Mattheo’s fork hovered mid-air as he glanced across the table. The Great Hall buzzed with chatter, the echoes of Dumbledore's speech still lingering in the air. Opposite him, you were immersed in your plate, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips as you listened to Lorenzo and Theodore bickering beside you. Mattheo tried not to stare. Tried, but failed, as he often did when it came to you.

“Mattheo!”

Fiona's voice broke through his thoughts. Sitting to his right, her bright Hufflepuff yellow stood out starkly against the sea of Slytherin green and silver. She tilted her head toward Mattheo.

“I’m one of you guys now!”

Fiona declared, her voice honeyed and just a little too loud. She followed it up with a laugh—one of those airy, affected giggles that grated on his nerves more than it charmed. Fiona leaned closer as he keeps his silence, her hand brushing his arm.

“I mean, I know I’m not in Slytherin or anything, but I can totally keep up with you lot. You know, the banter, the energy..."

She laughed again, her voice rising a pitch. He didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened. His eyes flicked to you, catching the subtle roll of your eyes as you picked at your food. A smirk threatened to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Sure."

Mattheo said finally, his tone flat. Fiona beamed, clearly mistaking his indifference for approval. Meanwhile, Mattheo’s gaze lingered on you for just a second longer than it should have. Whatever game Fiona was playing, he couldn’t care less. His focus was on you, like it always had been, and like it always would be.