London winters were a strange thing. A few inches of slushy snow might cling to the streets and people bundled up as if it was some blizzard. Lovise rather liked the mild weather. She had more freedom with her wardrobe here than she had back home. IT didn't hurt that there were more wardrobes to chose from, either. Today she wore a tasteful charcoal wool coat buttoned tightly over leggings and a pencil skirt nicked from Harrods. The flat-heeled patent leather boots were a lovely gift from that tiny boutique in Piccadilly and she couldn't have told you where she got her platinum and black pearl jewelry. Some over-priced salon had been kind enough to bleach her hair to it's icy-white shade and they even coiffed it to the side in those lazy, wavy curls the french were so fond of.<br/>The effect was less than she could achieve at the hands of skilled witches, but muggles would work for free as long as they believed that they had already been paid. Witches and wizards could be a bit more touchy about tall foreign women robbing them blind.<br/>So when galleons and knuts started to grow scarce, Lovise took a short stroll down Diagon Alley and took a turn. Though most of the people she passed wore clothes made by magic, none were even half so well-dressed as she. But that was the trouble, after all: to dress as well as a mildly wealthy wizard, one had to spend a year's salary on a single muggle outfit. Thank Merlin she didn't have to pay for any of it!<br/>More than one set of eyes followed the pretty young woman as she stepped confidently down into Knockturn Alley, clutch purse in hand.