Greg discretely eyed Mycroft from the Hufflepuff table. He was certainly not an expert lip reader, but he could have sworn Mycroft had said the word 'bacon' to himself when he saw the steak and bacon tray changing hands in front of him. Not a very good sign, Greg though; that poor kid was going insane. It had already been a week since he had started helping Mycroft with his diet and exercise plan, and he had only manage to take him outside to work out twice, and that's if he counted the second time; the time on which Mycroft invented an excuse after fifteen minutes and got back inside as quick as lighting. Greg decided he hadn't seen him run so fast as when he was getting away from him. Not too good, indeed. It seemed he had been doing better with food, but he looked really miserable. Greg sighed. He didn't want to see Mycroft like that, he wanted to help. Alas, he was running out of ideas very fast.

Mycroft absently rubbed his belly. It had been days since he last had a proper meal and it was constantly rumbling in complaint. He always made sure to grab a bite before dinner without Greg finding out, but the food on the table was invariably too tempting, even if he wasn't terribly hungry. He tried not to look too pitiable, but it didn't help that the girl by his side was moaning with every bite she took.

-Anthea, darling, if you could be just a little quieter please.

The girl almost chocked on her food while trying to contain a fit of laughter.

Mycroft resented the fact that she had the kind of body that couldn't really go wrong. At her smallest, she looked delicate and elegant, at her biggest, luscious and sumptuous. Everything was always proportionate, and not a hair was ever out of place. Anthea was most of the time on the heavy side; in fact, she had been Mycroft's faithful companion when it came to indulging for all of their years at Hogwarts. When Mycroft was dieting on the other hand…

-You know I'm doing this just to bother you, don't you?

-I do.

-Because you are lying to that sweet Hufflepuff boy.

-I do, thank you.

-That secret stash in your room isn't going to last forever, you know.

He didn't want to answer that. It wasn't a stash. And it certainly wasn't secret; she knew about it, didn't she? It was just some backup victuals he was saving up for emergencies. Who knew there would be so many emergencies in so little time? Greg was painfully strict, to his surprise. Mycroft was very aware that soon he would have to go back to the kitchens, and that meant having to dodge Greg, not to mention the other Hufflepuffs. He didn't particularly care for that Molly girl; he had seen her following Sherlock around, and that could never be good news.

Speaking of Sherlock, when Mycroft saw his brother's scrawny frame getting up of the Ravenclaw table and heading for the Hufflepuff one, he felt his heart skip a beat. Sherlock didn't have any Hufflepuff friends; he actually didn't have any friends Mycroft knew of, except for that tiny Gryffindor kid, John. But he certainly had no business on the Hufflepuff table and Mycroft only knew that he wanted him out of there immediately.

Greg saw Sherlock coming up to him and dedicated him an honest smile. He was very aware of the rivalry between the siblings and quickly made the inner decision not to let anything he said about Mycroft affect him. After all, Sherlock loved to mock Mycroft about his weight, and it was actually surprising he had been missing such an easy opportunity to humiliate him.

Sherlock's smile was positively scheming when he sat by his side.

-So you are either an idiot, or blinded by… would you call it friendship?

Greg rolled his eyes at him.

-Sherlock, if you are not here to help I don't wanna hear it. Your brother is actually doing very well.

-Oh, I'm here to help. I don't want to see you misplacing your trust, you see, and I happen to know Mycroft is a gifted liar, and has a trick or two under his sleeve. Do you want to help him or not? I could offer a little guidance.

-Of course I do! But I can't force him to accept that help. It has to come from him.

It seemed Sherlock had spotted Mycroft from above Greg's shoulder; he was quickly approaching them. Sherlock smiled one again and stood up just when Mycroft was close enough to hear.

-I would just keep an eye on the kitchens if I were you.

Mycroft decided it was futile trying to argue with Sherlock. After all, if he had called him a phony and a cheat, he was painfully right. He watched him walk away and then took his place next to Greg. 'Coward', he thought.

-Your brother is incredibly devious for a thirteen-year-old.

Greg showed actual concern in his voice. Mycroft sighed before speaking.

-It runs in the family.

He forced a smile.

-He's most likely right, nonetheless. What did he tell you?

-That you were cheating. Or that you were going to, I'm not sure. Either way, Mycroft, I don't care.

Mycroft frowned with curiosity.

-I am helping you do this because I thought you wanted me to. If you've changed your mind… it's fine, really, you can tell me any time. And I won't feel let down, I promise. But if you do need my help I need to know I can be a bit harsher. I'm not doing you any good by letting you have your way behind my back.

Mycroft didn't truly believe Greg could be 'harsh', not by his standards at least. Still he knew he had to make a decision and it wasn't at all easy. He bit his lower lip.

-Sherlock wasn't lying. You should keep an eye on the kitchens.

-Done.

Greg wee smile was driving him nuts.

-And I… may have some things I shouldn't in my room.

-Ok, um… You can bring them to me tomorrow at breakfast and I'll get rid of them. And we are also exercising more this week, you're better at it than you give yourself credit for; you just need a chance to prove that to yourself.

Mycroft wanted to believe him, he really did. From the Slytherin table, Anthea was busy with desert. She waved when she saw him looking and rubbed her tummy in faked delight. Mycroft gave her a sarcastic smile. He mentally listed the items he was not going to give Greg the next morning, he wasn't an idiot, after all.