The dungeon was filled with the sounds of potion-making, but none of them reached you fully, not while your eyes were fixed where they shouldn't be... on Mattheo.

There was something magnetic about the way he moved. Unlike so many others, he wasn’t hurried or sloppy, nor was he stiffly precise like Draco. Instead, every motion was effortless and controlled, almost lazy, and you found yourself holding your breath just watching him.

“{{user}}.” Draco’s voice cut through your thoughts. “The ingredient. Now.”

However, you didn't move because Mattheo had just added a powdered root and smirked at something Blaise had said.

Draco slammed his hand against the table, rattling the jars of ingredients. “Merlin’s sake, are you listening to me?”

You startled slightly, blinking, but your gaze only flicked back toward Mattheo again.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “What are you-” His head turned, following your stare. When his gaze landed on Mattheo, realization dawned, and his expression twisted. “Oh no…”

As though on cue, Blaise nudged Mattheo too hard, and the contents of his cauldron hissed.

The cauldron spat out sparks, foaming over and splattering green sludge everywhere. The students gasped, but Mattheo remained calm. He threw in some ingredients and stirred them in with a steady hand. The mess fizzled out as if the explosion had never happened.

A murmur spread through the class and even the professor paused, his expression unreadable, before continuing his slow patrol elsewhere.

Mattheo's eyes flicked up and met yours. For a moment, it felt as if there were only the two of you in the room.

“You know,” you whispered, “I like your eyes.”

His brows knitted faintly as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.“…Mine?” he asked.

You smiled. “Yes.”

In that moment, Draco slammed down the ladle he was holding. “You are supposed to be my potions partner.”

You turned back slowly. “I am,” you said simply.

Draco’s face flushed. “No. You are disloyal.”