▹(i) | "this feels nice." [a. potter]

azalea's age in the chapter: 5

song for the chapter: we go together, from grease

. . . 

THE AGE OF 5 was deemed an age of development and growth, one where the child was not to be reprimanded, but rather, showered with love, care, and concern: to show them that there was someone who'd always be there for them, no matter what the circumstances might be. 

Thankfully, Azalea Potter received most of what a normal 5 year old would. 

She got to go to school. Every morning, after 'Auntie Looney Tunes' and 'Uncle Walrus', as she'd nicknamed them, would drop her off, she would go straight to her teacher's table to present either some flowers she'd plucked carefully, or a painting she'd made the night before. Sometimes, she would make small letters with words she would try to spell accompanied with drawings of herself and her friends and clouds and the sun and her teacher, and then, would steal some envelopes from her uncle's office in the house. She would carefully fold the letter after she was sure the glitter and paints had dried, and next, the envelope was taped and ready to grace her teacher's table. 

She adored Mrs. Emma, her music teacher. Mrs. Emma was beautiful: she was slightly short, with big doe eyes, and curly ebony hair that were almost always pulled back in a bun. Her freckled cheeks and tanned skin, and cheerful grin were warm enough to calm many kids and attract them to her. Her voice was melodious, and she would never, ever lose her temper, no matter how big of a tantrum a kid might throw. 

Azalea's morning ritual included marching inside the school with complete confidence, smiling at everyone she made eye-contact with, greeting Mrs. Charlotte (her class teacher) a very cheerful 'good morning', and lastly, singing a rhyme or a small song with Mrs. Charlotte. 

Mrs. Emma mainly attracted Azalea because of the amount of instruments she could play. Every class, she would be ready with a new instrument and a song for her kids, and everyone would be in awe of her mellifluous voice and dancing fingers. Some days, it would be a guitar, some days, a keyboard, some days, a drum set, but Azalea's favourite were the cello and the violin. 

Mrs. Emma didn't bring out the cello or the violin often, because she knew that the majority of class would go to a snooze in the middle of the song because of the instruments' dulcet tunes. The days she did bring them out, she would have Azalea wait back and play extra songs for her, simply because she knew how much the young girl adored the strings and their tones.  

Mrs. Emma also spoke many languages. It was a sunny day in Whinging when she'd been conversing with one of the teachers in the hallway in Italian, that the Potter had overheard the strange words leaving the teachers' lips so smoothly. The next day, Azalea  had finally gathered the courage to ask Mrs. Emma if she could learn the strange language she had heard, and Mrs. Emma had chuckled at the curious child before agreeing to teach her the basics of the language. 

Azalea was a bright child in school, with many teachers who adored her for her charm as well as the way she'd get out of trouble, as small as the trouble she caused may be, without any assistance. She was the class's clown, but she was also smart, so she was the 'smart clown'. She had one best friend: Calypso, who she called 'Moony', because after extensive questioning with her friend's mother, she found out that Calypso was one of Saturn's moons. 

Azalea had befriended Calypso a year into pre-school, when she was four. A new family with a weird last name had moved into the neighborhood, and while Azalea was running through the nearby park, she bumped into the girl with the strange last name. Ever since then, a 'hello, what's your name?' bonded them into the greatest of friends. 

Today's day was different to Azalea's daily routine. Today was Mrs. Emma's birthday, and she was sure to make sure it would be a great day for her teacher. She'd stayed till 6 in the evening at Calypso's house, and had made two batches of cupcake with her friend and her mother: who'd become a maternal figure in her life. 

She woke up before her Aunt had to bang on her door, and she got dressed before Dursley did. She convinced her Aunt to tie her hair back in a braid rather than simply combing her red locks back with a hairband. She wore her favourite, yellow dress that had flowers embroidered delicately at the sleeves, and her brown boots. She had the letter she spent hours on in her bag, and even after rechecking three times, she got antsy as to if it suddenly, mysteriously disappeared. She kept bouncing her knee on the way to school, even when her uncle pointed her quirk out and told her to quit it. 

Hopping through the colorful hallways of her school, she searched for the classroom she could strut into with a blindfold on. 

Finally locating the room that was tiled with colorful blocks and pictures made by kids. The room was usually empty, exception providing to the various instruments decorating the room, the benches for the kids, and the blue chair that Mrs. Emma sat in. There was a sky-blue colored piano pushed near the huge window that gave view to the big playground and the rain that often mudded the streets of Little Whinging. 

Today, however, she saw not only Mrs. Emma in there, dancing her fingers over the black and white keys of the piano, humming the tune to her as a little boy beside her sang along with the piano. From what she could see, he had the same, curly dark hair as Mrs. Emma, just slightly more brown and less curly than Mrs. Emma. 

Since their backs were to her, she couldn't stop her face from turning into an expression of jealousy. Mrs. Emma was her favourite teacher, and only Azalea was the girl she ever sang with. Seeing a stranger sing with Mrs. Emma made her feel bad. 

As soon as they were done, she couldn't help but feel that this might be good. She knew she sucked at being a singer, no matter how much Mrs. Emma tried to encourage her. She could see it on her teacher's face that she could not sing. But maybe, if she could learn the violin, or better yet, the cello, they could be an unbeatable choir: the boy the singer, Mrs. Emma the pianist, and Azalea, the cellist or violinist. 

