Outfit

The worn and tired soles of Quinn's boots skidded on the icy path outside the Three Broomsticks. She immediately let out a quiet screech of immediate fright, placing both hands in front of her to balance. With knees bent, Quinn's eyes widened and relaxed when she knew it was safe to walk again, chuckling to herself. A few passers-by had taken a few brisk steps forward in order to catch the clumsy Gryffindor, but after giving them a reassuring nod and smile, they'd seen that dear Quinn was falling nowhere. Brushing thick locks of blonde hair from her hazel eyes, Quinn placed a limp hand on the pub door, pushing it open haphazardly.

She was immediately greeted by the warmth and cheer of the familiar Hogsmeade pub, and Quinn could only let out a sigh of relief. Winter was just the worst. All that snow, and slush; the only good thing was Christmas. Quinn was more your denim shorts and baggy t-shirt sort of girl - getting wrapped up warm just wasn't her style. Looking around the pub immediately, she stood on her tiptoes to overlook the crowds of Hogwarts students fresh with Yuletide cheer and the excitement of the Winter holidays.

Taking a few more steps in, she didn't even notice the stares from a trio of aged witches nearby, whispering about her rather garish apparel. Quinn always managed to stand out, even when a tiny pub in a tiny village was packed out with kids her own age. Gripping her bag and craning her neck around another group of students, her look of perplexity was immediately replaced with one of pure joy. A rather delicate and beautiful figure sat at a nearby table, Butterbeer in hand. Emmylou Carter.

"Heeeeyyyyy," Quinn screeched with excitement, most heads in the pub turning to see the source of such a strange squawk. Galloping over to Emmylou, she plonked herself awkwardly on the chair opposite and enveloped her friend in a tight hug. Unaware that her bag had fallen to the floor and caught the last few drips from an almost empty flaggon of ale, Quinn finally sat back, brushing back her hair with an ink-stained hand.
"How are you missy? We've not hung out in like, an age!" Quinn had never been the withering wallflower. She was more your dandelions - pretty to look at, but always holding a tinge of uncouth vulgarity.

Wintry Wardrobe

Having peeled back layer upon layer of coat, cardigan, and tattered sweater, Lou found herself still properly bundled. The veil of knit, lace, and shearling kept one acutely warm in a chilly, gingerbread town... but also served to stifle a teenage tornado looking to get her butterbeer on in a crowded, heat-charmed pub.

Pressing through the Christmas crowd, Lou reveled in her first official day of freedom. The winter interim was short, but she was determined to make it sweet. Cobwebbed in sweaters galore, she nevertheless managed to place an order and find a seat. Despite the smothering shroud of cold-weather clothing, she was in good cheer-- and found it hard to abandon that attitude, what with no classes in the foreseeable future. Even if their break was short, Lou was more the type to live the break day by day, leaving homework to the very last moment... i.e., the train ride back to the castle. If only poor Fauna and Grace would forgive her for the last minute study session which may or may not interrupt any Prefect compartment goings-on and Devlin Matthews canoodling.

Ah, well, friends were friends because they understood such pressing and highly contagious ailments as procrastination.

Sipping her butterbeer-- the chilled variety, despite the cold-- the girl hovered over the pages of a favorite quidditch rag. The glossy promised a splendid, bird's eye view of a pending engagement party between Ian Cuddyer and his on/off lady friend. Personally, having played quidditch with said lady friend, and having suffered the war between Eleanor and George, Lou felt the humble but hunky Keeper could do better.

But her eyes peeled away from the princely mug of the famous name, following her ears to the familiar visage which belonged to the unique sing-song screech. Emmylou smiled, well chuffed to see the charmingly messy, primrose coils of Quinn McAvoy.

"Try an age and a half," Lou's voice carried in response, one arm entangling her housemate and dear friend in a mutual hug. Her other arm held her butterbeer at length, her Chaser's balance keeping it from spilling all over the table-- or Quinn. "Perfect timing, though, since we're now free birds. Have a drink with me?" She grinned, biting her lip in anticipation. Something witchy danced in her eyes, no doubt brought on by the sudden appearance of an equally rogue lioness.

