UNLEASH | D.M (UNRAVEL BOOK 6)

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Ever since the little secret excursion Draco had with Aine back to the Estoileon Cottage, the girl has confined herself in her chambers nearly every day, trying to gather more clues regarding the pieces of information she smuggled from home. There were times she would be so engrossed that she would miss her meals, if not for her brother and lover.

Although it was a taxing job to do finding and linking connections to the hints Aine's mother had left behind, Draco was glad that she was out and moving, and thinking too. He knew that she was that sort of girl whose thoughts would start to consume her if she remained not doing anything, that she would start to overthink everything else going on in her life. The steps she had to take were little, but at least there was a direction she could move towards of some sort. 

Nonetheless, there was no denying that while Aine was busy scrutinizing around, he was getting lonely and bored. 

It would have been great if he was busy with something too, that way it wouldn't feel like an eternity while waiting for Aine to be done. He didn't want to disturb her anyway but there was nothing else he could think of doing. The Dark Lord hasn't even been lingering around his home and most of the Deatheaters were out in their hunts so he wasn't given any missions as of late. 

Draco didn't plan on going back to Hogwarts this year either so there was no need to go purchase his school books and supplies. It was also a pity that his best friend, Cyrus, who recently entered their ranks was nowhere to be seen. 

He probably had his matters to attend to... Draco thought to himself when he recalled the purpose his friend had joined this army in the first place. No doubt he was somewhere dealing with his parents' demands like a slave to keep his twin brother safe. It was truly a pity since he would have invited Cyrus to join in a round or two of duelling practice otherwise.

So, in the end, the Malfoy boy decided to do a bit of training to hone his skills and better his fighting ability alone. He did promise that he was going to protect Aine in front of Elliot's grave after all, and he was definitely going to keep to that vow and make it true.

Aion stumbled upon him when he was training alone with a dummy doll in one of their spare halls one evening. Needing some time off to cool his head from all of the trackings of the Iris flower petals, the older Estoileon brother decided to join Draco and the two men have been duelling together since then. Practising with an actual person was more effective than a training doll whose movements are repetitive and predictable. It was also a good way to let out some steam, kill some time while Aine busies herself away, and improve on their skills too. A win-win situation for everyone.

At first, Draco was glad that Aion was there to help him as he was a competent wizard and opponent and therefore, posed a challenge for him to tackle. However, as the days went by and the more they trained together, he was beginning to regret getting caught by him and engaging him as his practice partner. The Estoileon man was an extremely tough instructor and from the moment he learnt of Draco's ambitions of wanting to become a more capable wizard, he became more relentless in teaching him.

Foolishly accepting Aion's offer to train together, Draco ended up enduring the harsh training for days that would leave his body and muscles sore and aching. So much so that Aion insisted on training on consecutive days so that the younger lad would be more attuned to it eventually. 

Not only was Aion a skilled duelist and trainer, but he was also a great performer too. That led to him having immense stamina and core strength which prolonged his ability to fight longer. All those years of severe practice at Beauxbaton served him well now.

"Again," Aion said sternly to Draco who was thrown a few feet back from his attack. He pointed his wand at the younger lad and flicked another curse towards him. "You're weaker than I expect, Draco," he provoked with a hardened glare of discontent.