Disclaimer: Well as it is well known…Harry Potter does not in any way belong to me.

Loony

It's crazy. Believe me, I know. I am not such a complete dolt that I don't find it painfully obvious that I'm going insane. I mean irreversibly and completely LOONY! I need to be shipped off to St. Mungo's in a straight jacket, and I would allow it, if I ever risked the embarrassment of telling someone.

No. Nobody will know about my need to go to the "happy house" unless of course they already have noticed the changes. I cannot put myself through the shame of being classified as "challenged", but let me tell you, it is extremely hard to hide such an aliment. Especially one that has no cure… at least I don't think it does, but I'm crazy so what do I know?

I will forever have to deal with the complications this dieses has, and it's not even my fault. Well currently I'm not sure what caused it but I AM NOT A SELF INFLICTOR so don't go getting any ideas.

I checked my long, long, (get your mind out of the gutter) long, long, centuries old, family history, ALL of my family history, sitting there for hour after hour, day after day only to find that though many of my relatives were any if not more out of the following:

Suicidal

Homicidal

Depressed

Sadistic

Sick

Bloodthirsty

Cannibalistic (creepy right? Or is it normal? I hate being loony.)

Cruel

Word-domination-seeking

The definition of BASTARD and/or BITCH

But not one of them was irrevocably mentally wrong. Well there's a first time for everything. You'd think this type of thing is genetic, but alas it is not…sadly I have no one to blame it on.

I checked out about sixteen volumes of "Symptoms and What They Mean" from the library's extensive collection, there was nothing found in my age group that matched up with my symptoms (aka everything involving stomach queasiness, heart pounding, chest pains, and stiffness all at the same time pointed to the fact that I was probably over 80 years of age).

I took the time to do ink blot exercises as well. I couldn't keep my mind straight and focused enough so that I could actually come up with a word for the images on the cards…I was to busy thinking of something else.

The first word that comes to mind game was of no help either. The only word I could think of was the one that simply rolled off my tongue and sounds more harmonious than bells or even a perfectly tuned choir of trained singers making singing their life's work, the word that makes poems seem dull and sonnets seem flat in comparison…the word…ARHG HERE I GO AGAIN! I sincerely apologize for my madness. Once again I cannot control it.

The color thoughts didn't work out so well. All the colors laid out in front of me appeared the same…the color of the most deep, luxurious chocolate brown. The color that made me want to pass out (Malfoy's do not faint), vomit, and jump up and down at the same time (I told you I was off my rocker).

So after all of the failures I tried the only thing I could do; the solitude of quarantine. Yes, it was one of the few rumors that were true; Draco Malfoy was isolating himself from humanity. It is was for the best of society. No one should've had to deal with my sickness besides myself. But as usual I was not strong enough to suppress this desire, oh the shame.

Finally I changed my looks so I could go see a physician. This was the last of any chance I had left that there might be some sort of way to heal me.

OOOOO

"So Mr.…." The healer double checked his charts and then checked again making sure my name was what he thought it was. His face was slightly confused when he looked back up to address me. "Mr. Nutmeg," he finished obviously feeling odd saying it, "when did you come to the conclusion you were insane?"

"Well Healer, it all started when I thought Hermione Granger looked pretty one morning."

A/N: Hello everyone! This is just a bit of writing I did for fun. Nothing of importance whatsoever but don't get me wrong I'd still love to hear what you all think (hint)! I enjoyed writing this so I hope you enjoy reading it!

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