Dove-Grey #9

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wsandrs went to a humongous amount of trouble to make these wonderful Pink Scales for everyone to goggle at (and shudder over)! Thank you, wsandrs!

Dove-Grey #9

May 1st, 9:12 am

"Budge over a bit, deary. There's a good girl."

I grind my teeth and keep my Proper Smile firmly in place as Watcher Marple settles into the seat on my right.

She wouldn't need so much space if her Pink #5 clothing weren't excessively wider than she is. But it's Umbridge's May Day Speech, so the Watch Witch has pulled out all the stops: ruffles, lace, embroidery, and appliqué with some sequins and feathers thrown in.

I make sure to unfocus my eyes whenever I look in her general direction.

Not that I can say I look much better. My outfit today is a hasty conglomeration of my new skill at Elegant Embroidery coupled with Ginny's Artful Appliqués and Molly's Lovely Lace. Leafy embroidery runs along the button placket of my blouse, with matching needlework on the cuffs and collar, and lace trims its edges. To make up for such austerity, however, Ginny applied an abundance of pansies, complaining that at least for one day I needed look the part of a dedicated Pink Party member. At least it's all in Purple Pink #1-3.

Watcher Marple flutters a handkerchief dripping in lace as I cast another glance in her direction. Her single arm movement sets up a sickening undulation in all her extra layers and additions – they seem to heave with a life of their own.

I take it back – I can definitively say I do look much better.

"I'm just so proud, I am. Why, I was saying to Watcher Rugobode just the other day, 'Our Hermione's really come into her own.'" She gestures again, and I look away before my stomach lurches. "And to think, I'm here as your sponsor!"

Which is the real reason you're so pleased, you cow.

"Thank you again, for nominating me for a 'Most Improved Attitude Award,'" I simper. Two full weeks of absolutely nauseating obsequiousness towards her, combined with strings pulled by Snape's Ministry connection, made sure I was one of the ten citizens chosen to win.

All of which means I'm sitting on the stage that flanks the main one on the right. It's raised enough to allow me a relatively unhindered view of the crowd even though I still have to look up, of course, to see Umbridge.

And what a homogeneous crowd it is. Not only is everyone Smiling and wearing pastels, with Pink abounding, but every single being present is human. It really isn't until an event like this that I'm fully reminded of the fate of all other magical beings under the Pink Party. Except for the goblins, who are barely tolerated due to their control of Wizarding finances, all others have been hunted to the brink of extinction or turned into slaves. And none are allowed to come to public events.

Yet if the crowd appears eerily similar, it's nothing compared to the systematic uniformity of the Think Pink Brigade, the majority of which is lined up in ranks in front of the central stage. Even though they stand preternaturally still, the mass of Pink #5 patent leather they present appears to seethe if stared at for long. They look intimidating and undefeatable, but I remember my speech of two weeks ago – the speech I repeated to myself ad nauseam, permanently imprinting it upon my brain.

"The Pink Party's biggest mistake is that it assumes it's prevented anyone from working together, from forming a group such as this. The Think Pink Brigade is prepared to defend Umbridge, and it's prepared to handle small, easily contained disturbances. But it's not prepared to face a coordinated attack from multiple fronts – its leaders don't even see it as a possibility.

"We will exploit this weakness."

Looking out over the crowd, I'm only able to spot the locations of most of the members of Back in Black because I know exactly where they're supposed to be – after all, I put them there. The twins flank the main crowd – one on each back corner. Towards the front of the crowd, Lee is on the left side of the central stage, and Snape is on the right – almost directly in front of me. Ginny's position is located in the center back of the crowd. That area is somewhat obscured by the May Pole, which is located directly in front of Umbridge's stage and the Think Pink Brigade, so I can only make her out every five minutes or so.

All of the resistance members move slowly, never completely still yet never drifting far from their designated positions.

No one notices them.

"You shall each appear as one of the Pinked. It has numerous advantages: firstly, the Think Pink Brigade tends to ignore the Pinked as harmless; secondly, regular citizens actively avoid the Pinked, made uncomfortable by the reminder they could be next; and thirdly, if anyone does happen to recognize you, they will simply assume you have been Pinked and they failed to hear of it. You will hide, as it were, in plain sight."

Even so, we made all three redheads into less-noticeable blonds using smuggled-in Muggle products. That allowed them access through the Polyjuice and Glamour Sensors everyone must pass through upon entering the park – Anti-Apparition Charms are, of course, in place.

But the most interesting change is the one Snape underwent – he refused to alter his distinctive hair color, even though a potion could restore it immediately, arguing that Black isn't quite as noticeable as ginger. Instead, he applied a potion this morning that caused him to sprout a beard. He looks – interesting – rather rakish actually.

If he weren't shuffling around in Pale Pink #1, that is.

I can feel my Proper Smile edge towards the unplastic as I watch him.

Drifting closer to the stage in one of his seemingly random tangents, I get a good look at him. I don't think I've ever seen him in anything but Black, unless the bits of white that used to peek from cuffs and collar count. If I were to choose the worst color possible to dress Severus Snape in, Pink would have to win. It certainly does nothing to brighten his complexion. And it's not just any Pink he's wearing either – it's the Pale Pink #1, which is worn only by infants and the Pinked.

Not only is the color unusual, but also the cut of the clothing itself – I don't think I've ever seen him in something so unstructured before. The Pinked are dressed in baggy tunic tops and loose drawstring trousers of light-weight cotton, resulting in them resembling patients – mental patients.

