Hogwarts had a way of weaving people together long before they understood why.
She was firelightβuntamed, bold, with a spirit that didnβt flinch in the face of danger or pride. A Gryffindor through and through, she walked through the castle as though it belonged to her heart. Heeseung was winterβquiet storms beneath his eyes, a Slytherin whose silence spoke louder than spells. Heeseung moved like he knew secrets the world would never earn.
They were never meant to be more than rivals.
Their first words were sharp, thrown across a Potions table with more venom than the ingredients they stirred. After that, it became routine: the eye rolls in the corridor, the snide remarks during group assignments, the accidental brushes of shoulders that neither admitted they noticed.
Everyone thought they hated each other.
But hate doesnβt look like catching her when she slipped on the stairs. It doesnβt sound like his voice softening when sheβs the last to leave the common room after a late-night patrol. It doesnβt feel like her hand lingering just a second too long when she hands back his wand.
No one saw it coming β least of all them.
Because love never arrives the way itβs supposed to. Sometimes, it disguises itself as rivalry, wears the mask of annoyance, and lives in the space between "I canβt stand you" and "I canβt stop thinking about you."
And somewhere between the rivalry, the silence, and the stolen moments, something began to growβquietly, stubbornly, like ivy creeping through stone.