It all started three years ago. In potions class. Professor Madden had set the class to make a Draught of Peace. It was a tricky potion, requiring exact measurements, but you weren’t worried. You had practiced. Yet, when Madden passed your cauldron, he merely hummed in approval. When he reached Ellie’s, he actually paused.
"Interesting," he murmured, peering into her cauldron.
You glanced over before you could stop yourself. The shimmering, silver-blue liquid inside looked… perfect. Identical to yours. No. Better.
Professor Madden nodded slightly. "Five points to Gryffindor."
The words stung. He rarely gave points in class, especially not to second-years. You clenched your jaw, glancing at Ellie. When she saw your reaction, she couldn't stop from smiling at you, enjoying your irritation. And for years, this rivalry hadn’t stopped. It just grew.
Every time you and Ellie Williams shared a class, it was a battle waiting to happen. You studied until your eyes burned, perfected every spell, and brewed every potion flawlessly—because if you didn’t, Ellie would. And the most infuriating part? She barely tried.
While you spent late nights in the library, Ellie spent hers on the Quidditch pitch. While you dissected every spell down to its core, she flicked her wand with reckless ease and still got it right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she was good at everything. It wasn’t fair that, no matter how hard you worked, she always kept up. And it definitely wasn’t fair that she knew how much it pissed you off.
Professor Samuels strolled along the front of the classroom, sleeves rolled up, chalk tapping against the board as she listed different dark creatures.
"Can anyone tell me the best way to subdue an Erkling?"
Your hand moved instinctively, but—
"Stunning spell," Ellie said, leaning back in her chair.
You didn’t even hesitate. "That wouldn’t be the best method."
Ellie’s head turned, eyes locking onto yours. You ignored her burning gaze. "Erklings are highly resistant to stunning spells. If you actually wanted to stop one, a Silencing Charm would be much more effective."
A beat of silence.
Ellie blinked at you, unimpressed. "Oh, I’m sorry. Did I ask for a correction?"
You smiled sweetly at her. "No, but Professor Samuels did ask for the best way to subdue an Erkling. I was just making sure the right answer was given."
The class let out a collective 'ooh'. Samuels, ever patient, only looked mildly amused. "Both answers are usable, though silencing an Erkling would neutralize its main weapon—the voice."
Classes had just ended, and the corridors were flooded with students. Ellie leaned casually against the stone wall outside the classroom, her broomstick propped lazily against her shoulder. Jesse and Dina stood beside her.
She smirked, still thinking about how you had damn near vibrated with annoyance when she corrected your pronunciation in charms.
"I swear, she was fuming," Ellie said, a slow grin tugging at her lips. "Thought she was gonna hex me right there in class."
Jesse snorted. "You do kinda push her buttons every chance you get."
Ellie shrugged, "yeah, but it’s fun."
"You know what else is fun? Not being obsessed with her." Dina added.
The green-eyed girl rolled her eyes. "I'm not obsessed."
"You talk about her constantly."
"I—" Ellie started, but couldn't finish her sentence.
Jesse grinned. "Hey, I get it. It's entertaining. She's all proper and serious, and you—"
"—drive her insane," Ellie finished, pleased with herself.
Just then, another voice cut in. "Yeah, but come on. She’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think?"
Ellie’s head turned, spotting Miles—one of the most insufferable Slytherins—sidling up next to them.
"You know," he continued, "acts all high and mighty, but if she didn’t have her nose buried in a book twenty-four-seven, she’d be nothing. Without all that studying, she’d be just another nobody."
Ellie’s grin vanished. Miles, oblivious, kept going. "Bet she cries about grades at night. Or maybe she’s just desperate to be noticed. Like, does she even have a life outside of being a try-hard?"
"You done?" Ellie asked, voice slow and measured.
Miles blinked, thrown off by her tone. "Uh, yeah?"
Ellie scoffed, shaking her head in clear disgust. She pushed off the wall, looking at Miles like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
"Right," she muttered. Then, without another glance at him, she turned to Jesse and Dina. "C’mon."
Jesse and Dina exchanged a look before following Ellie as she walked off, leaving Miles standing there, confused.
You were in the common room later, curled up in an armchair with your notes. The fireplace crackled softly, and the murmur of other students filled the space—but your concentration shattered the moment your friend dropped onto the couch beside you.
"Did you heard what happened?"
You blinked, startled.
Val scoffed at your reaction. "Miles was making fun of you and Ellie just—" She gestured wildly. "She didn’t laugh. She didn’t tease. She didn’t even play along."
Your stomach twisted. "What?"
