Presley needed to dance. Since the argument with her father and Leo, she hadn't had a single dance lesson. And for a girl who normally had two hour lessons five days a week, three months without dancing was hell. It was cold outside, and the only place Presley could think of was the Room of Requirement. So she trekked there with all of hergear in tow. Pacing the hallyway she thought about her familiar dance studio, and the door appeared. She walked in and immediately felt at home.

Presley stepped in the chalk, warmed up, turned on her favourite variation from Bayadere, and began the difficult steps of the dance. When she danced she got into a zone where her worries didn't exist. It wasn't that they didn't matter, they just weren't there anymore. Nothing had ever happened in her life but happiness. It was magical. She danced the last step and held it until she was satisfied. With a sigh she dropped down off of pointe and went to the barre to cool down.