When Fleur looks in the mirror she sees perfection.

She sees pure, timeless perfection in the straight angle of her nose, the sharpness of her cheekbones. She sees the beauty of perfection in her lustrous blond hair, her fair skin, rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes, large, almond shaped and framed with dark lashes. The eyes that have seen both horror and beauty. The eyes that have made so made so many men lose their way.

She sees a girl, who ever since the age of 14 couldn't walk through a room without boys — and men drooling over her.

She sees a girl flaunting her looks, and by doing that getting everything she wanted...or thought she did. Arm candy. Dates. Magnificent flowers enchanted to sing, unlimited supplies of firewhisky and gallons of licorice wands and chocolate frogs. All this frivolity carving a void into her vulnerable little heart. A void that cannot be filled with all the admiring glances put together. A void that scares her.

When Fleur looks in the mirror she sees perfection that pleasures, frightens and sickens her. She sees a smile placed there by admiration and lust. A smile crafty enough to lull males into doing her bidding while leaving her hollow inside, craving to enchant yet another male. A craving that leaves you craving more, because when she uses her power to attract men, the world becomes a better place - at least for a little while.

When Fleur looks in the mirror she sees perfection like that of a rose, the noblest of flowers. A perfection that enchants you at first meeting, the morning dew drops sparkling in the morning sun. But when the little girl with lustrous blond hair walks towards it, sleep still lingering in her bright blue eyes, she touches the rose and yelps in pain at the prickles that cover the stem.

When Fleur looks in the mirror, she sees her perfection as a rose; the noblest of flowers that enchants you until you touch the prickles, the dark underside that hides under everything. Even perfection.