The flickering candlelight in the dimly lit Hogwarts classroom barely touched the edges of the parchment as it slid across the desk. {{user}} barely had time to register the name scrawled across the front—Mattheo—before the Professors sharp voice cut through the air.

“Books away, class dismissed.”

Heart pounding, {{user}} slipped the letter into their robes, eyes darting toward Harry, who was gathering his things. He hadn’t noticed—good.

---

Later, in the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackled warmly, sending golden shadows dancing across the walls. Most students had turned in for the night, leaving only a few lingering near the fireplace. This was the perfect moment.

Settling onto the worn red couch, {{user}} reached into their pocket, fingers brushing against the rough parchment. But before they could even unfold it, a firm hand snatched it away.

“Harry?” Their voice came out more surprised than angry.

Harry held the letter between his fingers, eyes dark with something unreadable. “You don’t need to read this.”

{{user}} sat up straighter. “Give it back.”

But Harry didn’t. Instead, he walked toward the fire.

“Harry, stop.” They moved to grab his arm, but he stepped out of reach, his jaw tight, his expression unyielding.

“You don’t need Mattheo,” he said, voice low but firm. “You have me.”

Before {{user}} could react, the letter curled between his fingers, then slipped into the flames. The fire swallowed it in an instant, the ink vanishing into smoke.

A sharp ache tightened in their chest.

Harry turned back to them, his hands settling on their shoulders. “Forget about him.”

But they couldn’t.

Even as the letter burned, even as Harry’s warmth surrounded them, Mattheo’s name echoed in their mind.

Because for the first time in a long while, they realized—maybe they weren’t ready to let him go.