Back in Black 1 - The Pale-Pink Chapters
Fandom: HP
Canon Compliancy: Post HBP
Pairing: HG/SS
Rating: PG-13, het
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Humor, Romance
Length: ~19K
Status: Complete
AN: This story was written in a blazing whirl as part of the 2007 Potter Place Winter Prompt Challenge to this prompt: The Dark Lord has fallen, but the Ministry of Magic runs Britain like a Stalinistic country. Freedoms are taken; people are killed. Hermione, the last of the trio, joins a resistance group … by accident. Who should she find but …
Originally posted at TPP and Ashwinder.
Summary: The Dark Lord has fallen, but an even more terrible force has arisen to take over the Ministry of Magic - the Pink Lord. Ruling with an abundance of ruffles and terrifyingly sharp stiletto heels, Umbridge’s Think Pink Brigade terrorizes a populace grown weary of decrees designed to enforce sweetness. Unexpectedly, Hermione Granger joins the resistance, the sarcastically snarky Back in Black.
Award winner - details here.
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
Thanks go to my beta, southernwitch69. Thanks also go to mollilicious,who also made me this wonderful banner:
Pale-Pink #1
April 1st, 2:37 pm
“Oh, bugger,” I murmur under my breath as the Seriously Serious Siren wails.
If hot pink made a sound, it would be this - an irritatingly high-pitched squeal that permeates every crevice, leaving ears ringing and mind numb.
The obnoxious, and obnoxiously loud, noise cuts off to be replaced by the Announcement Witch’s sickeningly-sweet voice. “This is a Serious Warning. All citizens are to remain where you are. Anti-Apparition Charms have been raised over the entire of London. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to Apparate, as splinching is guaranteed.” She clears her throat, and the amplified Sonorous Charm sends a deafening “hem, hem” crashing over all of magical London, quickly followed once more by the siren.
A flurry of pastel-clad bodies rushes past in every direction - no one wants to be caught on Knockturn Alley during a Ministry crackdown. A tall man in a light-green cloak almost knocks me over when he hits my left shoulder from behind, sending me spinning. He doesn’t even turn his head to see if I remained upright instead of being trampled.
Another person, a sweet-looking old lady in Pink #2, elbows me hard in the ribs, her Proper Smile never lapsing all the while.
A small child screams while struggling in its mother’s arms as she pushes past me on the right - a swirling mass of Pale Pink #1 able to mimic the Seriously Serious Siren’s pitch effortlessly.
Everyone’s face is frozen into a rictus of the Proper Smile - lips drawn back maniacally in fear.
Calm, calm, calm, Granger. Keep Smiling - you don’t want to be picked up for Mis-Behavior. You can do this.
I fight my way across the pavement to take shelter in a doorway. Dinger’s Dinnerware, the door reads. Dinger himself appears in the window and starts yelling, “Shoo, shoo,” while emphatically gesturing me away. He looks as though he would be someone’s dear grandfather if it weren’t for the fact that his face is distorted by rage thinly covering fear - his Proper Smile twisted into a death’s head grimace.
As soon as the crowd thins a bit, I’m able to take a better look around to see what options there are for a hiding place. Strangely, yet fortunately, there don’t appear to be any Watch Witch poster-portraits in the vicinity. Every other part of magical London is covered with the things - all showing the Proper Witch - she’s pretty, she’s blond, and she’s wearing nothing but pink - and not just pink, but pink with lace, ruffles, and flowers on every available surface.
And she Watches constantly, only turning away briefly to report to someone just out of frame every few minutes or so. Even then, her Proper Smile never wavers by a millimeter.
Even without a Watch Witch poster around, I still feel anxious. I really don’t want to be caught with the powdered asphodel I have hidden in an inner pocket. Contraceptive Potion ingredients are a life sentence. On the other hand, I’m reluctant to Evanesco it out of existence - it’s taken three months to arrange today’s purchase.
I’ll do anything to be able to make that potion.
Yet none of the shops will let me in - like Dinger, they’re too scared of the possibility of being arrested for such. I’m at a loss until, in a dark side alley across the way, a small yellow sign with black lettering seems to wink into existence. Libre Libri. A book shop? Public records?
How did I never notice it before?
The shopkeeper behind me taps the glass, and I turn to see him brandishing his now-to-hand wand. “Off with you - shoo!” he yells.
I give him a sarcastic little wave complete with saccharine-sweet Smile before plunging across the street. There are fewer people about, so I’m only jostled three times - and each of them is rather mild, as this set of people move with speedy determination instead of the blind panic of the earlier lot.
The sign hangs above a dark wooden door sunk deeply into the wall of the alley. There are no windows gracing the dirty brick, and the small one set into the door is so dust covered that I can’t even see if there’s light within.
How in the world has the proprietor evaded arrest for Improper Cleanliness?
Silence suddenly reigns, the siren fallen quiet. Yet the sound that takes its place is all the more terrifying - the sound of a multitude of boots stamping in unison.
The high-heeled, patent-leather sound of Umbridge’s Think Pink Brigade.
Circe!
Heart pounding, I fumble at the door handle, which doesn’t turn at first, so I give it a vicious twist. When it gives suddenly, I stumble into the shop, righting myself against the bookcase that stands only three feet from the doorway.
The door slams shut behind me, and turning to see who closed it, I find it gone.
The scuff of a footstep to my left - I spin quickly, wand in hand, the first syllable of a Shielding Spell just passing my lips. “Pro-”
A shout of “Stupefy” rings in the air as I’m hit in the back. Every sense rips to black.
~~~
I swim back into consciousness on a stream of garbled speech. Keeping my eyes closed, I attempt to maintain lax muscles and slow breathing. I’m lying on my back on a hard surface - the feel the grain of wood beneath slightly flexed fingertips - a table.
The voices slowly grow clear - two men standing behind me on either side.
“… how the bloody hell do you explain it, then? It’s not as if -”
“- we’ve ever seen this effing happen before. And you can’t say -”
“- that we did it on purpose, if we don’t even know how it was done.”
I know those voices!
A rustle of cloth sounds from below my feet - there’s at least a third person in the room.
“Really, we promise -”
“- we haven’t told anyone, you wanker, not even -”
“- our mum. It’s like we said: the door materialized -”
“- and we waited, thinking Lee was going to come through -”
Fred and George! And they’re swearing - lots!
“- when she showed instead. All right, so we had hid -”
“- thinking we’d get the tosser with a Tarantallegra -”
“- to keep him on his toes, as it were -”
The sound of snickering in stereo.
“- and then -”
“Silence!” The deep voice emanates from the bottom of the table, resounding in what sounds like a small space.
I was able to keep my eyes closed, but I’m fairly sure I just flinched a bit. What I’m not so sure of is whether anyone saw me do so.
