Title: Cliché Ivory Perfection
Author: you should be paying attention, you know. You mean my name? Riley.
Author's Note: Wrote this on Valentines day…and yes. =)
Disclaimer: Yes, not writing this for fortune, maybe just the fame…but you never know these days.
*
Beauty's only skin deep.
"What a completely wretched saying," she thought out loud, holding an ivory brush in hand. It felt cool against her hand; like marble - only lovelier. Yes, she was delicate like ivory, she decided. Her skin compared well to the finest ivory. But what did the pure ivory come from? Well, only a slaughtered elephant from the Muggle amazon.
She ran the brush through her silk-like hair. It never tangled, it was perfectly straight. Fleur knew this, then why did she even bother brush her hair? The moon illuminated her hair as well as her face, giving her an aura of bittersweet beauty. Innocent perfection? Just maybe. She looked at the ancient magical mirror on her bed stand. Her reflection shimmered with the clear glow of the moonlight.
Her hair was like two golden waterfalls, connected together in an unimaginable way. Fleur had the most pretty blue eyes; looking into them was like looking into the depths of a river - seeing even the most little details like that butterfly fish that just swam by. No such thing as perfection (in beauty, anyways)? Ah, the person who thought of that must have not met a Veela before. If you did not notice looking into her eyes, there is a cliché much-more-to-be-seen vision.
"Monsieur, what is your name?" Fleur asked, as the handsome boy helped pick up her bracelet.
"Please do not bother Mademoiselle. You shall forget it come morning."
She never forgot.
How could she? For there were two marks that would for eternity remind her.
Not just only on her heart. Pulling her white nightgown's sleeve up - she could see the other mark.
"Just wonderful." The Dark Lord hissed violently in her ear. Temptation was a terrible thing. Fleur swiveled around and saw that boy - the boy that has caught her heart - kneeling for Lord Voldemort. Her heart quickened. She could feel the dark lord's breath on her never. Even though a dark hood swallowed up Lord Voldemort's head, she could feel his eyes on her - and a devilish grin on his thin pale white lips.
"Do you really swear allegiance?" He whispered. This meant Fleur would have to obey his every orders - she wouldn't have much of a course anyways, if she did swear to it.
The world seemed to spin.. Fleur looked at the boy - ignoring the other Deatheaters who were watching unnervingly closely. a mischievous grin played on his lips, but his eyes of cinnamon made the grotesque three-letter-word escape her lips. "Yes."
She would hate that word for years to come. She wanted to hate the boy as well; but she just couldn't. When she had the dark mark burned into her arm - she despised the boy so much - but then he gave her an offering of a black rose. And Fleur couldn't help but forgive him and let her heart melt. Nothing comes in the way of true love, not even the Dark Mark implanted in her arm - ah, cliché lines would be the death of Fleur.
Fleur saw the hand of the boy reach out to her in the mirror. She turned around, and she smiled. Perhaps her eyes couldn't tell all these things about her, but sometimes things are best left unsaid. "It's time." The mysterious boy whispered. Fleur took the boy's hand, and dropped the ivory brush next to her parents' limp and lifeless bodies. Together, the two roamed out into the street, heading for the moon; hand in hand.
…End.
