Grace Eddy did not feel very loving on this Valentine's Day. Life had been particularly hard on the Gryffindor prefect of late, causing her to retreat into herself. Even with her budding friendships with Chance and Fauna, it was hard to feel very upbeat and positive in light of what was happening at home and also what had happened recently with Professor Bombay.

Still, some of her housemates had prodded and prodded and finally she caved about attending the Valentine's Day Ball. But that didn't mean she was going to attend with all the bells and whistles. She had gotten dressed up for the Halloween Ball and that had been a disaster. This time, Grace's cynicism got the better of her and she decided to dress in all black.

She made her way down from the Gryffindor Tower, probably in a more un-lady like manner than she was conscious of. Still, her gruff nature coming down the last few steps onto the main floor was enough to catch the attention of another student who was headed in the same direction.

Immediately, Grace took offense to the other person's presence. But given who it was, it was no surprise that such passionate feelings of hatred were evoked. Grace Eddy had loathed Maeve Whitman since the moment they met.

But now, it was not just the pureblooded princess' mere personage before her that was so jarring to the Gryffindor in that moment. Rather, it was the horrendously offensive pink ball gown that the other girl wore that made her recoil in disgust. She was almost tempted to raise her hands in an effort to shield the bright hue from her eyes.

It reminded Grace of the perfect Barbie dolls that she had been given as gifts when she was younger. So perfect it was unrealistic and could make a tomboy sick to her stomach and want to do nothing more than to whack the doll repeatedly until it was permanently disfigured. Or, tear its little dress to shreds.

In the brief moment before Maeve Whitman turned to her with the mocking gaze that roamed over her morbid ensemble, Grace had visions of turning Maeve into a lifesized version of the Barbies she used to torture as a preteen.

Grace tilted her head just a bit, as if trying to look at her perpetual foe more carefully. Her eyes glinted with the overwhelming urge to turn her visions into action...

Maeve had not planned on stopping en route to the Ball tent. She was anxious to join Callum and spend the evening dancing in his arms and crooning sweet nothings in his ear. But the diversion caused by the sight of Grace Eddy before her was simply too tempting to ignore.

Maeve's lips curled into a malicious smirk. "Well, well. If it isn't the girl who should have been born a boy....since you're so intent on acting like one. All. The. Time." She scoffed at Eddy's clothing selection and with obvious distaste, she commented, "You know, you're almost as bad as that Blake girl. Do all of you people purposely plan your lives to look this way? I mean, it's no wonder you are still single and Fauna continues to delude herself into thinking that Devlin Matthews is serious about having her as a girlfriend. You are all hopeless. Yes, that is what you are." Her crystal blue eyes narrowed and she ranted on further, "And you, Eddy, will always be a mudblood. No amount of changing your exterior is ever going to alter that reality. You will always be less than those of us who are pure. And we will always relish the thought of looking down on the likes of you because you make it soooo easy."

The words that Maeve spoke were primarily what had been ingrained in her since birth and particularly hammered home by the likes of her cousin Oscar and her grand mother and great aunt. Whether she wholeheartedly believed the words she said or whether they were just that, words, was hard to tell. For most of her life, her motives had been superficial and flighty at best, so if someone were to really test  the strength of her convictions or even call her out on her hypocrisy, it might be interesting.

But Mave never considered anyone would do that. She was at the top of the social ladder at school. No one would dare challenge her in such a way. No one had before now and she couldn't fathom someone having the guts enough to mount a strike now.

With one hand perched daintily on her hip, she slowly walked around Grace standing in the middle of the hallway, the pink tulle of her gown sweeping the floor as she went. She watched as the shadows on Grace's face change, but she did not think to heed the warning of what that meant. Instead, she continued to taunt, "What's the matter, Eddy? Having second thoughts of going Emo to the ball? Here, let me help you with that--"

Maeve pulled out her wand with the intent of casting a spell that might spruce up the clothing that her classmate wore. First order of business? Changing the black jacket to a more feminine color.

Like pink.

Pink was like Red to Grace and she certainly saw it in abundance from the moment that Maeve Whitman began to speak. If what she said hadn't been so potent--if it had been about which hair style was most fashionable or what witch models were to be admired--then Grace would have simply tuned the other girl out, or have her voice process in her head like the teacher in the famed muggle cartoon, Charlie Brown.

