Mid morning-ish

Outfit

Ever the responsible student, Grace Eddy had all her work done for the upcoming week. It was all nice and neatly stacked on her desk back in the dorms, ready to go the next morning for classes. Or, next afternoon, seeing as Grace's day usually didn't officially start until close to noon. Most students would kill for her schedule because it meant that they could sleep in. Grace wouldn't have minded an earlier start to her day, but she did admit that it was nice not having to rush off to classes at the buttcrack of dawn.

Currently, the Gryffindor prefect was not thinking of classes. She was actually allowing herself to focus on something a little less stressful--her extra curriculars. She had had her quota of quiddich and SAWS for the week. And Dueling had been put on hold for the time being. Now her attention was on the Orchestra and Choir.

In front of her on the table at which she sat in the sparsely populated Great Hall was a myriad of papers, primarily music sheets and song lists. She was attempting to come up with a suitable mash up of songs to use for an upcoming performance.

As she looked over the lyrics of one piece of music in front of her, Grace chewed on the eraser end of a pencil. Dreadful Muggle thing, she wryly scolded herself. But she  liked pencils for their freedom in scribbling. She hated ink stains, as much as she liked writing with quills.

After a moment of reading, Grace quietly began to hum the music she was reading and eventually she began to softly sing under her breath. If she had been completely alone, she may have been more inclined to sing out, as she loved how it sounded in the Great Hall. But this would do for now, as she didn't wish to disturb anyone else who may have been present (or who came in) with the noise she was making.

As it was, she looked up at someone who she saw nearby and smiled apologetically. "If I'm being too loud, just tell me to shut up...."

At a quiet corner in the back of the Great Hall, Zoey sat looking over his daily routine of studies. He, of course, had everything completed and ready to go for the next day, well, actually the entire week, but he wanted to double-check everything and be absolutely sure he was correct in all his answers, essays, and other miscellaneous subjectives. The giant room meant for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was barely inhabited in the morning, but seeing as it was Sunday, students were generally doing their homework or relaxing on the grounds.

As he scanned the hall, he noticed another prefect working intently and intimately on some papers. Her name was Grace, and Zoey didn't particularly know her well, as she was the rival house of him and two years younger. But as for her knowing him, well, everyone tended to spot him just by his fashion faux-pas. He loved his outrageous outfits though, and today's was no different than the rest. From bottom to top, he wore a sort of mock James Dean look. He wore crocodile skinned dress shoes, black slacks, a white tank tucked in with black suspenders over it. Sunglasses were perched on his head holding back his bangs.

His eyes looked closer at what she was doing, and what she was writing with. She held in her hand and pencil, a muggle instrument he knew too well. But as she was humming something, he could tell her work was no kind of magical subject. Her head popped up and she turned her eyes at him, and spoke eloquently. Apparently, she thought he could hear her from his location, but sadly, he hadn't. "No, you're not loud at all. I just always wonder what students are working on when so concentrated on their papers. A habit of mine, as I am the master of studious rituals."

Grace finally looked over--as in truly focused her attention--on the person to whom she had first spoken and who was now addressing her back. For some reason, it hadn't registered with her that the person was a Slytherin student, much less a fellow prefect. Perhaps it was the ability to be without their uniforms that in many ways allowed them a bit of freedom away from how rigid life seemed to be most of the time.

And as much as Grace liked to think that she was the only overachieving student in the place, there were clearly others. And from what she could remember about Zoey was that he seemed to be as meticulous as she was in regards to having school work done on time and what not.

Makes sense that he's a prefect too, she thought inwardly.

Grace did admit to being a little amused by his outfit, as for some reason it didn't seem to fit how straight laced some of her Slytherin counterparts could be most of the time. Maybe she underestimated him. Which in her approximation, wouldn't be hard to do at all. But then again, if her memory served her correctly, he tended to be intricately connected to one of her Slytherin nemisis--Miss Maeve Whitman.

Still, her ability to jump to conclusions had her flashing him a sheepish smile, even as he probably had no idea its real cause besides perhaps singing too loud. Clearing her throat, she glanced down at the papers he mentioned and ventured, "Well, they're music sheets and song lists. I'm trying to come up with a list of appropriate songs for an upcoming performance of the O&C." Even though her good judgement told her it might not be a good idea (given how often they were squashed by Slytherin), she asked, "Wouldn't happen to have any ideas, would you?" As it was, not asking for help hadn't gotten her very far. Perhaps another opinion, even a Slytherin one, was just what she needed.

At first, Grace seemed shocked that it was he, Zoey McAdams, addressing her. Maybe it was more the fact that he was a Slytherin than anything else. But then again, he tended not to act as a typical Slytherin would, at least in the public's eye. Behind closed doors, now that was a different tune to be sung.

He gave a small laugh to himself when she admitted to what she was working on. Orchestra and Choir was probably the least useful group allocated to Hogwarts, though he would not let those folk know it. They tended to be rather dramatic, even more so than the Players, of which he was the lead male. Yes, indeed, choir folk had their egos about them, but Zoey wouldn't tell Grace that, or she might pull a Madonna on him, and then the thought struck him that she probably didn't know who that was.

