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All Fleur could see was the body of Harry Potter as he released the Cup and his claim to glory.
He was one of the Vault Security lot; a rather arrogant bunch of young men, she thought, who liked to flirt with her and call her stupid and unoriginal nicknames.
Bill’s answer was too quiet to be heard, but Fleur was satisfied; she had heard quite enough to be getting on with.
Bill watched the French girl peel herself off the table and saunter back out, winking at the two she had talked to and blowing them a kiss by the door.
Her stubbornness was strangely endearing, or at least proving to him that she was more than a pretty face.
Fleur laughed, the tinkling sound coming out perfectly natural.
Curiosity killed the cat, but she was drawn to Bill in an inexplicable way, and Fleur wanted to know the secrets he was hiding.
Fleur could tell immediately that her Papa would hold nothing against her, and felt an unexpectedly large breath of relief flood into her from it.
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