"A drink is definitely in order, love!" she cackled in her Cockney East London accent, throwing her head back like a maniac. Almost causing the table to topple over on its aged legs with her sheer boisterousness, Quinn finally let go of her friend. Leaning back in her chair, she hastily removed her jacket, fanning her face. "Geez, I'm sweating like a pig!" Quinn, as usual, was ever the demure lady.

Signalling to the bartender with a cheeky wink and a flick of the hand, a butterbeer was quickly brought Quinn's way. Grabbing it with both hands and giving a sigh of relief, Quinn gave the waitress a wide, toothy grin.
"Cheers darling," she muttered and took a greedy gulp, throwing the flagon of ale back down on the table. Landing with a dull thud, the top layer of foam splatted onto the surrounding table. Wiping her scarlet mouth with the back of her hand, Quinn let out a long sigh of satisfaction. "Man, I needed that."

Getting comfortable in her chair, Quinn rested both elbows on the table, her chin resting on ink-stained knuckles. Three or four sovereign rings decorated her nimble fingers; whilst gaudy, tacky and utterly tasteless, Quinn embraced anything and everything that was remotely deemed 'trailer trash' fashion.
"So Emmybabes," she began, still reeling with excitement of seeing her fellow Gryffindor girl. "What is new with you? I want to know everything. Absolutely everything!"

Quinn adored Emily for several reasons. The most important was that unlike most girls, Emmylou never judged Quinn for her antics, her loudness and her ladette behaviour. Most other Hogwarts females did. Furthermore, Emmylou just got Quinn - she appreciated the party lifestyle, and the understanding that grades weren't everything. Quinn knew that she'd be leaving with Hogwarts with little aside from a hangover and a string of mates, but she honestly didn't care. And Emmylou never questioned it.

Classes were done! What a relief for Grace Eddy. It literally felt like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders and she was no longer burdened with the unbearable lightness of being one of the most self-tormented overachieving students in her year. Now she could enjoy several weeks worth of rest and relaxation before the whole process was doomed to start all over again!

Wrapping her arms tighter around herself, Grace warily approached the Three Broomsticks, the meeting place arranged by her fellow dormmates and more notorious party gals, Quinn McAvoy and Lou Carter. She had promised them both that as soon as she was finished with her last assignment or test for classes, that she would finally let her hair down and prove to them that she was still capable of having a good. It seemed ages away, but at one point in her Hogwarts career, Grace had done her fair share of staying up late talking, cramming at the last minute for tests, or blowing off homework in favor of more exciting social activities or adventures.

The redhead carefully stepped inside the pub and her dark eyes immediately did a quick sweep of the patrons, on the look out for the pair of familiar blonde haired young women. Seeing that they had both secured a drink, Grace stopped by the bar to get one for herself before heading in their direction.

She plopped herself down in the last vacant chair at their table and oblivious to any previous conversation that had been started between them, she grinned and asked, "So? How many drinks am I behind?"

Completely unbothered-- and in fact quite refreshed-- by her friend’s candidness, Lou raised her own bottle in cheers and polished it off. When the waitress came Quinn’s way with the enthusiastic request, Lou placed her second order, digging around in her bag for the magic ingredient to complete a cheery holiday Hogsmeade trip.

School was officially out for the winter hols.

“Oh, you know, finding new ways to get revenge on Ravenclaw for their unjust win. And get into their Beater’s trousers...” She winked at her friend, and drew the slim flask from the depths of her bag. Before she could tip a little into her butterbeer, and successfully spike the best tasting concoction on planet earth with a dose of the best tasting concoction straight from Heaven’s pearly gates, another face distracted her.

Emmylou paused mid-pour, her mouth parting in pleasure, and used her free arm to wave over Grace.

