A/N - (Miss Daniels, you can ignore this bit and skip to your explanation if you want.)
Hi guys! Wow, so I finally found a way to intergrate fanfiction with my daily life - an English project! (Shout out to my awesome teacher Miss Daniels! Hehe) I got this plot bunny a while ago and when the project came up it was too hard to resist combining them. I've also used this as an entry for the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Competition with the category Instant Darkness Powder, and the If You Dare Challenge with Prompt #620 Turncoat. Don't read the second chapter! It's for my English Project and outlines the basic summary of the plot; I'm going to take it down after the project's finished. This is going to stay as a oneshot until the end of the WWW comp, after which I will turn it into a multichap because I think it's a plot bunny that needs expanding upon. Wow, that was a long A/N (And, I think, the longest oneshot I've ever written - go me!). I'll let you get on with it now. Oh, and reviews are Draco dipped in chocolate... ;)
Miss Daniels -
Lucky! You're the only person that knows my "shameful secret" except the lovely people on the internet, and you get a shout-out! Wow. I decided to post this to my fanfic account because the file's massive and you said your emails can get logged up pretty quickly. This page is the replacement 'chapter' for the chapter Sectumsempra in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. At the bottom, just above and to the right of the review box, there's a button that says 'Next'. Click that and you'll get to the 'how would this have changed the outcome of the story' part.
I walked down the staircase with a spring in my step – I had just been to see Professor Vector about my Arithmancy essay because I thought I'd made a mistake, and to my delight she told me I got twenty more marks than some of her Seventh-years! Reaching the bottom of the stairs I headed towards the nearest bathroom, which happened to be Moaning Myrtle's place but I was quite familiar with her after spending so much time in there in Second Year. I just hoped she hadn't had another tantrum and flooded the place again. Suddenly I heard screams and I hurried along the corridor.
"No! No! Stop it!" I recognized the squeals as Myrtle's as several cracks sounded, but the rush of water wasn't enough to cover the dueler's – for I was sure now that what was happening was a Wizard's Duel – next words.
"Cruci-" the boy didn't get to finish his curse.
"SECTUMSEMPRA!" another boy bellowed. It took me a second to recognize the voice as Harry, and I pushed myself to run faster. The next thing I heard, Myrtle was screaming again, this time for help.
"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!" I burst through the door, splashing water around my ankles as I surveyed the scene. Myrtle was sobbing hysterically under one of the smashed sinks while a boy with a blood-soaked shirt lay spread-eagled in the middle of the floor, his blood on the tiles mixing patchily with the quickly pooling water. Standing above him was Harry.
"Harry? What happened? Did you do this?" I questioned, shocked.
His head snapped up, "No-" he gasped. "No – I didn't…" he trailed off and looked at the body in shock. It was then I realized how heavily he was bleeding, and I rushed to kneel by his side. It was obvious it was a Dark curse that had inflicted the wounds; I would have to talk to Harry about that later. Not even looking at his face in my hurry I ripped open his shirt and started tracing my wand over the deep cuts, resting my other hand lightly on his chest. "Vulnera Sanentur," I sang softly. "Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur." The salvageable blood slowly trickled back into the boy's body, and he moaned and shifted slightly. "Shhh, it's okay. Just stay still." He moaned again and I glanced up at his face…
"Malfoy?! Harry, what happened?" I twisted around to look at him; he was still staring horrified at Malfoy. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry! Do something useful; go get the bottle of Essence of Dittany from my room. It's in my trunk." He left, and returning my attention to Malfoy's cuts I kept singing until only a little blood was left, except the patches on his shirt and on the tiles that had been contaminated in some way – the incantation was designed so only pure blood could be returned to the body. I cut the sleeves of his shirt away from his arms to heal the last of the deep cuts on his arms, starting with the right. When I reached over to heal his left, he jerked his arm away with a look of fear and – was that shame? - on his face. I raised my eyebrows slightly in question: may I? Evidently not the question he was expecting, as he frowns at me. I think he's thinking something through but you could never really tell with that boy. He always was closed-off, even around his friends. I assumed he'd been enrolled in Keep Your Face a Mask School since he was a baby, or maybe he came by it naturally. Not surprising, given his parents' permanently stony expressions.
