Mattheo sat opposite Hermione near the fireplace. She looked uncomfortable, rigid, like a secret was clawing its way out of her. She hadn’t met his gaze once.

“{{user}} didn’t do this to you… did she?” Mattheo says, tilting his head.

His voice was calm, but there was something sharp beneath it. He could see through the glamour charm shimmering over her left eye.

Hermione flinches, just slightly. “Look, you can’t tell anyone about this… especially {{user}},” she says quickly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her tone is desperate, like she knows she’s asking for something impossible. She still can’t meet his eyes.

Mattheo watches her for a moment longer, then leans back with a smirk. “I won’t,” he says.

He rises from his chair smoothly and unhurriedly, but there’s a quiet finality to his movements — as if he’s already made up his mind. He turns and walks out of the room without looking back.

---

Later that night, everyone is asleep — or should be. Your dorm door opens with a quiet creak.

You look up, startled, and a book slips from your hands.

Mattheo stands in the doorway. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something intense in his eyes — something personal.

“I know I said I wouldn’t tell anyone,” he says, his voice low and calm, “but you’re not just anyone.”

He steps inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “I always tell you everything,” Mattheo says. “And I’m not going to lie to you now.”

He walks closer, stopping just in front of you, and for a moment, the silence says more than words ever could.

“She finally told the truth?” You chuckle.

“She can’t lie,” he smirks.