People seriously talked about that? Selwyn hadn't told anyone about the veela thing for years. Sure, when he was in first and second year, he'd come back from holidays and had complained to anyone willing to listen how about how horrible it was spending the summer with the clan. And of course, he'd gone through that stage of trying to use his charm on any girl with shiny hair. But ever since he'd realised that some people were jealous of his... birthright, and more, resented him complaining about it, he'd decided a wiser course was to keep his resentment at being born a half-breed to himself.
He scraped his fingers awkwardly through his hair.
"Yeah," he replied clumsily. "Pretty boy; that's me."
And then, thank god, he was saved from having to say anything else by the girl who bumped into him.
Selwyn tried to turn, and put out a hand to catch her books, but it was already too late. They were scattered across the footpath.
"It's our fault, we shouldn't have been just standing in the middle of the street like this," he automatically took responsibility for the collision, casting a significant glance at the other boy, whose name, he suddenly realised, he didn't know yet.