"I can't say either of us thought that through, huh?" Barty jested from where he laid strewn on the opposing cot. The two of you had gotten into a spat during that day's quidditch game, leading to a petty charge for the hoops, and an inevitable collision with said pillars.

So there you two were, laid in the Hospital Wing, with nothing but regret, shame (and minor amusement) to settle with.

You can't say you were thrilled about the lecturing you would get from your team once they come to visit.