"I’m telling you, she looked at him like he was trash. Like he wasn’t even worth the breath it’d take to insult him back. Over you."
You frowned, gripping your notes a little tighter. Ellie never passed up the opportunity to make a smug comment. Never let a chance to rile you up go to waste.
Why she would do that?
The Astronomy Tower was quiet at this hour. You had been up here practicing. Perfecting. The spell was supposed to be easy, something delicate, something that required absolute control. But after the day you had, your hands were unsteady. When you moved your wand in the final motion, the energy snapped back before you could react. A sharp sting tore through your palm.
You hissed, flinching as a thin line of crimson ran down across your skin.
"Shit," you muttered under your breath, trying to shake off the pain.
"Y’know," a voice drawled from behind you, "if you wanted a dramatic midnight brooding session, you could’ve just invited me."
You tensed. Of course she was here.
Ellie Williams leaned lazily against the stone wall, arms crossed. "Kind of late for extra credit, isn’t it?" she teased, raising a brow. Then, glancing at your hand, she smirked. "Should I call a prefect? Tell ‘em you’re up here sacrificing first-years?"
"Piss off, Williams."
Her smirk faltered. Her gaze flicked to your injury again, her posture shifting. She stepped closer, the usual amusement in her face dimming just enough for you to notice.
"Let me see," she said.
You rolled your eyes. "It’s nothing—"
The auburn-haired girl ignored you, reaching out and catching your wrist gently but firmly. The warmth of her fingers against your skin sent a jolt through you, but you were too caught off guard to pull away. She turned your hand over, studying the cut under the moonlight.
Ellie exhaled through her nose, jaw ticking.
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
You hesitated, then shrugged. "I’ll survive."
Ellie’s grip on your wrist tightened just slightly. "Not what I asked."
Her voice was quiet, steady. The teasing tone was gone, replaced with something else. Something serious. You swallowed. The way she was looking at you—like she actually cared, like she had been worried—it sent your heart into your throat.
"I’ll be fine," you muttered, but even you didn’t sound convinced.
Ellie didn’t say anything for a moment. She just held your gaze, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin. Then, with a sigh, she muttered, "C’mon, let’s fix this before you actually start dripping blood all over the place."
She didn’t let go of your wrist as she led you toward the stairs. Maybe you were too tired to fight against her touch. Or maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind.
The walk down from the Astronomy Tower was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old castle floors beneath your steps. Ellie still hadn’t let go of your wrist, like she expected you to shake her off at any second.
You should have. But you didn’t.
She led you through the dim corridors with ease, eventually slipping into an empty classroom. Ellie finally let go of you, pushing a chair out with her foot before nodding at it. "Sit."
You raised an eyebrow, "Bossy much?"
"Just sit, try-hard," she muttered, already rummaging through her robe pockets.
You rolled your eyes but obeyed, watching as she pulled out her wand and crouched in front of you. Her expression was unreadable, mouth set in a line as she studied the large cut across your palm.
"Hold still," she murmured, lifting her wand.
A soft warmth spread through your skin as she muttered a quiet healing charm. The cut began to seal itself, the sting fading into nothing.
A beat of silence stretched between you. Then, without thinking, you blurted, "Why aren’t you asleep? Don’t you have the big match tomorrow or something?"
Ellie snorted, leaning back against the desk behind her. "Awe, you remember my matches, huh?"
You didn’t answer, your ears red.
She sighed, her playful smirk fading just slightly. "I couldn’t sleep," she admitted, voice softer now.
That caught you off guard. You finally looked at her, brows furrowed. "Why?"
Ellie hesitated. She glanced away for a moment, as if debating whether to actually answer. Then, with a quiet breath, she said, "Dunno. Just had too much on my mind."
The way she said it made your chest tighten. Because for the first time since you met her, you realized something—Ellie Williams, your biggest rival, the person who had tormented you for years, the girl who got under your skin like no one else… wasn’t as untouchable as she seemed.
You wanted to be thankful at her for this. But inside your chest only boiled confusion and sudden anger. Before you could think it twice, you snapped. "Why are you doing this?"
Ellie’s composture stilled. She glanced up at you, her green eyes sharp under the low light. "Excuse me?"
You gestured vaguely to your hand. "You spend years annoying the hell out of me, making my life miserable every chance you get. And now, what? You suddenly care that I got a little cut? It could've been the perfect opportunity for you to snitch and tell some teacher about it."
Ellie didn’t respond immediately. For the first time since you met her, she seemed… caught off guard. Like she hadn’t expected you to question it. Her jaw shifted, fingers tightening around her wand.
