There she was, waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. I was still stunned that I was going to the Yule Ball with a foreign champion, Fleur Delacour. Her name meant "flower of the heart" in French - tonight, I hoped for some romantic horticulture, the cultivation of this girl into my true love.
She looked fabulous in her gray satin robes. I came towards her, walking as if in a dream.
" 'Ello," she said, in that adorable accent.
"Hi, Fleur," I answered nervously. Slowly, we joined hands and joined the champions' procession. Our date was about to begin.
Disclaimer: Roger, Fleur and the Yule Ball belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made off this; I write because it's fun. :-)
