Fleur's whole being shone nobility, if not outright regality. From her upright carriage, the tilt of her chin, the practiced set of her lips and judicious steep of her brows, the young woman was cut from purple cloth. There was pride in it, a quiet acceptance of her beauty and her place in the world..at least, in her world. Lest it leak into arrogance, her manner was tempered by diplomatic propriety, especially in the face of the terrifying new situations she found herself in.

In appearance, she was slender, supple, and as well-presented as she could make herself without regular attendants.