"You’re an idiot," she muttered, shaking her head.
You frowned. "What—"
Before you could finish, Ellie grabbed your wrist again—gently this time, nothing like before. The heat of her skin against yours made your breath hitch.
"You think I’d just let you sit there bleeding like a dumbass?" she asked, voice quieter now. "Even I’m not that much of a dick."
You searched her face for any sign of mockery, any hint that this was just another game to her. But there was none. She was serious. And that was somehow worse. You could handle Ellie when she was smug, when she was insufferable, when she was competing with you for the top spot in every class. But this? This was new. This was unfamiliar.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away. "Whatever," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your pulse was suddenly too loud in your ears.
Ellie didn’t say anything else. She just let go of your wrist and stood up, stuffing her wand back into her pocket. "Let’s get out of here before some prefect catches us," she said, her voice back to normal, back to teasing. "Don’t need you losing house points and crying about it later."
The tension cracked just slightly. You rolled your eyes, shoving her shoulder as you passed her. But even as you walked ahead, you couldn’t ignore the feeling of her gaze lingering on you. Or the realization that, for some reason, Ellie Williams cared.
The next day, the Quidditch pitch was packed.
The air buzzed with anticipation, students waving banners and shouting house chants as the players took their positions in the sky. It was the kind of electric energy that had never mattered to you.
You’d been to maybe three matches in your entire time at Hogwarts. Quidditch had never been your thing—not because you thought it was stupid, but because there were always more important things to do.
But today… Today, you were here. And you hated that you didn’t have a good enough reason for why.
You sat stiffly in the stands, arms crossed, trying to act like you didn’t care, like your eyes weren’t already scanning the field for a flash of messy auburn hair and that stupid cocky grin.
Ellie flew in lazy circles, gripping her broom with easy confidence, her eyes flicking over the crowd. She wasn’t even paying attention to the other team, wasn’t listening to her captain’s last-minute pep talk. She was looking for something. Or rather—someone. And when she found you? She nearly lost her grip on her broom. You were sitting there, in the middle of the stands, not cheering, not waving any banners—just watching. Watching her.
She barely heard the whistle blow, barely registered the game starting. She was still staring at you, caught somewhere between disbelief and… something else.
The match kicked off, brooms shooting into the sky, players diving for the quaffle. Ellie should’ve been focused, but her head was still in the stands.
Jesse, who had been tailing her in the air, noticed immediately. "Ellie," he called, banking his broom closer to her, "what the hell are you doing?"
Ellie blinked, snapping out of it. "Nothing," she muttered, gripping her broom tighter and diving into the game. And she played hard. If there was one thing Ellie Williams did better than almost anything else, it was flying. She weaved through players like she was made for the air, cutting through the wind in sharp turns, scanning the field with trained eyes.
The game stretched on, fast and brutal, both teams evenly matched. But Ellie wove through the chaos like she was born for it, ducking and dodging, always a second ahead of the defenders.
The quaffle was tucked tight under her arm as she shot forward, hair whipping in the wind. She feinted left, then veered right, completely throwing off the keeper.
And then— She threw it. The quaffle sailed through the hoop, clean and effortless.
The crowd erupted. Ellie let out a sharp exhale, only half-aware of her teammates shouting, of Jesse nearly knocking her off her broom in excitement. She had won. Gryffindor had won.
And yet— the first thing she did? She turned back to the stands. Back to you. And for one dizzying second, your eyes met across the pitch. You didn't stand. You didn't even screamed at their victory. You just held her gaze, and smiled.
She barely heard the cheers around her as Gryffindor’s team swarmed together in celebration. Jesse was shouting something in her ear, but it sounded distant. The world felt distant. Because you were there. Watching her. And smiling.
She was still thinking about it long after the game ended, long after the party in the common room stretched into the early hours of the morning. Her teammates had been buzzing with excitement, but Ellie… Ellie was still there.
And the next day, everything was different. Not dramatically. Not in a way anyone else would notice. But you noticed.
For the first time in forever, neither of you had snapped at each other in class. No biting remarks, no smug comments. When you passed each other in the halls, Ellie didn’t bump your shoulder like she usually did. When you caught her looking at you, she didn’t smirk, she just looked away.
It was weird. And you weren’t sure if you liked it.
A few days later, you were sitting in the library, curled over a book when a shadow fell over your table. You glanced up. "If you’re here to gloat about Quidditch, I’ll hex you."
Ellie snorted, pulling out the chair across from you. "Tempting, but nah."
You raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"
She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. "You came to the game."
