It would only be a few minutes now. Potter would soon go looking for the diadem. Draco was scared. He hated Potter, didn't he? But somehow he needed to help him, otherwise, Crabbe didn't have a chance. He had to remind himself: What was more important? Enemies or friends? Friends he told himself firmly. He had no plan at all, but it was just common sense to change something at the Room of Requirement, so that was where he headed to. He went quickly, not bothering to be quiet, for nobody would hear him over the shrieks and cries of the battle that had just begun. He made it there most of the way without any problems. Then, the wall a few inches from him exploded. Fighting were a few fully qualified students, some underage students who had snuck back into the school, and an Auror that Draco believed was called Kingsley against a few Death Eaters that Draco did not know the names of, Yaxely, and … his eyes widened in horror… his own father. Draco was unsure on what to do. He did not want to fight; he needed to get to the Room of Requirement. Yet he could not just leave. His father was fighting, and although Draco knew that he would be okay, Lucius Malfoy would expect his son to assist him in the battle. He tried to sneak away, but he knew that his father had seen him as he felt a cold stare rest on him. He sighed and hoped that this would not take long.
The two seventh years were average fighters, but they could beat them fairly fast, and the younger students were only a joke, but the real worry was Kingsley. Draco didn't think he would just back down, but he wouldn't likely be killed either. The fight could go on for quite some time.
The cracking of spells filled the air. As Draco had anticipated, one of the sixth years was the first to go. After he got a particularly nasty cut on his left hand, that even Draco wouldn't have winced at, he ran away sobbing hysterically. He wondered, with a mix of slight amusement and extreme annoyance, how it took almost a full minute for four full grown experienced Death Eaters and one very determined handsome blond boy to cause the slightest harm. Soon though with a bit more of confusion and flashing lights, another of the sixth years was hit on the head with a curse and crumpled to the floor. Draco wondered if he was alive. Draco wondered if he cared. The next one to go down came as a surprise. Draco did not see from who the curse came from, but a bright golden light shot out from among the smoke, dust, and debris. It hit one of the Death Eaters on the leg where he had had a previous injury (Draco had noticed he limped on it all the time). He fell to the ground and did not get up. Draco felt his arm begin to tire. He was frustrated. He had been firing curses but none of them seemed to be affecting the other side. He racked his brains for a good one. A memory hit him hard, but it was not one about Bellatrix or Crabbe; it was about himself. The pain. He was ripped open. He remembered why he hated Potter even more that he had than before. Sectumsempra. He cleared his mind. He tried not to think of the pain. It was an awful curse. The greasy slimeball Snape had made it up. The traitor. He tried not to think of all the blood. This was necessary. He took careful aim. "Sectumsempra!" Were the words from his mouth, although his heart was not into it. He missed his target. The fourth year girl leapt aside. The spell hit one of the seventh years and blood gushed out from where he hit her arm. She fell to the ground and although she tried to continue the fight, the loss of blood caused her to faint, though Draco was sure she would survive. He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to kill anyone; he just wanted to get out of the fight alive. Another seventh year was hit by a combination of spells by Yaxely and his father. Draco had underestimated the fourth year, though. She dodged many curses, blocking the simpler spells, while firing just about everything she knew. One spell that looked a bit like purple fire narrowly missed his head as he shot a curse at Kingsley. He was surprised as the spell hit its target. It immobilized his wand arm. Unable to fight, he was forced to flee. Draco saw his father give him a proud glance. Draco couldn't help feeling good with himself. If only he knew what I was doing. He wouldn't be happy. It still felt good to know that his father appreciated him. He didn't show it often.
Only the fourth year was left. Even with no one to help her, she could not be hit. The Death Eaters were angry. They were not doing well. Draco saw that as their frustration and disbelief grew, their spells became quicker and therefore weaker and aimed poorly. Draco would not let his temper get to him. He took aim, took a deep breath, and shot. He saw a familiar blonde boy run by. It was now or never. Sectumsempra moved through the air as if in slow motion. Distracted by a Stupefy shot by Yaxely, the girl was hit on the shoulder. Clutching her arm which was gushing blood, she ran away. Seeing his chance to escape, Draco pretended to run after her to finish her off. When reaching his destination, he turned away from the trail of blood. Sectumsempra had saved him. And he never wanted to use it again.