“I was not enquiring as to whether you two chose to waste your time and energy playing juvenile pranks on your comrades. I instead had a desire to learn exactly what spell you incapacitated Ms. Granger with so that I would have some idea as to how long she would be indisposed.”
Snape!
“But I see that your blathering has served a purpose, nonetheless.” His voice grows closer on my left. “For my interruption of said blathering has proven to me that Ms. Granger has already joined us.
“Is that not so?” This last was said in a quieter voice - a quieter voice I hear very clearly because its source has grown close.
When I open my eyes, I’m gazing directly into those of Severus Snape.
Struggling upwards, my stunned limbs heavy and recalcitrant, I wet overly dry lips with an only slightly moister tongue before rasping, “The Think Pink Brigade is -”
With left hand pressing me to the table, he replies, “Relax, Ms. Granger, you are safe here.”
I look around the small, softly lit room. Heavy, dark wood furniture fills the shadows, and the walls are a forbidden deep wine color. There are no decorations anywhere, and this is shockingly beautiful. “Here being?”
“The headquarters of the resistance.” He pauses to smirk. “Congratulations, Ms. Granger. You’ve just joined Back in Black.”
AN: In canon, it’s Anti-Apparition Jinx, but propaganda specialists have determined that jinx sounds too negative for something the Pink Party applies to its own populace with regularity.
Pale-Pink #2
April 1st, 3:09 pm
Back in Black?
“What?” It slips out of me almost unconsciously.
I continue to stare at his face, which is only a foot or so above mine - it’s been three years, and he looks exactly the same. Exactly. Wizarding magic is finally triumphing - he looks better than his age for the first time in his adult life.
He watches me with sardonic amusement, one side of his mouth curved upwards in an expression I haven’t seen on anyone for years - even in the mirror.
I clear my throat and start again. “What is Back in Bl-”
The door flies open and Lee Jordan stumbles in. He pants and grabs hold of the edge of the table to steady himself. “It’s as we thought. They’re out with Decree Number 307 to 309 - a day early, but nothing we weren’t expecting.”
Snape straightens. “What has she targeted specifically this time?” His tone is once again grave.
“307 regulates the appropriate strength of grip to be used for the Two-Minute Handshake - it seems some complained that their comrades weren’t expressing enough enthusiasm.”
Snape snorts and nods. “Go on.”
“Then, 308 dictates that charcoal grey is no longer acceptable, as it has been found to be too ‘depressing.’ In fact, it declares grey a special case - since it lacks appropriately cheery coloration, nothing darker than dove grey is allowed, and all forms of grey are now forbidden for women.” He smirks at that, and Snape joins him.
“But 309 - 309 is the one we heard was coming - it corrects the inconsistencies found in Decrees 114, 157, 261, and 299.” Lee pauses to pull a piece of Pale Pink #1 parchment from his pocket.
“Come on, you wanker -”
“- bloody out with it already.”
“Hem, hem,” he begins in perfect imitation of the Announcement Witch, looking up to shoot a mischievous smile at the room, “Behavioral Decree 307: Careful study by a team of trained specialists has determined that Proper Smiles are to have the following characteristics. The minimum allowed difference between the normal height of the edges of the lips when at rest and their height when Smiling is 1 cm, the maximum 1.5 cm. The maximum allowed deviancy in the height of the left edge versus the right is 0.25 cm. If the lips are parted, the maximum height of the gap permitted is 0.5 cm, but parted lips are not suggested for day-to-day Proper Smiles and should be saved for special occasions. For children between the ages of five and eleven, the above numbers are to be halved. Infants remain exempt.
“In order to facilitate Proper Smiling, the Ministry of Magic will be issuing stencils for each citizen to use in practicing in front of a mirror. By next Monday, April 5th, all citizens will be expected to display Proper Smiles meeting the new criteria upon all public occasions.
“So perk up those lips citizens, and know that your effort will be rewarded by an equally Proper Smile from everyone around you.”
As Lee’s voice fades, I shudder.
Circe! As if it weren’t already difficult enough to not be picked up for Mis-Behavior!
And everyone knows what the Behavioral Reconditioning Camps are like!
I shudder again as I picture what people look like after they’ve been ‘Pinked’: vacuous-eyed creatures shambling to and fro, grinning inanely, and repeatedly bowing and saying, “No, after you - I insist!” while swathed head-to-toe in Pale Pink #3.
Lee’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Hold up! What’s she doing here?’
“Ms. Granger has only recently joined our cause.”
“What?” I sit up quickly. “No, I haven’t - how can you keep saying that? I’ve joined nothing. Nothing!”
“Oh, but I beg to differ. Simply the fact that you found and entered the front door of this establishment indicates that you desired to become a member of Back in Black. And so you have.”
“Ridiculous! How -”
“Allow me to explain. The doorway is charmed so that only those who believe in our cause of subverting this travesty of a government may enter. Indeed, you would not have even seen said doorway if you did not have a certain desire and capacity for revolt.”
“Well, of course I hate the government - I’m not mental - anyone in their right mind hates the government.” I stop to draw breath. “But that doesn’t mean …”
The twins walk forward to enter my view - George on my left, Fred, right. I’m now faced with four rather sober-looking individuals, who are all staring at me fixedly.
After a few moments, Snape asks, “Was there a sign, Ms. Granger?”
“A sign? First you tell me I’ve joined your little boys’ club, and now you’re asking if I saw a portent or omen?”
He sighs. “No, Ms. Granger. Was there a sign above the door - a somewhat small one perhaps?”
“Well, of course there was a sign! Why would y-”
He interrupts again. “And what did it say?”
I look at him for a bit.
Is that some strange form of trick question?
“It said Libre Libri, as you very well know,” I reply tartly.
He looks slightly shocked - or at least I think it’s shocked - his eyes widen slightly, and his mouth opens a bit.
But before he can say anything, the twins cut in. “Oi, now - that’s what it said -”
“- for you Snape! I thought it was never-”
“- to say the same bloody thing twice.”
“Indeed, I did not think it possible that two people could ever see the same message.” He watches me now with a look of such frank contemplation that it’s a little unsettling in its intensity.
“What …”
Circe, that stunner left my mouth dry!
“What does that mean exactly?”
His smirk returns. “It means that we have quite a bit more in common than I ever realized, Ms. Granger. Quite a bit indeed.”
AN: Forgive me for potentially poor Latin, but I’m hoping that Libre Libri roughly translates as ‘free from difficulty’ + ‘books/public records,’ which I’m using to imply ‘freedom through written knowledge.’
Pale-Pink #3
April 1st, 3:26 pm
Quite a bit in common? Whatever does that mean?
His eyes continue to bore into mine. I’m almost concerned that he’s become so skilled at Legilimency that I might not even be aware of his intrusion.
Lee clears his throat, and Snape looks over before saying, “Yes, well, back to the matter at hand. This may very well be the event we have been waiting for. Decree 309 is so exceedingly restrictive about Proper Smiles that even the pink-draped, sheep-like beings parading the streets outside will have to take notice.”
