(no subject)
*Fleur slips through the front door, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible when in a ball gown with a the train the length of a quidditch pitch. For once, her hair is piled a top her head in a graceful fall of curls. Instead of diamonds as she has been wearing her last few visits, she has a simple white ribbon tied about her neck. She closes the door, and hovers just out of the crowd. It has been so long yet such a short time since she has been here, and she does feel out of place. She wrinkles her nose. What an odd feeling.*