The Hall buzzed with the usual chaos of breakfast—clinking goblets, rustling parchment, and the steady hum of conversation. You were in the middle of spreading jam on your toast when Hermione’s voice cut through the noise.

“{{user}}… is that true?”

You blinked, mid-motion. “What?”

Across the table, Hermione’s brown eyes were sharp, her expression unreadable—part curious, part skeptical. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice but ensuring you still heard her loud and clear.

“That you’ve been with more boys than we can count.”

The toast slipped from your fingers, and a few heads turned, but you barely noticed, heat rushing to your face.

“Excuse me?!”

Before you could fully process the accusation, a voice snapped through the air, laced with barely restrained anger.

“Say another thing, Hermione, and I’m gonna make you regret it.”

Mattheo.

He was seated beside you, but now he was no longer relaxed. His chair scraped against the stone floor as he turned sharply toward Hermione.

A few nearby students glanced over, sensing the tension. Draco, further down the table, raised an eyebrow but said nothing, clearly entertained. Pansy whispered something to Blaise, smirking.

Hermione, however, didn’t back down. She squared her shoulders, her gaze unwavering. “I only asked because people are talking.”

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers to your temple. “And you believed them?”

Hermione hesitated, then sighed. “I wanted to hear it from you.”

Mattheo’s jaw was still tight, his fingers curling into fists. You reached under the table, pressing your hand against his, grounding him. He exhaled through his nose, still seething.

“Well, it’s not true,” you said firmly. “And even if it was, it wouldn’t be anyone’s business.”

Hermione studied you for a moment before nodding slowly. “Alright.”

The tension lingered as she turned back to her breakfast. Mattheo, however, was still tense beside you. He muttered something under his breath, shaking his head, his hand tightening around yours.