“Eh, Snape, that’s what -”
“- you think, you wanker. We still say that -”
“- it’s going to take something bloody big -”
“- something showy to get their attention.”
Snape turns to me. “And what do you think, Ms. Granger?”
“Me? Why should you care what I think?”
“Because, as I have already informed you, you are now a part of this organization.”
“But, but …”
He cocks an eyebrow at me, but I’m at a loss for words since my hither-to-now protests have gone ignored.
I’ve spent the last three years fighting to suppress my constant inclination to speak my mind freely. I never thought it would actually turn into difficult conditioning to break.
The twins join in. “Yeah, Mione, how about it?”
“What do you think?”
“You always were a smart one.”
“Now Snape here, he’s bloody clever, but -”
“- two swots are better than one, just -”
“- as long as we don’t have to be -”
“- in class with you or shag you.”
Goddess - they’re constantly using Inappropriate Language - that was banned with Decree 5!
Snorting loudly, Snape replies, “I can guarantee that I will never lower my standards to such an extent that sexual relations with either of you could ever be a possibility.” He turns to me and smirks. “As a fellow ‘swot,’ as it were, would you agree with me, Ms. Granger?”
Is he flirting with me?
Then he winks.
He is flirting!
I’m gobsmacked. No one has flirted with me in over two years. Such is Mis-Behavior of the highest sort. Any interactions that could be construed as vaguely sexual are sure to get one sent straight to the camps. The Decrees about such are numerous: Number 23 - no public kissing, 31 no public hugging, 47 - no public hand-holding, 49 - no public touching of any sort that conveys affection, 54 -
“If you will allow me to explain.” Snape interrupts my mental list making. “Within these walls, we are Back in Black. This is more than a mere fashion statement.”
Lee, having just come from outside, wears the darkest medium brown allowed for men, but both twins are dressed in a green so dark as to almost appear black - a hue disallowed since Decree 124 went into effect thirteen months ago.
“We make every conscious attempt to break and subvert all Behavioral Decrees made by that pastel menace who happens to presume to rule us all.
“By winking at you in a suggestive manner, I have just violated Decrees 54, no public winking, and 57, no flirtatious behavior of any sort.” He smirks. “I must admit, they are two I have been unable to violate hither to now. We are, as you have so aptly noted, unfortunately something of a boys’ club.”
“Hey, now - don’t forget Ginny!”
“Our sister is definitely worth flirting with -”
“- even if we’d hex you blind if you -”
“- ever attempted to do so!”
Snape turns back to me. “I rest my case, Ms. Granger. You are the first female I’ve come into contact with within these walls that I’ve felt free to enter into a flirtation with. Forgive me if my attempts are therefore somewhat clumsy - it is not a skill that I ever valued, or thought I would ever value, until Umbridge outlawed it that is.”
Lee chimes in. “Snape here, see, he keeps a list of the Decrees and is trying to break them all. Me, I go about it with a different approach - I’ve picked my favorites and try to break them as often as possible. I mean, the very color of my skin is too dark according to the Pink Lord!”
“Us, too,” says George.
“Yeah, we’ve got our favorites -”
“- right, and we stick with them, such as -”
“Inappropriate Language - we’ve been -”
“- effing breaking that one since the first week.”
“And Lee here, the tosser, he’s been practicing -”
“- and he’s bloody excellent at saying normal things -”
“- in a tone that makes them sounds as -”
“- effing dirty as possible!”
More snickers.
I’ve had enough of this!
“Why are you doing this?” My voice sounds cold and disapproving, even to my own ears. “People out there are miserable, and you’re making rude jokes. Is this all just a lark?”
Facial expressions around me sober.
Snape is the first to respond. “My motives are admittedly selfish, Ms. Granger. You see, I am the antithesis of everything the Pink Lord deems appropriate, whether it be matters of behavior, dress, facial expressions, etc. There is no place for me in such a society. I was forced into hiding the very first week.”
“The twins and I are walking advertisements for Mis-Behavior if we let ourselves go,” explains Lee. “We’d have been shipped off to the camps within the first year if we hadn’t found old Snape here and a way to have hope.”
“And for us, it’s become much more personal -”
“- than that. Percy may have been a wanker -”
“- of the highest sort, but bloody hell, he was still -”
“- our brother, and she had him Pinked as soon as -”
“- he did the smallest effing thing wrong.”
When they released him, Molly and Arthur took him back to the Burrow, where he shambled around mumbling “Good day” and repeatedly opened doors for imagined guests. But Percy was Pinked using a new procedure that had yet to be perfected. He went into convulsions and died a week later.
It turns out that blood splattered on Pale Pink #1 stands out in gruesome, color-coordinating contrast.
The Morgue Wizard who came to collect the body almost reported Molly for failing to maintain her Proper Smile, but Arthur was able to persuade him otherwise.
And since that day, I’ve never seen her Smile slip - not even once. But her eyes …
I look back up to find them watching me.
“So, will you join us, Ms. Granger?”
“I … I’ll think about it.”
Snape watches my face for a moment. “Reasonable enough under the circumstances. After all, you’re intelligent enough to know that merely admitting you’d spoken to us would get you sent to the camps as well. Reporting us would be folly of the highest sort, and you are not a foolish person, Ms. Granger.
“Trust me when I say that we are deadly earnest about bringing down the Pink Lord.”
Lee and the twins nod, serious expressions still in place.
“However,” Snape continues, “I will not divulge anything further unless you choose to become a member.”
Pulling a lace doily from his pocket, he waves his wand over it. “Portus.” Handing it to me, he explains, “We use their own items against them, Ms. Granger. Not only do they not suspect anything covered in gewgaws and lace, I also find it brings me a certain amount of amusement.”
I meet his smirk with one of my own. I think it’s the first time I’ve smiled in years and meant it.
It has the added benefit of being nowhere near a Proper Smile.
Pale-Pink #4
April 1st, 5:57 pm
Letting myself into my flat, I allow my face to relax. The muscles no longer ache from the strain of holding a Proper Smile all day - they grew used to it a year ago.
I almost hesitate to say Lumos upon entering the sitting room. The candles light, throwing the room into brightness, and I shudder.
Every surface is covered with kitsch. Puppies romping on plates hang on one entire wall - I refuse to reduce cats to such indignity. Friends wave at me from overly decorated picture frames on a doily-draped mantel. At least the seashells from Brighton aren’t too bad for Harry and Ron’s - they deserve some small measure of dignity after dying to save us all from Voldemort. It’s not as if the current administration gives them such.
My sofa is a swirling mass of pastel floral blooms that leaves me nauseous if I look at it for long. In fact, I’m beginning to suspect that such patterns have been purposefully crafted to keep the populace unsettled and unthinking. I’ve tried to hide as much of it as I can under the pile of lace-edged pillows that grows as the months pass.
