"Sectumsempra!" Harry cried, the spell flying down the length of the bathroom and hitting Draco, knocking the Slytherin back onto the water-filled floor. Harry froze when Malfoy didn't reemerge from around the corner firing back a spell to hit Harry. Slowly, cautiously, he walked towards the place the spell had made contact with Draco, and the sight the greeted him made bile rise in his throat. Draco Malfoy was lying in a diluted pool of his own blood, the scarlet turning into wispy tendrils as it moves farther from the body it had come from. One could no longer tell that his shirt had ever been anything but a damp red. Harry didn't hear Myrtle screaming and he didn't hear Professor Snape come into the bathroom. All he heard was what his own head was telling him: You are no different from Him.

A/N: the "him" at the end is supposed to refer to Lord Voldemort, but it's open to interpretation (: