Disclaimer: Nope, sorry, don't own Harry Potter!

Warning: slash, slight themes of angst, lots of humor and insanity

To Be Insane, Or Not To Be Insane

Draco, Prince of Slytherin

By: Roslyn Drycof

No.

I can't.

I refuse.

I absolutely will not.

There is no force on heaven and earth that can make me do this.

. . . what?

No.

They wouldn't.

They can't.

Mother!

Please, stop this!

Don't just stand there!

I don't care if father is gone!

I'm your son!

I have to do something or soon I'm going to be one of those monsters in the ugly masks!

Shit . . . think, Draco, think!

Hamlet!

Hamlet?

Where the fuck did that come from? Oh, nevermind! Think of something useful!

Hey, wait a minute. Hamlet! Hamlet pretended to be insane!

Yes!

I can do that and the Dark Lord will think I'm too insane to be a proper Death Eater! All I have to do is be a harmless, idiotic insane and not evil, sadistic insane.

Okay.

I can do that.

Hopefully.

Draco Malfoy wasn't second in his class for nothing. Ever quick thinking, he stared at his Aunt Bellatrix and the Dark Lord, a plan rapidly forming in his head. They were waiting for his reply at the Dark Lord's request, otherwise known as an ultimatum, to join the ranks of the Death Eaters circled around them. They knew he would accept; he was a smart boy and Lucius had taught him well. He would accept. There was no doubt.

Then why was he taking so bloody long?

A smile suddenly curved the boy's lips and he giggled. "Of course I'll join you! Ooh, it'll be so fun to go around making people quake in fear! All I have to do is wave my wand, give out a few Avadas, and I'll be the best Death Eater you've ever seen!"

Now, all those gathered in Malfoy Mansion immediately suspected the boy of acting. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to act insane to get out of being initiated into the ranks. They had realized their error soon enough. After a few Crucios and some Veritaserum, they had cracked and the truth was told. The Dark Lord even had a special supply of the truth serum on his person at all times for just this purpose.

"Malfoy, I will not tolerate defiance such as this! Halt your nonsense!" the greatest Dark Wizard of the age shouted, his eyes narrowing in fury at the blond-haired boy in front of him.

Draco tilted his head to the side and said, quite brightly, "But I want to be a Death Eater! How can that be defiance if defiance would be to refuse your generous invitation? I would never defy you, for the glory of being one of your followers is so great that I have often wondered if I am worthy enough to be initiated. To have you here in my home, asking me to join you, is a dream I can scarcely imagine!"

Then, abruptly, he strode over to sideboard and uncapped a crystal decanter of brandy. Very efficiently, he poured the expensive liquid into a glass. Then he walked over to Voldemort and held out the full glass to the tall, imposing man. "Would you like a drink, my lord? It's a special brand that the Malfoys secretly produce on one of our smaller estates. I find it quite delicious."

Everyone held their breath. What trick was the boy trying to pull? Was the brandy poisoned? No, it couldn't be, for Malfoy took a sip and held it out again to show that it was perfectly normal. Then why in the hell was he offering a glass of alcohol to their master? This was odd, very odd. Could he really be shy a marble or two?

The Dark Lord frowned at Malfoy, but took the glass. "What kind of game are you playing at, Malfoy?"

"Game? Oh, I love games. I read about this one muggle game where the children hold hands and go around in a circle. I believe they sing something like this:

Ring around the rosy,

Pocket full of posy

Ashes to ashes,

We all fall down!"

Draco sang the children's rhyme in a soft, lilting voice, spinning around in a circle with his arms held out as if to hold imaginary hands. He looked so innocent, so guileless, that everyone in that room truly believed that he had gone mad.

His mother fainted.

Bellatrix fumed. Now the boy had ruined her chance at staying in her position as the favored one! The Dark Lord had been planning on rewarding her for suggesting that the brat would be a good replacement for Lucius, and now? Now everything was ruined! Ruined!

