Fleur Weasley (parexcellance) wrote in changedrpg, @ 2011-11-11 14:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | !date: 1997 - november, demetrius avery, fleur delacour |
Who: Fleur Delacour and Demetrius Avery
When: Evening of November 11 (probably stretching into the weekend too)
Where: A London street to start with and then a TBD location
What: An "unfriendly" encounter/continuation of their confrontation that started at the Ministry
Status/Rating: Closed // HIGH (for language, violence, torture, ect)
The crepuscular air was still, except for the quiet lullaby of a nightingale that sang off in the distance. Even the stars had chosen not to bath the world below with the faint twinkle of their divine light as rain clouds were quickly making their way in, bringing with them the promise of rain. The quiet made it easy for Fleur's thought so drift as she made her way home. There were plenty of other things to think about: she still needed to get the proper documents out for her hearing with Immigration, there was a half composed letter to her sister she needed to finish, she needed to find something suitable to wear to her meeting next week, and more immediately she had still not decided what to cook for dinner. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. The dance lesson had originally been a distraction of sorts, a way to relax, but it had turned into something more. She rather liked spending time with Nyx. Her outtake on life was refreshing and unique, her fiery nature endearing.
Balancing her gym bag in the crook of her elbow, Fleur glanced over her shoulder. For a moment she could have swore she had heard the soft patter of foot steps behind her but there was no one there. She brushed it off figuring that she was just being paranoid. Not that anyone would have blamed her considering the recent upheavals at the Ministry, especially those that had actually been there. It had been utter chaos, at least on their end. They had been caught off guard and unprepared, there was no denying it. Pivoting swiftly, again, Fleur glanced over her shoulder sure this time she had not not been imagining the footsteps. They had been there. Yet, there was nothing there to verify such thinking. The street behind her was as empty as it had been two minutes ago. Still she found her hand slipping into her bag and her fingers instinctively tightening around her wand. In a quick and seemingly non-existent motion she pulled her wand out and tucked it up her sleeve for safe keeping. There was no being too careful.
Keeping her footsteps even, albeit slightly faster than previously, Fleur listened for the distinct step of footsteps she could have sworn she had heard previously. I am not imagining it, she told herself not entirely convinced that she hadn't. Of course, she could have asked Nyx to walk her home, but she hadn't liked the thought of asking her friend to then in return walk home alone herself. Fleur would have never forgiven herself if something had happened to her friend. Then again, she could have asked Bill to pick her up but that too seemed too paraniod. It wasn't like she was a lightweight, at least in magical ability. She liked to think she was more than capable of protecting herself if the need came to it.
"Who is there?" Fleur found herself asking as again she found herself staring over her shoulder. She was starting to feel like the mouse the cat had by the tail. The brief wind that kicked up caught her long blonde tresses, blowing them around her face until they settled back upon her shoulders. If anything, Fleur was glad her choice in dance outfit was simple, consisting of loose layers. It would make any needed fast motion easier, at least compared to being restricted by something such as denim or heels.
Turning, with the intentions of returning home, Fleur found herself face to face with a familiar countenance. Staring back at her were the same dark, clandestine eyes she had glimpsed into at the Ministry, paired with equally as dark hair. Standing in his presence made her feel, well, small (as she was barely 5'6" in height). One would think dating a guy that was nearly 6'3" she would have gotten used to feeling tiny, but Demetrius was considerably more muscular than Bill and held none of his charm, warmth, and welcoming persona. Demetrius was quiet the opposite. Fleur's mind would instantly jump to the words intimidating, treacherous, and unnerving.
Fleur couldn't help it drop a curse, in French, once her mind wrapped itself around the situation she now found herself in. She was in trouble. She harbored no illusions, had Bill not been there at the Ministry, the situation would have turned out a lot worse than it had. She would have had more to show than a few bruises. Taking a stumbling step back she threw the first hex that came to her mind at him as she struggled to throw together a quick game plan. She was smaller and more nimble than Demetrius surely, perhaps she could out run him if all else failed.