M—

The Gryffindor caught your eye from several tables away and smiled. Mattheo saw that too. He leaned back in his chair, one arm settling across the back of yours, his gaze never leaving the boy. He looked almost amused. Almost. His thumb began tapping slowly against the wood. Once, twice, three time. You knew him well enough to know that was always bad news. “Mattheo.” “I'm fine.” He absolutely was not. And judging by the way his eyes followed the Gryffindor when he stood and started walking toward you, the week wasn't over yet.