Re: log, Hogsmeade: Victoire W/Sirius B/some James P
Victoire had only just decided to actually show up.
She was entirely put-out, and she wasn't sure she could control her overwhelming desire to hex whoever was at Madam Puddifoot's when she arrived. If she got in trouble, and if it got back to her parents, she'd be back in the Pyrenees in no time, and she rather dreaded the thought of returning there. She'd wanted to go terribly when she was young. Her mum had made it sound so romantic and wonderful, but she'd outgrown all that, and she entirely blamed Teddy and his punk rock music and wandering hands. Quite simply, she didn't wish to be expelled before the year even began.
She reminded herself of that as she made her way, and she could tell, even during her brief walk, that something wasn't right. Her Hogsmeade was healthier than this. It was an odd word, but it was the best one she had at the ready, and there wasn't much time to linger on it beyond that.
The girl that stopped before the door had red hair that wasn't precisely red enough to remind one of Weasleys, too much blonde and not enough fire. Eighteen, and her features were her mum's, delicate and fine-boned. Ethereal, and something odd that made her seem more appealing to the eye than she ought to be. She wore a sheathe dress in black, sleeveless and to mid-thigh, and her boots went to her knees. She wore no robes, and her wand was tucked into the dress' pocket at the waist, a button flap keeping it from falling about.
She was about to push in the door, but she caught sight of a man she'd only seen in old photos, and she stopped dead.
She paused, and her face went angry red, Weasley red, and she drew her rosewood wand with Slytherin flourish. "Really, that's dreadful, and I've no idea how you managed, but stop it right this moment. Finite Incantatem."