aworkinprogresss
elladora bulstrode was everything a pure-blood witch was expected to be-regal, graceful, untouchable. the pristine image of perfection, sculpted by tradition and bound by duty. theseus scamander was the epitome of composure and control, a commanding presence that demanded attention without ever needing to raise his voice. in their final year at hogwarts, they orbit one another in a slow-burning collision of defiance, rivalry, and something dangerously close to longing.
elladora is keenly aware of theseus' presence, of the way he watches her with an unreadable glint in his stormy blue eyes. he is infuriating, insufferable, and far too perceptive for his own good. he sees past the carefully curated image she projects, past the cool indifference she has perfected, and she loathes him for it.
they do not fall into each other's arms, nor do they surrender to reckless passion. instead, their connection simmers beneath the surface-stolen glances, sharp words exchanged like weapons, the slow erosion of the walls they have built. but they are not meant to be, not yet. life pulls them apart, years passing like whispers in the wind, until fate brings them back together when they are older, wiser, and far less willing to let go.
some loves are not instant. some loves are forged in fire, tempered by time, and made all the stronger for it.