Is this the life you chose yourself, or just how it ended up? Is that the yard you pictured when you closed your eyes and dreamed of children in the grass running through the sprinklers? Being somebody's wife, or were you living in another life?
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"Bruce, I need your help."
The man in question looked up from the book he was reading. It was a slow Saturday afternoon, five months after the battle.
Anastasia had been settled into the newly remodeled Avengers Tower, and just finally got around to decorating her space, which happened to include painting an accent wall.
"What do you need help with?" He questioned the raven haired girl as she dropped down in the arm chair adjacent to him. "I need your personal opinion. . . Which shade of red, looks better with this shade of gold?" Anastasia asked in response, handing the three sample cards over.
"The darker one - why is it so important?"
"You ask a lot of questions. Stark said I could do anything to my floor. . . So I'm painting and turning it into my ultimate safe spot." She said, taking back the paint samples.
"So you're going to spend the afternoon designing the entire interior of your floor? Good to know. I'll let Tony know to not disturb you."
"You're the best, Bruce!" Anastasia admitted before getting up from the seat and slipping into the elevator. He sighed once the doors closed and readjusted his glasses. "I know." He mumbled to himself.
When Anastasia reached her floor, she got started immediately, with the help of her magic.
Indigo encased the room as she got to work, changing colors and textures, adding and removing decorations where she saw fit.
In the end, the living area reminded her of the Gryffindor common room that she grew up with.
Her bedroom looked like the one she had at Potter Manor when she left her family.
The library on her floor looked remarkably like the drawing room that she and Euphemia spent many hours in, just talking.
The spare bedroom was decorated lightly, but nothing too overbearing. Just like Harry's nursery had been.
It reminded her of a home long gone and a life she lived well. She needed this, so she could heal.
Anastasia almost broke down when she recognized the shade of light blue the curtains were. They were the same shade they used in Harry's room specifically, and they perfectly matched the crocheted blanket that Lily made for him.
It took her weeks because it was a new hobby of hers, and it had imperfections, but they thought it was just as perfect as a professionally made one, purely because it was made by someone they loved.
Tony found her hours later, sat in front of the guest bedroom dresser with brass details. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, yet a slight smile was on her face.
When Anastasia felt Tony's presence after what felt like an eternity, she snapped out of her nostalgic stupor.
"Everything alright, kid?" Tony questioned. She nodded, not trusting her voice until she cleared her throat. "Yeah, I was just remembering some things. . . From a life I used to live."
"Your life at HYDRA?"
"Yes." Anastasia lied. "The only highlight was having someone to talk to in the cells across from mine. . . Then one day I was transferred and when I came back, they were gone. And I was alone again."
"You're not alone now." Tony reminded her. "As long as you're an Avenger, you'll never be alone. You're stuck with us, no returns, all sales are final."
"I know." She replied quietly, with a slight smile.
Anastasia stood from the floor and looked out over the room again. She had half the mind to change it, but she decided not to. She had to grieve her old life. Her old family. Her old friends.
In the end, she knew she would be okay. Even if the memories hurt, she would make it.
"Good. . . So, Banner and I are going to get food, you wanna come?"
"Yeah, I'll be down in just a few minutes. I have to change."
