Mental

/CHAPTER I/ An Institution Introduction

Once on the other side of the door, white room behind him, Draco had only one thing on his mind…Escape.

He can’t possibly think I’m going to stay here. Now, how do I get out of this nut house?

You see, he had been so enraged at his father’s duplicitous action to put him in a mental hospital that he took no note of his surroundings on the way in.

He said we were going out for ice cream. I should have known. Stupid git.

Draco began to walk through what he assumed was the reception office at a hallway in front of him.

“One moment please.” A stern, old secretary behind a type-writer glared at him. “You need to be sorted.” Draco hadn’t even noticed her presents.

“Excuse me.”

“Come here young man.” No you’re creepy.

The secretary’s hair was pulled back in a tight bun and streaked with gray. He read the silver name plate on her desk: MRS. MCGONAGALL. Deciding it was best to indulge her he walked to her location next to the only window in the reception office. Although it was dark out Draco could see they were clearly seven stories up. Jumping won’t do.

The window was dressed with metal bars. Draco stood in front of the secretary’s desk feeling like a prisoner. Please let there be no uniforms.

She began to speak in an authorial tone. “As a new patient…”

“I’m not crazy.” He casually interrupted. He thought she should know.

“Right then.” Her beady eyes narrowed behind square glasses. “As a new non-crazy patient it is my job to inform you that…”

“Do I have to wear a uniform?”

“No. You can wear your regular clothes.” The secretary’s tone was harsh. Apparently she didn’t enjoy being interrupted.

“I haven’t got any.” His voice was spiteful. “I was forced here against my will. I’ve got no clothes!”

“I’m sure your father has made arrangements…”

“Am I to be naked? You’d like that wouldn’t you.”

Mrs. McGonagall had just about enough. She slammed her hand on the desk. “Mr. Malfoy! Are you quite finished?”

Draco stood arrogantly before her. “One more question.”

“What?”

“Can I go home?”

“No!” she shouted.

He cocked his head to the side. “Is it really wise for you to shout at people who are ‘supposedly’ mentally ill?” He offered putting supposedly in dramatic finger quotes.

“Mr. Malfoy, listen and listen well. I am to inform you that as new patient at Hogwarts mental rehabilitation center you may not leave the facilities or grounds until Dr. Dumbledore,” she motioned toward the white room, “signs off on your release. As a patient…”

Her voice trailed off in his mind. Instead of listening he chose to let his gaze wander. The reception office consisted of nothing but the secretary’s desk, a large number of locked file cabinets, and a coat rack that held a tartan jacket and a peculiar, old hat. The door he had come through was directly behind the secretary and marked with the number twelve.

“…patient confidentiality…you are here because you pose a threat to yourself as well as other individuals…you are currently being treated on the seventh floor which is for adolescent patients…high security level…with improvement you could be reassigned to another adolescent ward with a lower security level…” Her voice drifted in and out of his conscience. Does she really think I’m listening to her?

He stared directly at the secretary blurring his vision. A silver picture frame on her desk caught his eye. Having no sense of personal boundaries he picked it up, a tabby cat stared back at him. “This is by far the ugliest cat I have ever seen.”

“Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Malfoy. Now please put that down and listen to what you’re being told.” Her tone was harsh…he was getting to her.

He set the picture back down on the desk. It fell over.

Clearly disgruntled the secretary began again. “Care here will consist of individual and group therapy, medication prescribed by your doctors, and around-the-clock behavioral evaluation. Hold out your arm now.”

He stuck out his arm in front of the sitting woman. She took hold and fastened a dark green bracelet around his wrist. “I have to wear a bracelet…this is fucked up.”

“Watch your language Mr. Malfoy.”

“Sorry, this wristlet if fucked up.” Mrs. McGonagall had met a lot of kids in her days at Hogwarts, but this kid obviously had serious problems.

“Take note that your father’s signature has given us permission to use any means necessary to rehabilitate you.”

