Betrayal of the Black

twenty-six

IT DID NOT TAKE MUCH deductive reasoning to realise that Draco had been using the Room of Requirement to fulfill his task the Dark Lord gave him.

He has been distant lately. Hardly talking in classes, and hardly spending time with the rest of his friends anymore. When he was not in class, he was working on his mission to get Death Eaters into school, and assassinate Dumbledore.

The Room of Requirement, Theo had decided, would be where he taught her how to fight without a wand. How he learnt how muggles fought, Celestia did not know. And despite Draco's extreme labouring for Voldemort, there was time where he left the room every other day.

Two hours, every other day, when Draco would eat and study. Celestia felt bad for spying on her cousin, but in her defence, she had only started looking for him to confirm that he was eating.

So, at exactly seven o'clock, Theo and Celestia walked back and forth down the hallway until a door appeared. She had let Theo take the lead, unsure what exactly she'd need to think of for what he was going to teach her.

When she entered the newly reformed room, she gaped. She did not know what she had been expecting, but this was not it. The room was rectangular, with weapons lining the walls; swords, daggers, bows; and in the middle of the floor was a small crash mat.

Celestia walked towards the swords, trailing a finger along them lightly. "Muggles use these to fight?"

Theo laughed from behind her. "When you're in London, how many muggles have you seen carrying swords?"

She paused, mulling his question over in her head, brows furrowing in concentration.

"None. So, why are they here, then?" she asked, glancing back at the weapons.

"You can't exactly deflect a spell or stab someone with your fists, Celestia," answered Theo. She nodded, reaching out to pick up a sword. He slapped her hands away. "No touching."

"Why?" she demanded, gazing at the sword almost longingly.

"We need to start with the basics. You need to learn how to control your movements, balance, formation, breathing, before you even consider picking up a sword," said Theo, leading her over towards the crash mat.

"But can't I just..?" asked Celestia while swinging an imaginary sword through the air.

"You're holding the sword wrong."

She huffed, dropping her hands to her sides. Uncuffing his shirt sleeves, he rolled them up to his forearms and stood waiting expectantly in front of her.

"Hit me," he demanded.

She blinked at him. "Aren't you going to teach me the proper formation first?"

Rolling his eyes, he remained standing there. "Just hit me, CeCe."

He's standing only a couple feet away from her, staring at her intently. Her hands stay limp at her sides, making no move to hit him.

"You were so eager to punch me yesterday, darling," he begins to circle her, his shoulder brushed against hers as he came to a standstill behind her, "Don't tell me you're going soft on me."

Instinctively, she turned to swing at him. It was a futile attempt; she was too late, too inept. One hand is shackling her wrist as the other settles harshly on her hips. She tries to move, but just like last time, he has her trapped in place.

"Your stance is horrible. Seriously, you're going to end up breaking your hand and then falling on your arse if that's your formation," chided Theo.