You blinked, caught off guard by the way she said it. "Yeah," you said carefully. "So?"
Ellie studied you, her green eyes unreadable. "You don’t like Quidditch."
It wasn’t a question. Your stomach twisted. "Not really."
She tilted her head slightly. "So why’d you come?"
You hesitated. Because why had you? You had never cared before. Never cared who won, never cared about any match. You dropped your gaze to your book, fingers tracing the edge of the page. "Dunno. Just felt like it."
Ellie hummed, unconvinced. She tapped her fingers against the table before leaning back in her chair. "Alright," she said. "Then let’s test a theory."
You frowned. "What?"
She smirked, but it wasn’t her usual cocky grin. It was something softer. Amused. "If you really don’t care about Quidditch," she said, stretching out her legs, "then you won’t mind coming to my next match." Your breath caught as Ellie shrugged. "Just to prove you don’t care.”
You dropped your book, astonished. "That doesn't even make s—"
"—Nuh-uh. Just answer."
You stared at her, trying to find the catch. Trying to understand why she was suddenly acting like this. But she just watched you, waiting. Your heart pounded.
"…Fine," you muttered.
Ellie grinned. "Great. It’s next Saturday."
You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. "I hate you."
She just laughed.
Saturday arrived faster than you wanted it to.
The game started with a whistle, and the players shot into the air. You tried not to search for Ellie right away, but your eyes found her anyway. She was easy to spot—Chaser. Fast. Sharp. Too damn good.
You weren’t watching, not really. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But then something happened.
Ellie had the quaffle, flying hard toward the goalposts. A Slytherin chaser came in from the side, fast. Too fast. The collision was brutal. One second, Ellie was in control. The next, she was spinning.
She managed to stay on her broom, but barely. The quaffle was lost, and the Slytherin team surged forward. The crowd roared, half in protest, half in excitement.
Your stomach dropped. You gripped the edge of your seat, pulse hammering in your ears. Ellie steadied herself, shaking her head like she was trying to clear it. She looked up, right at you. Your breath hitched. And then—Ellie smirked. It was a little weaker than usual, but it was still her. And fuck, did that make your chest ache.
The game continued, but you barely registered it. You watched, though. More than you should have. And when Gryffindor won, the stands exploded. And you just held her gaze. And smiled. Just like before. And this time, Ellie smiled back.
That night, the Gryffindor common room was wild with celebration. Laughter, music, and the occasional drunken cheer filled the space, students packed together in a sea of red and gold. Butterbeer bottles clinked, spilled, and passed from hand to hand. It was warm, loud, alive.
You found yourself on the small balcony overlooking the chaos, leaning against the railing, your third butterbeer in hand. The cold air brushed against your flushed skin, doing little to sober you up. The drink wasn’t strong—nowhere near Firewhiskey—but three of them on an empty stomach made your limbs feel light, your head a little too fuzzy. You sighed, taking another sip. Maybe you should just go to bed. Maybe—
"You gonna fall off or what?"
Your heart jumped at the sudden voice beside you. You turned, only to find Ellie leaning against the railing, her own butterbeer in hand, watching you with that lazy, lopsided grin.
You scowled, rolling your eyes. "Shouldn’t you be celebrating the victory?"
Ellie lifted her bottle and clinked it against yours. "Oh, but I am."
You blinked. Then, against your will—you smiled.
You hated that she did this to you. That no matter how much you tried to keep your distance, she had a way of getting in.
Ellie didn’t say anything at first, just took a slow sip from her bottle, eyes flickering down to the party below. She looked… different. Not just because she was cleaned up from the match, hair damp from a shower, but because—
Because she was just here. Next to you. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the muffled laughter from inside filling the quiet. It should have been awkward. It wasn’t. Finally, Ellie exhaled, setting her bottle down on the railing.
"You know," she started, voice quieter now, "I really didn’t think you’d come."
You swallowed, fingers tightening around your drink. "I almost didn’t," you admitted.
Ellie nodded, as if she expected that. "Then why did you?"
You looked away. "Dunno."
Ellie hummed, like she did know. Like she was waiting for you to admit it.
Why were you suddenly uncomfortable? "It’s not like I care about Quidditch."
"I know."
"Or Gryffindor."
"I know."
You hesitated. Ellie leaned in slightly, her voice softer now. Closer. "But you care about me."
Your breath hitched. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even smug. Just—honesty.
You turned, ready to snap something back, to push her away like you always did, but her eyes stopped you. They were warm. Open. Studying you like she could see straight through you.
