#17 - Post Match Check-up

Victoria pulled a face, catching the tone in Amara's voice. Did she feel guilty over what happened to her? It might have been surprising that the Slytherin had a conscience, but she'd known for a while that her roommate had one and so much more. But it puzzled Victoria, made her wonder, why on earth would Amara feel this was her doing? Because she didn't play her normal position?

'I really don't want to hear that.' She swallowed hard after the words left her, suddenly remembering who she was talking to. 'You don't think this is your fault, do you? Far from it, Amara. You did the best you could do by filling the positions needed.' She shook her head, ponytail swaying. 'It's not your fault we're playing with a bunch of bleeding duds.'

Yes, Amara had to switch up the line-up. But she had no other choice, did she? She did what was best for their house. Victoria believed that. As captain, Amara did what she needed to increase the odds of Slytherin winning. It wasn't her fault that she only had herself, Victoria or Lindsey to sub. If anyone was to blame, it was the fourth year who refused to play rough when needed.

Her eyes spun when the doors swung open, watching as Pomfrey quickly stored some vials and began to fuss over the first years. It was about time she'd shown up. They'd only been waiting for however long. It felt like ages, but Victoria supposed she was grateful. She couldn't afford losing her arm. How would she write? Play Quidditch? Use both hands when kissing a boy?

'I have to lay down on it?' She glanced between Pomfrey and the bed, grimacing in disgust. 'Were the sheets changed recently? I don't know who was laying here before me.'

As evident by the stern look on the Pomfrey's face, complaining wasn't going to get her out any quicker. So, with a deep sigh, Victoria sat herself on the edge of the bed and adjusted her broken arm carefully, where it now rested on her thigh, and tried her best to ignore the sheering pain.

'If we can sacrifice a Keeper, perhaps we make Bryce the Beater?' She shifted her weight onto the bed, wincing as the pain pulsed through her arm. 'Maybe she wouldn't drop the bat like she dropped the ball.' Victoria tried to make herself laugh, but it only hurt more, as she laid flat with her arm stretched at her side. Her laugh slowly subsiding, Victoria became still.

Amara glared at Vicky when she said she didn't want to hear that, misinterpreting it at first before she realised what her friend meant. Amara didn't comment further though, as Vicky hadn't convinced her it wasn't her fault in some way. Sure, she understood the logic of the situation but Amara was typically the team Beater. So anytime one of the team gets hurt that way, it felt as if she'd failed them.

Playing as Chaser was not something she wanted to have to do again, even though it was likely to if the team didn't grow in time for their next match. It would depend on who they were up against as well. Could she really risk not playing Beater, if the other house had one? Or was the guilt heavier this time primarily because Vicky was her friend? She didn't know.

'I am not giving Bryce my spot,' Amara spat, offended by the suggestion. 'And can you really imagine her using the bat? She couldn't even...' She halted, squinting at Madam Pomfrey. Vicky would hopefully understand what she meant though, how Bryce seemed incapable of playing rough and performing fouls.

How would she be expected to target someone with Bludgers? Causing hurt against others seemed immoral to the fourth year, which went against how Quidditch worked but whatever. She'd done good as a Keeper, and Amara figured that was fine for now.

She stood back while Vicky was healed, mood worsening as now she had a moment to process Slytherin's loss. Amara maintained a level of calm about it, as all the things she'd said on the pitch were true, but it bothered her more now than it had then. Vicky was hit with a Bludger she could have stopped. And they still lost. It was hard to come into terms with.

Amara refocused when Vicky was cleared to leave. Without a word, she strode out of the Hospital Wing and headed as quickly as she could towards the Dungeons.

[exit]