But what Maeve said struck a chord in the muggleborn witch. Her insults were not only deeply rooted in their history with one another, but the Slytherin also managed to insult Grace's friend as well. And that didn't sit well with the headstrong prefect.

Her jaw hardened. She resisted responding to the pettiness of the insults, even though she yearned to do so with every fiber of her being. No one could deny that Grace Eddy was astute in the art of rebuking others arguments, friend or foe alike. She just had more at steak in this little dispute.

Still, she restrained herself enough through Maeve's first round of unsavory comments. But as soon as Maeve drew her wand, Grace's instincts went into overdrive.

Maeve's seemingly harmless color changing spell was barely off of her lips before Grace drew out her own wand and immediately cast a hex. "Infligo!"

She watched with mild satisfaction as the Barbie-esque Maeve was abruptly "smacked" backwards away from her.

Grace advanced after the girl, still brandishing her wand. She bit out, "Say it again, Maeve Whitman. Oh, I dare you to call me that horrible name again to my face because it would give me just cause to do all that I can to ruin yours enough so that no boy in this school will ever want to look upon it again..."

It was true that Maeve had disliked Grace Eddy since the moment they had laid eyes on each other on the trainride to the school to start their first year. People like Grace represented everything that threatened the perfection of the Wizarding World that the Whitman clan craved. She was muggleborn. She was poor. She was unrefined. Nothing about her said that she belonged in the same room as Maeve.

And yet, Grace Eddy had refused, even from day one, to allow Maeve to keep her in the inferior position that the pureblood felt was every mudblood's destiny. Grace had fought Maeve every step of the way and had been determined to prove that she was a better witch than her Slytherin counterpart without the magic being born into her. This had always rubbed Maeve the wrong way because deep in her heart of hearts, she lacked the confidence to challenge the validity of that conclusion. Everything to this point in their Hogwarts careers seemed to confirm that Grace was better at magic than she was. At everything, really.

Except for fashion and the art of feminine graces.

So picking at these areas of weakness and also focusing on her mudblood status was all that Maeve had left in her arsenal.

Maeve was caught off guard by Grace's attack, but immediately seemed to get why the Gryffindor had reacted so hastily. It wasn't the first time the two had resorted to dueling or hexing one another, so it was easy to see why the sight of Maeve drawing her wand might imply that was what she was doing.

The blonde Slytherin recoiled from the force of Grace's retaliation and raised her hand to her now stinging cheek as she listened to the other girl dare her to say again the word that had the power to evoke such passion within the Wizarding World.

Maeve gripped her Olivander wand tighter and fired back, "Ruin my face? You'll have to do a lot more than that. Like this, you.....mudblood!" Maeve then shot a curse in Grace's direction, "Capusangre!"

A more proficient witch would have caused more damage with the bleeding hex. But the sparking maroon light that eventually laced into Grace only had enough power to cause her a bloody nose.

Grace was a confident witch. But that didn't mean she underestimated her foes. Still, having been Maeve's classmate for seven years did give her insight into the Slytherin's capabilities. And frankly, the Gryffindor didn't expect much of the pureblood. She had simply assumed that her magic wasn't as potent, mainly because Maeve seemed to flippant with it to begin with.

So to be hit with the bleeding hex took Grace aback. She didn't even think Maeve knew what it was, much less had the gumption to be able to execute it. So despite the weak delivery, Grace was impressed.

But the feeling of blood slowly dripping from her nostril brought Grace out of her moment of awe. She reached up to brush at her nose and when she held her hand away from her, it was blotted with blood.

Grace could feel her pulse quicken with anger causing the blood to flow a little faster from her nose. But Grace made no move to wipe it away. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and spat, "You want more? Fine."

Grace's glinted with what could only be characterized as glee. Maeve had just said the magic words that would allow her to use pair of hexes that she had been perfecting for several months. Now she had just cause to use them.

She pointed her wand at Maeve's face and bellowed, "Facio defluat!"

A blue-green light shot from Grace's maple wand and at first, it looked like it repeated the same action as the previous hex. But aside from the momentary jolt it seemed to visibly hit the Slytherin with, the rest of its effects took longer to be revealed...

