "You know, if it wasn't for him, we might have been friends."

"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "Anyone else go six feet under?"

Draco stared at Harry.

"What?"

Draco shrugged, "Anymore ways to phrase that someone died?"

"Naw, I think that was it..." Harry smiled. "Wait! Anyone else meet their maker?"

Draco proceeded to smack Harry in the back of the head again.

"Ow!"

"Back to the deaths," Draco smirked. "The last one was Betty Crocker—"

"No!" Harry cried. "I loved those brownies! I got to lick the bowl when I had to clean the dishes...good times."

"Look, Harry, I have to go. I have Quidditch practice—"

"I thought you quit the team," Harry asked.

"I did, but—" Draco stammered.

"Can I talk to you?" Harry said suddenly, standing up and hauling Draco out of the Great Hall by his arm. "See you in class, Ron and Hermione!" he called back to the two.

"Harry, you're mental!" Ron yelled.

"Hush, Ronald!" Hermione scolded. "Just let boys be boys."

Once Harry had pulled Draco out of the Great Hall, he spun around to face him. "Voldemort asked you to do something, didn't he? Something special?" Harry's face threatened to crack a smile.

Draco's face twisted. "Harry, you have a sick and twisted mind."

"So you've said many times before—" Harry was cut short by Draco's hand whacking him in the forehead. "Ow! Will you stop that? Anyway, what I meant was, Voldemort gave you a mission, didn't he?"

"Harry, I can't..." Draco muttered.

"I bet he gave you the Dark Mark too," Harry frowned.

"He said it was a Sharpie and it would wear off in a few days, I swear!" Draco pouted.

"Bastard," Harry muttered. "I bet he gets high sniffing those things."

"You have no idea..." Draco muttered. "You know those multicolor packs?"

"Yeah..."

"The color he sniffs is based on his current mood."

"Interesting..."

"Not quite sure what his mood is when he sniffs the pink ones though..." Draco wondered aloud.

"Anyway, what does he want you to do?" Harry persisted.

"I can't tell you, Harry. Please stop asking," Draco begged.

"I bet he wants you to raid the kitchens."

Draco smacked his own forehead with his hand.

"Kidding!" Harry smiled. "I know what he really wants you to do," Harry smirked.

Draco scowled. "You're like a dirty old man, Harry."

"Speaking of!" Harry brightened. "I bet that's what you have to do! You have to off the old man! Hey, that was another way to say someone's dead!"

"Look, Harry..."

"That's it, isn't it?"

"I know you are fond of the guy, but I have to do this—"

"Can I help?"

"What?"

"Can I help you kill him?" Harry asked again.

"Are we talking about the same old man here?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "Dumbles, right?"

Draco sighed. "Honestly? Dumbles?"

"Wait, you weren't talking about him?" Harry asked, confused now.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Of course I was talking about Dumbles—I mean Dumbledore. Why are you calling him 'Dumbles'?"

Harry shrugged. "The less syllables the better."

"I thought you liked Dumbledore?" Draco asked. "You're his favorite student, aren't you?"

Harry shuddered. "Yeah, that's why I want to off him. He's such a creeper, you know? And I don't think he swings towards women if you know what I mean—"

"Harry!"

"What?" Harry asked, bewildered. "You can't honestly say that you've never noticed that before."

"People weren't supposed to find out about that until the seventh book!" Draco hissed.

"So what?" Harry shrugged. "We don't exactly swing that way either and people weren't supposed to find out about that at all."

Draco hit himself in the forehead again. "Dolt, you just told everyone."

"I did?" Harry asked. "Well...I suppose that's one way to come out."

"Look, why don't we continue this conversation in the Room of Requirement," Draco said, pulling Harry's arm. "That way the fangirls can't pry into our conversations like a certain authoress is doing right now!"

"Are you kidding?" Harry asked, letting the blonde tug his arm. "Do you have any idea how many fangirls write about what we do in the Room of Requirement?"

**

And that's that. The vantage point of the story is slightly altered because in my dream, I was at the movie theater, supposedly watching HBP, watching this unfold on screen. How epic/weird would it be if that had actually been in the movie?

Speaking of the HBP movie (SPOILERS AHEAD!), was it just me, or was that entire movie a fanfiction waiting to happen? I would be thoroughly surprised if a fanfiction author was not on staff, because some of the scenes…I bet people were writing fanfictions during the movie. (END SPOILERS!) The movie was amazing, btw, if you haven't seen it yet, go watch it now!!!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the craziness that lives in my brain when I sleep.

Peace out!
Sadie