"Azalea!" Mrs. Emma turned around with a grin, sensing a presence in the doorway. "Meet my son, Janus." 

. . . 

JANUS AND MRS. EMMA were strikingly similar, yet so different. They had the same green eyes, the same wavy hair, the same freckles dotting their faces. However, Janus had almond shaped eyes, while Mrs. Emma had big, doe ones. They both had the same alluring smiles, the distant resemblance held in their postures was enough to symbolize them as mother-son. 

When Azalea had met Janus, she'd quickly decided that he would be her new best friend : after Calypso, of course. Janus was funny, and he shared his crayons with her! What more could she need? 

She had given Mrs. Emma the card she made for her teacher's birthday, and when Mrs. Emma had thanked her profoundly and remarked as to how beautiful the card was, she couldn't stop the grin on her face.

Janus, on the other hand, liked Azalea too. What beautiful drawings she could make! And, she loved music as much as he did. He didn't like her singing, because she sounded like a donkey crying when she sung, but he liked that she wasn't stuck up, or snobby, unlike her cousin Dudley Dursley. 

The day had been going well : Janus and Azalea had parted ways with Mrs. Emma before going to their teacher, they even shared the same class! They had hopped through the hallways, and when Janus was asked to introduce himself to the class, he'd been tongue-tied because of his shyness. Bold Azalea Potter came to the rescue, telling the class that Janus was a 'very nice boy' who 'always shared his stuff, like we should do too'. Then Janus had cracked a small joke, and even though no one understood it, Azalea started laughing as to not to make him feel bad, and everyone soon started laughing with her : laughter is contagious. Lastly, they had painted loads of drawings before the long bell had rung for playtime. 

Azalea had skipped out of her class, dragging Janus with her, as she searched for Calypso. How excited she was to befriend her two best friends, but that dwindled down when Calypso ignored her as she walked past the duo. 

Azalea pouted sadly before telling Janus to 'stay put' as she went after Calypso. 

"Why did you ignore me?" Azalea crossed her arms, frowning adorably. 

"Because I have to meet Calantha, my new friend!" Calypso gave her friend a toothy grin. . . and then walked away.

Azalea felt bad. She had made a new friend, too, but she had wanted to introduce him to Calypso. Her 'best friend', however, simply cared more of her new friend than of Azalea, and she was hurt. 

She walked with her head down, back to Janus. When the boy saw the usually cheerful girl so sombre, he simply pulled her in a hug. 

Azalea, though raised in a fairly. . . averagely emotional family, had never been hugged. She had never been given kisses before bed, or toys on her birthday, or special cookies when she was sad. 

So, when hugged for the first time, when the so unfamiliarly familiar warmth encased her with care, she froze. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around the shorter boy, her pout going away as she said: "This feels nice."

.  .  . 

CALYPSO HAD made friends with Calantha Scamander that morning, when she had been picked up by her teacher in the school bus. Calantha was the new girl who was to be her seat partner for the day, and she'd started her conversation almost immediately. Calantha had taken a few moments to open up, but when she did, she told Calypso everything.

Calypso had been mesmerised by her new friend's life: Calantha was the granddaughter of the Newt Scamander and Amybeth Silvers! The people she had heard so many stories of, the people who travelled to New York just to free a thunderbird. Though she never took any fascination with animals, talking to a grandkid of practically living legends was enough to make her feel all warm inside. 

As much as she wanted to spill everything to Azalea, she had been strictly instructed by her parents to not tell Azalea anything of her actual life: that Azalea, too, was a living legend, and that her scar wasn't from a car accident.  

This never meant that she couldn't introduce her to more people who knew magic. 

So, in playtime, she hurried to find Calantha, unknowingly hurting the girl who was her first friend. 

When Calantha and Calypso came back in the park, giggling at absolutely nothing, Calypso was sorta shocked to see Azalea being hugged by another boy. 

Now, it was her turn to let jealousy bubble into her chest. Azalea was hers, she was her best friend, not anyone else's. In her fantasy, it was to be her and Azalea, Azalea and her, and Calantha added to the mix was a nice touch. This boy was not to ruin her plans. 

Narrowing her already small eyes, she marched right up to the boy, tapped his shoulder, causing him to pull away from her Azalea. 

"I'm sorry, not really, but who are you?" she crossed her arms, not looking at Azalea. 

"This is Janus." Azalea answered, her face turning sour at the new girl beside Calypso. "He's my new friend."

"You have a new friend? I have a new friend too." 

"I know," the Potter nodded. "That's why you ran away without even saying 'hello'!"

"B-But. . . " Calypso stuttered, realising she had ignored her Azalea, and she was why her friend was now sad. "You're right, I did ignore you!" she realised. "I'm sorry, I only wanted you to meet 'Lany, I though you would be nice friends. She even has a dog, I know you looooooooove dogs!"

"Oh," Azalea nodded, understanding that Calypso was only excited to introduce her to a friend. She, too, had been the same. "It's okay. Now can we all be friends?" 

The shy kids, Calantha and Janus had been quiet the entire time, awkwardly watching the short argument. Now that the attention and question was for them, their cheeks burned before they nodded 'yes'. 

A grin curled up on Azalea's cute face before she yanked Calypso in a hug. Calypso had been holding Calantha's hand, and Azalea Janus's, so it became a big group hug. 

"This feels nice."

.  .  .

nish speaks!

i really don't know what kids do to argue and resolve arguments im sorry -