Voldemort inwardly sighed. The boy looked truly mad. Perhaps his father's incarceration had addled his brain's more than he had suspected. Drat! Now he couldn't initiate the poor fool. Every wizard worth his salt knew that to let an idiot anywhere near a wand was asking for trouble. Insane wizards tended to lose control of their magic and produce less than desirable results, such as fluffy bunnies, talking trash cans, and the like. He had once had a follower somehow magically remove his spleen and make it so the dratted thing danced around and sang horrible show tunes. And that Lockhart fellow, locked up in St. Mungo's? He'd heard stories about that fellow's escapades and they weren't pretty.

"Malfoy, I've decided to retract my offer. You don't deserve to be a Death Eater," he told the boy, who was now sitting on the floor and tying his shoelaces together.

Draco jumped up, nearly falling over as his shoelaces tightened. He was shaking and looked quite distraught. "But you said I could! You can't do this to me! I need to go around and make people pay for being idiot muggles and mudbloods! I need to show Granger how a pureblood is ten times more superior than a mudblood! And I want to kill Potter for you! I'll do it! I'll get him for you to prove I'm worthy!"

Voldemort suddenly had visions of waking up one day to find Potter standing over his bed, his wand out, and Malfoy saying that he'd brought him Potter, so could he please be a Death Eater now. Hiding a shudder, the Dark Lord raised his wand and shook it threateningly. "You will do no such thing, Malfoy! I have my own plans for the wretch and they do not involve such a disgrace as you!"

The boy broke out into tears. "I'm not a disgrace!"

"You will obey me!" Voldemort bellowed, his eyes blazing at the hysterical youth. He threw the half-empty glass of brandy against the wall and it shattered. Pity. That was a very fine brandy. Perhaps he could order Narcissa to hand over that small estate to him so that he could partake of the delicious drink again.

Draco nodded, running a hand across his eyes. Then he let out a choked sob and ran from the room, or at least he attempted to. His tied-together shoelaces caused him to trip and fall flat on his face. The assembled Death Eaters had to hold in their sniggers at the sight. What an idiot!

The silver-eyed boy, his face red from embarrassment, quickly untied his shoelaces, got up, and this time successfully ran out of the room. Then he hid on the stairs and waited for the meeting to end and the Death Eaters to Apparate away.

He didn't have to wait long. Five minutes later, there was a loud Pop! And the Death Eaters were gone. Sighing with relief at his plan miraculously working, he quietly tiptoed up the stairs and into his rooms so that his mother wouldn't catch him looking perfectly normal.

Once inside his spacious bedroom, he collapsed onto his king-sized bed and stared up at the emerald green canopy. Fuck, that had been hard. He'd had to let down every mask he'd ever erected to act like he had no dignity. Since he'd been conscious of his stature in life and how he was supposed to behave since the age of eight, it had been tough.

Lying, staring up at the silky fabric that always reminded him of Potter's eyes, Draco realized with horror that now he would have to keep up his charade until the war was over. Fuck! School started in two weeks! How was he supposed to pretend to be a complete, raving nutter until then?

Oh, I'm screwed, he thought, morosely.

Three days later, Draco was sitting in a cheery office in the psychiatric wing of St. Mungo's. His mother had scheduled him to see a therapist in the hopes that Draco could be returned to normal. Unfortunately, she knew it probably wouldn't happen, as Draco's behavior had only gotten worse since the meeting with the Dark Lord.

Two days ago, he had been caught by a house elf on the roof attempting to fly without a broom. When asked why he simply didn't go get his broom, which was sitting in his room, he replied that he wanted to fly like a hippogriff did, and hippogriff's did not use brooms. Luckily, Sooky had managed to alert Narcissa to his escapade before he could actually leap off the roof. Imagine what a disaster that would have been, trying to explain to the Ministry that her son had fallen to his death off the roof because he wanted to fly like a hippogriff.

Yesterday, he decided that he didn't like being a boy and had turned himself into a forty year old woman. Suffice to say, he didn't like that either. Unfortunately, it took Narcissa three hours to return him to his normal state. And then he started walking on the ceiling. It scared the living daylights out of her to hear a noise and suddenly find Draco standing right above her. That happened several times, and dinner was ruined because he terrified the poor kitchen house elves so badly that they punished themselves for five hours straight.

This morning, thank Merlin, he had only turned his hair emerald green. He said he liked the color because it reminded him of Potter's eyes and wasn't Potter just adorable? Yes, that had frightened Narcissa because who knows what Draco would do if he actually liked the boy? Visions of floating hearts stalking Potter and Draco singing bad poems atop the staff table in the Great Hall plagued Narcissa.

