You slid into your usual spot between Pansy and Blaise, your bag thumping onto the bench, your copy of Advanced Potion-Making already open to the chapter on amortentia.

That's when you saw it.

A single candy, heart-shaped and shimmering faintly pink, sitting right on top of your textbook. No wrapper. No note. Just a glossy little sweet with words stamped into its surface.

Theodore Nott, seated beside him, had looked up from his toast with that unreadable expression he wore when he was pretending not to care about something.

And further down the table, Mattheo Riddle—slouched in his seat, ink-stained fingers wrapped around a cup of black coffee—let his gaze slide toward you with that infuriating half-smirk.