She gave it out like a challenge and Draco took it as such.

Draco began to clap, a slow, loud, penetratingly rude clap his gray eyes unblinking. “Well you told me.”

Unnerved, though she was, by his reaction Mrs. McGonagall remained firm in her secretarial position. “We’re done here. Someone will give you a tour of the facilities. All the way down the hall and to the right, good day.”

Before she had finished he was already making his way down the hall.

What a bitch.

No one would disagree that Draco wasn’t a people person. He treated all people with contempt and a suspicion bordering cruelty. That was his way.

The hallway he had been instructed to go down was a dull, cream color and lined with wooden doors. Each door bore a tiny metal plaque with a number.

Eleven, ten, nine… Draco counted down as he went along, fluorescent lights twittering above.

As he neared the end of the hall… three, two, one… the plain wooden doors stopped and so did Draco. Right in front of him was a large door. Holy shit.

To the left of him was solid wall, to the right another cream colored hallway without any doors, and behind him the stretch of numbered doors. But, in front of him was freedom.

The large door was bared and covered in a complex pattern of wire. It resembled a chain link fence but with holes the size of quarters rather then tennis balls. Through the tiny gaps of wire mesh Draco could see clearly an elevator and beyond that a door marked exit. Cha-Ching.

No doubt through the door marked exit would be a stairwell and at the bottom of the stairwell would be a fire exit to the outside. All he would have to do would be get through the metal door. Piece of cake.

Casually he pulled on the door. It didn’t move.

Draco scanned his immediate area making sure no one was around to stop him. Both hallways were deserted. He was completely alone. He yanked at it with force. It still didn’t move. He tried again. Damn it. Frustrated he shook the door with all his might.

Stupid…open…Piece of shit…Blast...move…

The lock that held the door closed was resolute in its position not to obey Draco’s incoherent commands to let him out.

Taking a deep breath Draco paced off down the numbered hallway. When he reached door three he rolled up his black sleeves, shook his legs, and thumbed his nose like a boxer. Then without warning he turned around sharply and made a run at the door. When he made contact with the door he rebounded backwards onto his butt and skidded across the lackluster, off-white linoleum floor. The metal mesh resonated loudly taunting him. Shut up!

He lifted his body off the floor, throw himself at the door, and began to scale it in a grand fashion, the way only a Malfoy could. With his hands gripping the mesh tightly and his shiny black shoes slipping off the wire making him do a funny sort of run in midair.

“Hello there.” Oh shit. Draco paused in his awkward hanging position. A stout boy in yellow pajama pants had popped up behind him. Draco let his feet fall to the floor and turned around slowly breathing heavily from exhaustion.

“You must be Draco Malfoy.” He stuck out a hand in welcome. “I’m Ernie McMillan.”

It’s one of the crazies. Don’t make any sudden movements. Draco remained frozen.

“You are Draco right?”

Lie! “No, you must have the wrong person. My name is …um...Philippe.”

Philippe? Great, now the nutter is going to think you’re a puff.

“I’m not gay.” Nice save.

An utterly confused Ernie lowered his declined hand. “Right.” His eyebrows rose.

Just then, marching down the hall came Mrs. McGonagall. She wore an annoyed expression on her face and carried a clipboard. When she reached the two boys she ripped something off the clipboard and stuck it firmly to Draco’s chest.

“Oh, Hello Mr. McMillan.” She acknowledged Ernie with a head nod and then walked back down the numbered hallway to her reception area.

Draco looked down at what the secretary had put on his shirt. It was a white sticker with a blue boarder that read: HELLO…MY NAME IS DRACO MALFOY.

Ernie looked at Draco with an air of satisfaction. Draco ripped off the name tag and stuck it to the wall with a thud.

“Right, now that we have established that I’m this Malfoy person, how do you get out of here?”

“You don’t.”

“I don’t think you understand I’m not staying here.”

