Rowaelin oneshots

Hogwarts au

AELIN POV

"I can't see a bludger in this weather," said Aedion to Aelin. "We'll have to be careful. Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

She gave no reply.

His definition of stupid was different to hers; she thought doing homework was stupid, he thought throwing herself off her broom and onto someone elses was. He'd probably think that the tricks she could do on her broom were stupid too.

He hated it when she did anything even the smallest amount dangerous. The idiot, she'd only been living with him for a year - he had no idea that Celaena Sardothian was her, that her back was more scar tissue than unmarred skin.

And he was one to talk; she'd been living with him for bearly a while and he still saw fit to get into a fight around every corner when a guy wolf-whistled her. It didn't matter to her, if the guy really bugged her she'd kill him in his sleep later that night.

As they drifted loftily in the air - waiting for the start-of-game whistle - she could hear Ansel hissing under her breath. "If we beat Slytherin, the cup is practically guarenteed. Come on. Come on. Come on."

As the whistle blew and all the balls were let loose, chaos ensued. As a Chaser, her primary goal should be to grab the ball, and worry about everything else later. But, when playing Slytherin, a strategy is required. Ansel and Neseryn will provide the layup. She just just to bully the Keeper into letting her score the goal.

Which would be no problem if the keeper were anyone other than Rowan freaking Whitethorn. Aedions long standing not-friend.

He didn't even care to know anyones name aside from his little cadres. Aelin was adressed solely as 'Ashryver.' Aedion was more like Sparkle-eating-idiot.

And she hated him with passion. As the Bludger whirled towards her, she spun upside down on her broom and rain splattered up her nose. Ick. She spun agian, twirling in midair, to catch the Quaffle racing for her.

"Thanks Ansel!" Aelin called to the wind. Or, more likely, the rain.

With the Quaffle in hand, and all eyes on her, she flew for the goal. Only to crash into Whitethorn, who was, once again, without a broomstick, standing in the biggest goal. She aimed for the left and waited to hear the voice of Chaol announce "ten points to Griffindor." But it didn't come.

Her eye's met Rowans, who had swatted the ball away with the brush of his broomstick. That SDFGHJK turd. She deserved that goal.

His eyes glimmered with smugness - or it could just be water in his eyes. One culd tell nothing with this rain. "Listen up Whitethorn!"

But before she could finish her threat, the whistle blew for time out. She flew over to Ansel, who was only a mere few metres away. "What happened? I didn't see, I was too busy -"

"Telling Whitethorn he was a beef head?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

"Aedion smacked Illius in the head with his bat."

"But Illius is Hufflepuff,"

Ansel rolled her eyes, "no, duh. He's also not even on the Quidditch team."

"Well then why?" Aelin huffed, already knowing the answer. "Because if it's to do with us making out in the corridor last week, I already told him we've been dating for half a term - well at least we were, until Aedion told him I was, and I quote 'off limits' - and I'm Seven-Freaking-Teen. I don't need a hovering bdy guard."

"I think that's why." Ansel gave a smile and planted her feet on the ground.

Aelin remained floating above the ground. She loved flying. The air moved for her and she moved for it; the perfect harmony. Also, the grass was wet and she was wearing sandals.