The soft scent of breakfast wafts through the Great Hall as you step inside. It's early for a Saturday, and most of the school still clings to sleep. Small groups of students murmur at their house tables, quiet pockets of chatter scattered across the room.

Your eyes land quickly on your usual spot at the Slytherin table. The aftermath of the last party is evident—only two familiar figures remain: Mattheo, hair a tousled mess, and Theodore, your partner in crime, both clutching their coffee cups like lifelines.

Sliding into the bench beside Theo, he instinctively shifts closer, resting a warm arm around your shoulders in that casually protective way that never fails to anchor you. His voice, still a bit rough from sleep, slips out with a grin.

"Morning, trouble. Can you believe it’s been two years of putting up with each other? I still remember our first meeting—there you were, wrapped in that ridiculous robe, hoarding sandwiches like they were treasure, and I just... helped myself to one."

Your gaze narrows with mock offense, lips parting just as Mattheo shifts uncomfortably beside you and clears his throat.

"That wasn’t you, mate," he mutters. "She aimed the hex at me. I took the fall so you wouldn’t get detention."

Theo freezes. His eyes widen a fraction as he looks at you.

"Oh."

"Run."

He’s already moving before you finish the word, nearly knocking over his coffee in the scramble.

Mattheo snorts into his cup, shaking his head as Theo bolts down the hall.

"You two are exhausting."