No longer acting the escaped convict, Vincent couldn’t hide behind handcuffs for tonight’s big moment. No theatrics. No keys-to-your-heart-please? type gifts to ease his way into the snogging (though there would be gifts, and there would definitely be snogging). He was a man on a mission, that Vincent Pennyapple, and all he could do was take a deep breath and squint at himself in the mirror just long enough to see the flash of William running through his veins.

“Gah,” he muttered to himself, turning away from his reflection, shaking his head. William made it so easy. But then, William probably never actually asked his girls to be his girls. They just sort of... fell into his bed paparazzi photos. Abracadabra! New girlfriend.

He’d put it off long enough. Five whole months! (Four and a half, if they were counting.) He hadn’t meant to. Time had really just sort of... flew. And there had been O.W.L.s to study for, and weekends to laze about under the trees, and he had spent so much time just loving his little social bubble with Beatrix exactly as it was, that he’d simply... not asked. It was time. Even Julian had manned up and done it. (Sort of. Vincent still wasn’t quite sure about the details, only that one little owl and a circled, all-capital letters ‘YES’ meant that he and Beatrix would be sharing a Valentine’s dance with Julian and the spongy-brained blonde who had once told Vincent his shoes were “very plain, like crackers without salt.”)

On his way out of the dormitory, he grabbed his coat, letting it fly over one shoulder so as not to seem overly anxious. Before flicking off the lights, he also fetched the customary flowers.

Regular flowers were for regular girls, and Beatrix was anything but. And so Vincent, having neither Julian’s strange love for clay nor Atticus’ artistic eye, had taken to his wand. A rather skilled wizard for his age, he had charmed up a bouquet that became a fragile paper-chain of iridescent, semi-translucent, taffeta-like flowers. They were light as silk and durable as wax. They wouldn’t die, and even if the charm wore off, they would still have that special sheen to them. He felt it was a nice compromise between the classic MUST-BUY-FLOWERS! and quirky Beatrix Dark & Co.

The walk from the dungeons wasn’t far, and Vincent soon found himself alone near the tent’s entrance, in a sea of vaguely familiar faces. He had been the last one to leave the dorm, and the first one to get to the party. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work, but there was no use crying over spilt spiked punch.

-- Bea's Outfit --

---

When Vincent asked Beatrix to the dance, she was dangerously excited. The two had been hanging around each other nonstop, snogging and speaking of nonsense whenever they had the chance. Their relationship was unofficial, but they were basically the most well-kept couple in the school (at least, in Bea's eyes). The Valentine's Day ball was far different than the one they had attended on Halloween. This one actually mattered. The day was meant to be shared for lovers and the like. Bea wouldn't be dressed up in fairy wings, and Vinnie wouldn't be dressed as an escaped convict (which, ironically, was what her father was... She just hadn't known it at the time). Beatrix would actually be dressed in proper, semi-formal attire.

Beatrix would have taken time with her appearance... If it weren't for the fact that she was a metamorph. She had actually waited a few hours before the dance before finally tearing herself away from her novel and putting together her outfit. She decided to wear a very nice black dress she had acquired during Christmas and then simply finding things that matched. The end result pleased the oldest Dark girl quite a lot. She quickly changed after that, and then she went back to reading since she still had another hour to actually get her butt down the dance.

She had taken to reading the latest Slither Girls novel. She wasn't sure if she really liked Odette being so adult and serious... And mainly thought about what she should be doing herself. In a way, it made her think about her own situation... She remembered Dazmond telling her that she might want to consider Erin Harper as a boyfriend, rather than Vincent. In a way, Erin was Bea's Devlin... And Vincent was Bea's Rhys. However, Beatrix soon realized that she had no longer felt much for the Harper boy. He was still devilishly handsome... But something no longer made her incredibly jealous whenever someone spoke to him. This was good. To Beatrix, this meant that she was no longer a young, delusional moron.

Plus, Beatrix hated the name "Devlin". For obvious reasons.

Growing a bit impatient with the book and Odette's stupid, serious life, she finally put it down. She decided it was about time she should finish getting ready and head down to the tent. She grabbed one of her many mirrors from her side table and held it up to her face. She had already brushed on some makeup, her eyeshadow was smoky and dark and her lips had a small amount of light pink lipstick smeared on. One could tell how much Beatrix had matured since her fourth year. Despite her wild pink hair, she looked more like a lady. However, she still had the Dark family twist of insanity lingering in her looks.

