Harry Potter was always a quiet child. He was so quiet at times, that it was unnatural. Even at the plucky young age of five, he never laughed, never smiled. He was always alone, nearly invisible. Add onto that the flinching from human contact, amazing grades that suddenly dropped, and the apparent lack of response to his own name painted a pretty bad picture in the mind of one Carlisle Delaine, a French teacher who was working at the school that year for…. Reasons. After trying time and again, he decided to call Harry’s guardians to school for a chat. The move was opposed by the other teachers, who had subscribed to the descriptions the Dursleys had spread of Harry, that quiet, broken child, being a ruffian, a troublemaker, a bully. Sometimes, Carlisle marvelled at how blind they could be. Within the first five minutes of meeting Harry’s relatives, Carlisle had confirmed a few things. The young, quiet boy was abused, the Dursleys relatives disgusted him to an extent he did not think possible, and that he would not let Harry go back there if he could help it. All it took was one phone call to the police. Within hours, the cops were on the scene, and despite the Dursleys and their neighbours' protests of being perfectly normal, law-abiding citizens, and their vilification of Harry, the search conducted by the police revealed that things were worse than Carlisle had suspected. Broken bones, scars, a distinct lack of proof of Harry’s existence, and a cupboard under the stairs, holding a lumpy, threadbare mattress, stained in blood. As soon as the Dursley’s secrets were outed, the other residents of private drive turned on those they had vehemently defended not half a day prior. Their shallowness disgusted Carlisle, and he resolved to take the quiet boy in. A whirlwind of paperwork, courtrooms and one stiff brandy later, he found himself the legal guardian of one Harry James Potter.
Thoroughly repulsed by Britain, Carlisle and Harry return to the ancestral Delaine home in France. Over the course of the next month, Carlisle tries to get Harry to open up by giving all the love, care and attention he can. While Harry does improve, getting friendlier with him, and starting to take interest in things, he’s still unnaturally quiet, and Carlisle has never seen him smile. Desperate to help the boy he thinks of as a son, Cal schedules an appointment with a renowned therapist, one who has some of the best success rates, and is known to put people at ease, one Appoline Delacour. When they arrive at her practice, Appoline is in the middle of a session. Cal steps out for a few moments, to grab himself and Harry some lunch, and leaves Harry in the warm reception, staring at a painting on the wall, head cocked cutely to one side, emerald eyes dragging over every facet of the artwork. Suddenly, someone slams into Harry, sending them both reeling to the floor. Harry looks up.. Right into a beautiful pair of blue eyes, framed by silvery blond hair. The girl apologises, grinning as they help each other up. She introduces herself as Fleur Delacour, the daughter of the therapist he’s here to meet, smiling all the while, exuberant and restless. Harry doesn't reply. She frowns, then shrugs it off. She exclaims loudly that she’s bored, has no one to play with, so Harry’s going to play with her and that is that. She drags him off by the hand, not giving a chance to respond. That's how Cal finds them when he returns with a few rolls, the energetic young blond jabbering his adopted son’s ear off, the quiet, raven haired child looking thoroughly out of his depth. He smiles at the sight, happy that his son had found a friend. When Fleur spots Cal, she recognises him as Harry’s guardian, and asks him why Harry’s so quiet and why he doesn't laugh or smile.
Cal smiles at her sadly, and tells her that Harry’s had some bad experiences, and that its just difficult for him to express himself. Fleur crosses her arms and pouts adorably, refusing to believe it. In her mind, she declares then and there that she would find a way to make her new friend open up. It was there that began Fleur’s Quest to Make Harry Smile. She knew, then that it wouldn't be easy. What she hadn't known was how far they would come, the quiet boy and the excitable girl, till the day she had walked down the aisle to meet him at the altar, where they had spoken their vows to each other, bound by magic and by love, where she had smiled at him when the Matriarch declared them united, where he had smiled back at her as he had claimed her lips with his own.