Luckily I was still watching him or I would have missed his minute nod of assent. I reached to take his arm, moving slowly as if he was a frightened animal that might dart away at any second. Just as I was about to peel away the crimson-soaked fabric, he tried to say something but choked and launched into a heavy coughing fit. I saw he was trying to get up and wrapped an arm under his shoulders to pull him into a sitting position. He subconsciously leaned into me and I stiffened slightly, remembering exactly who I was holding… Ew. I managed to scoot him backwards so he was leaning back against the wall and pulled away as soon as the coughing subsided.
"Uh, Malfoy? I need to heal your arm…" I trailed off as I gazed into his stormy silver-grey eyes. It was almost as though he was pleading with me. For what, I had no idea. He started to speak but choked again, spluttering weakly. Growing impatient, I pointed my wand at his throat, rolling my eyes at his rabbit-caught-in-the-headlights expression. "Anapneo." He stopped coughing immediately and visibly relaxed. I reached for his sleeve but he wrapped his thin fingers around my wrist.
"Don't… don't judge me, Granger. It was my father's choice, not mine. He made me do it." He released his grip so I could heal the cut. I pulled the sopping fabric away from his arm, and my jaw practically fell to the floor. Not because of how bad the wound was – and it was worse than I'd thought, a deep gash just below the crook of his elbow. No, I was staring at the expanse of ebony lines inked into his forearm. It took me a second to recognize the image but as soon as I knew what it was I scrambled away from him like lightning. I opened my mouth to shout for Harry, for a teacher, for anyone, but he spoke before any sound could come out. "Really, Granger? I literally just told you I didn't want it, was forced into it, and your instinct is to run away and scream for help? Not very Gryffindor, is it?" He sighed and held out his injured arm. "As much as it pains me to say it, you're better at this healing lark than me and I'd probably splinch myself or something if I tried it. So, can you at least heal it and we'll figure out something after that?" he schooled his features of disgust into an impassive, almost approachable mask and raised his eyebrows hopefully.
I bit my lip, deliberating. Maybe I should heal his arm – but only because he admitted I was better than him and because blood loss was a slow and agonizing way to die that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I told him as much, adding, "No, not even you, Malfoy. Maybe Voldemort, though." I laughed when he flinched, stepping forward to grasp his forearm with distaste. "What, scared of your own master's name? Vulnera Sanentur." The skin knitted together again instantly, leaving an inflamed red line. Harry had better hurry up with that dittany.
Malfoy stepped away and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, dropping his head in his hands. "Wouldn't you be scared? Not just of the most powerful wizard around, but one with a faithful band of cruel followers and a vendetta against your parents, and yourself?" I started to reply but he held up a hand. "Forget it, never mind. I need to figure out what to do before Potter gets back-" I didn't let him get any further.
"Figure out what to do? I know exactly what I'm going to do! I'm going to tell Harry, we're going to report you to Dumbledore, Dumbledore will inform the Ministry and Azkaban will gain the world's youngest Death Eater as a prisoner. So I hope your new tattoo is resistant to handcuffs, 'cause that's the only bit of good it'll do you now!"
The weirdest look passed over his face – an odd concoction of resentment, regret, anger, and shame. "Trust me, if I could choose again I would never have let my father make me take the Mark. It's brought me nothing but pain, and I wish I could just wash it away, or something to that effect."
That was unexpected. "Well, if you hate it that much, why don't you join the Order of the Phoenix? Become a spy like Sn-?" I slapped my hands over my mouth and gave myself a stern mental scolding. What are you going to tell him next, Hermione, where Headquarters is? Put a sock in it, girl!