You gripped your beer harder. "You hit the ground pretty hard."
Ellie raised an eyebrow at the subject change but let it slide. "I’ve had worse."
"…Does it hurt?"
Ellie leaned in just a little, voice barely above a whisper, "I’ll survive."
Your stomach twisted. You swallowed, turning away, but Ellie didn’t move. She stayed close, her presence buzzing against your skin. The party roared on behind you. But here, on this balcony, it was just the two of you. The weight of Ellie’s stare made your whole body buzz.
You could lie. You could roll your eyes, take another sip of your drink, and shove her away with a snarky remark like you always did. You could pretend like none of this meant anything. But it did mean something. And then you made the mistake of looking up at her.
Ellie was close. Too close. The dim torchlight caught the freckles dusting her nose, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips parted slightly—like she was about to say something, but thought better of it.
You should’ve said something first. Should’ve broken the tension, pushed her away, anything. But Ellie’s hand moved before you could react. Soft. Gentle. She reached up, fingers skimming against your jaw like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch you. Your breath caught. Then—so quietly, she breathed, "Tell me to stop."
You should. You should tell her to stop, because this was Ellie Williams, your rival, your biggest annoyance, your— your what?
You swallowed, but your throat felt too dry.
Ellie was watching you now, green eyes flickering between yours, searching. Waiting.You didn’t say anything. The girl exhaled sharply, like she’d been holding her breath for too long. Then, slowly, she leaned in. Your mind barely had time to catch up before her lips were on yours. Warm. Soft. Sure.
Your breath hitched, but your body betrayed you before your brain could. Your fingers curled around the fabric of her sweater, pulling her closer instinctively. Ellie let out a quiet sound—something between a sigh and a hum—and tilted her head, deepening the kiss.
The world outside the balcony disappeared. The party, the noise, the rivalry, all of it. It was just her. Ellie kissed you like she’d been waiting for this. Like she’d been holding herself back for years and finally—finally—let go.
And you? You kissed her back. Because fuck it. For once, you let yourself lose.
The days that followed were a blur.
Ellie would find you in the library, pretending to study when all she was really doing was nudging her knee against yours under the table. You’d roll your eyes at her, but you never moved away. She'd brush against your side in the corridors, just enough to send a shiver up your spine. At night, she'd meet you in empty classrooms, her hands warm against your skin, her lips everywhere.
And right now? Right now, you were completely, utterly fucked.
"Ellie," you hissed against her lips, barely able to catch your breath. "We are so late."
She just hummed, hands gripping your waist as she pressed you back against the wooden desk. "Mm. And whose fault is that?"
You let out a breathless laugh, hands fisting the front of her shirt. "Oh, you did this. You—"
Ellie cut you off with another kiss, and for a second, you forgot what you were even arguing about. Until the clock tower chimed, and you froze. Shit.
Ellie grinned, completely unbothered. "Think Samuels will care if we miss another class?"
You shoved her, grabbing your bag. "Yes, Williams, she will."
"Call me that again and I swear we won't be going for good." She said, leaning onto the desk amused by your redness. "You know how much it turns me on."
You hurried to fix yourself up, wiping at your lips and smoothing your hair. Ellie just watched as you tried to compose yourself. When you glared at her, she held up her hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I'm going," she said, stepping back. "You go first. I'll come in a few minutes."
You nodded, heart still hammering, and rushed out the door.
By the time you slid into your seat, the lecture had already started. A few heads turned, but you kept your gaze forward, pretending like nothing was wrong.
And then the whispers started. Quiet at first, and then more obvious.
Your stomach twisted. Slowly, cautiously, you glanced around.
A few students were looking at you. Not in a you-just-walked-in-late way. No, this was different. You looked down, and then you realized why the sudden confusion.
Your tie. Your fucking tie. The red-and-gold Gryffindor colors stood out immediately, a stark contrast against your uniform. Your own tie, the one in your house colors, was missing.
And then, before you could even react, the door creaked open.
Ellie strolled in, looking as nonchalant as ever, her hands stuffed in her pockets. She met your eyes across the room, and the second you saw her smirk, you knew.
Her tie. It was yours. Your actual house colors, wrapped loosely around her neck like she didn’t have a single care in the world.
The whispers turned to quiet laughter. You clenched your jaw, gripping your quill so hard it nearly snapped. Ellie, the bastard, just grinned.
She sat down across from you, still watching, still smirking, like she was so damn proud of herself. Like she wanted people to know. Like she had planned this.
You exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring. Ellie only raised a brow. And then—that fucking smirk again. Like she was saying mine.