Looking down and back up, he managed a small smile to the side. "Well, music ism't really my thing. But I hear Gisella Darcy and Three Owl Standard member Dennis Creevey used to be very close, if not verging on a secret love affair during the Second War. Maybe two pieces by them mashed together, as you said, would be a good tribute to them?"

Grace ducked her guilt ridden eyes from his gaze. Surely he knew of her dislike of his house, right? She focused on making notations on her song lists, scratching out a name that immediately didn't seem like it would work. After a while, she finally chanced to look up again and tried to figure out what he was thinking.

While Zoey wasn't a member of the Orchestra and Choir, she did know that he was in the Hogwart's Players, which in many ways was very much like it, in that it required some amount of talent. And singing sometimes was involved. So she realized that asking him for advice might yield a serious response.

When  he said that music wasn't his thing, she immediately thought that that would end their conversation. But then he actually suggested a song and she perked up. His idea wasn't a horrible idea by any means and she nodded. "Thank you, Zoey. I'll look into it." After writing the information down, she asked him, "So...um....y---eah. How is your semester going so far?"

"A polite conversation between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor?" Edmund said rather loudly from a few seats up, laughing a little as he gave the familiar faces a wide, warm grin. "Well colour me confused." Flicking his quill lightly against a stack of papers, he was attempting some Transfiguration work; he wasn't the brightest pupil in school, but he was considered academically adept. He was your above average type of guy, but was too easily-distracted to ever propel himself into the heavenly heights of master pupils.

Wearing a pair of cream slacks, brown brogues and a white shirt under a grey sweater-vest, he looked 'casually immaculate' as always, his brown hair brushed back lightly into a quiff. A pair of wayfarer spectacles covered his eyes and he ruffled his hair a little, leaning back and stretching. He needed a welcome break from this work; it was probably his worst subject. Edmund was all about Arithmancy; all of his other subjects seemed to follow in order of preference.

"Eddy, McAdams; what's going down?" he asked confidently and cracked his knuckles; he was looking for any social outlet to put-off homework. Even in his seventh year, his dedication was still inconsistent, and even if they were just familiar friendly faces, he was still unafraid of striking up a conversation.

Smiling at the girl, Zoey politely replied to her question. "My semester is grandeur, dear. All my work is done days ahead of time, so I have more time to prefect my strut, play with Beatrix Dark, and flirt with, oh, anyone I guess." He let out a laugh. "And of course, I make time for my lovely Maeve. She is the apple of my eye, you know." He winked and then looked back down at his work. It was really coming along, so he didn't feel the need to finish it. Decidedly, he put it back into it's bag and was going to continue their conversation.

Lo and behold, though, their conversation was interrupted by a very familiar face. As he looked up, he saw the beaming face of one mister Edmund Klint. With a sparkle in his eye, Zoey smiled his toothy grin. Without a second's time, he had pounced up from his seat, landing squarely on Edmund's back, his arms tight around Ed's collar. He wrapped his legs around Ed's waist, and let out a laugh.

"Eddie, my love! Oh how I've missed you, you beautiful basturd!" He even went as far and kissed the boy's cheek before loosening himself into a piggyback grip. Looking back at Grace, who must've been shocked, he smiled once again. "Sorry, dear, I didn't mean to frighten you."

Edmund jokingly scowled as he felt Zoey launch his full frame at the slender Ravenclaw; glancing up at Grace, he felt his cheeks uncharacteristically blush light red as Zoey so openly adored him.
"Less of the bromance, McAdams," he quietly laughed and managed to prize the sexual deviant of a Slytherin off his back, taking his seat once more and pushing his wayfarers up his nose. "Although, it's wonderful to see you too."

Leaning back a little, he chewed on the end of his quill, dragging his books up to the other two students and placing himself opposite Grace, giving her a slight smile.
"Sorry about my friend Zoey, here," Edmund joked, and smiled at his Slytherin companion. "He finds it difficult to keep his hands off."

Whilst Edmund always considered himself straight, flirting with Zoey now and again was amusing. He sometimes felt bad for leading McAdams on, yet he always knew that the Slytherin understood that Edmund himself had no real sexual interest in members of the same gender.

Grace listened politely as Zoey related how his semester was going until his mention of Maeve Whitman. Grace was convinced that she was perpetually allergic to the blonde 7th Year Slytherin because she was certain that any continual discussion of her might spurn the onset of hives.

She was about to zing a smart ass remark in response to what Zoey had said when someone else spoke. She immediately turned to see that the voice belonged to Edmund Klint, a Ravenclaw in their year. His comment about hers and Zoey's ability to talk caused Grace to smirk.

"I will have you know," Grace began, her voice containing a slight amount of haughtiness to it. "That I am perfectly capable of talking civily to Zoey and his housemates. It's just that some of them make it hard to do on a regular basis," she added pointedly. "So really, there's no need for confusion, colored or otherwise."