“Look, chum. I’m supposed to show you around. After that you can do whatever you like.” With that he headed off down the door-less hallway with a funny sort of stride. Not knowing what else to do Draco followed.

What a pompous, little crazy.

“The door you were climbing back there is indeed the only exit, however, only the staff members have keys to open it.”

Why does he have to walk like that?

Draco made a mental note to blackmail Ernie into not revealing the events that had just transpired to the rest of the crazies. After all, he was Draco Malfoy and although he was in the loony bin he demanded a certain level of fear and respect from other people.

Draco and Ernie continued along the hallway passing a solitary large portrait hanging on the wall that contained four figures. Draco paused to look at it briefly and then hurried to catch up with Ernie.

“So, how do you know whose crazy and who’s a staff member?”

“Staff members wear white uniforms or if they’re doctors they wear white coats. Oh, and it’s probably not a good idea to go around calling people crazy in here.”

Only a crazy person would say that. “How bout nutter?”

“No.”

“Loony?”

“No.”

“Cuckoo?” He even did the eyes to accompany this one.

“No.”

“Mentally unstable?”

“No.” Ernie stopped walking and turned to face Draco. “Try our names.”

Caught off guard Draco ran into Ernie. “I’m not learning anyone’s name. I’m only going to be here a little while you whacko.” Immediately Draco began brushing himself off as if he might catch whatever mental illness Ernie had.

Ernie watched Draco pat himself down. “I can’t wait till you meet Ron.” He remarked and then continued down the hallway.

Draco chased after Ernie. “Who’s wrong? Certainly not me…”

They reached the end of the hallway which opened into a huge room. Draco lost his train of thought as his eyes took in the sight before him.

The room was massive, probably five times that size of the average living room. The space was cream colored like elsewhere and the florescent lights above gave it a bland glow. Across the way were two large windows that took up most of the wall. They were barred of course. Facing them was an old, burgundy couch. To the right of the couch nestled in a lonely corner, was a metal door with a tiny window crudely painted white. What’s behind that door?

The room itself was an odd mix of tables, armchairs, benches, couches, and other random furnishings. At first there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it, yet upon further inspection certain areas of the room seemed to pertain to a certain activities.

“This is the common room,” Ernie explained as he led Draco in. “It’s divided into four sections. “Over there’s the telly…” He pointed to an area with a sad excuse for a television and an even sadder excuse for a couch. “…we take our meals over there…” It was an area with four long tables accompanied by benches. “…games and books are over there…” This area was furnished with two round wooden tables, three ratty armchairs, and shelves that contain few books and even fewer games. “…and arts and crafts are over that way.” The last area had cabinets along the wall, three more of those wooden tables, and was decorated with art created by the hospitals inhabitants.

“That’s it?” Draco was not impressed. He was used to living in a spacious mansion. The idea that he had to stay in a place festooned with crazy people’s cut-and-paste masterpieces was laughable.

“Yep that’s it,” stated Ernie.

“I’m staying here? In this place?”

“Actually, most patients prefer to stay in there rooms.” Wonder why.

Draco took notice that there were two boys in the room besides him and Ernie. Neither of them got up from what they were doing.

“Exactly how many crazies do I have to deal with?”

“On this floor there are fifteen patients, now sixteen,” he pointed to Draco.

“Wonderful, just great.” Draco rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Well, where is everybody?”

“Probably sleeping it’s one in the morning.” The starlit sky outside the vast windows showed this to be true.

“What’s that room?” Draco motioned to the white, metal door he had noticed on the way in.

“Padded room. You don’t want to end up in there.” Draco raised an eyebrow in interest, but before he could ask more about the room a short boy with mousy brown hair tapped Ernie repeatedly on the arm.

Ernie turned to the boy. “This is Colin Creevey.” Ernie informed Draco. It’s a midget.

