milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Draco was dressed not in his robes. The balm he created with his cauldron and supplies took care of the remaining burns nicely, with little scarring, if any.

He was dressed in dark green tunic, and trousers. Sleek, ideal for swift movement. He was outside, practicing moves with his dagger again. He was becoming increasingly efficient, and deadly in the grace he employed as he turned, and spun. His slight form being an advantage in this case.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sam, outside, leaning against a nearby tree, tossing his own dagger in one hand, watching Draco. After a while,

"You're pretty good."

Draco did a few more moves, and then raised an eyebrow at the visitor.

"Cheers," he simply said.

"Not a donkey any longer?"

"Very funny," Draco scoffed, and snidely remarked, "And no. ...Though you sound rather braying at the moment." He then did a quick cut, and flourish, using his natural dexterity to his advantage. It worked on a broom, and it was working now.

Dryly, "I was rather burned, as you may recall. Although you might have failed to notice, being rather busy squealing at the time."

"Well, you seemed to have cleared up nicely, so couldn't have been that bad," Draco remarked off-handedly, and re-sheathed his dagger again.

"Ninety-five percent burns is considered not bad, is it?" Sam says coolly. His voice is one of complete friendliness, but there's a vicious undercurrent in there somewhere.

Draco eyed, and remarked, "Not bad in that magic can fix it easily enough. At least things make sense here in that regard." Then again, he's from a world and people who can bounce after being dropped from a long height, and re-grow bones overnight. That, and his usual act of no empathy whatsoever.

"Magic? No, my mother had nothing to do with this. The regeneration trance is a gift from my father." Black eyes. Very, very black, very, very intense. "It doesn't do anything for the pain, though. Not immediately."

"Well, that certainly sounds useful." The grey eyes did stare back at the black eyes some. Unusual yes, though not that unusual in the Wizarding world. Rather fascinating though.

"Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't." Still flicking the dagger.

"You are very good with that knife. But I'm better."

Draco shrugged, and coolly replied, "Perhaps. I only took it up recently."

Sam grins. "No perhaps about it. I've had mine a hell of a lot longer, for a start."

He pushes himself away from the tree to stand straight. "Care for a lesson?"

Draco coolly eyed him, and then well, he could certainly use the information.

"Fair enough." He got out his dagger again.

A small smile. "A single ground rule. No magic. Mine nor yours."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that, and then nodded, "Very well." There were other tactics though he could always do.

Ah, Sam knows all the tricks. Mainly because he's used them. He did perhaps forget to mention that this was one time with the express purpose of 'teaching the brat a lesson', and not in the pleasant way. Not painful- Draco is after all only a child, if an irritating, squealy one- but a lesson nonetheless.

"All right. So." Without warning or preamble, he lunges forwards, silver dagger gleaming, clack- and Draco's own dagger goes flying earthwards.

This was somebody who needed some unpleasent lessons.

Draco was briefly shocked at that, and then immediately ducked onto the ground, scrambling for his dagger. Silently cursing how handy a wandless Accio would be about now.

Sam, smiling easily, watches him, now back in his original position, leaning against the tree.

Draco snarled, as he finally found his dagger, and hurriedly got up. He quickly straightened himself with his free hand.

"All right, how the Merlin did you do that?"

"Merlin?" Sam says, mildly interested. "I've met him once or twice. He's my half-brother."

Draco snorted, "You're joking, aren't you?"

Matter-of-factly, "Nope. Same mother, different fathers." Then sharply, "Don't hold the knife like a book. Hold it like you're going to use it."

Draco glanced down in surprise, and then adjusted the grip. "Fine."

"Better." Sam nods. Then again with no warning he- moves. Click-clack-- and Draco's knife goes skywards, curving earthwards in a smooth arc.