Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of his world. He is the possession of J.K. Rowling, who has done a terrific job nurturing him and bringing his universe to fruition (minus that crazy little lapse in judgment called an epilogue.)

Warning: This story contains harsh language, mild images of self-harm, and will eventually (probably within the next 2 or 3 chapters) contain explicit Slash scenes. You are warned. If you are bothered by any of these things, don't read my stuff.

And P.S- This is my first venture into the world of fan-fic! I would love to hear all of your opinions--but don't be too mean, if possible :) This may suck, I really hope it doesn't though!

And P.S.S- I am sure you are all smart enough to realize that the words in italics are Harry's thoughts, but I figured I would tell you to be sure. And he's supposed to be kind of crazy, so the thoughts may be a little manic sounding.

Okay, I'm done. Enjoy! Hopefully.


I woke to the dull humming of old florescent lights.

Uh oh, what did I do this time?

I tried lifting my arms only to find that they were strapped to the bed, confirming my suspicions. But what did I do to end up in solitary this time? I couldn't remember.

Think, dammit, think. What did I remember? I recalled sitting in the common room. I was...having a bit to eat and writing a letter to Ron.

Hmm...what else…Healer Davis came in to make an announcement. He said a new person would be joining our "circle."

I had laughed as he said that. Why did they insist on using such non-offensive, "PC" terms? Why didn't the call us what we really were? A bunch of crazies; a motley crew of teenagers that had for one reason or another, gone completely nutters. Pick an affliction, someone here has it and a slew of other problems.

PTSD sufferers, we've got 'em. Those oh-so-fun bi-polar loonies, got those too. Want a personality disorder? Throw a stone and you'll hit someone with one. Then of course we have your run of the mill schizos, kleptos, pyros, drunks, druggies, cutters, pukers, sociopaths--the list goes on.

Yet our group is referred to as a circle. A round unobtrusive thing with no harsh corners or sharp edges. Perfectly symmetrical and whole. Yeah, that sounds just like us.

But anyways, where was I, right, a new person was joining our "circle." Davis gave us the usual spiel about welcoming new friends and making them feel at home, blah, blah, blah. Then he left to get said "friend."

And then...hmm...that's it. That's all I've got. Why can't I remember anything else? Shit! Shit, shit, shit! That can't be good.

XXXXXXXXX

The sound of the first lock clicking open echoed throughout the empty shell of a room. It was followed by a patient, quiet rattling that grew louder and louder until it turned into a desperate pounding that shook the lights above me. The second lock always stuck.

And while the noise exacerbated the painful throbbing in my head, I was glad. Someone was coming to see me. Someone that could hopefully tell me why the hell I was here.

The lock continued to jiggle, and after a few irritated sighs from the other side of the door, it finally clicked and the door opened a small crack.

"Mr. Potter." It was Healer Davis. "May I come in?" I laughed at the pointless formality.

"Sure," I croaked. My throat was dry and felt like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't swallow to relieve the pain. My tongue was thick and the cottony sensation in my mouth left me barely able to talk, let alone do anything else. Surely a side-effect of whatever drug they had sedated me with.

"Thank you," Davis replied.

He pushed open the grey metal door and stepped into the room. I sighed. It was almost a crime for a man that beautiful to be surrounded by such dankness and squalor. Davis was a Grecian god; tall, long, sinewy muscles, blonde tousled hair and a perfect tan.

If the circumstances of our acquaintance had been anything other than doctor/severely fucked-up patient, I might have considered asking him out. But alas, my hands were tied.

"How are you feeling, Harry," he asked as he sat down at the foot of my bed.

"Well," I paused a moment to choose the best word to summarize my current state. "Inquisitive, I guess. For instance, I am wondering why I am in here."

"You don't remember?"

"No," I replied. "Not a thing."

The doctor eyed me suspiciously, trying to see if I was being truthful, for sure. After ogling me a moment, he seemed satisfied in what he saw, or didn't see, for that matter, and continued.

"Harry, you'll be fine if I undo the straps, right?"

I nodded.

He quickly unfastened each one and then held his hand out to help me sit up. I reached to grab it but stopped short. My eyes widened as I saw the thick white bandages that enveloped both of my forearms, elbow to wrist.

"Well, I'm guessing these have something to do with why I'm here," I said holding my arms in front of me.

"Yes, they do." He smiled. "Tell me Harry, what's the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

"Well..." I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest. "I remember you saying we were getting a new member. Then you left to get them....and that's it."

Davis wrinkled his brow in thought. I wished he wouldn't do that. The lines it created added years to his flawless face.

"So you don't remember me introducing our new member?"

"Nope." I popped my "p" for emphasis.

"Well Harry, I brought our new member into the common room. You were sitting at the table eating, nothing unusual. But when I began making introductions you took one look at him and started screaming. Then you snapped your spoon in half and started stabbing and cutting your arms with it."

I could feel the throbbing in my head start to intensify. The pain was radiating from the center of my brain outwards, crushing my ocular nerves and threatening to pop my eyes out of their sockets with each pulsation. I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off the pain, and to hopefully keep my eyes in place.

"But anyways, we eventually restrained you. You didn't go down without a fight though, and Wadsworth has quite the shiner to show for it."

"No," I breathed. This couldn't be happening. What the hell was going on? After the war, I had similar blackouts at least once a week. But it had been over a month since my last one. I thought I was getting better. I thought I was in control.

"And why do you think this happened?" I asked.

"Well, I had been hoping you could shed some light on that, but I guess not. I do have a theory though. I think you may know our new guest."

"Really, did you ask him if he knew me?"

"Well, I would have, but he hasn't spoken a single word since he got here. But I do know that he went to Hogwarts. And he is right about your age."

My mind was racing, my palms sweating. This wasn't supposed to happen! My previous life and this "life" (if you could call it that) were never supposed to cross paths. No one but my closest friends knew I was here, and I needed it to stay that way.

No one could know that the great Harry Potter had been reduced to nothing more than a crazy locked up alongside people that drool on themselves and eat their own hair. No one could know what had become of me. No one.

"Well," I breathed. "What is his name? Maybe if I know who he is I could better explain my reaction."

"Harry are you sure you want to know? The other healers and I have been talking. Maybe we could move him to another facility. We don't want anything to jeopardize your treatment. We only want what's best for you, and if his presence is going to hinder your progress in anyway, I think we can make other arrangements."

Who would have thought that some day one of the perks of being the wizard that destroyed Voldemort would be that I had clout in a loony bin?

"Davis, that's not necessary. I'm going to have to go back out in the real world someday and I am bound to run into people from my past. I can't hide forever."

"I know Harry, but.."

"But nothing," I interrupted. " I don't want special treatment. Don't send him away for my sake. I will get through this. Now tell me, what is his name?"

"His name," Davis sighed. "Is Draco Malfoy."


A/N: I hope that was enough to keep you interested! Crazy Harry dolls for those that review!