"So? How many drinks am I behind?"

“None, unless you’re a house-elf.” Lou laughed and half-rose from her seat to give Grace a hug. “But I’m about to change that.” She flicked her wrist, the glint of the flask catching a Christmas bobble. The little sterling thermos contained a potent substance technically not served in the Three Broomsticks. “Spike your Butterbeer to honor the merry gods of Homeworklessness and No Class?”

Sitting back down again, Lou topped off her butterbeer before passing the flask between her friends. “So what about you, Quinn? What’s going on in your non-stop party?” Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm for the messy-maned lioness, who was the wildest of the three. “And Grace? Have we found a Prince Charming?” Her eyebrows tangoed with interrogation.

"The Ravenclaw made me want to scream, man," Quinn grumbled, gritting her teeth. Still furious about the win over her beloved house team, Quinn had been screeching from the stands, kicking her way back to the dorm. Who cared if Ravenclaw deserved to win? Gryffindor were destined to win! However, her reeling anger was short-lived when Carter alluded to a new beau. Emmylou - such a heartbreaker! Raising her eyebrows, Quinn took a hearty gulp of butterbeer, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve.
"Edmund Klint," she said knowingly, giving a few deep nods of the head. "I overheard that you two had been canoodling. He's quite the find, Lou. Bit too pretty for my liking though, I want a rough Durmstrang boy!"

Although Quinn's list of former flings was quite extensive, she did have a small inclination towards those brutish boys of the eastern bloc. Boys like Klint and Monroe were nice to look at, but they far too clean-cut. What ever happened to the manly man? Quinn expected mud-drenched ruffians at Hogwarts, not shirt-wearing well-spoken pansies. Despite her dislike of the pretty boy type, Quinn couldn't help but slap a hand on the table and eagerly screech "tell me alllllll about him!"

As Grace approached, Quinn got to her feet instinctively and threw her arms around her Gryffindor dormmate, excitedly squealing and taking her seat once more.
"Reunited!" she shouted, quite pleased to have her usual company around once more. Her glee couldn't have been topped until Lou produced a small flask of extra-curricular substance, stealthily holding up her glass. Biting her bottom lip as she saw the alcohol fall into her drink, Quinn took another gulp, eyeing Lou, then Grace, and back to Lou.
"Spike your Butterbeer to honor the merry gods of Homeworklessness and No Class?" her companion asked. Quinn grinned toothily, giving both girls a nudge of encouragement.
"Amen to that!"

Lou questioned Quinn's recent antics, and she shrugged her shoulders comically, reclining in her chair like a Cockney geezer.
"My life's the same as usual, mate," she replied, giving a sigh of content. "Less of the books, more of the banter, is what I say. Grace? What's this about a Prince Charming?" Quinn immediately questioned Miss Eddy, flicking her eyebrows up and down. "You two better not swan off with a couple of blokes and leave me friendless in the lonely hearts club."

"Oh well didn't you know? I used to be a house elf in my other lifetime," Grace quipped with a playful grin on her lips. She returned Lou's hug with gusto and gave an equally firm one to Quinn as well before settling into her stool. She watched as Lou promptly ordered her a drink. Grace giggled at the decree and nodded. It was surprising how simple it was to wipe her hands clean of all the work she had done over the semester and look forward to several weeks of no work and all play (so she hoped). Kicking back with Lou and Quinn was going to be a great start to her holiday vacation.

Grace was in mid sip of her drink when Lou turned the inquisition on her. Grace nearly spit her drink out when she registered the nature of the question. "A Prince Charming?" she asked incredulously. "Um....hardly. The redhead swallowed her drink and carefully set her flask back down. Her brow furrowed as she began to speculate on the reasons why not. "I'm not sure guys have been too attracted to Mad Hatter Grace Eddy right now."

Grace turned her attention to Quinn and seemed to echo the girl's sentiments regarding the recently lost quidditch match. Grace had  been so confident that their team was going to win. She had felt it in her bones that they were prepared and as strong as a team as they had ever been. And, they had been hungry for the win, especially with what had transpired the year before.

