Pale-Pink #4

Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.

Thanks go to my beta, Southern Witch 69.

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: Please review – it'll save me from Thinking Pink!