Maeve's hand returned to her cheek again as Grace's second assault hit her. But where the previous one had caused her pain, this one presented her with an uncomfortable sensation that she could not readily describe. It didn't take long before something happened that was able to provide her with much more clarity on the matter.

Maeve felt her face grow warm, the same feeling she might get if she were flushing from embarrassment or was sitting too long near a heat lamp. And then she felt something wet on her fingers. Her eyes widened when she pulled her hand away to see that her make up was turning into liquid on her fingertips.

When she reached up to rub her skin again, even more of her makeup liquified and thus came off onto her hand. In fact, no amount of wiping seemed to stop her face from dripping, like she had been caught in the rain and it was now washing it all away.

Maeve released a high pitched shriek. "What did you do to me!?"

Without waiting for a response, Maeve began to wring her hands in between wipes to her face. Then, with another frustrated shriek, she spun on her heel and bolted down the hall towards the doors leading outside.

She heard footsteps fall behind her and quickened her pace until she was in a full fledged run--or as fast as her heels and pouffy dress could take her. But even the open air of the school grounds could not lessen the sound of Grace Eddy's laughter that seemed to be following her.

Grace swelled with pride as she watched the effects that her spell had on Maeve Whitman's face. She even forgot about her own bleeding nose. The satisfaction of melting away the makeup of the image conscious Queen Bee was only topped by the other girl's reaction to it. It was perfect!

Her mission was accomplished, but Grace still felt the urge to follow up. She simply could not allow the Slytherin to get off that easy. Grace felt--and she was certain others would agree with her--that seven years of Maeve torturing all those she considered beneath her deserved so much more punishment.

Grace called out to Maeve's retreating figure, "You're melting, Maeve!" She threw her arms up in an overdramatic fashion and then used a high pitched voice to say, "Oh my godric! You're MELTING!"

Grace then threw her head back and laughed heartily before she took off in quick pursuit of her victim. Only she wasn't encumbered by a bulky dress or heels and was able to catch up quickly. As she approached, she thought she heard Maeve mutter a feeble, "Leave me alone!"

But the tomboyish Grace had other plans. As the two girls exited the castle into the open air, Grace tackled Maeve to the ground. Even though it was winter and snow had blanketed the grounds, the high traffic area was a mixture of snow, slush and mud. Grace had no problem rolling around in dirt but she was certain that Maeve was going to be upset by it.

Maeve struggled to get out from underneath Grace, who had landed on top of her. With one forceful shove, she managed to get away from the Gryffindor. But once she looked down at herself and saw the damage - that nearly every inch of her (and her dress) was soiled -- she started screaming.

"YOU'VE RUINED MY DRESS!"

Grace sat up and watched as Maeve lamented over the state of her appearance. She casually began to brush away the snow and slush and mud, barely even bothered by the cold as it touched her skin or seeped into her clothes. She quietly grumbled, "I can ruin a lot more if you don't shut up already."

"I.....HATE.....YOU, GRACE EDDY!"

"The feeling is mutal. Now shut up, Maeve."

But the Slytherin continued to rant and rave incoherently as she attempted to stand up.

Grace looked over at her nemisis and then down at the muddy snow.  Picking up a handful of it, she crawled closer to Maeve and pushed the girl back down. Grace held Maeve there and then proceeded to shove her makeshift snowy mudball in the girl's face.

What did one do when a prefect attacked another student?

This was the question Eirene faced as she exited the castle in her dress clothes and stood gaping at the war zone in front of her, where the seventh-year known as Grace Eddy - prefect, tackled Maeve Whitman to the snowy ground.

She gasped, clutching her purse to her and inching away to hide behind a bush. Maeve screeched as Grace began collecting snow and mud in her hands, crawling like an animal towards the poor, tortured Slytherin.

The first-year glanced around, hoping someone else would see them and stop them. Eirene opened her mouth to shout, but nothing came out! Her world had just been turned upside down. A prefect was attacking a defenseless student!

What if - what if Grace killed her?! She'd already ruined the girl's Valentine's Day dress, which was almost as bad!

