"ow," Mattheo grumbled as you — rather roughly — cleaned over his wounds.

you were angry at him, of course you were... it seemed Mattheo was always the first to raise his fists. he just couldn't stand the whispers behind his back of how he was the son of the enemy, or the looks of disgust when he'd converse with anyone non slytherin.

he's just a boy, after all — it's only natural for him to fight for his honor!

even if that means for you to find him with bloody knuckles and heaving for air in some dark, lit corridor...