AN/Warnings: I haven't started a new HP fic in a while. Might as well do one now, yes? Start off the new year with some fun. I've been listening to way to much ABBA. It's not healthy.

I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to the damn lucky J.K. Rowling and all of those other companies. There's already a advertisement for the 3rd movie at the movie theater I go to.

Anyway, this will most likely end up as a Harry/Draco, angst and all. However, I'm debating on whether to make it downright slashy, or just an over-obsessive Harry. So if you don't like the idea of such a pairing, I suggest you go find something else. Or, you could be open minded and read it anyway. Flames will be used to keep my feet warm when it's cold. Reviewers will be loved forever, my precious…The title simply means "Sweet Dreams".

I hope you enjoy.

Fait de Beaux Rê ves [Sweet Dreams ] : Assassin

"Harry Potter?" Came a shout through the crowd of Hogsmeade. Harry turned, expecting it to be another fan, or perhaps just someone who recognized him.

A gunshot rang out, only a few wizards recognized the deadly sound. A few screamed, others dropped to the ground. Most, however were curious about the sound that seemed simply like the crack of magic.

The bullet shot through the crowd with deadly aim, guided by magic. Harry stared straight at his assassin, before feeling something puncture the left side of his chest.

He gasped, the pain coming seconds after. Coughing, he fell to his knees, clutching the wound with both hands. Blood flowed from both his chest and lips, and tears clouded his eyes.

Pain. Pain. PAIN!

His mind was screaming for release, to either numb all of the pain, or just die. Tears fell from his eyes onto the cobblestone street, as people backed away from him.

No, please, I don't want to die alone!

He stared at the street, watching his blood and tears merge together. Both were salty, and he couldn't taste the difference.

Harry Potter never expected to die by a gun, a Muggle weapon. He always thought he would die by the Killing Curse, like his mother and father. He was dying alone.

His assassin smirked, tucking a piece of blonde hair being their ear. Pulling the black hood up over their head and dropping the gun, the assassin disappeared into the crowd.

The Lord would be pleased.

A final cry and fall of scarlet tears sealed Harry Potter's fate. His green eyes rolled back, and he saw nothing more.

Harry Potter sat in an endless abyss of black. Sitting cross legged, he decided death wasn't so bad.

"I suppose there isn't a heaven then." He thought out loud, a bit disappointed. "I guess that means there's no hell either."

"Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Potter." Harry looked up, and saw the most familiar face - the one of Albus Dumbledore.

"P-professor?" He stammered. What was even more spectacular were the huge white wings that seemed to come from his back. The old man nodded, smiling.

"Mr. Potter, you are currently situated in Limbo. Where there is no pain, but no joy. No punishment, but no peace."

"What? Why can't I go to heaven, then?" He realized he sounded rather childish, and closed his mouth. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Those who find themselves in Limbo are ones who died by the cheating of fate. You were not meant to die when you did, Mr. Potter. However, it seems someone had dealing with a much greater force. Do you remember how you died?"

Harry opened his mouth. Of course he knew! It was-

He paused, as a confused, anxious and frustrated look adorned his face. He pouted at the blackness, and closed his mouth.

"Good, good. Would you like a gumdrop?" The bearded man offered some of the candy to Harry, who shrugged, taking one and popping it into his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully, and then swallowed.

"If I may, Professor. Why are you here, and why do you have those wings?" Harry's curiosity was now back to the huge appendages that flapped slightly.

"Ah. I am simply a guide in the mortal world. I died quite a long time ago." He smiled, as if it was a fond memory. "As for the wings, I would like to point out that you have some as well."

Harry craned his neck, and for an instant, saw two white wings. However, they weren't as graceful as Dumbledore's, and very small.

"They will become more regal with time, Harry. But now, to business. We must make up for lost time." Dumbledore opened a large, hardcover book that seemed to have come from nowhere. Along with the fact that it was floating in mid-air, Harry was now officially dumbfounded.

Realizing he was still sitting, Harry stood up and peered over the front of the book. However, he wasn't any good at reading upside down.

"So, Mr. Potter, we must correct such a horrible twist of unwanted fate. You must do a good lifetime of community service."

"What?!" Harry spluttered. Dumbledore peered up from half-moon glasses, and smiled. His fingers were still skillfully flipping pages, until he stopped in a certain section. Running his finger down the page, he seemed to be searching for something.

"Oh, don't worry Mr. Potter. Guardian Angel duty is simple stuff. Ah. Here is your client." He tapped the writing, and Harry circled the book, so it's writing was legible.

In a careful, swirling cursive, the book seemed to have names of people.

"Maback, John?" Harry asked, looking at his old Headmaster questioningly.

"Ah, horribly sorry, wrong name. Here. Malfoy, Draco."

Harry started to nod, before doing a double-take, and staring at Dumbledore as if he was a maniac.