Fairly soon, I will have to begin gifting my friends with the efforts of my Community Service before I’m completely bowled under.
I wonder if Ginny’s finished more plates? We could arrange another exchange. I seem to once again have innumerable heart-shaped ones, and she finds those funniest.
I snort. That’s what I must keep doing - finding humor in the hideousness that has become my home. Anything else leads to insanity.
Closing the lavender curtains for a bit of privacy, I move to take off my cloak. The pop from the Mandatory Visiting Area gives me pause.
“There you are, deary!” trills an artificially high voice. “I was beginning to wonder about you. Out for a bit of a stroll, were you?”
Suppressing a sigh, I paste on what I hope is the newly re-regulated Proper Smile and turn to face tonight’s Watch Witch - it’s Fiona Marple - one of the worst.
She’s reported more people for Mis-Behavior than any other two Watch Witches or Wizards combined!
Her entire being exudes Pink Party Propriety. From her Pink #2 cloak to her patent-pink boots, she oozes ruffles form every pore. A rather thin woman, Watcher Marple seethes as a rotund mass of flounces at every move, and I see she’s wearing her special blouse tonight - the one with crocheted roses attached. The clash of three different shades of pink is excruciating.
I’m glad that she never moves overly quickly, or I’d be in constant danger of sicking up my lunch.
“Good evening, Watcher Marple. May I offer you a cup of tea?”
“Oh, no, deary. When I popped ‘round earlier and didn’t find you, I went to those lovely Smythes next building over. They put on a right lovely tea for me.”
I’ll just bet they did! You sent her brother to be Pinked only a week ago - the poor dear must be terrified!
Maintaining my smile is an effort. “That sounds lovely.”
“Oh, it was, it was.” She moves into my sitting room and perches on the edge of the sofa after moving a pile of pillows to the side. “Now, what were you about for so long then?”
“A bit of shopping.” I seat myself on the wooden chair to my desk - it’s rather austere, so it’s covered with a pink ruffle-edged seat cover.
“Well, I don’t see you carrying much. Have it all Reduced still, do you?”
“Quite a lot of it was window shopping actually, though I did manage to find some lovely sequins I was considering applying to something - add a bit of sparkle, as it were.” I pull a bag of pink pearlescent sequins from the inner pocket of my cloak - I’d made sure to pick them up before the asphodel for just such a ruse.
“As you can see,” I gesture towards my sofa with my free hand, “I’ve been on the Pretty Pillow Committee for well over a year now. I was thinking of showing my support for the Pink Party by expanding into other areas. Perhaps Arty Appliqué or Decorative Decoupage.”
I hang my head and try to look remorseful, all while not allowing my Proper Smile to slip - they really Watch for such things. “I didn’t have much luck with Perky Plates last time.”
“No worries, deary. Doing Arty Appliqué is a capital idea - just splendid. And may I suggest you also consider Radiant Ruffles or Elegant Embroidery?”
I look up to see her beaming at me, and the tension in my shoulders starts to release.
She believed me!
“Your wardrobe could do with a bit of sprucing up! Why just look at you - everything as plain as can be with nary a bit of lace or a ruffle in sight. It’s a disgrace, it is.”
I look down. My blouse and skirt are plain and in the one of the darkest colors allowed for women - Purple Pink #3 - it’s actually a fairly attractive reddish violet that I’d love if I weren’t forced to wear it as the least evil choice available.
Damn - it’s only a matter of time before it too is considered too dark!
“Oh, I know, Watcher Marple!” I cry with feigned consternation. “I’ve just been so horrible with a Needle Charm up until now. It’s so embarrassing. Here I was earning top marks at school for all of these subjects that I now see are so … so unimportant!” I can only hope the manic gleam in my eye is interpreted as fervor for the Party. “I never did take the time to really learn how to do Proper Woman’s Charms - I mean, I knitted a bit, but …”
“There, there, deary. All in good time. You’re a bright one, and we’re Watching you specially to make sure you put that brilliance to good use. You just pick a new Crafts Committee, and I’ll push through the paperwork in a jiff. Why, you’ll only have to wait a fortnight or so to make the change!” She beams at me.
I think her Proper Smile is now larger than the new regulations allow - I wonder if I should report her? Would it seem patriotic and get them off my back a bit or only make them more paranoid if I turn in their top Watcher?
It could go either way - look at Percy.
She stands. “Well, then, I’ll be off.”
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Oh, you never know, deary. It could be tomorrow or the next week. Or perhaps one of the other Watch Witches will want to see you. Why, only last week Watcher Rugobode and I were talking about you.”
Circe! I must not be blending in as well as I’d imagined.
“Now don’t you fret.”
As if I could help it, you old bat!
“We were simply discussing your clothing. But your news tonight goes a long way towards rectifying that, yes, it does.” She gropes futilely under her cloak - the ruffles of her blouse catching on her large rings every second or so.
I wish she’d get them so caught that she’d rip off a layer or two of decoration - it would be a vast improvement.
“Now where did I? … Oh, yes … here we go!” Finally emerging, one begemmed hand stretches towards me holding a piece of pale-pink plastic. “This is your Proper Smile Stencil - it’s the correct size for your face.”
I look at it and debate saying anything - it’s absolutely huge.
“No, no - wait. That’s the one for Mrs. Bigglesworth next block over - poor dear has a rather wide face for a woman - most unfeminine, but I suppose it can’t be helped. At least not yet.”
Yet? Goddess - are those Cosmetic Surgery Charm rumors actually true?
My mind’s eye fills with the vision of an endless multitude of women - all wearing pink, of course - but even more scarily, all wearing exactly the same face, the one belonging to the Watch Witch from the posters - heart shaped, wide eyed, pixie nosed, kewpie-doll mouthed. Umbridge’s ideal of the perfect woman expressed over and over until we’re all interchangeable pieces to plug into the hole labeled ‘Female.’
“Here you are, deary.” She’s holding out a smaller stencil this time. “You just practice with this regularly so that by Monday your Smile is a Proper Smile. Ta ta.”
I barely register her pop of Disapparition, though I’ve been careful to maintain my Smile the entire time.
I can’t live like this any longer!
The pink plastic falls from my hand as I reach for my wand. Grabbing the doily from my cloak, I tap it and feel the tug at my navel.
Snape rises from his desk and looks surprised to see me - once again his eyes open marginally wider than is customary. He’s down to shirtsleeves and trousers, and an amused part of my mind notices that even his shirts are solid black these days.
“Ms. Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’ll do it, Snape. I’ll join. I want to do whatever it takes to bring down the Pink Lord,” I say with a certain amount of fervor - I’m imagining ripping the ruffles off Watcher Marple personally.
I imagine my grin is rather feral.
AN: The wonderful
wsandrs made a color scale for the story:
Please review - it’ll save me from Thinking Pink!
