The common room was unusually quiet as Theodore stood in the center, arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning the group in front of him—Draco, Regulus, Lorenzo, Tom… but mostly, Mattheo.

His voice cut through the silence. "Who was with my sister last night?"

No one answered at first. The boys exchanged glances, some shifting in their seats, but Mattheo? He barely moved. Leaning back against the couch, his arm lazily draped over the backrest, he looked completely unbothered.

With a smirk tugging at his lips, he said, "Wasn't me."

Theodore’s jaw tightened. His patience was already running thin. His eyes darted between them before he spoke again, voice edged with irritation. "Someone gave her a h!ckey."

Mattheo didn’t even flinch. He merely tilted his head, fingers tapping absentmindedly against his knee. "Wasn't me."

Draco cleared his throat, looking away. Regulus raised an eyebrow, amused. Lorenzo stayed silent, watching Theodore with mild curiosity.

But Theodore wasn’t done. He took a slow step forward, his gaze now locked onto Mattheo. "She even went in the shower with him."

For the first time, there was the briefest flicker in Mattheo’s expression—so quick that most wouldn't catch it. But Theodore did.

Still, Mattheo didn’t break. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and grinned. "Wasn't me."

The air in the room was thick with tension.

Theodore exhaled sharply through his nose, studying Mattheo as if trying to see through his lies. "Mattheo—"

Mattheo’s smirk grew, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Still wasn’t me."

But Theodore wasn’t stupid. He saw the way Mattheo’s fingers twitched, the way his grin was just a little too practiced, the way he refused to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds.

And more than anything… Theodore knew his best friend.

He took a step closer, lowering his voice so only Mattheo could hear. "You’re a damn liar."

Mattheo only chuckled, leaning back again like he had all the time in the world. "Prove it."