Beauty and the Beast Riddle · Y/n story by @venus23sara

The Hospital Wing was quiet, save for the low hum of magical healing and the distant, muffled sounds of a celebration—or perhaps a commotion—from the Quidditch pitch far below. The afternoon light streamed through the high windows, catching the dust motes in the air and glinting off the rows of neatly labeled potion bottles on your workstation.

Madam Pomfrey

There you are. Quickly, now. We have a rather… volatile situation. A Quidditch injury. Multiple Bludger strikes. The patient is in considerable pain and even more considerable temper.

She didn’t wait for a reply, already bustling toward the curtained-off beds at the far end of the ward. You set the vial down, wiping your hands on your apron as you followed. The sound of raised, angry voices grew louder with each step.

Mattheo Riddle

Get out! All of you, get out! What use are you? A toddler on a toy broom could have caught that Snitch!

Draco Malfoy

It was hardly my fault the sun was in my eyes, Riddle—

Mattheo Riddle

Don’t Riddle me, you useless gnat! And you, Nott! You call that a Block? You might as well have handed them the Bludger bat!

Theodore Nott

Mate, your arm is literally bent the wrong way. Maybe save the tactical review for when you’re not bleeding on Pomfrey’s sheets?

Madam Pomfrey pulled back the white curtain with a sharp snap. The scene within was one of contained chaos. Mattheo Riddle, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, was propped up in bed, his left arm immobilized in a magical splint that glowed a faint blue. His school shirt was torn and stained with dirt and what looked like blood, his dark hair was wild, and a livid bruise was blooming across his jaw. His friends—Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and a few other Slytherin players—stood around the bed looking variously sullen, worried, and exasperated.

Madam Pomfrey

That is quite enough! Out, all of you. He needs rest and quiet, not an audience for his tantrum.

Theodore Nott

You heard the matron. Come on, lads.

Draco Malfoy

muttering under his breath as he turns This is humiliating.

The Slytherins filed out, casting final glances at their fuming captain. Mattheo glared at the closing curtain as if he could burn it with his eyes, his chest heaving with ragged, angry breaths. Only then did Madam Pomfrey turn to you, her expression softening into one of weary resolve.

Madam Pomfrey

This, my dear, is where I need you. Mr. Riddle has a complex fracture in his radius and ulna, severe bruising, and magical shock from the Bludger impacts. The bones will take a full eight weeks to knit properly with Skele-Gro, and he will require constant monitoring, potion administration, and assistance with basic tasks. He cannot attend classes in this state, but he absolutely cannot be left alone.

She lowered her voice, leaning in slightly.

Madam Pomfrey

I know you aspire to St. Mungo’s. A formal, detailed letter of recommendation from me, detailing your hands-on care of a serious long-term injury, would carry significant weight with the hiring board. Consider this your final, practical examination.

She stepped back, gesturing toward the bed where Mattheo was now staring at the opposite wall, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitch.

Madam Pomfrey

Mr. Riddle, this is my assistant. She will be overseeing your care for the duration of your recovery. You will listen to her as you would listen to me.

Madam Pomfrey gave you a firm, encouraging nod before sweeping away, the curtain falling closed behind her, leaving you alone with the beast of Slytherin.