Leaving the steaming water proved to be 0ne of the hardest things Azalea had ever done. The woman, who called herself Mrs. Weasley, had long since left, but it took Azalea nearly two hours to find the will to follow. She knew as soon as she got out it would be cold again, and she hated the cold. It had a way of seeping through your skin and into your bones. So it was unfortunate that though no one had yet come to retrieve her, the silence of the room has slowly started to drive the young girl mad. In all the dreams she had of getting out, never once had she thought she would have grown to despise the sound of silence so much. Already she missed the constant sound of the sea, and though she was loathed to admit it, a part of her missed the screams. It was comforting in a sick sort of way to know there were others who hurt in the same ways you did.
Dressing quickly in the clothes provided Azalea pushed those thoughts aside. Her little brother was just downstairs. She warmed at the thought but was quick to drown those feeling as soon as she felt a smile begin to tug at the corners of her mouth. Happiness was dangerous, and though mentally she understood that the dementors were no longer around she couldn't help worrying that feeling too strongly would call them back. Better to be safe. Instead, she adopted a neutral expression and opened the door. She was met with the quiet mummer of voices. It didn't sound like an argument or a fight, and once again Azalea felt out of place. As she made her way to the living room she found herself simply standing in the dimly lit doorway, observing as the family quietly conversed. And it was a family, she noted. Harry had carved himself a place among them, smiled, and talked like he'd been there all his life. This Harry was happy, not like the one she had left. Not half-starved, and half dead with those hollow eyes. A part of her resented him for that, for changing. Most of her though was just disgusted by the pathetic job she'd done of raising him, leaving him bruised instead of bloody and thinking that a victory. Head of house indeed.
Coming out of her reminiscing Azalea noticed that the conversation had stopped. They were all looking at her, and she instantly regretted wasting all that time in the bath. With so much clear water divination would have been a simple thing. Before she could reprimand herself further one of the boys broke the silence.
"I bet with that much hair you could hide all sorts of things."
The other identical boy cocked his head to the side giving her a calculating look. "A bit of braiding, a bit of layering, and no one would notice."
"No one would suspect."
"Wouldn't dream of inquiring."
"Think of the scandal if they did."
"Think of the contraband when they don't."
The brothers shared a look, and in one smooth motion both stood up with a hand outstretched to shake. "How'd you like to make a deal?"
They didn't make two steps before their mother pulled them back down onto the couch. "You will not be recruiting her for any of your troublemaking. Do I make myself clear?"
"Recruiting?" One of the boys asked. "We wouldn't dream of it."
"Such an impersonal term."
"Makes us sound unfeeling."
"No, what we do is offer opportunities."
"To grow."
"And learn."
"If anything we expand horizons."
Their mother was unamused, but Azalea just felt woefully ill-prepared for the environment she had been placed in. This was clearly not one of the formal pureblood families. Her aunty hadn't prepared her for this, and the amount of smiling was making her nervous. She was going to screw this up.
Thankfully her stomach chose that moment to spare her from having to speak. The matriarch of the house instantly rushed off to fetch the soup she had made, and Azalea found herself pulled onto one of the couches between her brother and a young girl that she guessed was the Ginny whose clothes she was currently wearing.
"Let me introduce everyone." Her brother started, and she had to contain a wince at the joy in his voice. She could practically see the happiness radiating off him, and no matter how many times she told herself the dementors were not coming she still couldn't stop the worried glances out the window. Surely they could feel it even from this distance. And if they could feel it they would come to feed. They always did.
Harry, oblivious to her internal panic, continued grinning like a loon as he introduced the family one by one. Fred and George, the two twins that had spoken earlier, had taken their mothers' brief absents as an opportunity to start compiling a list of what could and couldn't be stashed in her hair. Bill, the oldest of the brothers, was apparently only back to welcome her to the family and would be leaving the following day. Charlie seemed likable enough though Percy watched her the way some of the prisoners would watch the dementors as they floated by. The youngest two, Ron and Ginny stared openly at the ᚠᛈ147 tattooed on her neck, with the strangest mix of horror and fascination she had ever seen. Out of all of them, the one she liked most was Arthur who sat in an old armchair, content to let her acclimate to her new surroundings in her own time. That is until Molly Weasley placed a hot bowl of soup in her hands, a glass of water before her, and instantly became her favorite person in the family. It smelled heavenly and tasted better than anything she could remember.