She hoped the therapist would be able to do something. Even just controlling his insanity would be a great help!

And so, she kissed her son on the cheek and told him she'd be back in two hours. He merely grinned at her and started twirling his green hair. She sighed and left.

Draco looked around the therapist's office and saw that there was one other patient in the room. This patient was in a straight jacket and was facing the wall. He appeared to be having a very lively, although one-sided, conversation with that same wall. Draco had to hide a sneer at his idiocy, because Draco himself was playing the idiot and idiots didn't sneer at others' idiocy. Dear Merlin, he had just used the same word four times in the same sentence. Was this pretend insanity actually starting to affect his brain? He hoped not. He wanted to be normal when this was all over with.

"Oh, hello there!" a bright voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see the patient in the straight jacket attempting to wave at him through the thick material of the straight jacket.

Draco decided it would be fun to play the arrogant fool. "I do not wish to talk to you. Go back to your wall."

The man, who had bright blond hair and was in his late thirties, frowned. "Hey, that's mean. And George went to sleep."

He'd named the wall? Okay, it was official. This guy was insane.

Wait. Didn't he look familiar? Oh dear Merlin, it was Lockhart!

"Lockhart!" he blurted out.

The man rolled his eyes. "I don't know why everyone persists in calling me that. My name is Rooney, not Lockhart."

Rooney? "What the hell kind of name is Rooney?"

Lockhart pouted. "I like it. What's your name? I like your hair."

"Draco."

His old professor started giggling maniacally. "Ahaha! Draco! That's a funny name! Dray-kho!"

Draco, who had always been sensitive about his name, growled in anger. How dare that fool laugh at his name! He decided that because he was insane, an insane person wouldn't care that he would get in trouble for attacking another patient. Thus, he pulled out his wand and waved it a few times, muttering, "Fligellus Mytomis!"

Lockhart, or Rooney as the man called himself, began to float in the air. He started spinning around in circles, glowing purple. Instead of being mad, he started laughing even harder. "Whee!"

The receptionist, who had not been paying attention until now, shrieked. "Mr. Malfoy! Put him down this instant!"

Draco looked at her and then waved his wand again. He turned her into a teacup. The spinning Lockhart found it hilarious and started shrieking merrily. "Teacup! Teacup Lady! Mahahaha!"

The door to the office suddenly opened and two people walked in. One was Arthur Weasley and the other was Harry Potter. Both froze as soon as they took in the scene. Spinning, laughing insanely Lockhart. Innocent looking Draco Malfoy. What the bloody hell?

After a moment, Arthur unfroze and pulled out his wand. Within seconds, Lockhart had stopped spinning and was sitting back in his seat. The blond-haired man gave him a nasty look and said, "Party pooper. Ooh, I'm dizzy. Eurgh." He looked a bit ill, then.

Mr. Weasley turned to gaze at Draco with suspicion in his eyes. "Mr. Malfoy, what is the meaning of this?"

Draco crossed his arms, put his nose in the air, and said, quite snootily, "He was annoying me."

"He's mentally disabled! You could get in real trouble for using magic against him!" the Ministry employee reprimanded.

The green-haired youth snorted. "I think you'll find that the Ministry could not charge me with any misuse of magic as they have decided that I am lacking in the capability of making judgements about morality and such. I, of course, have no inkling as to why they believe this insane notion, but I think the Dark Lord must have a hand in convincing them that I am unworthy of respect. Insane, moi? Indeed!"

Arthur stared at the boy. "Insane? What is the meaning of that?"

Draco shrugged. "Okay, so I attempted to fly off my roof a couple days ago. If hippogriffs can do it, why can't I? And yes, maybe I did accidentally turn myself into forty-year-old woman. I don't see why they think walking on the ceiling is so bad, though. It's actually a quite interesting experience."

Harry, who had been silent the entire time, started laughing. He was attempting to hold the laughter in, but wasn't succeeding. Draco thus glared at him. "I don't see what's so funny, Potter. There's got to be something wrong with you since you're here, too!"