"With all due respect, Professor, Malfoy? Of all the people in the godforsaken-"

"Language please, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore chided, writing something in the book with a quill that came from nowhere. Harry inhaled sharply, and continued;

"Of all of the people in the world, why Draco Malfoy?"

Dumbledore sighed, and continued writing.

"Mr. Malfoy is about to perform a rather ancient ceremony, one that alchemist, scientists, doctors and wizards alike have tried to find. It is a secret known only by the Malfoy family - the secret of eternal youth."

Harry stared at Dumbledore with "yeah, right." written across his face. Dumbledore didn't notice, and kept writing.

"It will take place on St. Valentine's day. I daresay someone who's about to look seventeen for the rest of his life deserves a Guardian Angel, no?"

Harry was dumbfounded once again. He opened his mouth, but it soon clamped shut on it's own accord.

"Then again, so will you, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore laughed. "And you certainly don't need those glasses anymore." He plucked them right off of Harry's face, and they disappeared. "I also suggest you read this book for some extra information." He tossed a small leather-bound book, which Harry caught with ease.

"La Livre de les Anges?" He asked mostly to himself, reading the title, which was embossed in gold. Opening it, he found it was written in English, much to his relief.

"Mr. Potter, you died on April 1st, 1998 at 3:34 pm. Congratulations, you are now officially recognized as dead." Dumbledore shook his hand, and patted him on the head.

"Uh…thanks, I guess." Harry still had the book in one hand, as Dumbledore closed the large book. It promptly vanished.

"Draco Malfoy is currently staying at the Mansion for the remainder of the summer break. It is currently July 19th, 1998, just about noon. Whatever you do, Mr. Potter, do not touch him when he is awake. You may try talking to him. That book will give you more information. I must warn you - you are invisible to all mortals, Muggle or Magical. The only people who will be able to see you in the Waking Hours will be other 'Angels' as we call ourselves. I wish you all the best, Harry. If you need any help, just call."

Harry yelped as the blackness around him gave way to a portal of blinding light. He dropped, and felt his stomach take a few seconds to catch up.

After a week of being Draco Malfoy's shadow, Harry had concurred that Malfoy lived the most boring life - ever.

There had been a few incidents of Harry accidentally walking into the bathroom with Malfoy as he was learning his way around. Luckily, his apparent dead-ness let him walk through walls and doors. Other than that, there was very little excitement.

Draco Malfoy's daily routine is as follows:

Wake up, take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast. Lounge around the house, read a book, go outside flying, walk around in the hedge maze, get lost (insert Harry's laughter), blast way back through hedges, eat lunch. Lounge around the house some more, feed the dogs (a golden retriever, a greyhound and a German shepherd), take another shower if slightly sweaty, read some more. Dinner.

Now, dinner was the only time of the day that got slightly interesting, but only once in a while. This was simply because the trio that was the Malfoy family sat down to eat. Together.

However, tonight was another night of silence. Except for the clinking of silverware against dishes, and the occasional gulp or chew, it was excruciatingly boring.

Lucius wasn't menacing at all, much unlike the Lucius Malfoy that Harry knew. Narcissa seemed innocent enough - perhaps a bit cold, but maybe that came with marrying a Malfoy. Harry wondered if it had been arranged.

Harry was floating in the air, once again sitting with his legs crossed. He was halfway through the book Dumbledore had given him, which was obviously some sort of code and conduct book, along with a bucket-load of rules to follow.

Said Guardian Angel was reading a rather interesting section on dreams.

Dream Gazing

The only time a Guardian Angel may have physical contact with their mortal is when they are asleep. Access to dreams is simple, just touch the sleeper's forehead, and close your eyes. You should be able to easily channel your presence into their dream. It is usually safe enough to reveal yourself - most mortals don't take their dreams seriously.

Harry grinned, and snapped the book shut. He definitely had to try this tonight. Besides, he was dead. Malfoy couldn't do anything to him if he found out.

Draco Malfoy usually went to bed anywhere from eleven at night to two in the morning.

The blonde heir stretched, looking up from his book. He was in his room, curled up in the cushion covered window seat that looked out onto the garden and the grounds beyond. It was dark, though, and only the stars gave off a dim light.

Grabbing a blanket, he decided he was too lazy to move to his bed. Pulling the cover over him, he folded down the corner of the page he was on, and laid his head down on the nearest pillow.

Harry walked across the room, and pressed his hand against the pale skin on Malfoy's forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Malfoy." Harry smirked, and closed his eyes.

Draco was simple in a pure white room, or space, he couldn't tell. He walked around, but couldn't find any sign of life or movement other than himself.

"Nice place you've got here, Malfoy." The boy spun around, and looked at the figure who had just appeared.

It was Harry Potter alright, but lacking his usual thick glasses. When Harry turned around on the spot to survey the area, what was even more bizarre were the wings that came from his shoulder blades.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" He asked bluntly. Harry laughed, and nodded. It didn't seem to bother him at all.