“Hello, hi, hello. How are you? I’m fine. Good to meet you. Have you played with the glitter yet? I love glitter. Yep, glitters fun. It’s over there in the third cabinet.” He pointed to the arts and crafts area. “They have every color: blue, purple, green, gold, red…”

What is wrong with this kid.

“..orange, blue. Blue! Wait I’ve already said that one. Do you like the color blue? I…”

This is ridiculous. Draco wasn’t going to put up with this little spaz. “Shut Up!”

“What you don’t like glitter. Try some.” Colin shoved his hand into his pocket and withdraw a handful of blue glitter. He then proceeded to throw it up in the air. “Ha ha.” The glitter fell all over Draco covering him from head to toe.

He did not just mess with my hair.

“What the hells wrong with you?” Draco grabbed for Colin, who ducked behind Ernie.

Ernie shielded Colin. “Draco leave him alone.”

“No. He’s annoying the shit out of me. Look at me I’m covered in blue glitter.”

Draco began to brush off the glitter with both hands. Colin came out from behind Ernie to help. He put a hand to Draco’s shoulder to brush off some glitter. Draco made a grab for the short boy again. Colin was too quick and ran away down the hallway with the portrait of the four figures laughing hysterically.

“He’s got attention deficit hyper active disorder, ADHD. Of course he’s annoying,” was all Ernie could say to an extremely pissed off Draco.

Suddenly a loud cough echoed through the common room. Draco looked for the source and his eyes landed on the only other patient in the room. A round-faced boy who sat on the couch in front of a blank telly. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Neville. He has dissociate amnesia.” Ernie saw a look of puzzlement cross the blonde’s face. “He forgets things because he can’t cope with reality. Hey Neville.” Ernie move to the couch and sat down next to the confused looking boy. Draco moved over to the couch but chose to remain standing.

“Do I know you?” Neville asked as he looked at Ernie.

“Yeah, its Ernie remember?”

“Okay then.” Neville’s eyes fell on Draco next. “Do I know you too?”

“No.” And I don’t want you to.

Draco noticed that Neville wore a red bracelet. He looked at Ernie, his bracelet was yellow.

“So, what’s with the bracelets?”

Neville looked at his arm and was startled to see something there. “Where’d this come from?”

“They are classification bracelets,” said Ernie ignoring Neville. “They are inscribed with numbers and a computer chip that stores information about us. That way we can be transferred easily from one ward to the next or if we go astray…”

“Do people get transferred a lot?” A new escape plan had just entered Draco’s mind.

“No. You see we, here on the seventh floor, are extreme cases.” Draco frowned as his plan deflated. “As for the color of the classification bracelets it has something to do with what you’re diagnosis is, but I don’t know what.”

“What’s your diagnosis?” Draco demanded of Ernie.

“Obsessive compulsive disorder.” Suddenly why Ernie walked oddly became clear to Draco. He had been avoiding the cracks between the linoleum tiles.

“How do you find out what your diagnosis is?” Draco struggled with this question thinking there couldn’t be anything wrong with him. At least not like these two and the Creevey boy… they were nuts.

“You have to have what the doctors call a breakthrough.” Ernie stated simply. “You have to acknowledge there is a problem before you can know what it is.”

“Whatever. Where is my room? I’m tired of our little question-and-answer thing.”

Ernie stood up from the couch. “To the left are the boy’s dormitories and to the right are the girl’s dormitories. Ernie motioned like a flight attendant toward two corridors at the far end of the room. So there are girl crazies. That might be fun...

“Follow me Malfoy.” Ernie headed of towards the boy’s corridor. Draco took one last look at a confused Neville who was pulling at his bracelet before he followed Ernie into the corridor.

Down the boy’s corridor there were several doors on both sides. All were closed as the hour warranted. Unlike the doors in the numbered hallway these bore letters. “Your in room ‘E’,” informed Ernie. ‘E’ for excellent.