The Gryffindor stopped laughing, although a grin still curved his lips. He shrugged and said, "I've developed some weird phobia where I can't do magic anymore. And my therapist says I have some sort of magical bipolar disorder that is sometimes seen in patients suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Hey, where's Lorna?"

"Lorna?" Draco crinkled his nose. He had no idea who that was, and he was currently busy going over what Potter had just said. He couldn't do magic? But that was bad! He couldn't defeat the Dark Lord and win the war if he couldn't do magic!

Lockhart decided to impart his wisdom here. "Teacup Lady! Mahahaha!"

Harry furrowed his brow at his former professor. "Teacup Lady? What do you mean, Rooney?"

The man in the straight jacket nodded his head at the receptionist's desk, still laughing maniacally. "Teacup Lady!"

Harry looked at the desk, but only saw a teacup sitting there. Teacup Lady? What the-

He turned to look at Malfoy, who had an interesting expression on his features. It was one of complete innocence, and completely fake. "Malfoy, what happened?"

"Nothing."

Harry snorted, and Arthur frowned at the Malfoy heir. "Mr. Malfoy, I insist that you tell the truth."

Draco started singing to himself.

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer

Had a very shiny nose

And if you ever saw it,

You would even say it glows –

Hey! Whatcha do that for?"

Harry had kicked him in the shin. "I felt like it. Besides, its August, not December."

"I know that! But I like that song!"

Arthur saw a fight coming, and so he circumvented it. "Mr. Malfoy, I'll ask you again. Where's the receptionist?"

Draco rolled his eyes and pointed at the teacup. "Lockhart told you already."

Lockhart protested, "My name's Rooney!"

Mr. Weasley and Harry looked at the teacup again. Was Draco completely off his rocker? They knew he looked insane, but to be so crazy as to think a teacup was Lorna?

"That's a teacup, Malfoy," Harry said, snorting in amusement.

Draco sighed, frustrated. "Of course it is! I turned the stupid receptionist into a teacup because she her shrieking was annoying."

Mr. Weasley strode over to the desk and picked up the teacup. Well, it did bear a kind of resemblance to Lorna.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And why was she shrieking?"

"Because I was spinning Lockhart."

"My name's Rooney!"

"Finite Incantatum!" Arthur had pulled out his wand and turned Lorna back into a human. She looked terrified and muttered, "I quit. I can't stand crazy people!"

Draco thus said, "That's not politically correct, you know. We are not "crazy people". We are human beings who just happen to have mental conditions that prevent us from behaving as society believes normal people should behave."

"Bravo! Don't you agree, George?" Lockhart called out, turning to face the wall.

The Slytherin pointed at the man in the straight jacket. "He, however, is completely and utterly insane."

"Hey!"

Lockhart's shouted protest was ignored as both Harry and Draco burst into laughter. Yes, Lockhart was crazy. Hell, he'd been crazy even before the screwed up Obliviate had addled his brains.

And then again . . .

A deep voice came out of nowhere and said, "Please do not insult Rooney like that. He's my friend."

"Hi, George! You're awake!" Lockhart shouted with glee. He would have been clapping his hands if he was able, but the straight jacket prevented that.

While the two sane and other two who were marginally sane people stared at the wall, their mouths agape, the deep voice answered, "Yes, and my nap was quite refreshing. I had a most interesting dream. Would you like to hear it?"

And as the wall named George began telling his dream to a rapt Lockhart, also known as Rooney, Harry turned to Draco and whispered, "I think I must be going mad. Is that wall actually talking?"

Draco nodded dumbly. "Well, you're here aren't you?"

He did have a point.

A/N: Oh yes, this insane story is for real. What do you think? I started writing it in study hall because I was so bored, and I'm reading Hamlet in English class, so boredom/Hamlet insanity. I thought, I could really go somewhere with this. And I will. This story won't merely be a pointless humor fic. It does have substance, as Draco, behind his mask of insanity, will help Harry through his own mental problems. But don't worry, there will be loads of insanity along the way to fixing Harry's phobia of performing magic.

What do you think? Review!

Sneak Peek at Next Chapter:

Harry and Draco featured as . . . rocks. Wait. Rocks?

Draco reintroduces himself to the other two-thirds of the Gryffindor Trio. Oh boy.

A banana named Cocomo. Huh?

And lots, lots more!