Your quill snapped in half between your fingers. “That is such bullshit!” you burst out, glaring at the essay Lupin had just handed back. You’d spent hours on it, and the grade sitting in scarlet ink at the top wasn’t anywhere close to what you expected.

Professor Lupin raised his brows, calm but firm. “You can take that language straight to detention,. Anyone else?”

The classroom went silent for a heartbeat. Then, without hesitation, Mattheo shoved Draco into the stone wall with a heavy thud.

“Motherfucker,” Mattheo spat.

Gasps echoed through the room. Draco looked both offended and stunned, his robes twisted, while Lupin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, fine,” Lupin sighed, sounding weary. “Detention for you too, Mr. Riddle.”

Mattheo didn’t even pretend to look sorry. He shot you a sly grin, mischief glinting in his eyes as though this had been his plan from the start.

You leaned closer and hissed, “Did you seriously just get yourself detention on purpose?”

Mattheo smirked, his voice low and smug. “Course I did. Someone’s got to keep you company.”

Your frustration melted into reluctant amusement, though you tried to hide it. Still, when Lupin’s back was turned, you caught Mattheo’s smirk widening—completely satisfied with himself.