Aelin rubbed her hands together and shoved them into her robes. By Merlin she had underestimated the drop in temperature overnight. Gone were the comforting days of warmth, where a walk in the sun was a constant in her schedule. Now she had to deal with the light mist that made watching a quidditch match quite miserable. At least storms were exciting, spectators and players alike were drenched to the skin within seconds, and it was difficult to see a mere 5 feet in front of you. There was only a glimpse of colour here, or a flash of lighting there, and you could only see the players for a second. Aelin loved playing in storms. But sitting on the stands, feeling water slowly dampen her robes and then the skin underneath, that was about as enjoyable as Professor Darrow's transfiguration class, about as interesting as well. The poor Hufflepuff team was being mowed down by the Slytherin team, and it was barely entertaining. Only watching both teams for any hints on how Gryffindor could improve their game had Aelin engaged.
Aelin sighed and squeezed her eyes shut as Manon and Faline began racing down the pitch tossing the quaffel between them as they went. She opened her eyes just in time to see Faline seemingly drop the quaffel. The entire crowd held their breath as the red ball fell down, down, down.
Right into the hands of Fallon, who then, in as little time as Aelin could blink, tossed the quaffel through the far left hoop, causing cheers and jibes to erupt from the Slytherin house. Aelin rolled her eyes. The first game of the season was turning out to be so much fun, and possibly ensuring the Hufflepuff didn't have a chance at the Quidditch cup this year.
Despite her better judgement, Aelin felt slightly bad for the house, it was hardly a fair game. Sure the Hufflepuff team was filled with some amazing players. Some of her best friends played for the team, Yrene was an incredible chaser and so was Luca, but it was slightly amusing to watch Chaol become less and less tolerant of the Slytherin team. And maybe she did think he deserved to realise he wasn't the best keeper at Hogwarts, though the player who held that title wasn't any better.
Rowan Whitethorn.
Even across the whole pitch she could see his gleaming silver hair, matted to his head because of sweat and rain. He had only let in two goals the entire game, and he'd smirked at the respective chaser each time. Merlin, he was a bastard, a handsome bastard sure, but Aelin could not forgive his behaviour even for a pretty face. Aelin had never played against Rowan, she had managed to be hexed badly the day of the match last year and Madam Hafiza had not let her leave the hospital wing until the game was over. So she hadn't played the Slytherin team yet, but she had to hear her cousins complain every single day about Rowan Whitethorn "Prince of Quidditch". She felt bad for Galan as he sent a beautiful spiraling shot into one of the hoops, and Rowan appeared out of nowhere, jumping up on his broom and vaulting the ball back to Fallon. The Prince didn't utter a word but the smug smile told it all, and though Galan was usually the more gentle out of her and Aedion, Aelin could have sworn she saw her cousin snarl something atrocious at the Slytherin keeper before flying off.
Someone sat down heavily beside her, Aelin caught a whiff of flowers and moss. Lysandra.
"Hey," her friend said. "How goes the match?" She seemed cheerful, and Aelin assumed she'd just recently returned from a stroll through the Forbidden Forest.
Aelin sighed, pulling her blonde hair out of her mouth and tucking it behind her ears, she really should have tied it up before the match.
"Just look at the score and you'll see for yourself," she rubbed her sore eyes, it was only November and she was already tired, it didn't bode well for the rest of the year.
Lysandra whistled lowly. "Shit."
"Yeah."
"But that can't be possible, Slytherin didn't beat them that badly last year, and neither of the teams have changed." There was shock clear in her friend's voice, and maybe worry too. After all, Gryffindor was versing Slytherin in the next couple of weeks and if this was any indication of how that game would go… Aelin was sure she'd never hear the last of it.
The game finally ended with 30 points to Hufflepuff and 340 points to Slytherin after Elide Lochan managed to capture the snitch. It had started to rain more heavily as the game continued to go on, and now - as both teams trudged back to the showers - Aelin breathed a sigh of relief. All she had wanted to do the entire game was slip away up to the common room, but she had stayed in support and sportsmanship.
Now she and Lysandra pushed their way through complaining crowds and up to the Gryffindor dorms.
"Password?" The portrait of the Fat Lady asked.
Lysandra spoke up, "Solis Occasum."
The Fat Lady gave the brunette a rare smile and swung open. They stepped inside to be greeted by the sight of Ansel sprawled across the sofa in front of the fire. There were quills and ink pots scattered across the floor and a few pieces of parchment dangerously close to the open fire.
