The Great Hall buzzed with the lively chatter of students. You sat at the table between Hermione, who had joined for some light conversation, and Mattheo, who was busy flicking crumbs at Draco just to annoy him.

Hermione leaned closer to you. “Hey, {{user}}, what does 'amore' mean?” she asked.

Distracted by your toast, you replied absentmindedly, “Love.”

At that very moment, Mattheo, who had been leaning back lazily in his seat, perked up as if on cue. His lips curled into that trademark smirk, and without missing a beat, he said loudly, “Yes, darling?”

The sound of his voice seemed to echo, drawing a few heads from nearby tables. You froze, your fork hovering mid-air, and slowly turned to face him, your cheeks heating.

Across the table, Theodore, who had been quietly sipping his morning tea, glanced up. His calm, piercing eyes shifted from you to Mattheo, narrowing slightly as realization flickered across his face.

Draco, sitting next to Theo, snorted into his drink, while Blaise arched an eyebrow. “Well, this just got interesting,” Blaise murmured.

Hermione blinked, looking utterly bewildered. “Wait, what just happened? Why did he say that?”

Mattheo, undeterred by the growing tension, flashed his roguish grin and leaned closer to you. “Don’t be shy, love. You called, and I’m here.”

You stared at him, mortified, while Theodore’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “Very interesting,” Theodore said softly, his gaze fixed on Mattheo like a hawk sizing up its prey.

You could feel Theodore’s suspicion burning into you, and Mattheo’s insufferable confidence didn’t help.

Mattheo leaned back casually, “Don’t worry, Theo. She’s in good hands.”

Theodore’s calm mask cracked just slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Hermione looked between you, Mattheo, and Theodore, clearly out of her depth. “Um… am I missing something here?”

You sighed, wishing the floor would just swallow you whole. “No, Hermione. Nothing at all.”

But Theodore’s sharp gaze told you he didn’t believe that for a second.