"I did think about it, once. But they'd think I was lying, bluffing my way in so I could feed information on them back to Voldemort, and reject me instantly. It's hopeless."
I raised my eyebrows. "Does it look like I'm rejecting you, Malfoy? Would I still be here if I thought you were lying?"
"You're part of the Order?" he said, shocked. I nodded. "What! When? Why? How?"
"They initiated Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Bill, Fleur and I in secret, the last day of the holidays. It was Dumbledore's idea, to make it official."
"Do you – would he consider helping me, do you think?" I looked at him, too shocked to speak. Draco Malfoy, asking for help? From the Order of the Phoenix, from Albus Dumbledore himself no less?! "Don't look at me like that. If you were forced into serving a sadistic maniac with a soft spot for torturing you and your parents, don't you think that would change the way you look at things? Just a little bit?"
"He tortures his followers?" I half-shrieked, disgusted. He nodded resignedly.
"Whenever he is displeased with us - no, them, or if he's bored. My mother is his favourite guinea-pig, apart from the Mud- Muggle-borns."
"Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?!" Harry had finally returned with the dittany, which I snatched from him. "Malfoy doesn't stop himself from saying... that word, and..." Harry continued on a rant about why Malfoy was really a Death Eater disguised as Malfoy while I treated the cuts hastily; time was of the essence with a curse like this.
Left for too long, even when healed, and the scars would be irreversible, but dittany was useful for healing both fresh and closed wounds. When not properly done, wounds healed with the Vulnera Sanentur charm were at high risk of reopening, blood poisoning and infection - which is why dittany was so important, especially with amateur wandwork such as mine. I came across it in a book one day in the library, while I was looking up charms to help heal Harry's hand in fifth year. It turned out to be a very interesting - and unexpectedly useful - read.
I conjured a swab of cotton wool and doused it in the thick liquid, wiping it liberally over the semi-formed scabs hatched across his torso and arms; the angry lines slowly faded to a shade just darker than his skin tone. He was lucky, another few minutes and the scars would have been irreversible. Harry eventually gave up on his rant and just stood there, waiting for me to finish. When I was done I scourgified and reparo'd Malfoy's shirt and chucked it at him, rinsing the blood from my hands in one of the unbroken sinks. "Malfoy, you need to get to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible – ask Madam Pomfrey for a Blood-Replenishing Potion."
"Look, Malfoy, I didn't know what the spell would do, I never meant to-" Harry started sheepishly, but Malfoy cut him off.
"No harm, no foul, Potter. And, Granger… thanks." I didn't know was more surprised at his words – myself, Harry or Malfoy. It seemed to have been an effort for him to get them out. He cleared his throat. "I have to… go. I suppose I will be seeing you, Potter, Granger." He slipped out the door, leaving Harry and I. The silence was only broken by Myrtle's broken, hiccupping sobs, which were becoming increasingly annoying.
"Myrtle, just shut up, would you?" Apparently Harry had the same mindset as me. She huffed and dove into a cubicle, creating a fountain of toilet-water that we managed to duck. I glared at Harry. He looked at me guiltily, cringing at the ticking-off he thought was coming.
"Harry, you can't say I didn't warn you about that book! We'll discuss it more later, but I have to go see Professor Dumbledore now. And you'd better not have that book when I get back to Gryffindor Tower," I told him sternly, swinging my sopping satchel over my shoulder and heading for the door.
"Thanks, 'Mione, you're the best. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found us then-"
"It's fine, Harry, forget about it. That's what friends are for, isn't it?" He grinned and waved as I walked out the door, leaving him alone with Myrtle, who had since returned and was probably trying to chat him up now that I'd left. I'd save the lecture on the book until this evening, but right at that moment I had to go see Dumbledore about Malfoy's… predicament. Because if Harry had a hero complex, then I definitely had a mercy complex. And whether it was Malfoy or a house elf, helping people was something I was never able to resist.