2014 PV ⇉ S. Alexander Flashback Closed

What he said, she supposed, was true. As Quidditch players trained throughout their playing time on the field, different muscles were used for different positions, as well as things like reflex and balance. Those, Celestine had always thought, were things that you couldn't change once you started learning, started playing fulltime in one position. Where her best friend was her broom and the Quaffle, Silas was more acquainted with the Bludgers. She was used to speed and control, but Silas was more about strength and accuracy. Really, the statistics and details of the sport had always been intriguing to Celestine, not that she would ever admit it- that was such a nerdy thing to say.

She grinned lopsidedly at Silas' faint voice, straining to make out his words through the blustering wind. He obviously wouldn't stand for this amount of teasing, especially from a Ravenclaw, of all people. The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was legendary, for sure, but this year, it was Gryffindor pitted against Ravenclaw. Silas had been the only person on the Ravenclaw team who had successfully been able to consistently throw Celestine off her game, although she would never admit that his exceptional Quidditch skills weren't the sole reason why.

What teenage girl didn't harbor a secret crush? For Celestine, she had been brought up in such a way that she treated emotions as weakness, and Silas certainly brought down the stone walls that protected other people from her innermost thoughts. Shaking her head slightly, desperately trying to focus on the task at hand, she forced herself to tear her eyes away from him, perched elegantly on his broom, to track the Quaffle. He had chucked it with every last bit of his might, which was a considerable amount, and if she didn't do something soon... diving towards the Quaffle fearlessly, she extended her arms towards the red ball, leaning further as she realized that she wouldn't get to the ball in time.

Crap.

With absolutely no hesitation, Celestine pulled a 180 turn, knocking into the Quaffle with the tail end of her broom. The collision slowed down the Quaffle considerably, but it also sent her careening wildly. Her grip tightening on her broom, all thoughts of anything else slipped away as all of Celestine's attention went straight to the Quaffle, which was now hurtling down towards the ground. She pulled herself into a dive headed straight down towards the ground, which was honestly much more a Seeker's move than a Chaser's, and she was nearly caught up with the Quaffle, now. As the Quaffle started to edge ahead of her, now only several metres above the field, Celestine pulled up sharply to avoid a collision with the ground, rolling over to the side before letting go of her broom.

She snatched the Quaffle safely into her arms before tumbling to the ground, tucking her head towards her chest and rolling onto to the ground at a steep angle. Never let it be said that Celestine wouldn't hold back when it came to Quidditch- sure, she was definitely a total show-off, but at least she knew her worth. Groaning slightly and cringing as she heard her broom crash into the ground a few metres away, Celestine glanced up towards where Silas was and waved. "I got it!" she yelled gleefully, a stupid smile on her face.

Of course, from all the way up there, it was quite probable that it looked like she had promptly fallen off her broom and bit the dust, so to speak. While all Elijah cared about was how other people saw him, Celestine had no such qualms. She did whatever the hell she wanted to, other people be damned, especially if she managed to pull off something incredibly stupid. Like this.

"Oh! Are you alright? Sorry, that was a little hard. You didn't hit the ground, did you?"

Of course she hadn't, he'd never once seen her fall off her broom. Or rather, he had, since it was his job to make sure she did so, but he'd never seen her make a mistake of her own. But despite this, and as if by instinct, the sixth-year found himself levelled with the girl in the air after having shot down with her to make sure she wasn't spiralling without control.

As if there was such a thing as without control with her.

Celestine was already up and in position again. Only now she appeared to be breathing a bit heavier, her face had flushed and her braids were tangled. She looked more dangerous now, the way she'd look during all of their games... It's the way you have to look, Silas realised, so to inspire the smallest amount of intimidation in the bigger players.

It had never worked on him, though. He just thought she looked beautiful like that. He smiled at the sight.

"I don't know about you," Silas started against the now much milder wind. "but I'm not one to fly for hours in the morning. Or rather, I am, but I've got a rational fear that my step-mother is always watching me, and'll send me a howler about getting a cold. Besides, I might just see almost sending a bonny plummeting to her death as a sign it's time to stop."

He was teasing her again, of course he was, but there was truth to it. His fingers were numb and his knees rattly, which is never the best so high up in the air.

"I'm gonna land, now." He said matter-of-factly, before beginning to do so. Of course, he did hope that she'd follow him down, always sort of wished she'd do, but it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if all he got was a scoff from above and something about how beaters were supposedly beasts of all weather, which admittedly would've made him smile, also.

