don't wash your hair

Attia's fist connected with Draco Malfoy's nose before he could finish his sentence. The look of shock on his face, followed by the burst of blood, was oddly satisfying.

Draco staggered, clutching his face, as Crabbe and Pansy stared in disbelief. Ruby patterns splattered across the stone. Attia stood halfway up the staircase, glaring down at them with her hands balled into fists. She had always thought the best way to catch a wizard off guard was to use non-wizarding methods, and this was no exception.

In first year, Attia's mother made her swear not to get into any fistfights. Especially with none of the Sacred 28. Because she had some very hot-tempered tendencies during her time at a prep girls academy, and Madame Normandeau could do no more with threats of expulsion.

Attia vividly remembered her second year, the year of the Basilisk. Yoona had been petrified, catching a glimpse of the deadly creature through the reflection of an armour set in the Slytherin dungeons. The news had spread like wildfire—Yoona, the girl with the striking looks and unassuming charm, and a boat-load of vanity, was revealed to be a so-called mudblood. It had been the third or fourth time she heard Yoona Moon-Bane brought up by dribbling Draco and pug face Pansy— and she didn't even like the conceited Yoona Moon-Bane that much at the time. 

But it was then that Attia had decided she no longer took pride in spouting that nonsensical slur. It was getting annoying after a certain bit, and a tad depressing. Attia couldn't stand the hypocrisy of her so-called peers, and every time she heard Yoona's name dragged through the mud, she was getting more and more annoyed. Especially knowing Yoona was outperforming them in charms (though she wasn't comparable to the apparently 'Brightest witch of their year' Hermione Granger from Gryffindor.) Attia had never paid much attention to blood status before, she'd never even liked Yoona the teensiest, but she had always absorbed the pure-blood rhetoric from her family and peers without question.

When Yoona was petrified, Attia expected to feel nothing but the usual disdain for those of "lesser blood." But as she watched her classmates cheer and sneer at Yoona's fate, something twisted uncomfortably in her gut.

It was likely because of the high ground Attia came out victorious, brawling three students at once. Pansy had tried to retaliate to be met with an almighty slap that split her lip. Crabbe, the lumbering oaf, was next, but Attia was quicker. She thought it was likely cause of his fat-ass he sprained both wrists on his unathletic tumble.

Sure, Attia's knuckles were shattered, but she kept going at Draco, who wasn't backing down from his bigoted views. Wah wah my father will hear about this you bloody stupid ogre, he was sputtering, until Snape dragged her off the snivelling little blonde bastard. 

Attia didn't resist, though she kept her defiant gaze fixed on Draco until Snape pulled her out of sight. Safe to say she almost got herself expelled. Detention throughout the year. A summer of being grounded. And muggle braces as part of her punishment. Muggle braces! That was absolutely barbaric! She couldn't show her face to anyone in the neighbourhood out of embarrassment. 

Yet every time Malfoy passed by, she felt a flicker of satisfaction, knowing she had shattered more than just his nose. And if given the chance, she'd do it all over again.