Vonne: I would LOVE to get down to regular business now, so, with that being said, here we go...

MCLanna: Thank you! As I've said before, I really appreciate when people come back and review this, despite already knowing what happens up until chapter 19. I realize that there are a lot people new to this story, as well. But, still, you know?

Le Candeh: Thank you very, very much!

Cherie26: Of course I'll update this as soon as possible. I realize that, for some people, it's fourth of July. But ever since I moved out of the United States, I haven't celebrated much of the 4th! So, with that being said, I will accept that it is a holiday for some people and hope that, once they've all celebrated with their liquor and booze, they come home happy to find that yet another chapter has been posted for 'Basket Case'. And that, of course, would make a very joyful July 4th! Happy birthday, America!

Linda: Thank you!

Solemn City: I did notice, and I was wondering- but it's totally fine. I'm flattered. It's funny cause, while they are similar, they are also pretty different. I mean, I can read MINDS! ;)

Kyvnn: Sure! Definitely! I hope that you enjoy/re-enjoy this chapter!


Chapter Two:
All the Mad Men

"Just relax, Mr. Malfoy, just breathe." The tall and slender woman seated opposite Draco Malfoy spoke in nothing but proper cliches.

Hands tucked into his lap, Draco was actually proud of himself that he'd managed to get this far, despite Goyle's own personal persistence. Still, for the life of him he couldn't remember the woman's name. There she was, scrutinizing him lightly, the little floating quill and paper up by her right ear. All things considered, what's-her-name was far too professional for Draco's fancy. And, additionally, she was typical. Every couple of moments, she raised her brows, scribbled down a couple of notes, and paused as if to continue her scrutiny. However, it was the mere idea of therapy that unnerved Draco the most. No matter how long she stared at him for, how many notes she scribbled down, nothing could beat the fact that he was, of all things, sitting before her permitting it.

The therapist crossed her legs at her ankles, made herself comfortable. Well, good for her, but Draco Malfoy was not relaxing as easily. With his clammy palms between his knees, he watched her watch him, almost blatantly unsure as to what to do next. But he was not left to take the plunge. "Your friend Greg sounded very eager to see that you would pay me a visit," she informed Malfoy with a slight smile. Malfoy's face fell in response. "Looks like everyone's rooting for you, Draco. It's a good thing you came back. I think that proves that you're willing to take the first step." Galer! That was it, Elaine Galer.

Leaning back, Elaine Galer, the typical therapist, made motion for her quill to take more notes. "Is there anything you want to tell me, Mr. Malfoy?" Draco's blood ran cold. Why he'd been so put off by the question was completely unbeknownst to him, however, he wasn't really sure he even knew how to answer it. Did he have something to tell her besides the obvious? He'd been hearing and seeing things that weren't really there. But he should have been able to say that out loud, knew that sooner or later he would have to. Now, however, was a different story.

He said instead, "before we get too far in, let's make one thing clear: once upon a time, I liked myself."

But Eliane is far too professional to let a comment go unnoticed. Tilting her head, even her quill stops mid sentence. "Oh?" she says calmly, "and how long ago was that?"

An entirely new bit of nervousness crept over Malfoy. Still, he wasted no time in answering her question. "Six years ago," he told her, more prepared to answer than she would ever even know.

"That's a long time, Mr. Malfoy," Galer noted, thus sending her quill back to note taking spasms. Draco's eyes watched the feathered thing, trying not to think about what it was she was writing down. Truthfully, he thought, it took a specific type of person to attend a therapy session. Someone who could just say such personal things to a complete stranger was, quite honestly, a unique individual. And Malfoy had never considered himself this special type of person. But despite his unease, there was something almost forcing him to do so. Invisible though it was, he knew it had to be done. Besides his nausea, he felt, in fact, that he was doing what seemed like an adequate job at being vulnerable. "Okay," Galer concluded, looking just as serene as ever, "now, I understand you've been having some nightmares recently."

Draco's face drained of any possible color. Goyle. That slimy bastard. He'd hex him the next time he saw him. "I... I'm not-"

"Relax," echoed Galer, once again, "just relax, Mr. Malfoy." While her smile was still present, Malfoy couldn't help but feel even more uncomfortable around her professional exterior. Why was it that talking to Hermione was much easier? Once upon a time, he'd loathed her. But now was different and, shifting slightly, he tried to pretend that Hermione was somewhere close to him in the room. Fingers at his trouser pockets, he felt for the silly little radio. "The one about Voldemort?" she offered, looking slightly sympathetic, "can you tell me about that? What significance does this have to you?"

