He ran down the darkened street, his chest burning from the exertion. If he knew where exactly the fight was happening, he would apperate there immediately. Instead, he was forced to follow the bangs and shouts he could hear in the distance. Someone had thought to extinguish the street lamps to provide some measure of secrecy to the encounter. He gave a snort; the racket he could now hear much closer was going to attract more than enough attention soon enough.
He heard another scream and cursed himself silently; he had to hurry. Suddenly he saw wand sparks fly up high in the air about two hundred metres to his right. He silently cursed himself again and hurtled down the first side street he could see. He could hear voices now.
"Come on then, you death eater scum!" a deep masculine voice he vaguely recognised shouted confidently.
He knew he was very close now. He quickened his already substantial pace.
He rounded a final corner and gave a sudden gasp, grinding to a halt. At least fifty wizards stood in the large playing field no more than one hundred metres away, directly in front of him. Or perhaps more accurately, fifty wizards had been standing. At least half that number already lay immobilised or dead. There was no time, however, to tend to the wounded yet.
Cursing himself one final time for being late, he drew his wand and prepared to enter the battle when suddenly, a young girl he recognised as one of Dumbledore's new recruits to the order came sprinting towards him, obviously terrified. He shook his head; she was far to young and not nearly experienced enough for what she had been exposed to tonight. Her pupils were wide and her face was completely devoid of any colour.
"Quick!" he shouted to her, "Over here!"
The girl turned with a look of obvious relief, thankful for any help, or at least an escape route.
Suddenly, her eyes focussed on his face and a look of recognition dawned on her own. Most people had seen him before. He'd been in countless Daily Prophet pictures, usually in the high society pages smiling softly at the camera.
He gave the girl one of these soft smiles now, staring intently at her. The look of relief on her face faded slowly and was replaced once more with a look of pure terror.
"No, pleas-", she began.
He cut her off with a flick of his wand.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he bellowed, the wand pointing straight at her chest.
As the small girl fell lifeless to the floor, his smile broadened into a trademark sneer and he looked down at the girl with the slightest twang of regret. She was rather fetching, in a way. Under different circumstances he thought perhaps he would have enjoyed having his way with her before her untimely end. With one final glance, Lucius Malfoy turned once more with a flick of his cloak and ran to join his brothers on the killing fields.