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Brigit Langley for Fletcher Langley.
The Matchmaking Menace
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Fighting Evil By Moonlight
See Inside 
April 13th, 1889; midnight — Ravenclaw Common Room
The dim lighting of the common room was provided by the fireplace, the lit torches on either side of the entryway, scattered candles, and the near-full moon streaming through the tower window. All of these touches were lost upon Holliday Fudge as she glared at the prefect with murder in her eyes, her wand in hand but kept decidedly at her side—it was all the fifth year could do not to draw it properly against Beatrix Borgin.

"Take it back," she instructed sharply, as if in warning, never once thinking the other witch actually would. This was certainly not the first time that the pair had come to blows, and—if neither of them got expelled tonight—would not be the last. "You take it back now."

To anyone else, Borgin's comment would have come across as off-handed, indelicate but nothing particularly dire. To Holliday, though, anything that left the fifth year's lips was cause for speculation—and probably for ire—particularly at this time of the month—both for Holliday personally and for the natural world outside the Ravenclaw tower. It simply could not be borne.
@Beatrix Borgin/@Elladora Black first, then open to up to three more Ravenclaws who might be up at this hour!

graphics by mj ❤ —
Laughing openly Trixie ran a blunt fingernail over the covers of her hard-won bed. Since she had taken possession of the dormitory’s best bed she made made a show of instructing the house elves to thoroughly clean each and every sheet that might have so much as touched the former occupant, had strung up dried wolfsbane stolen from her mother’s potions ingredients at home, and had taken every opportunity to threaten anyone who dared stand up her with detention.

So far no one had been stupid enough but that record of common sense amongst her dormmates was rapidly coming to an end and she was rather glad of that fact. It was really quite especially satisfying to think of Holliday Fudge’s hand seizing up with cramp as she wrote line after line of “I must not be such a smug bitch.” Or something along those lines. She might have to change it before she told the matron.

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” Trix snarled back, voice full of vicious mirth, fully aware that what she was saying would hit just the right spot. “Being dead is much better than being a freak of nature.”
[-] The following 1 user Likes Beatrix Borgin's post:
   Holliday Fudge

[Image: peVXwN.png]
fabulously moody set by Bee <3
Holliday had often wondered at some of the more peculiar common turns of phrases, but no longer doubted the validity of “blood boil”. The Ravenclaw felt as though hers was doing just that, the heat of her rage lighting a fire under her—one that threatened to combust.

“Only if it’s you!” Holliday snarled in response, knuckles whitening as her grip on her wand—still undrawn—tightened.
@Beatrix Borgin/@Elladora Black

graphics by mj ❤ —
Trixie’s expression flickered quickly from anger to amusement. The other girl was infuriatingly perfect and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to launch herself off the bed and tackle her to the ground. Holliday Fudge was shorter and softer than she was so Trixie rated her chances even in one of her stupid friends tried to intervene.

But it would be so much more satisfying to make the girl come at her. Then there would be real trouble…

“Now, now Fudge that's very close to being rude to a prefect, I could have you in detention for that," she replied with a saccharine smile that barely touched her lips, let alone her eyes.

[Image: peVXwN.png]
fabulously moody set by Bee <3

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