The wind died down, now, and Celestine could hear Silas properly without having to strain as much. She grinned at him as he announced that he was going to land, backing up and going to retrieve her broom, which was still quite a ways away. Tucking the Quaffle under her arm, she grabbed her broom before marching over to where Silas had landed, a sparkle in her eyes and a wide grin on her face. She had just purposely fallen off her broom to grab the Quaffle, but she felt pretty good about it, all things considered. She got to show off when her captain wasn't constantly watching her, and she had gotten to do it in front of the person she admired most. For that, she wasn't upset at all by the fact that she now had leaves, dirt, and twigs tangled up in her braids.

"That was fun!" Celestine called over to Silas as she made her way over to him. "I think. I mean... you know what? No. No buts. That was so much better than any Quidditch practice, game, anything." She was already smiling, but it was almost like a lightbulb had switched on beneath the surface of her skin, she was practically glowing with happiness. While she had taken a planned tumble, Silas was still somewhat put together- at least, as put together someone could be after flying around in blustery winds for half an hour. Really, how powerful the atmosphere was, possessing the ability to completely dishevel one's appearance... That was power that Celestine would willingly bow to.

They were face to face, now, the two of them- Celestine a good twenty or so centimeters shorter than the Gryffindor. She was certainly short, but what she lacked in height she more than made for in spirit and soul. Already, Elijah was quickly catching up to her, and he was only eight years old. With pink cheeks and a smirk playing around on her lips, she offered the Quaffle up to Silas. "You did well," she admitted grudgingly. "Surprisingly well. Shockingly well, actually. Jones, you never cease to amaze me. I think Gryffindor might've made a mistake, making you a Beater..." Here, she pressed the Quaffle into Silas' chest, leaving him no choice but to take it.

She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay on this Quidditch pitch, to remain in this moment untouched by the cruel hands of time, the harsh judgment of others, the disapproval of her parents, for forever. She wanted to hear Silas compliment her, to see him smile at her, or because of her, anything to even hint at the possibility that he knew of her existence beyond the Quidditch field, beyond their genial rivalry that had sprung up from their matches. She wanted to hear him say her name, goddamit, like she was more than just a number on blue robes as she scored, more than a name appraised by a commentator.

She wanted to be seen by Silas Jones, but in her heart, she knew that it would likely never happen.

With a heavy sigh, she dropped Silas' gaze, taking a step back, her grin turning rueful. "I guess I should head back..." Celestine said, "...but maybe I'll see you around sometime?" Her voice turned hopeful as she glanced back at Silas, a quiet pleading in her eyes. It was obvious that she wanted him to say something, anything, obvious to even the most obtuse of students.

Reducio

Ami tells me (with an alarming amount of confidence) that this is how teenage girls who are in love with someone act. I, myself, am dubious... but never let it be said that I do not listen to her advice.

She'd followed him down.

This reassured Silas, not only because he'd have hated to look spent in comparison to her, but also because it proved he hadn't simply been a bother to Celestine this whole time... an annoying member of the opposing team disturbing her practice. It was the last thing he'd have wanted since, truth be told, it would take some of his esteemed Gryffindor courage every time he opened his mouth around her. That wasn't an asset to be spent without care.

So to know that she'd enjoyed this while just like he had was very rewarding.


Silas smiled even wider down at his feet upon hearing those words. And then he stopped, suddenly, to turn and look at Celestine when they'd reached the end of the field.

Her black hair was still wild, but now it stayed still in the air as the wind was weaker by the ground... Her eyes were still filled with intensity, but were as if looking for something else: her expression was different. She never wore that face on the pitch, nor did Silas ever think he'd seen it on her before. She looked more like a girl, now... And by that, he meant she looked less like someone wanting to kill him high up in the air. In that moment, though, Silas honestly couldn't decide which face he liked better.

He could only hope his own was as intriguing, when he quirked the corner of his mouth and nodded.

"I should hope so," he said. "we have a game coming up. See, I'm not playing if it's just against the others, nor do I think you'd find it much of a challenge against the rest of my team..." But then he dropped it, quite fast, and threw the shaft of his broomstick over his shoulder with a defeated sigh.

"But I was hoping, myself, to see you again a little sooner than that. I know everyone's going into the village on Sunday, for instance. My team... well, to put it frankly they plan on making a lot of noise and upsetting a lot of waiters at the Three Broomsticks. If you'd be so kind as to spare me that evening with them, then I'd be forever grateful."