The Goddess of Death ~ Crossover: Avengers + Harry Potter

Chapter Four: Ceremony

~ oOo ~

The Goddess of Death

Calla

It had been just as she expected. And that went to show just how low her expectations had become, that they'd been matched was another saddening thought.

Joy had radiated from everyone at the party. Of course, the one's who's happiness was most obvious were the ones who hadn't lost much or done much of anything to contribute to the fight. The laid-back sheep who had locked themselves in their homes and put their heads in the sand waiting for it all to be over. The ones who'd shrugged off their own abilities and shouldered the weight of freedom onto a small girl. For only the Chosen One could fight, only she could stand against Voldemort's reign of terror.

The others could be seen by their sagging shoulders. From their healing wounds and the looks of relief on their faces when they spotted someone they knew. Tears leaked down their faces and hugs were tight.

Even their reactions to her differed. Gratitude was given by all, but she could already see the pedestal the sheep put her on. Ready to sing her praises but waiting for the change in tune that was sure to come when she didn't meet their expectations. As soon to raise her up and then to tear her down.

The others who she could recognise by their faces alone, who she'd seen in the last years when they'd been out there together, fighting side by side. They had a quieter air; their gratefulness was heartfelt but their mind crowded with grief. They were thankful that they'd be no more days like that for them. That they wouldn't have to worry about letting their guard down, they could try for ordinary, for routine. And they would look at her with pity and respect. She had saved them, but she had lost more than any of them. She would constantly be there, constantly reminded and held to others expectations, to solve their problems.

The air became claustrophobic, inhibitions lowed and her melancholy was disregarded.

Slipping away had been easier than she'd thought it would be. Even though she'd never visited Neville's home before, it was grand enough to be extensively large. After all it was not just the main line of Longbottom's that lived with its walls, but aunts, uncles and cousins having separate wings to themselves. So, despite the generous amount of guest celebrating the end of the war, she found it effortless to sneak away.

The one area which she was guaranteed some alone time was the expansive gardens that Neville had boasted about. Her fellow Gryffindor while shy in most areas in their years at Hogwarts could talk endlessly about Herbology and gardening. And his results showed, the grounds were beautiful.

The sounds of wildlife greeted her with only the faint sounds of the party within the manor's walls. She hurried her pace along the paths until she was sure she wouldn't be spotted from the windows.

She breathed out a sigh of relief, the music faint within the air. Finally, a moment to herself. Her eyes scanned the paths between the flower beds, mapping out where she would walk. She slowed her steps as she leisurely gazed around the mix of bushes and flowers. Some she recognised from her aunt's garden, others were the tamer plants from the Herbology greenhouses at Hogwarts. It was odd to see those two worlds side by side.

Her black gown with gold embroidery swished around her feet and glinted in the candle light of the sparse lamps the highlighted the pathways around the gardens. She kept a keen ear out for any wandering couples and stayed away from the hedge maze. She was still traumatised by the last one she'd ventured into.

Stone steps carried her further away from the house, her dress trailing behind her and her fingertips lightly trailing along, touching both stone and plants alike. Her thoughts wandered as they were prone to do when she was alone. Trailing into the deep dark deeps of her memories. Finding a pond with a bridge across it she leant against the wood and looked out of the wildlife around her. It was a pretty sight, one that she could now bask in without feeling some measure of guilt. Before now she'd always been expected to be focusing on the suffering of others that Death Eaters and Voldemort and even the Ministry had caused. Constant eyes were upon her, judging her every movement. Why should she have a happy moment when she should have been fighting. It had been exhausting, carrying so much expectation. That she was the Chosen One, and only she could end it.