But Grace's eyes went wide at the mention of Edmund Klint and his connection to Lou. "Oh!? What have I missed? I really have stuck my head in a book of late, haven't I?" She turned wide eyes to Quinn. "And no, I am not going to be whisked away by love anytime soon. And lose out on drinking with you?"

Her face dripping with sympathy for Quinn’s synchronized sentiments concerning intramural sports, Lou brightened coyly as the conversation shifted to one of those bastardly Ravenclaw players who had stolen the cup last semester. A very, very lush and fit player, she give him that. And a lot more, but she’d needed a few drinks still before she shouted as much across the table to her dear mate-- more for the buzz than because she was shy (Lou was anything but timid).

“Yeah, he’s brilliant,” she agreed, eyes flashing brightly at Quinn, before drifting mischievously to Grace, who seemed utterly out of the loop. “And come off it, Quinn, between you and a Durmstrang boy, there wouldn’t be any Hogwarts ones left for the rest of us. You’d blow us all up getting into your shenanigans,” she teased fondly. Quinn’s taste in the opposite sex was dodgy at best (see: Johnny Flickwick), but Lou couldn’t help championing the cause from time to time. Everyone deserved a little snogging here and there... a rapid heartbeat... frozen toes from laying in the snow for a whole study period.

“What’s there to tell?” She asked, quirking a brow, grabbing up the hand that had collided most awesomely with the table, and giving it a peppermint-lip-glossed kiss. “You know the rule about kissing and telling, sweetheart.” She winked, replacing Quinn’s hand on the table and giving it an empathic pat. “But I’ll let you know if there are any developments... below the belt.”

Giggling with both girls, one studious and the other roaring, Lou shook her head. “I’d never leave either of you two shrews for a man. And come off it, both of you, if you’re ‘mad’ anything, it’s maddeningly sexy. The lads will be lining around the block. All we need is to transplant some of each of you into each other, and there’ll be no more Johnny Flickwicks or going STAG to dances.” She was, of course, kidding. They were her friends, and she wanted them exactly as they were.

"And no, I am not going to be whisked away by love anytime soon. And lose out on drinking with you?" Grace replied, causing Quinn to throw an arm over her friend's shoulders in boyish approval.
"That's my girl, Grace, that's my girl!" Quinn took another sip of her alcohol-spiked butterbeer, wincing at the sharp kick as she swallowed. "Eeesh, maybe a bit too strong..." she giggled, biting her bottom lip and grinning at each comrade.

"Quinn, between you and a Durmstrang boy, there wouldn’t be any Hogwarts ones left for the rest of us," Lou joked, and Quinn shook her head slowly, a proud smirk on her face. Pushing her long blonde hair out of her eyes, she couldn't help but let out a shocked laugh.
"Screw you Carter, at least I don't just settle for any old Ravenclaw with a bat in his hand," she snorted comically, rolling her eyes at Grace. The trio were at the point where they could poke fun out of each other constantly, which was a good thing, since Quinn usually mocked everyone she came across.

"I feel all flustered sitting at the table with such a loudmouth hussy, don't you Grace?" Quinn replied in a fake posh English accent - a huge contrast to her usual Cockney drawl. Again, Quinn was playing the role of court jester, and immediately burst into fits of giggles.

She immediately quietened down when John was mentioned, letting out a long breath as she took another sip. He was still a sore spot, but Quinn immediately shrugged and wore a smile on her glittery face.
"Just take me to Durmstrang for a week - there'll be no Johns in sight, girls!"

Grace chuckled at the antics of Quinn and Lou, respectively. She could always count on the two girls to keep her spirits lifted and the forward momentum of life invigorated. Grace didn't claim to have many strong friendships with the female student body at school. She had tended to have more in common with her male classmates. But Quinn and Lou were not typical females and so it made sense that Grace, also not typical, got on swell with them.

