"Promise you'll look after Freya for me."
"For the hundredth time, I will!"
It was exactly twenty-eight hours after the Sorting and Mat and Olive were in the girls' bathroom (not Moaning Myrtle's) re-applying their makeup and discussing the fact that Freya Riley had been Sorted into Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw like Mat had hoped.
"Sorry," Mat apologized. "I'm just really worried about her. It's her first year. What's wrong with me? I never worry about things!"
"You're a big sister," Olive replied, carefully putting on her thick, black eyeliner. "You're supposed to worry. Poppy worries about me all the time, and, in spite of myself, underneath it all, I do worry about Heidi a little."
"Well, at least you guys are all in the same house," Mat pointed out, putting on blusher.
"I suppose. Have you got any dream matte mousse? I have a sneaky suspicion that Poppy stole mine."
"Yeah sure."
"So," Olive said, finding the little pot of foundation and began dabbing it on her cheeks. "How's it going with Jack?" Mat immediately put down her mascara and turned to face Olive properly.
"Really well Livs," she said. "We wrote to each other nearly every day and he even came to our house to stay for a week."
"He came to your house?" Olive asked, incredulously. "That's so cool! I could never bring a boy to my house. My dad would immediately eye him up and give him the bloody Spanish Inquisition."
"Yeah, my dad was pretty cool about it actually. He and Jack got on like a house of fire. I said to him towards the end, 'If I didn't know any better, I'd think you liked my dad more than you like me.' And then he said, 'Nah, that's not possible.'"
"Aw! He's so sweet!"
"I really, really like him, Olive. And our relationship lasted for three months. That's got to mean something, doesn't it?"
"Yeah sweetie." Olive gave her best friend a hug and they made their way out of the bathroom.
"Pops, can I borrow your dream matte mousse?" Bridget asked.
"Yeah sure," Poppy replied, flicking through her Witch Weekly.
"This stuff is amazing," Brdiget commented, dabbing it on her.
"Oh, I stole it from Olive's makeup bag," Poppy said, nonchalantly.
"What a lovely sister you are."
"Aren't I just? So you and Damien, eh?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"What do you mean, I guess so?"
"I just can't believe it somehow. I mean, Damien is probably the second hottest guy in our year after James. What is he doing with me? He could do way better than the likes of me!"
"Hey, what is that about? You can get any guy you want to. I mean, look at you!"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously!" Poppy dropped the magazine and walked over to Bridget, who was sitting on her bed and applying her makeup through a hand mirror. "Bridget, you are so pretty. And you're really bubbly, and smart and nice, and genuine. I mean, you're so full of life. What guy wouldn't want to be with you? If I may be honest, I actually think that you could do way better than the likes of Damien."
Bridget looked at Poppy steadily. "Thank you Poppy," she whispered.
"It's alright," she said.
"I love our little girly chats, Pops!"
"Yeah me too, Bridge."