"It doesn't," Malfoy told him, and this was far from the truth. Galer, however, didn't buy it, but she did not say anything to signify that she planned to press the subject. Instead she only nodded, silently waiting for him to continue on. Looking up, Draco talked with his hands. "I'm standing in the middle of my house and the roof is half way gone. And," he said, feeling even more ill than before, "and." Perhaps it was too soon for a therapy appointment. Perhaps Draco was right- he just wasn't the therapy type of person in the first place. "The sky is twisting above me... I'm sorry, do you have to write this down?"

A slight pause made Draco's heart skip a beat. Eliane Galer's face was blank and curious at the same time. "I'm only here to help you," she said slowly, as if trying to tip toe around any sort of sore subject. "You only have to tell me what you want to tell me. My notes, on the other hand... they're for my eyes only and they're just that- notes."

The snow outside was falling gracefully on the building's old attributes. Touching the large fountain outside, the water floating in its contents seemed like it was in risk of freezing over. Though the room was only a small one, perhaps somewhat like the size of an average apartment building, the yard out back was a considerably long one fenced off with a thick black gate. Noting the gate door, he considered leaving the place altogether. He could leave, but what would leaving prove? "I'm standing in the living room," he continued, looking down at his feet, "and through the hole in the roof I can see the sky, which is this deep blue." Draco swallowed something hard in his throat. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair. All his nervous habits, they didn't help as much as he'd anticipated. Over and over to himself, he tried to focus on fact: he was twenty-two years old and these dreams, like it or not, were his. He'd dreamt them, now why couldn't he say them out loud?

"It's windy out, storming even, and the wallpaper is scratched off so that the wood is showing on the other side. And I-I c-can hear my father screaming someplace off in the kitchen and... and V-Voldemort, too." Eliane Galer didn't flinch. How strange it was to say the sole name out loud that, so recently, everyone cowered over. Now, however, it seemed like the whole idea of the situation had turned around completely. Draco Malfoy was the only one still uncomfortable saying it. In the dark room of her office, all Draco could hear was the scratching of her quill from the walls around him. Someone in the next room, the waiting room, screamed and then something heavy fell over. Draco winced, but it was Galer who carried on as if such things were ordinary, everyday issues. Responsively, Draco's face flushed. He didn't want to tell her this part, but something pushed him to do so: "And Dumbledore's there, too."

"Dumbledore," Galer repeated, nodding. Nothing seemed to phase her. This woman, it seemed, was used to such madness. "What is Dumbledore doing?"

Malfoy slouched slightly in his seat, feeling instantly humiliated. He'd made up his mind; he was going to kill Goyle the very moment he'd walked out Eliane Galer's daunting office door. "D-Dumbledore's at the end of the hall and I can just barely see him but... but I know it's him." Shakily, Malfoy pressed his face in his hands, almost too humiliated to even look Galer back in the eye. This dream, this nightmare, it was only one out of one hundred. "And he's d-dying, screaming things out to my over V-Voldemort's s-screaming."

"What's Albus Dumbledore saying, Draco?" she pressed on, looking up at the paper and then back at Draco. Couldn't she see that he didn't like this? Or, rather, did it not matter? Either way, stopping was not an option. He'd promised himself, promised Hermione...

Draco felt the instant sting of something freshly large in the depths of his throat. "He's asking me to let him help me."

"And?" Galer asked, undaunted by his sudden feeling of heavy despair. Her voice isn't demanding, but failingly careful. She was only there to assist, but Draco only wanted to get out through the door. "And, in your dream, are you considering accepting Albus Dumbledore's offer to help you?" Despite the silence that loomed heavily in the cold darkness, Draco Malfoy shook his head, an enormous lump mercilessly gathering in his throat. "Then what?" Galer asked.

