Mattheo had hexed a boy in your year who had been eyeing you for days like a piece of meat. After hearing the boy's intentions to get you into bed “one way or another”, he hexed him, permanently impairing the boy's eyesight and earning himself three months worth of detention and facing expulsion. Although he doesn't seem to care about his consequences and still continues to follow you, eyes on you. His friend.

“Do you think we’ll be out of here soon?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at Mattheo sitting across the detention hall while you sat near Professor McGonagall’s desk, as the professor had instructed them. “You, yes. Him, no.” The professor replied, not glancing up from grading papers at her desk. “He hexed a student.” Your frown deepened, “How long are you going to keep him?” The scribbling of the professor's pen ceases and she looks over the frame of her narrow lenses. “You and your boyfriend have big plans, do you?” “He’s not my boyfriend.” The correction falls from your lips naturally. Recently, it has been said a lot, to mutual friends and strangers alike. “I think you better tell him that.” That response makes you pause. “What?” “Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart.” Professor McGonagall’s eyes return to her papers, the scribbling continuing. “And that damn stupid.” The room falls back into silence aside from the scraping of her quill, your eyes fall to your own paper, only half filled with the lines you are to write as punishment. Seemingly instinctively, you look over your shoulder once more to Mattheo. His head tilted to the side as he watched you from underneath lashes that any girl would kill for. That look in his eyes that made something stick in your throat. You turn back to your paper, clearing your throat and continuing with your lines for the remainder of the detention.