On to the Purple-Pink part.
Canon Compliancy: Post HBP
Pairing: HG/SS
Rating: PG-13, het
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Humor, Romance
Length: ~19K
Status: Complete
AN: This story was written in a blazing whirl as part of the 2007 Potter Place Winter Prompt Challenge to this prompt: The Dark Lord has fallen, but the Ministry of Magic runs Britain like a Stalinistic country. Freedoms are taken; people are killed. Hermione, the last of the trio, joins a resistance group … by accident. Who should she find but …
Originally posted at TPP and Ashwinder.
Summary: The Dark Lord has fallen, but an even more terrible force has arisen to take over the Ministry of Magic - the Pink Lord. Ruling with an abundance of ruffles and terrifyingly sharp stiletto heels, Umbridge’s Think Pink Brigade terrorizes a populace grown weary of decrees designed to enforce sweetness. Unexpectedly, Hermione Granger joins the resistance, the sarcastically snarky Back in Black.
Award winner - details here.
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
Thanks go to my beta, southernwitch69. Thanks also go to mollilicious,who also made me this wonderful banner:
Pale-Pink #1
April 1st, 2:37 pm
“Oh, bugger,” I murmur under my breath as the Seriously Serious Siren wails.
If hot pink made a sound, it would be this - an irritatingly high-pitched squeal that permeates every crevice, leaving ears ringing and mind numb.
The obnoxious, and obnoxiously loud, noise cuts off to be replaced by the Announcement Witch’s sickeningly-sweet voice. “This is a Serious Warning. All citizens are to remain where you are. Anti-Apparition Charms have been raised over the entire of London. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to Apparate, as splinching is guaranteed.” She clears her throat, and the amplified Sonorous Charm sends a deafening “hem, hem” crashing over all of magical London, quickly followed once more by the siren.
A flurry of pastel-clad bodies rushes past in every direction - no one wants to be caught on Knockturn Alley during a Ministry crackdown. A tall man in a light-green cloak almost knocks me over when he hits my left shoulder from behind, sending me spinning. He doesn’t even turn his head to see if I remained upright instead of being trampled.
Another person, a sweet-looking old lady in Pink #2, elbows me hard in the ribs, her Proper Smile never lapsing all the while.
A small child screams while struggling in its mother’s arms as she pushes past me on the right - a swirling mass of Pale Pink #1 able to mimic the Seriously Serious Siren’s pitch effortlessly.
Everyone’s face is frozen into a rictus of the Proper Smile - lips drawn back maniacally in fear.
Calm, calm, calm, Granger. Keep Smiling - you don’t want to be picked up for Mis-Behavior. You can do this.
I fight my way across the pavement to take shelter in a doorway. Dinger’s Dinnerware, the door reads. Dinger himself appears in the window and starts yelling, “Shoo, shoo,” while emphatically gesturing me away. He looks as though he would be someone’s dear grandfather if it weren’t for the fact that his face is distorted by rage thinly covering fear - his Proper Smile twisted into a death’s head grimace.
As soon as the crowd thins a bit, I’m able to take a better look around to see what options there are for a hiding place. Strangely, yet fortunately, there don’t appear to be any Watch Witch poster-portraits in the vicinity. Every other part of magical London is covered with the things - all showing the Proper Witch - she’s pretty, she’s blond, and she’s wearing nothing but pink - and not just pink, but pink with lace, ruffles, and flowers on every available surface.
And she Watches constantly, only turning away briefly to report to someone just out of frame every few minutes or so. Even then, her Proper Smile never wavers by a millimeter.
Even without a Watch Witch poster around, I still feel anxious. I really don’t want to be caught with the powdered asphodel I have hidden in an inner pocket. Contraceptive Potion ingredients are a life sentence. On the other hand, I’m reluctant to Evanesco it out of existence - it’s taken three months to arrange today’s purchase.
I’ll do anything to be able to make that potion.
Yet none of the shops will let me in - like Dinger, they’re too scared of the possibility of being arrested for such. I’m at a loss until, in a dark side alley across the way, a small yellow sign with black lettering seems to wink into existence. Libre Libri. A book shop? Public records?
How did I never notice it before?
The shopkeeper behind me taps the glass, and I turn to see him brandishing his now-to-hand wand. “Off with you - shoo!” he yells.
I give him a sarcastic little wave complete with saccharine-sweet Smile before plunging across the street. There are fewer people about, so I’m only jostled three times - and each of them is rather mild, as this set of people move with speedy determination instead of the blind panic of the earlier lot.
The sign hangs above a dark wooden door sunk deeply into the wall of the alley. There are no windows gracing the dirty brick, and the small one set into the door is so dust covered that I can’t even see if there’s light within.
How in the world has the proprietor evaded arrest for Improper Cleanliness?
Silence suddenly reigns, the siren fallen quiet. Yet the sound that takes its place is all the more terrifying - the sound of a multitude of boots stamping in unison.
The high-heeled, patent-leather sound of Umbridge’s Think Pink Brigade.
Circe!
Heart pounding, I fumble at the door handle, which doesn’t turn at first, so I give it a vicious twist. When it gives suddenly, I stumble into the shop, righting myself against the bookcase that stands only three feet from the doorway.
The door slams shut behind me, and turning to see who closed it, I find it gone.
The scuff of a footstep to my left - I spin quickly, wand in hand, the first syllable of a Shielding Spell just passing my lips. “Pro-”
A shout of “Stupefy” rings in the air as I’m hit in the back. Every sense rips to black.
~~~
I swim back into consciousness on a stream of garbled speech. Keeping my eyes closed, I attempt to maintain lax muscles and slow breathing. I’m lying on my back on a hard surface - the feel the grain of wood beneath slightly flexed fingertips - a table.
The voices slowly grow clear - two men standing behind me on either side.
“… how the bloody hell do you explain it, then? It’s not as if -”
“- we’ve ever seen this effing happen before. And you can’t say -”
“- that we did it on purpose, if we don’t even know how it was done.”
I know those voices!
A rustle of cloth sounds from below my feet - there’s at least a third person in the room.
“Really, we promise -”
“- we haven’t told anyone, you wanker, not even -”
“- our mum. It’s like we said: the door materialized -”
“- and we waited, thinking Lee was going to come through -”
Fred and George! And they’re swearing - lots!
“- when she showed instead. All right, so we had hid -”
“- thinking we’d get the tosser with a Tarantallegra -”
“- to keep him on his toes, as it were -”
The sound of snickering in stereo.
“- and then -”
“Silence!” The deep voice emanates from the bottom of the table, resounding in what sounds like a small space.
I was able to keep my eyes closed, but I’m fairly sure I just flinched a bit. What I’m not so sure of is whether anyone saw me do so.
“I was not enquiring as to whether you two chose to waste your time and energy playing juvenile pranks on your comrades. I instead had a desire to learn exactly what spell you incapacitated Ms. Granger with so that I would have some idea as to how long she would be indisposed.”