The quill, the one spastic above her head, its taking notes like never before. With every passing moment, it stops and takes more notes, perhaps about the silence and its length, even. "I wake up." This was, quite frankly, a lie. As he recalled the nightmare to him, things had gone rather differently. With Dumbledore offering him his assistance towards a better life, he'd ignore him, looked for a voice of his father instead. But the further he went away from Dumbledore, the further he got from his father's presence. And the sky above churns in a way that he'd have never seen it do so in real life, outside of his thoughts. And then, in the nightmare, something brittle and rotting grabs his ankle. And though he cannot see what it is, he's fallen on his chin, being dragged back into the dining room, back into the table of Death Eaters, farther and farther from Albus Dumbledore. So he'd lied, but what else would have he told her?

Scribbling almost annoyingly, the quill had started off in hysterics. Something stung at the side of Malfoy's head. If he'd been more nervous before, than it was nothing compared to what he'd felt like afterward. But where was the relief he'd prepared himself to feel? Wasn't he supposed to relish at getting all of that tension off of his shoulders? "Alright, Mr. Malfoy," Galer proclaimed, settling herself slightly in her seat. However, she did not stay. Instead, she plucked herself away from the soft cushion and stood before her desk, the quill at her head just about settling down for the afternoon. "We've had a very good session this afternoon. I think that will be all for today."

Blinking, Malfoy pulled his head up from the palms of his hands. "T-That's... all?" he asked, uneasily, feeling a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his throbbing skull. "W-We're done?"

"That's it!" Elaine Galer exclaimed, once again smiling. She echoed again, "we're done!"

A short numbness momentarily bothered Draco Malfoy. He sat dumbfounded on the long couch and then stumbled to his feet, looking rather lost. "I don't," he said in a matter-of-fact sort of tone, "feel any different."

"You'll have to come back to make any significant progress," the woman said, sounding even more like a therapist than before. She smiled sweetly, as if she'd truly meant no harm by saying it. However, there was a spark behind her eye that showed that she was serious. Then, noting Draco's curiosity, she approached him silently, her long skirt moving like a plain brown wave. She watched him analytically behind her glasses and Draco's heart sunk, hoping she wasn't seeing something suspicious. Nonetheless, she extended her hand and placed it on his sunken shoulder, steering him towards the exit slowly. She was saying soothingly, "it takes some time to feel a bit better, you'll see. You just have to give it some time."

But Malfoy was still walking in a daze. "B-But," he asked, "what about m-my dreams?"

Galer stopped at the door, adjusting herself. The floating quill and paper bobbed slightly, still following her head. "As far as I can tell," she said reassuringly, "they're just dreams." Then, true to Draco's suspicions, she instructed, "get some exercise, chew some Valerian root. As for your health, it's too soon to tell. But don't stress yourself about it- get some rest, alright. Just relax, Mr. Malfoy. Will I be seeing you next week?" Slowly, Galer's hand was creeping towards the door knob. Finally, when her fingers found the shiny brass ball, she slid the thing open and revealed the large waiting room. Somewhat blinded by the light, Draco's eyes adjusted to the sunnier room. But there was only one person present, reduced to only a slight black figure in the corner, out of place in all the brightness.

All Draco could manage to do was nod, for the dark figure in the corner was peering out at him, just barely watching him out of the corner of his glossy eyes. "Alright, Mr. Malfoy," Galer smiled, turning back to her office room. She did not even seem to take any more notice to the spare being. In fact, she only glanced at him, noting his presence, and then took to her previous business. "I will see you then, same time. I think we will make sure progress in due time." Her voice was disappearing just as her retreating figure. "Take care of yourself." With that, she was gone, having shut the door completely, leaving Draco and the shadow alone in the bright room.

For a moment, Draco stood stupidly curious, watching the figure slightly before tightening his coat and heading towards the door. He smoothed back his blond hair with his unsteady hand and averted his eyes. Still, he walked by the man, hands plunged deep into his pockets. It felt slightly comforting to know that he, Draco Malfoy, wasn't the only one in the office building. The realization that he was not, in fact, alone was a bit reassuring. Besides, he remembered as he touched the plastic radio, Hermione was only just a phone call away. Maybe he was not lonely, maybe this was it- progress. In the making, at least.

A newfound warmness spread over Malfoy as he considered these circumstances. Maybe he'd reconsider murdering Gregory Goyle and instead treat him to a drink... or, at least, something that Goyle would approve of. And as he exited the room, he felt a rush of relief rush slightly over him. Then he headed towards the stairs, feeling a bit chilly in the outside weather. As he descended down the steps, he pulled back on his hat, once again hiding his face from possible sight. Nonetheless, he did not stop moving. The rush of positive energy floated about him unnaturally. And perhaps the unusualness of it all was what had initially prevented him from noticing the same solid figure step off the same steps slowly behind him.