Eirene did the only thing she could think to do. The main thing that parents and professors had been drilling into her head ever since a student had died on the grounds. She raised her wand into the air, shut her eyes, and casted a charm that sent up red sparks above their heads.

Then she crouched behind the bush and hoped to Merlin that Grace the Gruesome wouldn't find her!

-- Leon's Formal Attire --

---

It was a sad fact that Leon Monroe didn't have a date to the dance. However, even though he was alone, he decided to attend the dance after all. Mainly, Leon stepped into the tent and immediately felt embarrassed. While people zipped around in their nice clothes, dancing and having a good time, Leon was one of the few wallflowers. Leon drank punch and waited until the dance was over. That was all he could really think of doing.

Of course, he had been approached by a young second year to dance, and Leon politely agreed. His face was rather flushed while he helped the girl spin and stepped on his toes. Leon was an exceptional dancer, having being taught when he was young so he could impress a nice young lady when he was older. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind. After sixth time of stepping on Leon's foot, the girl burst into tears and ran off, leaving Leon to stand there, dumbstruck. People began to whisper to each other, thinking Leon said something to hurt the second year's feelings.

It was then that Leon decided it was best to leave. His face was red and he couldn't look anyone in the face, so he simply stared down at the shuffling feet below. Leon was out of the tent rather quickly, tears threatening to pour out of his eyes. He was too embarrassed to keep his manly image intact. He loosened his bowtie and took a sharp breath in, trying to stop himself from crying.

"I.....HATE.....YOU, GRACE EDDY!"

Leon's gaze immediately shot up. He recognized Maeve's shrill voice anywhere. Leon watched in horror as the figure of Grace Eddy shoved snow in the face of her Slytherin rival. Leon knew perfectly well Grace despised Maeve... But he never expected the girl to ever viciously attack her. All thoughts of his embarrassing experience dwindled away. He simply couldn't stand there while Maeve got beaten to death by his friend.

Thinking quickly, Leon rushed up behind Grace and pulled his arms around her waist. He pulled her up and off the Slytherin and brought her to her feet. "Grace, what the bloody hell are you doing?" He asked, trying not to raise his voice. Leon pulled her around to face him, to get her death glare off of the poor, mud-covered girl. He held her by her shoulders, a bit flushed from touching her waist, and kept his grip tight.

"You're a prefect, for Merlin's sake," he told her, looking her dead in the eyes, "What's gotten into you?"

This was vindication. If anyone asked Maeve, they'd probably hear an earful about how it didn't taste good at all. And if they asked Grace....well, she'd simply say that it was a sight for sore eyes. Knowing that she had gotten Maeve to eat mud was priceless, especially with all she spouted about muggleborns being mudbloods. This was poetic justice.

Only it was ending far too soon. She remembered shoving another mudball into the blonde girl's face and taunting, "How does mud taste now, Maeve Whitman?" But then she was abruptly pried off and hauled to her feet by somebody else.

Grace continued to struggle against the person until they spoke and subsequently turned her around to face him. It took a moment for Grace to focus on the face belonging to the voice and then register his words. But eventually, the Gryffindor breathed deeply and steadied her gaze on the Head Boy's.

She tried to compose herself quickly, realizing how bad this looked. She nibbled sheepishly on her lower lip. "I....sorry. I don't know what came over me---"

She was interrupted by Maeve's screaching voice. "She's lying! She's absolutely horrible! She ruined my makeup....and now my dress....look at what she did to me! LEEEE-ON! Do something!"

Grace rolled her eyes. "Blah, blah, blah..." She raised her eyes at Leon and reasoned, "C'mon, Leon. Even you have to admit that she deserved this....or something like it, right?"

The past few months had given Chance time to do a lot of things...play electric guitar, reflect on his thoughts, escape from the hustle and bustle of Hogwart's social life, and he'd also picked up quite a talent to slip away from a crowd and slink about without being detected.  Whether there was any magical properties involved in Ryker's increased stealthiness was anyone's guess...

Regardless...Chance had witnessed at least a bit of the scene playing out between Grace and Maeve before making his appearance.  The Irish Gryffindor moved toward Grace, Maeve, and the newly arriving Leon Monroe.

"C'mon Grace...Ah think we all need a wee bit o' breathin' room."

