mattheo was clearly no stranger to involving himself into, or more commonly, starting fights. himself, theodore, draco, vincent and gregory were quite familiar to the rambunctious alternative of sorting out disagreements with physical altercations. but even he, the son of the dark lord, was not exempt from sustaining injuries when the shit was beaten out of him.

that was how it was that evening. he was on taunt strings, his temper short, and bloody mclaggen was being a dickhead--you could only cap a boiling pot for so long before it combusted.

it was safe to say he won that fight.

his pride and hardened independence made him unlikely to go to the hospital wing to see the matron, hence now anyone would see him, wandering through the common room to the dorms and dripping blood from his bleeding nose as if on a mission; one to find a particular person--to both brag to, and seek medical attention. he, as usual, was searching for you.

he opened the door to your dorm unceremoniously, not caring if your dormmates were present or not. he never did. "hello, i got in a fight. i'm coming in." he announced, his voice sustaining impressive bravado for a young man whose shirt was marred with blood, concealing the bruises that were blooming across his tanned skin like his own trophies, no doubt.

he wiped his nose gingerly with the back of his hand, smearing some of the still-damp blood on his wrist. "don't fuss, i am fine." he added, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, his knees ajar in that familiar position men tended to adopt to take up space. "just a few knocks here and there."