Goddess, I wonder what Harry and Ron would say if they could see this!

Then again, we should all be grateful that Snape's never cared much for damaging others' perceptions of him if it serves a cause.

The training he obtained from his years as a spy continues to serve him well – his facial expression is eerily exact in terms of matching the vacant pleasantness of the Pinked. He drifts by an elderly woman with his Smile as Proper as any I've seen on the Think Pinkers or the Watch Witch poster. Then he catches my eye, quickly pulling his lips pull back into a feral grin before returning to vapidness once more.

His awkward, shuffling steps are perfect – as if he no longer has the presence of mind to pick up his feet fully yet is guided by some animal instinct to keep moving forward. Adding to this puppet-with-strings-cut impression, his arms hang loosely at his sides, fingers open and lax. Even when a young boy accidentally backs into him, Snape doesn't tense his shoulders or curl his fingers – neither does his Proper Smile waiver when the boy looks up over his little shoulder in horror.

Well, it's not as if he's never elicited such an expression before. Just think of poor Neville!

As if he's just ricocheted off the young lad, he turns and shambles back into his designated area, making it look as if the move were completely random. Approaching a young man in soft green, Snape bobs his head in a nod of hello. I can't hear him due to the distance, but I see his lips move in the catch phrase he's chosen for his act: "Yes, yes. Good day. Top of the morning to you. Good day." Then he turns and repeats the litany for an empty pocket of air.

Suddenly, Watcher Marple shifts beside me, her lace and sequins scratching against the back of my hand as she half leans over me, craning her neck to see something already in her line of sight. "Seems to be winding down a bit, eh?"

I follow her gaze to look at the May Pole, which I'm supposed to have been watching this entire time. "Yes, it does look as if the ribbons are almost completely wrapped."

"Pretty little things, aren't they?"

I umm in what I hope she'll think is agreement.

In actuality, each of little girls participating wears a Pale-Pink #3 ensemble fashioned along the lines of the one Watcher Marple has on. But beyond the hideously overdone clothing and plastically perfect miniature Proper Smiles, it's their movements that are odd. As they move around the May Pole, wrapping Pink #3 ribbons in a complex pattern on its shaft, they do so with mechanical precision. Every step is deliberate, every bob and weave obviously rehearsed. If during my childhood, the dancing girls resembled a joyful flourish of beautiful wild flowers, under Umbridge's regime, they're instead overly gilt lilies – ones so gilded their natural mobility is lost.

How apt that they come to a dead halt.

"Well, that's done then. Now on to speech." Fingering her excessively large rings in excitement, the Watch Witch leans back this time, attempting to see around me to the main stage.

The crowd surges forward and in to fill the now available central area. The members of Back in Black move a bit more slowly than the rest in order to remain on the outer edges.

Once people have settled, Umbridge rises from her seat and steps forward to the podium.

And there she stands before me in the flesh for the first time in a year. The Pink Lord. For all that I never liked her that year long ago at Hogwarts, it's nothing compared to the visceral hate she inspires in me today.

The sodding cow!

It's actually hard to tell what shape Umbridge is anymore. She currently sports so many layers of ruffles and flounces that she looks like an obscenely large ball of Pink #5 candy floss brought to jiggling life. I now know on whom Watcher Marple bases her recent style choices.

Umbridge's fingers, even from a distance, gleam as though every bit of exposed skin has been encrusted with gems. I doubt she's able to move them from their claw-like shape.

Over the years her hair has turned grey, which Decree 308 disallowed for women, meaning that this year her hair is Pale-Pink #3. It only reinforces the candy-floss imagery – as if her brain has been spun out into fine strands of sugar – her ideas initially sweet on the surface but soon cloying – of no nutritional value and sure to rot the teeth of your mind.

My Proper Smile must contain a manic edge – I can feel my teeth grinding. But for once, I do nothing to quell it. Instead, I embrace the thrum of anger surging through my body, channeling it for action.

A quick Sonorous later and the original "hem, hem" is washing over the crowd at ear-splitting volume.

"Citizens of Wizarding Britain, welcome to the annual May Day Celebration. As we gather here today to bask in the bounties of Spring, I wish to remind you of all the wonderful improvements the last year has brought us. First, there are the clarified Proper Smile specifications. No longer will you fear that your fellow citizen will fail to provide the Proper amount of enthusiasm in greeting you. In fact ..."

Ignoring her artificially sweet voice, I withdraw my lace-coated handkerchief from my pocket and flourish it before pretending to dab at my face, all the time using it to hide my wand. Placing my hand in my lap, I vocalize Obscuro Nebula internally and point my still-covered wand towards the air above the crowd.

"At the signal from me, I will begin casting a large-scale Glamour from the stage. Its only effect will be to make everyone see nothing but clear air. At that time, all five of you will begin to spray an atomized form of Snape's Veritaserum variant from your wands. I calculated your positions and the vectors of dispersal in order to affect the largest number of people without wasteful overlap. But you may need to increase the speed of your movements slightly to cover more territory."

I watch the Think Pink Brigade anxiously, heart pounding now that things have finally begun.

"It will take five minutes for you to dispense the potion and then three more for it to be absorbed – we'll say ten total from the time I give the signal to be on the safe side.

"Then things are going to get really interesting."

AN: More bad Latin! Obscuro Nebula hopefully means 'obscure the mist.' For fellow Yanks, candy floss = cotton candy.

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