Chance eased a hand onto Grace's shoulder and tried to help Leon keep the ladies apart.  The typically outgoing, friendly, and upbeat Ryker was atypically standoffish and short on conversation as of late...but that wouldn't stop him from being there for his friends when they needed him.  Chance held few people in his life with as high regard as he did Grace Eddy and he hoped that his support would prove that to her. 

Voices sounded. Eirene peeked between the snow-lined branches of the shrubbery, squatting in a very awkward, unladylike way to avoid letting her dress touch the ground. She heard someone swear, and then she saw Grace the Gruesome being hauled up by Leon Monroe! Leon Monroe - hero, must have seen the sparks she'd sent up and come to her Maeve's rescue!

When a second brave soul came to the clearing, Eirene stood, still half-hidden by the bush and clutching her purse and her wand in an iron grip.

"She did ruin Maeve's dress. She almost killed her! Look at her face!" Eirene gestured at the melted effect on the Slytherin's eyes.

"But I did the proper thing and called for help!"

Glancing at the Headboy hopefully, she couldn't help but wonder if this would earn her some kind of reward. Points, perhaps? A dance held in her honor? A dance with Leon Monroe, hero? The possibilities were endless!

"I....sorry. I don't know what came over me---"

Leon nodded, slowly, yet understandably. While a part of him truly didn't believe her innocent act, she was his friend and he had to cut her some slack. However, his hands stayed clenched on her arms. Grace was a sweet girl, though definitely not the type to be too thrilled about being drenched in the color pink... Leon had a soft spot for her, mainly because of her kindness towards him. He mauled over in his head what he could possibly do to her... On one hand, he didn't want to punish her... But on the other, he knew it would be wise to turn her into her head of house. It would look better for Grace to turn herself in immediately, and it would be easier on Leon if he acted out his Head Boy duties.

"She's lying! She's absolutely horrible! She ruined my makeup....and now my dress....look at what she did to me! LEEEE-ON! Do something!"

"Grace... Just calm down. Breathe slowly..." He advised her, though she didn't seem too out of hand at the moment. The other seventh year Gryffindor prefect came along, helping Leon calm the girl down. Leon's eyes did flicker over to where the screaming Maeve Whitman now lay. He felt a rather large pang in his chest out of sympathy for the poor girl... This was the Valentine's Day dance and she was alone, bloody, and covered in mud. Leon took a deep breath and sighed, leaving Chance in control of Grace as his fingers slipped away from her arms.

"C'mon, Leon. Even you have to admit that she deserved this....or something like it, right?"

The Head Boy closed his eyes and shook his head, slowly. He couldn't dignify that question with an answer. Grace knew better than that, she knew that Leon wouldn't take the beating lightly. He was put in his position for a reason. She had to understand the situation she put him in.

He took a step back, his face sullen and serious, "I'm going to have to report you to Professor Levartian, you know?" he attempted to keep his gaze locked with Grace's, but he couldn't make himself stare for too long. He felt too awful about himself. His bottom lip quivered, anxiety shaking within the Monroe boy. He truly didn't want to report the Gryffindor, but he knew it had to be done. Leon wasn't sure if he could trust Chance to take Grace to the Professor, but Leon decided helping Maeve to the Hospital Hut was also very important.

"Chance... Could you please take her to the Professor?" his thoughts finally flowed out, "I'll help Ms. Whitman to Nagde... I think it's best if you went with Grace... Being a Gryffindor prefect yourself".

Leon turned away from the two and finally trotted over to Maeve. As much as he really hated to do it, he pulled his silky jacket off and placed it around the Slytherin's shoulders. It was then that he lent her a hand to help pick her up from the freezing snow. He wasn't quite sure what to do next... His instinct was to hold her close, let her get warm... But something about Maeve made Leon want to take a few hundred steps back. She was a frightening girl... Definitely not Leon's type. However, she needed his help. After awkwardly placing an arm around her shoulders and blushing a vicious red, he turned back to Grace.

"Look at her... Do you really think anyone deserves this?" Again, Leon truly didn't care for the "Queen Bee of the School", but he knew how awful it felt to be completely humiliated at a dance. Only... He wasn't beaten bloody by a feisty Gryffindor.