"Yeah. What? Don't miss me? Besides, this is just a dream, right?" Draco shrugged. How was he supposed to know?

"You have awfully boring dreams, Malfoy."

"Sorry." He sneered. Potter just grinned.

"That's alright. Anyway, next time you have one of those really embarrassing dreams, call me. Or the ones where you think you're about to die. I best be going. Ciao."

Potter promptly faded out of the white space, leaving a rather disturbed Draco Malfoy. However, he comforted himself.

It was just a dream.

Draco Malfoy woke up slowly. His eyelashes would flutter, maybe he would close his eyes again, before he fully woke up. He would sit up, run a had through his hair, and rub his eyes.

His hair was always fun to see in the morning, because during the tossing and turning of Malfoy's sleep, it would loose it's gelled effect, and hang messily over his eyes.

"Morning sunshine!" Harry chirped.

"Shut up-" Draco Malfoy froze, and looked around the room.

No one.

If he was hearing voices, why, of all people, did they have to sound like Potter?

Harry moved his face close into Draco's, and waved a hand in front of it. Malfoy simply stared passed him, before a confused look settled on his face. Obviously trying to reason it off to him still in a dream-like state for a few seconds, he rummaged around in his dresser for some clothes, and walked off to go take a shower.

Harry almost screamed when he saw a tall figure looming over him. However, it was only Dumbledore.

"Oh, good God…" Harry's heart was racing, and he was attempting to catch his breath. Dumbledore chuckled.

"No need to be so jumpy, Harry. Anyway, I thought I might as well come to explain what just happened."

"Yeah - I've tried talking to him, but he's never heard me before." Harry argued, hoping he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Mr. Malfoy can only hear you when he has you on his mind. He can't see you, so in most cases, he'll probably think he's going insane."

Harry shrugged. "I can deal with that." He turned to look out the window.

When he looked back, Dumbledore was gone.

Draco stepped out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around his waist.

He could of sworn he heard a low whistle. However, he was, typically, alone.

Stepping in front of the mirror, his mind was racing a mile a minute.

Why did he heard Potter's voice, above all things? Why just after that ridiculous dream?

He grabbed a bottle of gel, and squirted some into his hand.

"Jesus, Malfoy. One day all of that gel is going to burn a hole through your skull, and then sink into your brain and poison it."

Draco stared straight into the mirror, where he had a full view of the bathroom.

"Not that I would mind, of course. But I'm sure the hair products market would crash."

The voice was coming from right behind him.

Whirling around, he didn't know he was face-to-face with Harry Potter. He just saw the wall at the other side of the room.

Harry leaned in very close, and stuck out his tongue. Realizing he was acting slightly immature, he continued to watch the now frustrated Malfoy with great amusement.

Draco gave an exasperated sigh, and turned on the tap. Washing all of the gel off his hands, he leaned against the sink and stared into the mirror through long, messy blonde locks.

Harry leaned in again, so his head was hovering just over Malfoy's shoulder. Malfoy's angular face was tired and as white as a sheet. The dark circles under his dull blue eyes weren't very becoming either.

"Now there's a face only a mother could love." Harry remarked. Malfoy froze again, and Harry laughed. He abruptly stopped when Malfoy's head snapped to the side, as if trying to see the unseen, trying to force him to appear. Harry realized he was uncomfortably close to the other boy, and backed away.

"Sorry, love. I must be going." Harry spoke in his 'Mrs. Weasley voice', as he called it. He stepped through the door, smiling to himself. He hoped he'd shook Malfoy up quite a bit.

Back in the bathroom, Malfoy splashed cold water on his face, and stared back at his reflection (which, thankfully, wasn't magical), once again leaning on the sink.

He was going insane.

-----------------------------

End of Chapter Notes: Bwahahah. I enjoy torturing Draco. Well, I guess I sort of tortured Harry too by killing him off. I'm sure he doesn't mind though.

Things to keep in mind and/or look forward to until I get the next chapter up are:

-Harry's dead. (Wow, really?) And he has pretty wings. He's going to stay dead because I say so.

-Will Harry ever actually give a damn that he's dead? He seems undisturbed by the fact that he doesn't know how or why he died. What will his reaction be when he sees Hogwarts - along with the people he knows?

-Voldemort is still alive and well as he'll ever be. (Yay! Go Voldie, go Voldie…)

-Someone murdered our Harry-kins. WHO? (Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets by pressing on the keypad in front of you. No bets under $100 in any currency will be accepted. *is dragged away for illegal gambling*)

-There will be more excerpts from everyone's favorite Guardian Angel guide book.

-Draco will soon be carted off to the loony bin. (Well, not really. But it could happen. He's been hearing voices, you know.) This means he will be having a conversation with an invisible Harry.

-I love Snape. (…Wait. That came out wrong. I meant to say that we'll be seeing some of Sevvy-kins.)

Until next time, stay healthy and listen to the voices. It may just be your Guardian Angel, ne?