As they walked down the boy’s corridor a raven haired boy stepped out from behind one of the many doors, shut it with a click, and headed straight for them. “Oh, great,” sighed Ernie.

“Hi,” said the boy when he reached their location. “I was just on my way to astronomy.” Draco choked down a laugh. Man that kids got untidy hair.

“Hello Harry. This is Draco Malfoy. Draco this is Harry Potter.”

Draco didn’t feel like dealing with anymore crazies today. He wanted to know where his room was so he could be alone.

What is that on his forehead? Suddenly his room could wait.

“What’s that?”

Harry’s hand flew to his forehead before he responded. “It’s a scar.”

“Oh no,” whispered Ernie.

“No it’s not,” said Draco approaching Harry for a closer look.

“Yes it is,” responded Harry.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it’s a scar.”

“It’s a scar. Leave it.” Ernie pleaded. Draco didn’t step down.

“No it’s marker. You did that with marker. You draw a lightning bolt on your forehead with marker. I do believe that is the stupidest thing I have ever seen.” Draco burst out laughing.

This made Harry reach into his pocket and produce something that made the situation far worse.

“What’s with the stick?”

“It’s his wand,” answered Ernie.

Draco couldn’t help it, this was hilarious. A boy with untidy hair and a markered forehead was pointing a stick at him. “What do you think you’re a wizard or something?”

Ernie, sensing trouble, disappeared into one of the rooms off the corridor.

“That’s right.” He stuck his wand right in the laughing blonds face. Something about this guy just angered Draco to his core.

Draco smirked at him. “Potter is it. The only thing magic about you is that marker you used to drawl on your forehead.” With that Draco knocked the wand from Harry’s hand and took a swing at him. Harry dodged the punch and wrestled Draco to the ground.

Harry looked down at the blond with contempt. “All Slytherin are just the same,” he spat.

“What did you call me?” Draco flipped Harry over and punched him in the stomach. Harry gasped for breath and returned the punch hitting Draco upside the head.

The noise of their dispute had attracted some attention. Two tall, ginger headed orderlies in white uniforms appeared at the end of the corridor to investigate the disturbance.

Noticing the orderlies, Draco and Harry froze.

When the orderlies reached the battle ground Draco realized they were identical. The twin orderlies looked from Harry to Draco. Wicked smiles spread across their faces. “New arrival.” They canted together before they captured Draco in a tight hold and lifted him off of Harry.

“Don’t touch me! It’s that mental defect with stick that’s at fault! I’m not crazy!” Draco shouted as he struggled against the twin orderlies.

“Sure.” The first twin commented.

“Right.” The second twin added.

Then they spoke in unison rolling their eyes. “That’s what they all say.” Draco grappled harder against their hold. They had grabbed him under the arms and were leading him backwards to the common room with his body still facing the end of the boy’s corridor.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me! This is a mistake I’m not supposed to be here. Get your hands off of me!” In response to his demands and increasing resistance the twins merely tightened their grip on his upper arms.

The squeak of Draco’s shoes being dragged across the floor echoed down the corridor. “My father will hear about this.” Draco fixed his eyes on the shrinking figure of the raven haired boy. Harry had retrieved his stick and was holding it aloft in front of him ready to attack. This only fueled Draco’s rage.

“What about scar-head back there? He started it. Where are you taking me?” Draco continued to protest, but it was no use from his backward position.

Moments later the slamming of a door and the click of a lock signified Draco’s admittance into padded hell. He was in the room Ernie had warned him about. An eight by eight room clad wall to wall in sky blue padding. Even his side of the door was padded blue except for the tiny window. Out of despair he fell to the floor face down; luckily that was padded too. He flipped himself over with a groan.

So there he was, on his first nights stay in a mental institution, locked in a room, lying spread eagle on the ground, face throbbing, and still covered in an absurd amount of blue glitter. At that moment Draco Malfoy made a vow never to eat ice cream again, while a bushy haired brunette watched him through the tiny window in the door.