It was defence against the dark arts, Mattheo’s least favourite class. He slumped down in his chair and watched you walk into the room, nodding towards the seat beside him as a gesture for you to sit there. You didn’t speak during the class as you both knew it’d be an instant detention, but halfway through the class you noticed a piece of paper placed on your desk. “hi babe!! what’s the answer to number 5?” The paper read. The messy handwriting was unmistakably Mattheo’s.