You think she's the prettiest person in the world, with her perfect hair and perfect face and perfect body - and a perfect personality to match. Even when she's chewing on her hair because she's feeling nervous or awkward, she's perfect. It's because she's part vela, you think, although that doesn't really explain why she's so nice.

She doesn't see it, though.

They pass, and she quickly pulls the hair from her mouth and suddenly stands upright in a way that makes her look like someone's just prodded her with a wand. You roll your eyes, and beside you Hugo hides a smile.

"You know, Dom," he says, after Scorpius and Albus have disappeared from sight, "you really should abandon your attempt at playing it cool around Scorpius. It's really obvious you fancy him."

She blushes at the comment and glances at his retreating figure as he strolls down the corridor. "Shhh," she says, half-heartedly, even though all three of you know that he can't hear you. In only a few seconds her hair will be back in her mouth and sure enough….

"I thought you were going to break that habit," you say, as she begins to chew. You don't mean to sound so annoyed about it, but her reaction to seeing Scorpius Malfoy has soured your mood.

She frowns for a moment before she realises what you mean. When she catches on, she immediately pulls her hair from her mouth. "Merlin, I didn't even realise I was doing it!" she exclaims. "I'm honestly trying not to, El."

You shrug. "I don't care whether you do or not." Suddenly you're sick of this conversation. "I'm going to the library. I'll see you later."

You don't need to turn back to know that Hugo and Dominique are exchanging glances that translate to "What's her problem?"

You're half-relieved and half-annoyed when it's Hugo who finds you in the library an hour later. For some reason, Dominique's perfectness has been annoying you more and more over the past few weeks, even though it's never bothered you before. You don't want to analyse why this is.

"We didn't see you at lunch," Hugo said. "Not feeling hungry?"

"I'll get something later, from the kitchens," you mutter, staring resolutely at the blurred letters of the book you're reading. "I hate showing up for meals on a Sunday. Following a timetable ruins a good weekend."

"I didn't realise this was a good weekend," Hugo says conversationally, pulling out a chair and plonking himself down opposite you. His tone doesn't fool you.

"All weekends are good," you reply tartly. "There are no classes."

He has nothing to say to that, so he just watches you. The silence stretches before you, and you think you should probably turn the page. You ought to have read the small amount of writing by now.

"I saw you talking to Scorpius the other night," Hugo says.

The sudden shift in conversation startles you, but not as much as the information that you were spotted. You'd like to reply "I don't know what you're talking about", but you quickly stop yourself. Lying at this point serves no purpose.

"So?" you reply instead. "Is it a crime now?"

"It's strange that you didn't mention it," Hugo says carefully, as though he's treading on salted ice. He knows he's going to take the plunge into the icy water, but he wants to be as prepared as possible for when it happens.

"I don't have to report my every movement to you," you respond. "Besides, he was just asking if I'd be at the Potter's over Christmas. Apparently he's staying there for half the holidays or something."

"Dominique will be happy." As she was Albus' cousin, she'd be spending a lot of time round at his place.

"Yeah."

Hugo opens his mouth to say something else, but suddenly you're tired of these games. "Look," you interrupt, "is this interrogation going anywhere?"

"What interrogation?" Hugo says. "Can't we just have a conversation?"

"Apparently we can't," you say, closing the book you were reading. It shuts with a louder snap than you were expecting. "Because that wasn't a conversation. A conversation was what we used to have, before the summer holidays."

A look of hurt crosses his face, and a stab of rage flashes through you because you know why it's there. "Before I told you?" he murmurs.

"Before we all told each other," you snapped. "Believe it or not, Hugo, not everything is about you."

"No, it's all about you, isn't it," he retorts.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you demand.

"Nothing." He rises from his seat, which isn't fair because you're the one who's supposed to storm away angrily. That's your thing. "Forget I mentioned it." He turns to leave, but turns back at the last minute. "You know, you're not the Ella you used to be. You used to smile."

He walks out of the library, completely calm, like he has all the time in the world, and all you can think is 'That's not the way you're supposed to do it.'

You wish you'd never played that stupid game of truth or dare. You wish you'd never agreed to the rule that you could have as many 'truths' as you wanted – because that caused the game to turn into one with no dares. One with only confessions of your deepest secrets.

More than anything, you wish you'd never asked that question.

"So who do you like?" you giggle, loving the way the grass tickles your ears as you stare up at the sky. There's just Hugo, Dom, and you now – Lily had gone home a few hours ago. You always invite her along to these things, but she never stays as long as the rest of you. She feels too distant from the three of you, Dominique had told you and Hugo once, because all her friends were Slytherins. You feel sorry for her; at least you hadn't had to choose between having close friends or having a close family.

