Disclaimer: I don't own it...
Author's Note: This is the most insane fic I have ever written. The idea came from a meme my friend did, and she pestered me until I finally wrote it. It's not mean to be canonical (definitely not) and it's very (very) AU.
The dream, by the way, actually was dreamed by my friend (Meghan).
---
"Professor?"
Draco Malfoy looked to the doorway and sneered as Hermione Granger stepped through cautiously. She ignored him easily and spoke clearly to the Headmistress.
"Professor, Peeves is writing swear words on the walls of the Charms Corridor, and we can't find the Bloody Baron."
Professor McGonagall sighed, but smiled at the Head Girl. "Thank you, Miss Granger. I shall attend to it. Mr. Malfoy, please stay. I will be back shortly."
Draco nodded curtly, and waited until she had left to poke around the desk. What did a Headmistress have (or need) anyway, that reflected firelight at just the right angle so as to blind students? He pulled the small object from it's home and held it up by it's chain.
A time-turner.
He fumbled with it as someone knocked on the door and cringed as it fell, too slow to be at normal speed, and crashed on the desk.
---
Draco reached up to smooth his hair, checking to ensure it was still as he had styled it that morning, and took in his new surroundings. A humongous room, and a definite party atmosphere; darkened lights, tables laden with food and drinks, and too many people.
He saw Professor McGonagall's distinctive tartan hat dip down as she kissed a blonde, shocked girl frankly on the cheek. She (Professor McGonagall) was obviously drunk, and Draco was torn between laughing as the girl's friends were doing now (as if they'd just seen the most comical thing in their lives) and retching.
Professors, he thought, should not drink. Ever.
Then, of course, came the very wondering sense of what day it was, of what month, and definitely what year. He'd never seen any of these people, except Professor McGonagall. He scowled as a brunette stumbled into him.
"Sorry," she said with some difficulty; her eyes were slightly glazed over. She moved to walk away but Draco grabbed her arm. "Excuse me?" she said defensively, frowning.
"Do you happen to know the year?" he asked as politely as possible.
"It'll be seventy-five tonight. It's a new year's party, silly!" She giggled and drifted off as Draco released his grip on her arm.
Seventy-five. He'd gone over twenty years back in time. He hadn't even been born yet.
Draco continued weaving through the crowd of people, occasionally picking up a drink or (warily) one of the various snacks set out. After a while and his fifth butterbeer, he became very, very confused.
What was Potter doing here? There was no way they both could have traveled back in time. He stepped closer, and was about to call out something, before another boy grabbed Potter's bottle of Firewhiskey and set it aside.
A boy that looked suspiciously like a much younger, less-scarred Lupin.
And if that was a teenage Lupin, he must be seeing—
"James Potter!" a shrill voice shrieked. Draco was pushed aside as a replica of Ginny Weasley rushed past. "What do you think you are doing?"
Draco stared blankly and went to find a chair in a secluded corner. It was not possible for tonight to be any weirder than it already was.
---
Meghan walked, in a daze, through the crowd. She had no idea where her friends were (she had lost them a long time ago), she had a feeling she would never be able to look McGonagall in the eye again (which is a rather normal reaction for being kissed by your drunk professor), and was starting to feel claustrophobic (she hated large crowds). She had thought coming to the Marauders' New Year's party was a bad idea in the first place.
She had found a chair just before she found her friends; they eagerly skipped over (leaving Meghan to wonder what they'd eaten that had been drugged) and sat in the two chairs on either side of her. And just as they had sat down and started giggling about something most likely not funny in the least, Sirius Black approached Meghan.
"Would you like to dance?" he asked, grinning as he almost always did and extending a hand out.
"Um," Meghan said, at a loss for words. "Um."
Alexandra nudged her side with an elbow, whispering (which was rather louder than necessary, and was slightly louder than a normal voice), "Say yes!"
Kathryn chimed in from her other side, even louder, "Get up, Meghan! Say yes!"
"Um," Meghan repeated, staring blankly and thinking why she should accept and why she shouldn't.
He was handsome. He was popular. She would be envied by almost every girl in the school.
But then, he was also a player. And, most obviously: He was drunk.
"You're drunk," Meghan stated, bolder than she usually was in class. "I am not going to dance with you if you are drunk."
Kathryn and Alexandra stopped giggling at stared at Meghan in horror at what she had said.
"I am not drunk," Sirius argued.
"You are drunk," Meghan repeated. "I am not going to dance with you."
"Alright," Sirius agreed, very quickly into the argument. "I know what I will do. I will give you," he paused, digging a piece of parchment and pencil out of his pockets, "an eye"—he wrote the letter I—"oh"—he wrote the letter O—"you." He wrote the letter U, and signed it with a fancy, loopy SB. "There. I owe you a dance."
