Disclaimer: If I were Rainbow Rowell, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction of my own story.
I would be very happy if you took a moment to take the poll on my profile page!
It was a lost cause, really.
How do you tell your headmaster that your roommate hates you and is out to get you?
It's obvious, Simon reasoned. One look at him and it's clear we're not the best-friend types.
But no. Tradition had cast them together and continually refused to let them apart.
Simon knew all this, but even as he ascended the stone spiral staircase he was sure there was no way. The Mage would not bow to his every whim.
This isn't a whim, he reminded himself. This is a big deal. Roommates are a big deal.
*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*
Baz hated rooming with Simon Snow.
He'd made it a quarter of the way up the Mage's tower once before, only to retreat at the realization that his plan could never work. That was a time he refused to remember. Pitches never backed down from what they wanted.
Now, though, as he stood on the last landing of the long staircase, he recalled that shameful moment. It wasn't important enough then, he reasoned. I didn't need it so much back then.
He continued walking down the narrow hallway, slowing his strides with each one.
Baz tried to convince himself that the Mage would listen. He knew Snow wasn't thrilled with the current arrangements either. Surely he'd listen to Simon?
Hand hovering inches from the door, Baz remembered the Crucible. Why did Watford depend on a rusty old piece of scrap metal to choose roommates? Surely students could just take some sort of personality test and be paired up that way?
He gripped the knocker and ran through his arguments.
One. He's a prat and we don't get along. He always keeps me up at night with his loud clatter.
Two. It puts my family to shame that I have to room with Simon Snow.
Three. He doesn't like it either.
"Enter."