Snape!
“But I see that your blathering has served a purpose, nonetheless.” His voice grows closer on my left. “For my interruption of said blathering has proven to me that Ms. Granger has already joined us.
“Is that not so?” This last was said in a quieter voice - a quieter voice I hear very clearly because its source has grown close.
When I open my eyes, I’m gazing directly into those of Severus Snape.
Struggling upwards, my stunned limbs heavy and recalcitrant, I wet overly dry lips with an only slightly moister tongue before rasping, “The Think Pink Brigade is -”
With left hand pressing me to the table, he replies, “Relax, Ms. Granger, you are safe here.”
I look around the small, softly lit room. Heavy, dark wood furniture fills the shadows, and the walls are a forbidden deep wine color. There are no decorations anywhere, and this is shockingly beautiful. “Here being?”
“The headquarters of the resistance.” He pauses to smirk. “Congratulations, Ms. Granger. You’ve just joined Back in Black.”
AN: In canon, it’s Anti-Apparition Jinx, but propaganda specialists have determined that jinx sounds too negative for something the Pink Party applies to its own populace with regularity.
Pale-Pink #2
April 1st, 3:09 pm
Back in Black?
“What?” It slips out of me almost unconsciously.
I continue to stare at his face, which is only a foot or so above mine - it’s been three years, and he looks exactly the same. Exactly. Wizarding magic is finally triumphing - he looks better than his age for the first time in his adult life.
He watches me with sardonic amusement, one side of his mouth curved upwards in an expression I haven’t seen on anyone for years - even in the mirror.
I clear my throat and start again. “What is Back in Bl-”
The door flies open and Lee Jordan stumbles in. He pants and grabs hold of the edge of the table to steady himself. “It’s as we thought. They’re out with Decree Number 307 to 309 - a day early, but nothing we weren’t expecting.”
Snape straightens. “What has she targeted specifically this time?” His tone is once again grave.
“307 regulates the appropriate strength of grip to be used for the Two-Minute Handshake - it seems some complained that their comrades weren’t expressing enough enthusiasm.”
Snape snorts and nods. “Go on.”
“Then, 308 dictates that charcoal grey is no longer acceptable, as it has been found to be too ‘depressing.’ In fact, it declares grey a special case - since it lacks appropriately cheery coloration, nothing darker than dove grey is allowed, and all forms of grey are now forbidden for women.” He smirks at that, and Snape joins him.
“But 309 - 309 is the one we heard was coming - it corrects the inconsistencies found in Decrees 114, 157, 261, and 299.” Lee pauses to pull a piece of Pale Pink #1 parchment from his pocket.
“Come on, you wanker -”
“- bloody out with it already.”
“Hem, hem,” he begins in perfect imitation of the Announcement Witch, looking up to shoot a mischievous smile at the room, “Behavioral Decree 307: Careful study by a team of trained specialists has determined that Proper Smiles are to have the following characteristics. The minimum allowed difference between the normal height of the edges of the lips when at rest and their height when Smiling is 1 cm, the maximum 1.5 cm. The maximum allowed deviancy in the height of the left edge versus the right is 0.25 cm. If the lips are parted, the maximum height of the gap permitted is 0.5 cm, but parted lips are not suggested for day-to-day Proper Smiles and should be saved for special occasions. For children between the ages of five and eleven, the above numbers are to be halved. Infants remain exempt.
“In order to facilitate Proper Smiling, the Ministry of Magic will be issuing stencils for each citizen to use in practicing in front of a mirror. By next Monday, April 5th, all citizens will be expected to display Proper Smiles meeting the new criteria upon all public occasions.
“So perk up those lips citizens, and know that your effort will be rewarded by an equally Proper Smile from everyone around you.”
As Lee’s voice fades, I shudder.
Circe! As if it weren’t already difficult enough to not be picked up for Mis-Behavior!
And everyone knows what the Behavioral Reconditioning Camps are like!
I shudder again as I picture what people look like after they’ve been ‘Pinked’: vacuous-eyed creatures shambling to and fro, grinning inanely, and repeatedly bowing and saying, “No, after you - I insist!” while swathed head-to-toe in Pale Pink #3.
Lee’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Hold up! What’s she doing here?’
“Ms. Granger has only recently joined our cause.”
“What?” I sit up quickly. “No, I haven’t - how can you keep saying that? I’ve joined nothing. Nothing!”
“Oh, but I beg to differ. Simply the fact that you found and entered the front door of this establishment indicates that you desired to become a member of Back in Black. And so you have.”
“Ridiculous! How -”
“Allow me to explain. The doorway is charmed so that only those who believe in our cause of subverting this travesty of a government may enter. Indeed, you would not have even seen said doorway if you did not have a certain desire and capacity for revolt.”
“Well, of course I hate the government - I’m not mental - anyone in their right mind hates the government.” I stop to draw breath. “But that doesn’t mean …”
The twins walk forward to enter my view - George on my left, Fred, right. I’m now faced with four rather sober-looking individuals, who are all staring at me fixedly.
After a few moments, Snape asks, “Was there a sign, Ms. Granger?”
“A sign? First you tell me I’ve joined your little boys’ club, and now you’re asking if I saw a portent or omen?”
He sighs. “No, Ms. Granger. Was there a sign above the door - a somewhat small one perhaps?”
“Well, of course there was a sign! Why would y-”
He interrupts again. “And what did it say?”
I look at him for a bit.
Is that some strange form of trick question?
“It said Libre Libri, as you very well know,” I reply tartly.
He looks slightly shocked - or at least I think it’s shocked - his eyes widen slightly, and his mouth opens a bit.
But before he can say anything, the twins cut in. “Oi, now - that’s what it said -”
“- for you Snape! I thought it was never-”
“- to say the same bloody thing twice.”
“Indeed, I did not think it possible that two people could ever see the same message.” He watches me now with a look of such frank contemplation that it’s a little unsettling in its intensity.
“What …”
Circe, that stunner left my mouth dry!
“What does that mean exactly?”
His smirk returns. “It means that we have quite a bit more in common than I ever realized, Ms. Granger. Quite a bit indeed.”
AN: Forgive me for potentially poor Latin, but I’m hoping that Libre Libri roughly translates as ‘free from difficulty’ + ‘books/public records,’ which I’m using to imply ‘freedom through written knowledge.’
Pale-Pink #3
April 1st, 3:26 pm
Quite a bit in common? Whatever does that mean?
His eyes continue to bore into mine. I’m almost concerned that he’s become so skilled at Legilimency that I might not even be aware of his intrusion.
Lee clears his throat, and Snape looks over before saying, “Yes, well, back to the matter at hand. This may very well be the event we have been waiting for. Decree 309 is so exceedingly restrictive about Proper Smiles that even the pink-draped, sheep-like beings parading the streets outside will have to take notice.”