If Maeve's face wasn't caked with mud and the remains of her melted make up, onlookers would have seen relief there in abundance. Knowing how deeply her feud was with Grace and how capable she was with her magic, the Slytherin had no doubt that the Gryffindor could have done serious harm to her if she had truly wanted. And in between having snow and mud stuffed in her face, she had caught glimpses of the crazed look in the redhead's eyes and considered for a moment that she may have pushed Grace too far.

As Leon moved to take control of the situation, Maeve had tried to stand and make herself presentable. But she could not let Grace get away with this and was not about to let Leon or anyone else take her side without feeling guilty about it. Which was why she demanded that he do something about what happened. He was Head Boy, afterall. He should have the power to punish Grace quite severely.

Maeve finally managed to sit up without feeling as though she was going to slip back down into the mud again. If she wasn't so preoccupied with wiping the mud from her face and inspecting the full extent of the damage to her dress, she might have begun to whine about why the Gryffindor boy and Leon were paying more attention to Grace - the attacker - instead of the person who had been victimized.

At least the young Ravenclaw girl was sympathetic and had been considerate. Maeve ignored her outburst about what had been done to her face -- knowing that her makeup had melted off surely didn't reassure her that she looked decent -- and flashed the girl (whose name she could not recall) a grateful smile. "Thank you for calling for help."

Maeve then listened with an air of smugness as Leon informed Grace that he would have to report her to her head of house. It was on her tongue to protest--that her own head of house was going to be biased and might hardly punish her at all and that they should take it to the Deputy Headmaster or even the Headmistress herself--but then Leon turned his attention to helping her.

She readily accepted his offer to help her stand and was thankful when he draped his coat over her shoulders. Such a gentleman! Though he seemed hesitant to do it, Maeve eventually felt the Head Boy hold her closer to him and she responded by clinging back.

Not caring what the two Gryffindors might think or say, Maeve played up the damsel in distress role. She latched her crystalline blue eyes onto Leon and sweetly told him, "Thank you for coming to my rescue, Leon." Not even thinking that he might object, she stood on her tipy toes and leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek. Then she added, "You don't have to take me to the Hospital Hut, Leon. But you could escort me back to the Slytherin common room so that I can get cleaned up." She turned and sent a glare in Grace's direction. "Now that my night has been ruined..."

With Leon eager to prove he was a responsible and fair Head Boy, Grace was happy to see the arrival of Chance, who had become her partner in crime in the past few months. Surely he would see the value in what she had done. There was an irony in Grace's actions. Professor Levartian had paired them up in the hopes that Grace would be a positive influence on Chance and the reality was that maybe, just maybe, the exact opposite was happening.

Grace took a deep breath and calmly told the Head Boy, "I'm fine. I'm calmed down." When Leon finally let her go, with the stipulation that he would have to inform Professor Levartian about what happened, she stood a little straighter and nodded matter-of-factly. "Yes, I realize that. But I am pretty sure I would do it again in a heartbeat."

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Grace realized how viscous they sounded and how much they probably didn't help her cause with Leon at all. She avoided his eyes and took a step towards her housemate. She looped her arm through Chance's and half hugged herself to him as Leon laid into her about anyone really deserving what she had done to Maeve. She had so much she wanted to say to that but she bit her lip to keep from doing so. But restraining herself from saying anything was even more difficult when Maeve insisted on playing the martyr.

Grace leaned in close and whispered to Chance, "She most certainly deserved it. And I can do a whole lot more than just ruin her night. I can make the next 24 hours a living hell for someone who depends on her makeup so much. Watch this..."

Before her fellow Gryffindor could stop her (if he even showcase the better judgment of the two), Grace raise her wand and with another quick flick in Maeve's direction, she commanded, "Facio resistere!"

Again, the spell jolted Maeve much as the previous one did, only this time, there were no visible effects. Grace knew that she probably just sealed her fate of any number of probable punishments. But to her, it was going to be well worth knowing what was going to happen with this last hex. She nudged Chance and told him, "She's not going to be able to wear make up for a good day or two." With a satisfied wry grin, she added, "That should keep her locked up in her dorm for a while...sounds blissful, doesn't it?"