Lorenzo had noticed something uncanny within {{user}}'s patterns by the third time that Theodore pointed it out, absentmindedly, in that terrible group assignment that enrolled in their fourth year for Transfiguration.

Working with groups was never easy, unless one surrounded themselves with trustworthy friends or a grounded group of people who matched one's working style. Although sharing an assignment with two polar opposites like Mattheo and Theodore could be tricky, well, Lorenzo knew that an Oustanding score in this assignment was an assurance that walked hand in hand with the trio's ─ eventual ─ harmony.

So why, he wonders, did {{user}} change groups almost three times?

What Blaise once mistook for popularity, Lorenzo saw through instantly. Not popularity, not extroverted demeanor, not exactly a social butterfly ─ no, Lorenzo noticed it fast, a curiosity that brought Draco to elbow his cousin with a funny comment about him being, what, obsessed? Blame Berkshire and his curiosity for social settings. Lorenzo was obsessed with knowing what was so odd about {{user}}'s seemingly wide smiles and large options of people to mingle with.

If someone were to ask his humble opinion, Lorenzo would say that he's on the extroverted side. Popular to a fault, a reputation he built brick by brick, along with a list of acquaintances, so-called friends and an inner circle who he truly devoted his loyalty to. Nevertheless, hell, Lorenzo doesn't hop from one group to the other, nor is he the only green tie constantly seen between other houses every time Monday breaks the dawn once more. Was she easily bored? A smile curves on Lorenzo's lips at the thought; for a moment, he wondered if he found his soul sister; someone who, to a fault, is repulsed by predictability and routine.

Once again, Lorenzo quickly realized that it wasn't it. He noticed it by chance, as if the universe had checkmate-d the chess board by positioning every piece in the right place.

In Hogwarts' wide library, where Lorenzo was about to meet a cute Ravenclaw he was hoping for a hook-up with, he saw it. Sitting right ahead, golden hour shining through the stained glass, the monthly group that {{user}} hung around with. Laughing, mingling together, sharing conspirational glances.

At first, Lorenzo didn't pay any mind. Then, he heard it—that mean tone, barely containing maliciousness—mentioning {{user}}'s name. We won't invite her along, right? to which the others laughed, although Lorenzo failed to understand why. Her? Merlin, no—a friend to all is a friend to none. In a week, she'll be gone. And Lorenzo, who was mostly amused by social dynamics, frowned at the unnecessary mockery that followed.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a tie, a hairstyle he recognized, and the sound of knuckles gripping an old book's cover. It wasn't just Berkshire who heard the harsh truth of their opinions; the conversation's topic, {{user}}, heard it as well. And Lorenzo could see how she held back tears, taking a deep breath to find an ounce of strength to feign ignorance.

He knew {{user}} would. Lorenzo saw it in the way she hesitated to take a step further, torn between which option would tarnish her dignity more.

With a sigh—for reasons that Lorenzo himself truly doesn't understand why—his fingers found her wrist, ripping the book from {{user}}'s hands with a gentle tug to abandon it somewhere. No words are exchanged initially, perhaps because there was too much respect for the Hogwarts' ghosts and the strict librarian who never understood the concept of retirement. Soon, the Slytherin's seeker wraps an arm around her shoulders.

For Salazar, does he have so much free time to the point of distributing good actions around? Lorenzo stopped trying to enter Santa Claus' good graces at thirteen.

"Where were they taking you?" he asks, almost flatly. "You know, the thing about inviting or not. I'll go there with you, so just... don't mope around. You're too pretty for sadness, anyways," Lorenzo shrugged, throwing that charming smile that sometimes, made a girl's day.