"Um," Meghan said, and confusedly took the piece of parchment offered. "Okay." She blinked and Sirius disappeared back into the crowd.
"Omigod," Kathryn said. "I cannot believe you turned down a dance from Sirius Black."
"He was drunk," Meghan replied, with the tone as if she were speaking to a confused three-year-old. "I am not going to dance with someone who is drunk."
"But he is, like... the hottest guy in school." Kathryn blinked, not understanding Meghan's reasoning. "Why would you not want to dance with him?"
"Because, he was drunk. Besides, James Potter is much hotter."
Alexandra giggled. "No, Remus Lupin is definitely hotter than both of them."
They heard a laugh and all three gasped, blushed, and giggled as Remus walked by quickly.
"Definitely Sirius," Kathryn said, and giggled again.
"Remus," Alexandra retorted, leaning forward to peer at Kathryn.
"We are ending this conversation," Meghan said firmly, and amazingly, the conversation ended.
---
Six-year-old Meghan happily sucked on her lollipop (one of the multicolored spiral ones) and watched the people striding by a story below. She jumped and looked fearfully up to her mum as sirens went off and people began screaming, panicking, and running around insanely.
"The evil garbage man! We have to get to the car, Meghan!" her mum yelled, running up the remainder of the escalator and out the mall doors to the parking lot with her barely-keeping-up daughter in tow. She jumped in the driver's side of the car.
"Mummy, Mummy, unlock the door!" Meghan cried, tugging repeatedly on the door handle. "Mummy, it's locked, I can't get in! Mummy!"
Meghan watched as her mum drove out of the tiny parking space and began sobbing hysterically. Through her panic she heard the loud rumble of an engine coming closer, and closer, until two rough hands grabbed her and threw her into the dark back of a truck. She began sobbing harder as she was tossed around on the hard metal of the garbage compartment as it went around curves and over rough bumps.
Finally, it stopped abruptly and rough hands again grabbed her; she was thrown unceremoniously through a glass trapdoor into a dungeon with many other young children. It was a rather long fall, but Meghan was luckily uninjured. The cries of the children echoed off the walls and glass ceiling; the sound was unbearably loud. Meghan gazed up and saw her parents, yelling her name and crying, and she watched through her tears as they yelled and cried.
Meghan woke up in a cold sweat, blinking as the sun blinded her. She sighed at the trip down Nightmare Lane and rolled over. In doing so she also succeeding in kicking Kathryn, who happened to be sleeping at the other end of the couch.
"Ouch," she mumbled, and gave a loud snore. Meghan noticed she was clutching something rather tightly but decided not to investigate.
"Meghan," Alexandra mumbled, sitting up and looking straight at her friend, "Where'd you put the bees?"
"What?" Meghan said, and sat up, only to find that Alexandra had lay back down (as much as one could in an armchair) and was sleeping. She stared blankly between her two friends and sighed, realizing that she wouldn't be going back to sleep.
All wakeful occupants of the Gryffindor Common Room jumped as a blonde ran down the stairs leading to the boys' dorm. He was wearing only his trousers and looked rather uncomfortable.
"All right," he demanded, "which of you stole my boxers?"
Most of those still sleeping woke up at this loud pronouncement, and the majority of those already awake began to laugh. Meghan inspected what Kathryn (still sleeping) was clutching tightly and prodded her. She woke up and jumped.
"Well?" Draco demanded again. "Who stole my boxers?"
Kathryn held her prized possession away from her and blinked confusedly. Meghan began cackling rather frighteningly, and the students with a clear view of what she was holding began laughing too.
"Bloody hell," Kathryn said, turning red. "Whose are these? Why do I have someone's boxers?"
"You stole my boxers!" Draco yelled, and marched over to her. "Why did you steal my boxers?"
"I did not steal your boxers," Kathryn argued, turning even redder (if possible) and throwing the underwear in Draco's face. "Why would I steal your boxers?"
"I know I'm stunningly handsome, but I don't know why you'd want to steal my boxers." Draco scowled and stalked back up the stairs.
"Meghan, why did I have his boxers?" Kathryn asked, looking scared and still very red in the face. "Did I steal his boxers?"
"I believe—" Meghan choked out, still laughing hysterically, "I believe you did."
Kathryn fell backwards, lying on the couch, and buried her red face in a pillow.
Alexandra, who had miraculously slept through everything, sat straight up again. "Meghan, please," she said, sounding very irritated, "I need the bloody bees!"