Beatrix would never outgrow her need for a crazy lifestyle and quirky acquaintances. She could never turn out like Odette. In a way, this pleased Bea. But she couldn't help but wonder how Dolly St. James, her unofficial mother (not that Beatrix really called her that), could write such a life for the usually wild character. This thought gave Bea hope... Maybe Dolly was having it lead up to a fantastic breakthrough.

The Ravenclaw decided to simply leave her bright pink hair be. She kept the length at the midline of her neck. She didn't like it touching her shoulders, but she didn't want to look like she had a man's haircut. Her bangs gently fell over her eyebrows, straight and perfect as usual. Of course, a few strands of her pink locks were sticking up and being messy as usual. Her hair was pin straight, yet couldn't stand being together. Beatrix was used to this.

The girl shrugged and tossed the mirror back to where it was. She grabbed her cape and tied it around her neck, making a small bow with the pink lace. She couldn't help but hold her gaze when it landed on the necklace Vincent had gotten her many months before... Time really flew.

After making sure she looked fabulous enough for the public eye (as if she ever didn't), the pink-haired girl skipped down the steps from her dorm and started heading to the dance's tent. Beatrix had her usual bouncy, staggering swag all the way down to the ground floor. She felt that maybe she should have left earlier... Considering that she was in the tallest tower, and the dance was all the way outside. She simply hoped she wasn't late, and continued with a quick stride. She didn't mind being a tad late... It was fashionable and kept the boy waiting. But Beatrix really didn't like the latter.

She then remembered, as she exited the doors of the school, that she had agreed to allow Neely and Julian join them during the dance. Beatrix's feet immediately tripped over themselves and she stumbled, almost falling into the snow. Her face flushed red. She halted and thought about what she had agreed to. Beatrix and Neely did not get along. She couldn't help but wonder what Julian was thinking by dating the moronic Slytherin.

But Bea's eyes landed on Vincent, alone by the Tent entrance, and she remembered again why she agreed. With Vinnie, she wouldn't be too miserable. Vincent made the girl happy. Beatrix's feet finally began to jolt forward again... She felt terrible for making the boy wait so long. She truly wished, however, that Julian would show up without Neely. They would most likely have a very lovely time then. But odds were that Neely would be raining down on Beatrix's parade.

Vincent would be there. She had to remember that. She would be alright.

She finally approached the gorgeous Slytherin boy, a bright smile forming on her face. Within seconds, she wrapped her arms around him, as she usually did to greet him, and didn't let her grasp loosen. "Sorry if I'm a little late," not exactly, "I was caught up in a book... A dumb book..." she paused, "can you believe Odette would really leave Devlin for that lame, lame boy Rhys?" another pause. She just remembered how she was comparing Rhys to Vincent earlier.

"Well... Lame isn't the right word for him..." She added quickly, "How are you?" Beatrix finally pulled away, her blue eyes looking Vinnie over, "You look very dashing, I have to say..."

“I think you’re allowed to be late on Valentine’s Day,” he offered, grinning like a fool and enveloping her in his own arms even as she hugged him round the middle. He bent to swipe her forehead with his teenage boy lips, and pulled away with a slightly confused frown. He tilted his head, dark hair falling across an eye. “But I thought it might be, you know, because you were putting on some kind of witchy perfume or hoping I might ask you to--” Be my girlfriend. “Dance,” he saved himself smoothly. “For a book?”

His confusion only spread when she started sprouting off names he didn’t know. Oh, except for one... “Devlin?” Did she have a thing for him? “I thought you hated him...” She’d always had a mouth on her, his little pink-haired nymph, and she’d spared little courtesy for Matthews, even when he’d still ruled the school. Even before he’d become a fugitive, leaving Atticus and the others within the safety of Hogwarts’ ancient walls.

“Who’s Odette and Rhys?” He quizzed, racking his brain. Had he really been so absorbed in his little bubble-- Bea, Julian, his dormmates, Prefect rounds, and studying for O.W.L.S.-- that he’d started to forget the names of lesser known kids? There was something in her face that made him forget the names all over again, if that were the case the first time-- something going on behind her eyes made him wary. “Lame...” He murmured. It wasn’t a question. He bit his tongue before he could ask her to define the word.

But a small smile crept back into his face when she labeled him ‘dashing.’ He wondered if Julian got such praise. “Yeah, thanks, I tried,” he admitted, and then remembered the flowers. He held out the charmed gift to his date. “One of a kind for the girl who changes her hair like most people change socks,” he said, his voice a sort of invisible bow.