The Hogwarts infirmary was enveloped in an almost disconcerting stillness when Matheo Riddle entered, holding his bloody nose. The green and silver fabric of his Slytherin robes was stained, worn from some recent fight. You, Gryffindor volunteer, already knew what was coming as soon as Madam Pomfrey looked in your direction.

"You, go help him!" she ordered, pointing at Matheo without giving him a choice. His stomach turned. You hated Matheo Riddle. He always seemed to take pleasure in teasing you, in highlighting the differences between the two houses.

Walked towards him with a mixture of reluctance and resignation. Riddle was leaning back on one of the beds, with an expression that could have been pained, but that soon dissolved into a malicious smile as soon as their eyes met.

"So, the brave lion came to my rescue?" he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm as you grabbed a bandage. His blood boiled. He knew exactly how to get under his skin, every time.

"I'd rather be looking after a mountain troll, Riddle," you replied dryly, pressing the bandage on his nose harder than necessary.

He let out a snicker, though his eyes still sparkled with a mocking air. "Always so dedicated, aren't you? Who knew Gryffindors had such deft hands... for war or for care?"