Title: Plus dragons really are cool!
Team: Ballycastle Bats
Position: Beater 1
A/N: This is for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Daily Prophet Competition Issue #4
Beater 1 Prompt: Your job is to write about someone in that career—someone who was not in that career in canon. BEATER 1: Dragon Tamer
Additional Prompts: 2. (Dialogue) "That's probably not a good idea.", 6. (First Sentence) [Name] wondered if his/her day could get any worse., 11. (Word) accidental , 12. (Action) breaking a bone, 15. (Word) instruction
Disclaimer: J.K. owns us all.
Word Count: 617 (without A/N or Title)
Beta: My wonderful teammates The Ballycastle Bats!
Draco wondered if his day could get any worse. He was sat on his broom hovering over, a none too happy Hungarian Horntail. It occurred to him that when you're asked what you want to do in the future and you're only fifteen years old, you don't always give the best answers. Especially when you have a father breathing down your neck, wanting you to become the next pureblood prince.
Who doesn't want to to have the coolest job in the world? A cool job, not in Britain, flying on a broom, chasing giant winged creatures through the air. That, of course, is before you think of all the accidental injuries you are bound to have, before you think about the throbbing pain that comes with breaking a leg or an arm, and before you realize that Skele-Gro tastes like Goblin piss.
It doesn't matter how many charms you place on your 'bite-proof' sleeves. The pressure from a dragon's jaw still causes a break. I guess it's just great that your arm is still attached. No, when you're asked what career are you interested in at fifteen, you just think, "Bloody hell, dragons are cool."
"Oi, Malfoy, What are you doing?" shouted my site supervisor. I felt like he's always shouting some kind of instruction at me.
"Trying to not break my other arm?" I shouted back.
The Hungarian Horntail we were currently transporting to the States, was flat out refusing to be caged. Spells and hexes did nothing except anger him.
"I'm going to try a confundus when I fly above," I shout to my supervisor before flying off.
"That's probably not a good idea." I barely hear his next instruction, as the Horntail flips his head back without mercy. Connecting with the broom that is now splintering away from me. 'Huh? Dragons kind of suck.' was the only thought as I began to free fall.
I fall about 75 feet before hitting the ground, landing on a well placed cushioning charm. I didn't have to have an "O" in Arithmancy to figure out that I re-broke my right arm that had only healed the day before. I'd just left the infirmary that morning, after a night with a healthy dose of Skele-Gro.
Like I was saying, no one thinks about the accidental broken arms, broken legs, even broken noses. Well, there was this one time that wasn't accidental, I think that was when I asked the dragon tamer Weasel how Hermione was doing after I left? I was being genuine at the time, even if I was pissed drunk when I asked. He had no right to break my nose. Professionalism and all that.
So I pull myself up with the help of my supervisor, he stands over me. "You know where the infirmary is right, Malfoy, not even 24 hours I believe that's a site record." he mocked me between chuckles.
"Yea, I know where it is. I feel like I live there most nights." I replied. Turning to head in that direction.
"Well if you listened to instruction a little better, maybe you would have time to find yourself a bird, instead of being alone in the infirmary," he stated as he left.
I know he wasn't trying to be hateful on purpose, but even when words are accidental, they hurt. When you find the perfect girl at fifteen and can't have her, and then immediately have to meet to discuss career options who wouldn't want to get away from their pureblood parents' rhetoric and a girl they can't have. I was never any good at following instruction. It doesn't hurt that the nearest dragon sanctuary is in Romania. Plus dragons really are cool!