“Eh, Snape, that’s what -”
“- you think, you wanker. We still say that -”
“- it’s going to take something bloody big -”
“- something showy to get their attention.”
Snape turns to me. “And what do you think, Ms. Granger?”
“Me? Why should you care what I think?”
“Because, as I have already informed you, you are now a part of this organization.”
“But, but …”
He cocks an eyebrow at me, but I’m at a loss for words since my hither-to-now protests have gone ignored.
I’ve spent the last three years fighting to suppress my constant inclination to speak my mind freely. I never thought it would actually turn into difficult conditioning to break.
The twins join in. “Yeah, Mione, how about it?”
“What do you think?”
“You always were a smart one.”
“Now Snape here, he’s bloody clever, but -”
“- two swots are better than one, just -”
“- as long as we don’t have to be -”
“- in class with you or shag you.”
Goddess - they’re constantly using Inappropriate Language - that was banned with Decree 5!
Snorting loudly, Snape replies, “I can guarantee that I will never lower my standards to such an extent that sexual relations with either of you could ever be a possibility.” He turns to me and smirks. “As a fellow ‘swot,’ as it were, would you agree with me, Ms. Granger?”
Is he flirting with me?
Then he winks.
He is flirting!
I’m gobsmacked. No one has flirted with me in over two years. Such is Mis-Behavior of the highest sort. Any interactions that could be construed as vaguely sexual are sure to get one sent straight to the camps. The Decrees about such are numerous: Number 23 - no public kissing, 31 no public hugging, 47 - no public hand-holding, 49 - no public touching of any sort that conveys affection, 54 -
“If you will allow me to explain.” Snape interrupts my mental list making. “Within these walls, we are Back in Black. This is more than a mere fashion statement.”
Lee, having just come from outside, wears the darkest medium brown allowed for men, but both twins are dressed in a green so dark as to almost appear black - a hue disallowed since Decree 124 went into effect thirteen months ago.
“We make every conscious attempt to break and subvert all Behavioral Decrees made by that pastel menace who happens to presume to rule us all.
“By winking at you in a suggestive manner, I have just violated Decrees 54, no public winking, and 57, no flirtatious behavior of any sort.” He smirks. “I must admit, they are two I have been unable to violate hither to now. We are, as you have so aptly noted, unfortunately something of a boys’ club.”
“Hey, now - don’t forget Ginny!”
“Our sister is definitely worth flirting with -”
“- even if we’d hex you blind if you -”
“- ever attempted to do so!”
Snape turns back to me. “I rest my case, Ms. Granger. You are the first female I’ve come into contact with within these walls that I’ve felt free to enter into a flirtation with. Forgive me if my attempts are therefore somewhat clumsy - it is not a skill that I ever valued, or thought I would ever value, until Umbridge outlawed it that is.”
Lee chimes in. “Snape here, see, he keeps a list of the Decrees and is trying to break them all. Me, I go about it with a different approach - I’ve picked my favorites and try to break them as often as possible. I mean, the very color of my skin is too dark according to the Pink Lord!”
“Us, too,” says George.
“Yeah, we’ve got our favorites -”
“- right, and we stick with them, such as -”
“Inappropriate Language - we’ve been -”
“- effing breaking that one since the first week.”
“And Lee here, the tosser, he’s been practicing -”
“- and he’s bloody excellent at saying normal things -”
“- in a tone that makes them sounds as -”
“- effing dirty as possible!”
More snickers.
I’ve had enough of this!
“Why are you doing this?” My voice sounds cold and disapproving, even to my own ears. “People out there are miserable, and you’re making rude jokes. Is this all just a lark?”
Facial expressions around me sober.
Snape is the first to respond. “My motives are admittedly selfish, Ms. Granger. You see, I am the antithesis of everything the Pink Lord deems appropriate, whether it be matters of behavior, dress, facial expressions, etc. There is no place for me in such a society. I was forced into hiding the very first week.”
“The twins and I are walking advertisements for Mis-Behavior if we let ourselves go,” explains Lee. “We’d have been shipped off to the camps within the first year if we hadn’t found old Snape here and a way to have hope.”
“And for us, it’s become much more personal -”
“- than that. Percy may have been a wanker -”
“- of the highest sort, but bloody hell, he was still -”
“- our brother, and she had him Pinked as soon as -”
“- he did the smallest effing thing wrong.”
When they released him, Molly and Arthur took him back to the Burrow, where he shambled around mumbling “Good day” and repeatedly opened doors for imagined guests. But Percy was Pinked using a new procedure that had yet to be perfected. He went into convulsions and died a week later.
It turns out that blood splattered on Pale Pink #1 stands out in gruesome, color-coordinating contrast.
The Morgue Wizard who came to collect the body almost reported Molly for failing to maintain her Proper Smile, but Arthur was able to persuade him otherwise.
And since that day, I’ve never seen her Smile slip - not even once. But her eyes …
I look back up to find them watching me.
“So, will you join us, Ms. Granger?”
“I … I’ll think about it.”
Snape watches my face for a moment. “Reasonable enough under the circumstances. After all, you’re intelligent enough to know that merely admitting you’d spoken to us would get you sent to the camps as well. Reporting us would be folly of the highest sort, and you are not a foolish person, Ms. Granger.
“Trust me when I say that we are deadly earnest about bringing down the Pink Lord.”
Lee and the twins nod, serious expressions still in place.
“However,” Snape continues, “I will not divulge anything further unless you choose to become a member.”
Pulling a lace doily from his pocket, he waves his wand over it. “Portus.” Handing it to me, he explains, “We use their own items against them, Ms. Granger. Not only do they not suspect anything covered in gewgaws and lace, I also find it brings me a certain amount of amusement.”
I meet his smirk with one of my own. I think it’s the first time I’ve smiled in years and meant it.
It has the added benefit of being nowhere near a Proper Smile.
Pale-Pink #4
April 1st, 5:57 pm
Letting myself into my flat, I allow my face to relax. The muscles no longer ache from the strain of holding a Proper Smile all day - they grew used to it a year ago.
I almost hesitate to say Lumos upon entering the sitting room. The candles light, throwing the room into brightness, and I shudder.
Every surface is covered with kitsch. Puppies romping on plates hang on one entire wall - I refuse to reduce cats to such indignity. Friends wave at me from overly decorated picture frames on a doily-draped mantel. At least the seashells from Brighton aren’t too bad for Harry and Ron’s - they deserve some small measure of dignity after dying to save us all from Voldemort. It’s not as if the current administration gives them such.
My sofa is a swirling mass of pastel floral blooms that leaves me nauseous if I look at it for long. In fact, I’m beginning to suspect that such patterns have been purposefully crafted to keep the populace unsettled and unthinking. I’ve tried to hide as much of it as I can under the pile of lace-edged pillows that grows as the months pass.