He had not made it past even the third step when he felt a cold, veiny hand grip his shoulder by his neck. Gasping, Draco was too slow for the advances of the stranger. He stumbled back, feeling a cold hand slip over his mouth, pressing it together shut tight. Malfoy's hands felt to grab the figure away, but slipped uselessly. His legs slipped against the depth of the step, his knees colliding with the stone sloppily. And so the figure above him dragged him messily, ignoring the gagging noises that sounded out from below.

A swell of dizziness swooped over Draco, who had hit the ground with an all new feeling of nausea. Above him, the figure said not a word. It loomed over him, tall and slender and almost twitching. Malfoy's feet kicked out, his hands reached out desperately to grip onto a pillar, but clumsily he missed. Nonetheless, he was being dragged, pulled behind the tall therapist building, back behind the steep tower of safety until no longer he could see his sanctuary. The blood in his mouth was all too familiar and, dizzily, he saw the scenery before him darken lifelessly.

Lifted upwards, the two slender and strong hands hoisted him upwards, thrust him back against the brick wall, and backed away. Still hazy, Malfoy's hand instinctively flung to his coat, feeling for the long and skinny stick that was his wand. But a pale white hand slipped out of the dark figure's robes, revealing a young and oddly strong hand. He'd caught Malfoy before the blond boy had even a slight chance. Then, in a voice that sounded all too much like that of a madman's, the stranger mumbled silently, "stupefy!"


Slumped up against the brick building, Draco had only just begun to feel the prickle in his legs. The two stick-like things hung out lifelessly in front of him, twisted crookedly, almost unfamiliar. He attempted to lift his hand but, stiff and heavy, it wouldn't move. The wind rushing throughout his hair, made it limp around his face. A crust of dried spit was printed about his face. And he'd expected to be hexed at any moment, expected to feel a pain like no other riffle through his body sometime soon, yet nothing instant came. Instead, he spent the time lolling about in dizziness, the image of a bleak alleyway finally coming into a clear state in his vision.

For a split second, he thought himself to be alone, finally finding the strength to feel his throbbing head. He glanced around curiously, but he'd only been dragged several feet, just behind the building. His hand rest up on top of an overturned trash bin, his hat completely missing. And, on second glance, his scarf was, too. But he'd noticed it, then, the dark figure in the corner, his captor there just ahead of him. However, the shadow was not as daunting as he was previously. All of his haunting attributes had completely vanished. In fact, the figure was not even standing. Slumped in almost the exact same slouch as Malfoy, the shadow shivered as Draco's eyes locked in on him.

"I k-knew i-it was y-you," the figure muttered in a voice that Draco never had heard before in his life. "I k-knew it, knew it, knew it, knew it."

Malfoy dropped his head, exhaled tiredly and mumbled back, "what's going on?"

Flaky snow above the two of them fell lightly in the narrow alleyway and Malfoy could see his hat and scarf discarded in the corner nearest the shaking figure. Malfoy hesitated, but then wasted no time at all. Moving his heavy limbs, he grabbed towards the blank wall, pulled himself up like a newborn deer just using its legs for the first time. He grunted as he brought himself to a propper stance, readjusting himself back up against the building for a more proper support system.

Still, he wasn't quite sure if moving was, in fact, an intelligent move. Nonetheless, he steered for his hat, stepping towards it with slow, simple movements. "D-Don't!" screamed the horrified figure, thrusting out his hand. In the light of the roofless alleyway, the scratches on the figure's hand were blatantly obvious. The dark hood feel down from the man's face, showing to Draco a split lip and a severely black eye. "D-Don't!" the mangled thing shot back at him, his eyes both bloodshot and teary, "d-d-don't c-come any closer!"

A mess of shaggy brown hair fell around the boy's broken-in face. A large cluster of pick marks lined his face, plunged in a depressing pallor. Two deep and dark bags circled his ravishing eyes. And the man was shaking like a leaf, a paper bag in the midsts of a rather windy night. But it was more than obvious that his facial deformity was due to no one other than the man himself. However, he'd only sat curling within himself, cowering away from Malfoy, who stumbled forward, his hands up as if he'd been caught in some sort of criminal act. "Please," he coughed ruthlessly, tilting his head to get a better look at the disfigured scars along the stranger's face, "please, a-are you alright? I... I can help you if you-d only j-just..."