Around her conversation continued but Azalea ignored it as her vision slowly tunneled in on the clear glass of water. The world around her fell away as the random shapes color reflecting off the surface suddenly snapped into the sharp clarity of her divination.
"So is Azalea going to be coming to Hogwarts with us?" Ron asked, pulling her back to the conversation.
"Of course she is," Hairy said, beaming at her with more pride than she thought her current appearance warranted. "My sister has always been great at magic. I'm sure she'll be the best in our year."
The comment was clearly a compliment, but Azalea couldn't help the sting at hearing it. Spending her school years with students Three years younger than her? The idea was unthinkable. In truth be told it didn't matter. She had spent years finding comfort and escape in the endless twisting paths of possible futures. In none of them was she ever first year. Unfortunately, though she would love nothing more than to continue sipping at her wonderful meal this had to be addressed. "I'll not be in your year Hairy. My first three years will simply need to be taken on as self-study with the assistance of a…" What had her aunty called it? "Time turner?"
Across the way Percy scoffed, face still twisted with misgivings. "Magic is not something that you can just hop into at any point with no prior knowledge. And haven't you been locked up since you were seven? Can you even read?"
"Percy!" Arthur cried, but Azalea only sneered.
Straightening her back she smothered her rage, buried it down deep to be held for later, the way aunty Lestrange had told her to. "My aunty taught me to read, thank you very much. She also schooled me in magical theory, wand drills, and pureblood etiquette. Something it seems was never taught to you or you would have known better than to speak to the head of a noble house in such a manner." Rising slowly from her seat she gently placed the half-finished bowl on the end table. "That being said your family sheltered mine when I could not. For that and that alone, I will forgive your slight." Turning to the matriarch of the family she offered a slight bow. "Thank you for your hospitality but we really must be going. If you would do me the kindness of allowing me to use your… flow network was it?"
"It's called the Floo Network dear, but you don't have to leave. I would be happy to make you up a bed in Harry and Ron's room." Mrs. Weasley was standing now as well, looking distinctly unhappy with the sudden change in atmosphere.
"Yeah," agreed one of the twins as he reached over to smack his brother on the back of the head. "Don't feel like you need to leave just because some people have no manners."
But Azalea had already made her way to the fireplace. "Again thank you, but there is much to do and very little time before the start of school." Motioning towards the Floo Powder she asked once more, "May I?"
A worried look and a slight nod were all she received, but that was more than enough. Taking a fistful with one hand she offered the other to Harry with a small smile that felt unnatural on her face. Still, she worked to keep it there, reminding herself over and over that there were no dementors here. "Shall we go home?"
The response was not what she had envisioned. Not what she had dreamed it would be for the last seven years.
"I am home." There was no malice or accusation. It was just a statement of fact offered by a confused eleven-year-old. So pedestrian it was almost funny the way it left her gutted, hardly even able to breathe.
"Indeed you are," she said, voice barely more than a whisper, the smile dropping with her outstretched hand. "My mistake."
"Azalea I'm-" Harry started as the hurt in her eyes registered, but he was cut off by a roar of green fire that drowned out the whispered destination.
When the flames finally died down Azalea found herself alone again. There was something so familiar about the way the bruise purple pain opened like a flower in her chest. Like waking from a particularly wonderful dream to find reality just where you left it.
"So is Azalea going to be coming to Hogwarts with us?" Ron asked, pulling her back to the conversation.
"Of course she is," Hairy said, beaming at her with more pride than she thought her current appearance warranted. "My sister has always been great at magic. I'm sure she'll be the best in our year."
Unsure of what to say the girl in question simply offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile and continued to eat her soup. Around her, the atmosphere grew more boisterous as Harry and Ron began debating who would be best in what subject, pulling in loud opinions from the rest of the family. The twins were grinning like loons as they whispered between themselves. It was all just too much. It was too hot, people were too close, and it all seemed so bright. How could anyone live like this? A firework explosion of emotion and color that never burned away. She felt like she couldn't find the air. Like she couldn't find enough space to exist besides these sunshine people that seemed to take up the entirety of everything. Staggering to her feet Azalea all but dropped the empty bowl on the end table as she rushed to the front door. Outside the chill of the night embraced her like an old friend. It soothed that rising feeling of panic, and by the time she made it to the fence, she felt she could breathe again. The oppressive atmosphere lifted, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion… God, she hated the cold.