they were just kids [draco malfoy]

Year 5 - 72

"What's that on your hand?" 

Astrid looked down at her bandaged hand and shrugged, then looking back at the inquiring green eyes of Tracey Davis.

"Fingers, Tracey, they're called fingers," she laughed softly, "honestly... for one of the brightest witches of our a-"

"Astrid," it was Daphne now who inquired; her eyes serious. She was the only one who could see through her bullshit 90 per cent of the time.

The three girls were sat in the common room, lounging by the fire as Daphne and Tracey played a game of Wizarding Chess. Back in their dorm room Millicent and Pansy were having one of their this year's usual arguments, meanwhile, Rosier was off doing Merlin-knows what.

Astrid looked back down at her hand where the white bandage peeked out from under her Quidditch uniform as she recalled all the gruesome evenings the girl had spent in Umbridge's office. 

Her cheerful expression dropped as she sighed, now speaking a lie the others couldn't detect. "I sprained my uh- what's it called?" Astrid paused tapping at her hand and finished her sentences once she remembered. "Wrist."

Astrid had never been prone to talk about things that pained her, was it literally or emotionally. The girl even avoided thinking about them so it was natural she had no intention of expressing her concerns. How could she vent to others when she hardly acknowledged the pain herself?

Besides that, Astrid had also always disliked people who whined about minor injuries. Sure the back of her hand kept itching and burning like a thousand suns but it was nothing big or life-threatening; therefore she considered it unworthy of discussing. The girl had never craved the worry or pity of other people. She was fine.

Although sat there, watching her friends play chess; Daphne haven taken a weekend off before she would restart her chase after attention and boys; Astrid couldn't help but feel herself getting nervous. Quidditch tryouts were that day and she feared the pain in her hand might get in her way of proving she was worthy. 

One might think her rotten mood, caused by detentions, should've ceased now that she was finally free of them, but having Draco Malfoy as a quidditch captain brought her to no better spirits.

All in all, Astrid had been feeling rather glum and defeated for the past week. The year had begun terribly and she feared it would only get worse.

Half an hour had passed when Astrid found herself finally walking up to the quidditch pitch to join the tryouts. 

There in the middle of the big green clearing stood a group of people. Just like every year, it was a whole bunch of boys raging from ickle first-years who thought they were better than the rules, to the big seventh-years who had decided to do their last attempt of joining the team before they left Hogwarts forever. Just like every year, the students varied in age, size, height and everything else imaginable. Astrid stood graciously in the middle of these categories. Her height was somewhat the average of all the boys who had come. Her age as well. Even her brown hair stood perfectly in between the lightest blonde and the darkest brunette

The same as her appearance the girl stopped at a spot right in the middle of the chatting crew. She stood looking over the head of some younger lad, her arms crossed and not bothering to return the smirk Draco Malfoy sent her way once he noticed her.

This was the one occasion she would not lie about her sympathy just to get what she wanted. Astrid would get her rightful spot on the team no matter what and Draco Malfoy would hear all the honest things she thought about him.

In great Flint fashion Malfoy begun the tryouts by getting rid of all the people he considered unworthy of even trying out in the first place. That included the first years, a few scrawny boys who had failed to catch the quaffle when Adrian had unexpectedly passed it to them (Astrid had gotten thrown with the quaffle as well and her instant glare as she held it securely in her hand had clearly shown how offended she had been by the mere idea of her not being able to catch it) and surprisingly yet somewhat also unsurprisingly at all Mike Hallminster.