Lysandra, being the good friend that she was, went about rescuing Ansel's charms homework and cleaning up her mess, while Aelin simply strode over to the redhead and rung out her wet sleeve above Ansel's face.
It only took a few droplets of water before Ansel shot up, spluttering and gasping for air. After a moment of panic she realised where she was and scowled at Aelin who was laughing herself silly.
"Hello bitch," she purred to the blonde.
Aelin smirked, "Hello traitor. Now I see why you didn't come to the game. Isn't this due tomorrow?"
Ansel yawned deeply, "Yeah, Hamell will skewer me if it isn't done," she gave her friends a pointed look. "We can't all be his favourites."
Aelin shrugged the comment off without so much of a blush. "What can I say, he favours me for my talent and -."
"Me for my uncontended beauty," Lysandra interrupted with a laugh.
Ansel groaned. "Yeah, yeah, well I do indeed have to have this finished by tomorrow, so unless you're going to help..."
Both witches laughed.
"Ok, ok, we get the message," Lysandra grinned. "Goodluck Elle."
So they headed up to their dormitory, where Aelin went straight to the trunk at the end of her bed, digging through it until she had her toiletries.
"Alright," she said, glancing back at the Lysandra hunched over form, "I'm - ," she cut off suddenly, "What are you doing?"
Lysandra's head shot up from under her bed, eyes wide and full of guilt. "Um, just looking, for my homework."
Aelin immediately caught on, "Oh my god, you bitch! You have chocolate!"
The look in her friends emerald eyes said it all.
The blonde laughed, "Well then, I see where your loyalties lie. I'm going for a bath in the prefect bathrooms, see you later."
Lysandra smiled teasingly, "Alright then babe, I might even save you some of my frogs."
Shaking her head, Aelin made her way out the dorms and through the common room, saying a quick goodbye to Ansel as she passed. Her friend gave her a tired wave then turned back to her pile of parchment.
Aelin whistled lowly to herself as she walked through the empty corridors. It wasn't unusual for the corridors to be empty on a Saturday afternoon, though she assumed it was for a different reason today. It was most likely that instead of being outside and enjoying the sun, students were off in showers or tucked up in beds.
Aelin however, was not after a simple shower block, no. Aelin was a prefect, and in her opinion the best thing about being a prefect was…
"A bath," she sighed in relief as the door to the prefects bathroom became steadily closer.
She reached Boris the Bewildered, the statue acting true to his name as she tapped him on his shoulder.
"Bah," the statue exclaimed, "What is this?" His large marble eyes focusing on her, "Oh Miss Galathynius, here for yet another soak?"
Aelin ignored the snarky comment, "hello Boris, it's good to see you too. Summer Berries." Ugh, whoever had made the password this week was really not feeling the change in season.
The door swung open instantly, and Boris put up a fight, "no wait! I didn't mean to open it, you can't go in!"
Giving the statue a pat on his cheek Aelin strode in through the open door, "thanks Boris, see you later!"
"Miss Galathynius, you really can't be in there…" Boris faded away as the door softly shut and Aelin took in the glorious sight of the prefect bathroom.
Pillars of white marble supported the arching roof, floating candles illuminating the swimming pool sized bath, except something was wrong…
The bath was full.
Cursing the lazy bastard who had last used the room, Aelin shrugged out of her robes and headed over to the bubbling bath, pausing suddenly to take in the heady scent. Merlin what was that smell and why was it so divine. The scent of pine trees and fresh fallen snow on the staghorns. The smell of home.
Though she'd fully been intending to release the water, Aelin found herself throwing caution to the wind and sliding into the pool sized bath, the magic infused in the soaps assured the water stayed clean no matter who swam in it. Bubbles floated around her serenely and the water shimmered with some sort of perfumed oil, the mermaids lovely voice filling the air. By Merlin she felt so safe surrounded by this scent, so warm, and if she closed her eyes she could almost imagine she was home. Lying in her own giant tub made of burnished copper.
Suddenly a deep voice broke through the sound of the mermaids soft singing, "You're swimming
in my bath."
"Bloody hell!" Aelin exclaimed, ducking below the bubbles to her neck, how much had this person seen?
She swung around to tell the guy off and was greeted by a white towel. Aelin's gaze followed the fabric up past narrow hips and a defined chest. Oh Merlin. She knew that tattoo of swirling black, but she'd never realised quite how striking it was.
