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

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.

Draco snarled, "Blast. How are you doing that?" He went to retrieve his knife, and then abruptly lunged toward Sam, dagger ready.

"Practice," Sam says simply, parrying the knife this time. Then out, sideways, clack- and away goes Draco's blade for the third time.

Draco swore under his breath, as he scrambled to retrieve his dagger again.

"Stop doing that!" Though getting frustrated and humiliated would only hurt his focus further.

Yeah, but beating him without trying is less satisfying, somehow.

"Stop getting so over-wrought. Spoilt children don't win fights, and temper-tantrums certainly don't beat forty-thousand-year-old-immortals with a Master's degree in staying alive."

He sighs. "Hold out the blade."

Draco grumbled but picked up the dagger, and held it out, "Like this?" He asked challengely.

"Something like that." Sam shows him the move again, in slow motion. "In, under and a flick, see? That's how I did that. Try watching instead of grumbling."

Draco did pay attention, and tried parroting the move with his own blade.

"I see."

Sam nods. "You've got potential. Learn to control your temper, and you'll be quite good."

He glances at his watch. "I've a meeting to get to, unfortunately. We'll have to leave it at that."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only