You had gotten into a fight at a Slytherin party. You, of course, won. You’d beaten the Gryffindor girl pretty badly, ending with her in the hospital wing.

You were now sat in Mattheo’s dorm, propped up on his bathroom counter while he was cleaning the cuts on your face. “I’m proud of you, you know that?” He smiled.

“I taught you well.” He nudged you playfully, putting the lose strands of hair behind your ears.