Fairly soon, I will have to begin gifting my friends with the efforts of my Community Service before I’m completely bowled under.
I wonder if Ginny’s finished more plates? We could arrange another exchange. I seem to once again have innumerable heart-shaped ones, and she finds those funniest.
I snort. That’s what I must keep doing - finding humor in the hideousness that has become my home. Anything else leads to insanity.
Closing the lavender curtains for a bit of privacy, I move to take off my cloak. The pop from the Mandatory Visiting Area gives me pause.
“There you are, deary!” trills an artificially high voice. “I was beginning to wonder about you. Out for a bit of a stroll, were you?”
Suppressing a sigh, I paste on what I hope is the newly re-regulated Proper Smile and turn to face tonight’s Watch Witch - it’s Fiona Marple - one of the worst.
She’s reported more people for Mis-Behavior than any other two Watch Witches or Wizards combined!
Her entire being exudes Pink Party Propriety. From her Pink #2 cloak to her patent-pink boots, she oozes ruffles form every pore. A rather thin woman, Watcher Marple seethes as a rotund mass of flounces at every move, and I see she’s wearing her special blouse tonight - the one with crocheted roses attached. The clash of three different shades of pink is excruciating.
I’m glad that she never moves overly quickly, or I’d be in constant danger of sicking up my lunch.
“Good evening, Watcher Marple. May I offer you a cup of tea?”
“Oh, no, deary. When I popped ‘round earlier and didn’t find you, I went to those lovely Smythes next building over. They put on a right lovely tea for me.”
I’ll just bet they did! You sent her brother to be Pinked only a week ago - the poor dear must be terrified!
Maintaining my smile is an effort. “That sounds lovely.”
“Oh, it was, it was.” She moves into my sitting room and perches on the edge of the sofa after moving a pile of pillows to the side. “Now, what were you about for so long then?”
“A bit of shopping.” I seat myself on the wooden chair to my desk - it’s rather austere, so it’s covered with a pink ruffle-edged seat cover.
“Well, I don’t see you carrying much. Have it all Reduced still, do you?”
“Quite a lot of it was window shopping actually, though I did manage to find some lovely sequins I was considering applying to something - add a bit of sparkle, as it were.” I pull a bag of pink pearlescent sequins from the inner pocket of my cloak - I’d made sure to pick them up before the asphodel for just such a ruse.
“As you can see,” I gesture towards my sofa with my free hand, “I’ve been on the Pretty Pillow Committee for well over a year now. I was thinking of showing my support for the Pink Party by expanding into other areas. Perhaps Arty Appliqué or Decorative Decoupage.”
I hang my head and try to look remorseful, all while not allowing my Proper Smile to slip - they really Watch for such things. “I didn’t have much luck with Perky Plates last time.”
“No worries, deary. Doing Arty Appliqué is a capital idea - just splendid. And may I suggest you also consider Radiant Ruffles or Elegant Embroidery?”
I look up to see her beaming at me, and the tension in my shoulders starts to release.
She believed me!
“Your wardrobe could do with a bit of sprucing up! Why just look at you - everything as plain as can be with nary a bit of lace or a ruffle in sight. It’s a disgrace, it is.”
I look down. My blouse and skirt are plain and in the one of the darkest colors allowed for women - Purple Pink #3 - it’s actually a fairly attractive reddish violet that I’d love if I weren’t forced to wear it as the least evil choice available.
Damn - it’s only a matter of time before it too is considered too dark!
“Oh, I know, Watcher Marple!” I cry with feigned consternation. “I’ve just been so horrible with a Needle Charm up until now. It’s so embarrassing. Here I was earning top marks at school for all of these subjects that I now see are so … so unimportant!” I can only hope the manic gleam in my eye is interpreted as fervor for the Party. “I never did take the time to really learn how to do Proper Woman’s Charms - I mean, I knitted a bit, but …”
“There, there, deary. All in good time. You’re a bright one, and we’re Watching you specially to make sure you put that brilliance to good use. You just pick a new Crafts Committee, and I’ll push through the paperwork in a jiff. Why, you’ll only have to wait a fortnight or so to make the change!” She beams at me.
I think her Proper Smile is now larger than the new regulations allow - I wonder if I should report her? Would it seem patriotic and get them off my back a bit or only make them more paranoid if I turn in their top Watcher?
It could go either way - look at Percy.
She stands. “Well, then, I’ll be off.”
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Oh, you never know, deary. It could be tomorrow or the next week. Or perhaps one of the other Watch Witches will want to see you. Why, only last week Watcher Rugobode and I were talking about you.”
Circe! I must not be blending in as well as I’d imagined.
“Now don’t you fret.”
As if I could help it, you old bat!
“We were simply discussing your clothing. But your news tonight goes a long way towards rectifying that, yes, it does.” She gropes futilely under her cloak - the ruffles of her blouse catching on her large rings every second or so.
I wish she’d get them so caught that she’d rip off a layer or two of decoration - it would be a vast improvement.
“Now where did I? … Oh, yes … here we go!” Finally emerging, one begemmed hand stretches towards me holding a piece of pale-pink plastic. “This is your Proper Smile Stencil - it’s the correct size for your face.”
I look at it and debate saying anything - it’s absolutely huge.
“No, no - wait. That’s the one for Mrs. Bigglesworth next block over - poor dear has a rather wide face for a woman - most unfeminine, but I suppose it can’t be helped. At least not yet.”
Yet? Goddess - are those Cosmetic Surgery Charm rumors actually true?
My mind’s eye fills with the vision of an endless multitude of women - all wearing pink, of course - but even more scarily, all wearing exactly the same face, the one belonging to the Watch Witch from the posters - heart shaped, wide eyed, pixie nosed, kewpie-doll mouthed. Umbridge’s ideal of the perfect woman expressed over and over until we’re all interchangeable pieces to plug into the hole labeled ‘Female.’
“Here you are, deary.” She’s holding out a smaller stencil this time. “You just practice with this regularly so that by Monday your Smile is a Proper Smile. Ta ta.”
I barely register her pop of Disapparition, though I’ve been careful to maintain my Smile the entire time.
I can’t live like this any longer!
The pink plastic falls from my hand as I reach for my wand. Grabbing the doily from my cloak, I tap it and feel the tug at my navel.
Snape rises from his desk and looks surprised to see me - once again his eyes open marginally wider than is customary. He’s down to shirtsleeves and trousers, and an amused part of my mind notices that even his shirts are solid black these days.
“Ms. Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’ll do it, Snape. I’ll join. I want to do whatever it takes to bring down the Pink Lord,” I say with a certain amount of fervor - I’m imagining ripping the ruffles off Watcher Marple personally.
I imagine my grin is rather feral.
AN: The wonderful
wsandrs made a color scale for the story:
Please review - it’ll save me from Thinking Pink!
On to the Purple-Pink part.