"No!" squealed the man, this time taking to action. He plunged his hand into his own robes and once again withdrew his wand. Shaking, he held it out before him like a weapon. "No, s-stay away f-f-from me!" Tears disgraced the man's horrorstruck face, pooling awfully down his redden cheeks. "I knew it," he said, with his wand out in front of him, "I knew it the moment I saw you... Draco Malfoy... I k-knew it. STAY AWAY!" Unsteady, the man watched Malfoy freeze, his chest rising up and down spastically as if he'd just run a mile. His eyes searched the floor for his own wand, which he spotted frantically at the end of the overturned garbage bins.

He said carefully, "please... I-I'm not going to-"

"A big fire!" The man cut him off, his eyes lost somewhere else. He looked as if he were staring at something unpleasant, a scene unseen to anyone else but himself. Still, his eyes boiled over with fresh tears and his mouth dripped loose blood of his own. His entire jaw drooled in a bright shade of blatant crimson; he'd surely bitten down hard on his fast-moving tongue. "The whole world up in flames." He was choking, gagging on his own words as he fell slightly forward, crawling on his palms, scraping against the brutal ground. Then he dragged himself upwards, limp and lifeless like a common rag doll. Swaying, he approached Malfoy with a wild look, ready to once and for all put himself out of his misery. "Chaos!" he yelped, pointing the wand directly at Malfoy's chest, "and all because of you!"

He said again at Malfoy's silence, "I should kill you right now."

Finally, Malfoy stumbled forward, lunging desperately for his own wand and stumbling over the second trash bin. He hit the ground for a second time, but managed to force the disfigured stranger to the ground along with him. The man hit the ground heavily, his head colliding with the concrete in a harsh collision. A river of blood dribbled from the crown of his head, but the man did not seem to notice. Instead, he scrambled back to his feet, just as unsteadily. But Malfoy's eyes were on his wand and his wand alone. Crawling towards it, he slipped slightly on the icy ground, just barely missing the wall behind him.

Gasping, he pulled for it, but the figure had caught him before he could make it. The stranger's own thin foot slammed down hard on Draco's wrist, pressing it to the floor with bitter aggression. He raised his own arm, ready to end Malfoy's pathetic life once and for all. He did not expect, however, Draco to press onward. Despite the numbness in his body, Malfoy reached towards the figure's ankle, grabbing it desperately and sending the man to the ground for a second time. His wand fell limply from his white fingertips, rolling down the back of the alley hastily. Draco scrambled upwards, his feet slipping against the wet ground unsteadily. Ten rotting fingernails scraped feverishly at his skin. But Malfoy's captor was too quick. He made for Mafoy's neck, wrapping his hands around it with instant aggression.

And Malfoy could feel the life fly out of him before his very eyes. He had been slammed back against the ground, his head once again at the ground in no time. Something cracked carelessly behind his head and he could no longer feel air in his lungs. He was being strangled and he could only just make out the sight of his wand, there just inches ahead of him. Slowly, his fingers crept to it. The sound of his own gagging echoed through the alleyway, came back to his ears without hesitation. But he was running out of time and he knew it. Finally, when he couldn't take any longer, he could feel his eyes roll back in his head. A bout of clamoring footsteps sounded out around the two of them, speeding up significantly.

The fingers around Malfoy's neck tightened, his soon-to-be-killer's eyes widening in horror. Still, he pressed his entire body forward, determined to end everything at last. However, a new shadow appeared at the end of the alleyway, tall and lean and heaving. "Stupefy!" the voice of Elaine Galer shouted with her wand aimed out forward. And the figure slackened above Malfoy, his fingers finally letting loose around Draco's thin neck. Then, as if dead, his body slumped forward, falling loosely upon Draco's. And with wide eyes, Malfoy watched the corpse-like figure, unable to move another muscle. Then, accomplishing exactly what the unconscious man had set out to do before, Draco's body gave up. His eyes rolled back just in time to see Elaine Galer rush forward and then, before another moment passed, he was plunged into complete blackness.


Vonne: I still love to hear from you all, even if you've read this. It really motivates me and blah blah blah.