Grace fell into silence and sipped at her drink as the topic of conversation was overtaken by prospective boyfriends or romantical encounters. And the fact that Lou was interested in a boy like Edmund was no surprise for the Gryffindor prefect. the pair shared similar dispositions and interests. It made perfect sense.

Grace smirked at the swift rebuff of detailed information regarding the budding relationship. Lou's claims that she would never leave them for the affections of a boyfriend was met with light skepticism on her part. Grace would not fault her friend for desiring to spend more time with a boy. More and more it seemed, the  realization that they were growing up and would likely be growing apart seemed glaringly apparent. The practical Grace knew that expecting their friendships to stay the same might be too much.

As much as Grace often professed to not be looking for romance or care about it, part of her could not help but long for the feelings of happiness that some of her friends were experience by being "in love". George and Waker. Fauna and Devlin. And now Lou and Edmund. Love was in the air.

Grace cracked a smile at the back and forth banter between Lou and Quinn and decided it was time to toss in some bits of her own. "Aye. I suppose if you're going to be a loudmouth or anything, really, you might as well do a proper job* of it." She waggled her brows as she looked from one friend to the other.

* Cornish way of saying something done well.

With a drink in one hand and five free fingers full of chipped burgundy polish dancing across the air in gigglish indignation, Lou readied herself to retort-- to pounce like a real lion. Albeit, it would be a friendly pounce, because Quinn was much a friend as she was a boisterous character, and there often was wisdom or good intention painted around the lines of her colorful comments. (Even if Edmund was most certainly not just some Ravenclaw who could hit bludgers.)

But Grace-- Grace the referee and her words of wisdom triumphed like a swift and unexpected move near on the field, and Lou found herself reluctantly sitting down after a quick, friendly nudge of her alcohol-ladden knuckles against Quinn's sparkly shoulder. She offered a hand-blown kiss of truce to the McAvoy girl, and tilted her head at their quieter roommate.

"Alright, alright, let's do this... let's--" She paused, digging through her bag, and drawing out a thermos. "Take these outside," she said, her wand waving itself covertly under the table as her half-full glass poured itself into the container. "And go find some quidditch pros for the pair of you." She sealed the container, placed the empty mug on the table, and and looked up with a sheepish, faux-angelic grin.

"I've always done a proper job of being a loudmouth," Quinn laughed in agreement, shrugging her shoulders in faux guilt. "Just ask Kitty Li and them lot." The Gryffindor glitter punk was definitely not on the Slytherin Princess Christmas Card List; those prissy, arrogant sorts hated girls like Quinn - and the latter only revelled in their disdain. It was so much fun to wind them up whenever possible, and McAvoy had it down to a fine art.

"Don't think those kisses wash with me, Carter," she howled. Quinn leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes in jest at her fellow lioness. "Your charms are wasted here, love, there's no stupid boys to fall for them." The three of them were so different, yet so alike in many ways, and each formed an essential part of the Gryffindor Tripod. Carter was undoubtedly the beauty, wickedly flirtatious and catching the eye of every good-looking boy at Hogwarts. Grace had the brains: beyond studious, and a real down-to-earth guy. Not many people had a bad word to say about Grace Eddy, and those that did felt the back of Quinn's hand. And as for Miss McAvoy herself? She was definitely the brawn. Shamelessly brash packing more bark than a starving Cerberus, Quinn accepted her role with arms outstretched.

Watching Carter pour the rather suspect concoction into a flask, Quinn raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
"You seem to forget, Lou," she muttered, a coy grin on her face. "That I've seen most of those Quidditch pros out there, and although they can chase a Quaffle to no end, they can't handle a real Gryffindor." Quinn laughed, looking at her two comrades accusingly, as if they were no match to herself in terms of scarlet and gold aggression. A lot of boys were frightened of Quinn, and those who were foolish enough to get involved often saw themselves becoming the girl in the relationship: she was as big a ladette as you could get.