He'd been stretched away in a matter of moments and, due to how busy the stands were, you couldn't get down to the infirmary until halftime.

But you were here now, and that's all that mattered.

He was laying on one of the beds, front of his Quidditch robes drenched in blood from his nose, which had tilted to the side slightly. Probably broken from that nasty quaffle to the face.

Barely awake, his eyes lit up in recognition as he positioned yourself before him.