"I don't know," Hugo giggles back. He's lying down too, his legs sprawled across Dominique's, for some reason. He pulls at the grass, and you feel a moment of amazement at how comfortable the three of you are with each other.

"Yes, you do," you press. "You were going to tell me that one time, but you chickened out. A couple of weeks ago."

Dominique sits up with a cry. "You were going to tell her who you liked and not me?" she accuses. "What sort of a friend are you?"

"I didn't tell her!" Hugo exclaims, sitting up too. "If I'd told her, then you'd have known too!"

"Yeah, because she would have told me!" Dom wails. "I feel so betrayed!"

You laugh at their theatrics, and sit up (a little resentfully) because they all are and you'd hate to be the odd one out when you're feeling so close to both of them. "So you admit there is someone?" you say in a cajoling tone."

"Alright, there is," Hugo agrees. "But I don't think I should tell you."

"But we're your best friends!" you exclaim. "You have to tell us! It's like, an unwritten rule."

"Oh really?" Hugo says sceptically, but his brown eyes are dancing. "How about this: I'll tell you who I like if you tell me who you like first."

"That's not how it works. I asked you first, so you have to say. And then I'll tell you who I like."

He eyes you, as though weighing up your offer. "Fine," he says. Then, as though afraid he might chicken out, he mumbles, "IlikeScorpiusMalfoy" so fast that you almost don't hear it.

But you do.

"Really?" you say, unable to hide the surprise from your voice. "So you are a shirt lifter?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks. You look at Dom for a split second before the both of you burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" he demands, but you are both too busy rolling around on the grass to answer him.

After a few minutes you pull yourselves together long enough to tell him that you'd already guessed, and you couldn't explain why you were laughing because it was one of those things he would've had to be there for. Then you meet each other's eyes again and you're on the ground once more, clutching your sides.

It's really not as funny as your bout of hysterics makes it look, but that doesn't matter because it's comfortable. Hugo just sits there, looking at the pair of you with an expression that's torn between relief that you took the information so well and annoyance at the fact that you clearly discuss him behind his back.

"So," you pant finally. "Scorpius Malfoy. Snap."

"Snap?" Hugo asks, confused.

"Snap," you repeat. "I like him too."

You and Hugo both turn expectantly to Dom, who's shifting uncomfortably, and it's one of those moments where you know exactly what she's going to say before she even opens her mouth.

"You're a hypocrite, you know," you tell Hugo when you sit down next to him in the common room. Dom's talking to Albus and Scorpius, and you suppress the jealousy you feel at the sight.

"Why is that?" he asks calmly, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," you say, suddenly ashamed that something like that has become an acceptable way of greeting one of your best friends – possible your best friend. "I meant to apologise."

"Apology accepted then," Hugo says graciously. "But go ahead and tell me anyway. Why am I a hypocrite?"

"Before, you were trying to make me feel bad about talking to Scorpius, but at least I can admit that I like him."

"El, honey, I was never trying to make you feel bad. And I did admit that I liked him – to you."

"Yeah, when it was pressed out of you. But when Dom and I talk about boys, you never join in."

He's quiet for a minute. "I suppose I'm a little less comfortable talking about it than you are."

"But it's us!" you exclaim. "It's like having a conversation with yourself!"

A smile tugs at his mouth. "There are similarities, I'll admit," he says. "But it's not exactly the same. If there was something I needed to tell someone, then you two would be the first to know, but there are things I wouldn't tell anyone, including you. Don't act all offended," he continues quickly, seeing your expression. "You can't pretend there aren't things that you wouldn't tell me or Dom."

"There aren't!" you exclaim.

"Oh really?" he challenges.

"Really."

"Okay then, look over to the sofa over there," Hugo says, pointing to where Dom, Albus and Scorpius are engaged in conversation. "You're annoyed at Dom at the moment, because she's spending a lot of time with other boys."

It was true that she'd been hanging around with people who weren't Hugo and you a lot lately. You wouldn't have put it like that exactly, but you don't want to give Hugo a chance to claim that you're hiding anything from him. "I suppose," you admit, and strangely enough you realise he's not wrong.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" he says.

"I guess I am a little," you concede. "Where's this going?"

"Who are you jealous of?" Hugo says. "Is it Dominique, who's getting all this admiration from people who never even spoke to her until this year, or are you jealous of the people who are getting so much of her attention?"

"I'm jealous of Dominique, of course," you answer immediately.

Hugo smiles at you and stands up. "Wrong answer," he says.

You think about it for a moment as he begins to leave. "Hugo!" you call out. He turns back. "That doesn't count," you tell him. "How can I admit that to you when I haven't even admitted that to myself?"

"I think you just did," he says.