The whorls of ink winded their way up his left arm and chest, curling to a stop just above the brow he arched at her. She tried not to focus on how the ink seemed to exaggerate his clenched jaw. There were rumours around school about how Whitethorn had gotten the tattoo. He was after all, only seventeen. Many of the theories were so ridiculous Aelin had to keep from snorting everytime she heard a new one. From curses to drunken dares, the students of Hogwarts could not seem to agree on a single explanation of why Rowan Whitethorn had a god damned tattoo scrawled over half his perfect face. Aelin often heard girls in the corridors whispering and giggling about the quidditch prince, about how brutal the tattoo made him seem. It was hard to tell if they liked it or not. Aelin had once scoffed at those girls, she'd had Chaol then after all, but now Aelin could really appreciate where they were coming from. Whitethorn was one attractive bastard.
The silver haired male was still standing there, arms crossed and waiting for an answer, so Aelin opened her big mouth and gave him one.
It was an effort not to smirk as Rowan watched the blonde in the water open her mouth, eyes flickering dangerously, and tell him to not-so-kindly, get himself off.
Rowan knew all about the girl who was currently using the bath he'd made only a few minutes ago. He'd thought that he'd be able to relieve himself and come back to a hot bath alone, but obviously nothing was sacred when it came to the Princess herself.
Aelin Galathynius.
The Firebreather, they called her. A nickname that had arisen in his fourth year after an incident in one of Professor Hamell's charms classes. Rowan had only heard bits of the story, but he'd seen the damage it'd left. Rowan had been dealing with detention that day, punishment for sneaking into the Forbidden Forest with Lorcan the night before. Rowan's job had been to clear up the mess left, and it was hard to imagine that a third year had managed to create such extensive damage. Charred floorboards, black staining the walls, desks left in nothing but ashes - the windows had taken him hours to clean, though most had to be replaced.
Aelin had put twelve students in the hospital wing that day, most suffering from third degree burns. The backlash had been enormous. Rowan could still remember the endless amount of howlers addressed to the young girl. The first day had been the worst, but the letters had continued the whole week, and into the week after. Aelin had been pulled out of school that year. And the following. Rowan hadn't seen her again until she joined the Gryffindor quidditch team in her fifth year. Lighting fast on a broom, with even quicker wit, she was a lethal player. And yet Rowan still hadn't played her, hadn't felt for himself the thrill of versing the Firebreather. That would have to change.
"You didn't answer my question, Galathynius." He said, bending down to get closer to those fiery eyes, "Why are you in my bath, and how did you get into an occupied bathroom?"
Her mouth pulled up in a half-smile that was more a baring of teeth and said, "How do you think I got in, Whitethorn? I used the bloody door. Now how the hell did you get in?" The words came out as a challenge, a declaration of dominance. And Merlin damn him if they didn't pull at something deep within his chest.
So Rowan gave her a smile of his own, one that he knew had witches giggling in the bathrooms. "If I wasn't stupid -"
"Aren't you?" He ignored the blatant insult.
"- I'd say you were calling me the pervert." He gave her another roguish grin which widened when he saw her breathing shudder. "When in actual fact, you're the one who snuck into my bathroom and are now bathing in it. Naked."
The scowl on Aelin's face deepened, though it did nothing to detract from her overall allure. He'd always heard boys mention she was pretty, but he'd never really noticed it himself, never bothered to look. But he was looking now. And maybe that was a weird thing to do while she was naked in the bath with only a thin layer of bubbles shielding her from his gaze, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Maybe he was the pervert.
He found himself wishing she would come closer, if only so he could study the planes of her face.
Her eyes seemed to nail him in place as she said in a voice low and soft, "If you don't get me a towel, Whitethorn, I'm going shrink your balls with a nifty charm I learnt from Ansel."
Well that certainly cleared things right up. Of course she wasn't interested, not when she had been warned time and time again by her cousins, not when she had every guy at Hogwarts falling at her feet.. But against his better judgement, Rowan wanted to know Aelin Galathynius. Wanted to know what made her tick, what went through her head everyday. But Rowan was a quidditch player before anything else, and he knew when to accept his losses. So Rowan got to his feet, strode unhurriedly to the folded white towels, and threw one to the edge of the pool; leaving it there for the Princess to use when she wanted.
"Don't bother getting out," he said as a means of goodbye. "See you on the pitch Galathynius."
And with that he grabbed his robes, wrapping them around himself as he walked out the door.
He ignored Lorcan when he got back to the dorm, heading straight to the showers where he turned the temperature to nothing but cold.
And yet those turquoise eyes refused to leave his mind, burnt there for the foreseeable future.