She flashed Edmund a half smile before returning her attention back to Zoey. Grace would have addressed his question about what was going on, but there was something that her Slytherin classmate had said that she wanted to speak to first. It was his comment about Maeve being the apple of his eye, a sentiment that she almost regarded as comical. "Do me a favor, McAdams. There's something that I've been wanting to know for a while now and seeing as you're so incredibly close to Ms. Whitman, you could probably shed the most light on it." Grace's voice was dripping with sarcasm and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she spoke Maeve's name. She leaned towards Zoey and incredulously exclaimed, "What do you guys--meaning any person of the male species who has ever had any inclination to interact with her on any level--possibly see in her? She is, for all intents and purposes, a vapid waste of space." Before she could stop herself, she continued to rail on. "And she's never going to see any of you as more than just something to toss aside. She's pureblood...she and her family are all about that...."

Grace allowed her voice to trail off as Zoey turned to pouncing on the Ravenclaw boy, and Grace finally raise her eyes to the ceiling of the Great Hall and muttered, "Oh good Merlin...." With a sigh, she shook her head and propped her elbow up on the table, resting her chin in it. "No, you didn't startle me. I'm used to guys acting like utter fools in my presence," she said mildly. She returned Edmund's smile, noting that he seemed embarrassed by the affection shown to him by Zoey. Feeling it might be best not to focus on it, she shifted slightly to catch a glimpse at the textbook cover that was visible. "Arithmancy, huh? I kinda miss that class," she murmured. "And I hear the professor is a Gryffindor Alum. How's it been?"

Girls like Grace Eddy always did strike a negative chord with Zoey. Generally, girls for that matter struck many negative chords, as they always tended to lend themselves to drama, and well, seeing as Grace was a musical girl and was practically verbally bashing his friend since he was a youngster, she was the lead drama girl in this entire castle. But generally, their words passed through one ear and out the other. Hell, there were only a few girls in the school he'd ever lend his arm to, and Maeve was one of them, as well as Beatrix, and even Fauna Blake, as she was a good girl herself.

Taking the end of her words, Zoey started into his own rant, "Excuse me? Darling, Maeve and I have been friends since we were little ones, and I would appreciate your disdain for her to stay in that empty space you call a mind. Trying to bring others down, sweetheart, is a waste of time, but apparently girls like you have no conscious to know when you're doing it. I would let your waste of breath just pass me by, but like I said earlier, Maeve and I have been friends for a long time, so either shut your muffin, or answer to my wand." He wasn't generally into threats, but he protected his friends well-beings.

For anyone to insinuate that Grace was a more horrible person than Maeve Whitman was plain absurd to her. She could only conclude that Zoey was blind or completely enchanted by Maeve's feminine wiles. Whatever those were.

Regardless, Grace wasn't about to let him get away with saying what he said without being rebuked. Because she would believe until the day she died that Maeve was evil in every way and she felt a sense of duty to try and expose that to her fellow prefect.

Turning to Zoey, she incredulously asked, "My mind is an empty space?" She frowned. "I'm sorry, but since when did becoming a prefect and being one of the top students in our year equate to that distinction?" She gave a fake, flighty laugh and brought a splayed hand to her chest. "Oh right! Since the model of perfection became Maeve Whitman, who has no aspirations other than having her shoes match her dress and wearing the perfect shade of lipstick. Like, oh my gawd! I am so incomplete as a person!"

Grace lowered her hand and slapped it flat on the grand table before them and her eyes blazed in Zoey's direction. "Puh-lease," she said, utilizing the word she so often heard from Maeve's mouth, only in a tone dripping with sarcasm. "Maeve Whitman is a heartless, despicable person and the fact that you can't see that says more about you than it does about me, McAdams." Grace began to pack up her things, intent on leaving, as the conversation had deteriorated rather quickly. Her face was red with annoyance and it was unfortunate because she had generally liked Zoey except for his association with Maeve. But he clearly didn't see what she saw. Never had and never would. He would always be duped into seeing her as a perfect angel.

It was disgusting.

Again, Grace turned to Edmund and apologized. "Before I said I could be civil. But maybe that was premature."

In literally what was a few moments, Edmund had moved from a laid-back small social gathering in te Great Hall and entered into what could only be described as the century-old Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry. Being a firm and somewhat haughty Ravenclaw, Edmund leaned back and rolled his eyes, twisting his mouth in thought. So, Grace Eddy hated Maeve Whitman? It was plausible. As much as Maeve was beautiful, he had heard she was something on the nasty side.

Choosing to keep out of the situation, he shuffled his papers a little and cast an awkward half-smile at the pair, continuing to ruffle his hair a little awkwardly.
"I really should get going..." he muttered and slid his papers and textbooks under one arm, standing up and nodding at them both. He couldn't help but flash Grace one of his charming, signature smiles, his eyes meeting hers for a second before giving Zoey a friendly pat on the shoulder. "See you around, guys." Walking off, he gave a sigh of relief as his back was against them. He really wasn't into bitch wars.