AN: So I totally got the idea for this one day when I was in a pissy-feel-sorry-for-myself kind of mood and a Crest Whitestrips commercial about smiles just struck me wrong. (Thankfully I recovered from that mood the moment I got this on paper.) But I hope you like it. Reviews are awesome, so don't be shy!
Disclaimer: I don't own HP or any of the characters. Jo does and we are but humble servants to her imagination.
I read somewhere once that the average person smiles fifty times a day. What is it that makes these people so happy? Or was this number including other types of smiles? Like a grimace. And the strange twitch of the lips you get when the sadness is so big it is almost comical. Because I, personally, don't count those as a smile.
I don't think I smile that much, even counting the not-happy kinds. In fact I don't remember when I last smiled. It's not that I am a sad or angry person, either. No, it is that mostly I feel blank, numb inside. Kind of like a hole has been put where my heart should be. And with all the tragedy and pain, all I can feel is nothing. The castle feels numb too these days. It is like the spirit has been sucked from the stones it is built from. I hardly ever see the ghosts anymore, and even they seem somewhat diminished.
I bet these average people didn't know about the war. I bet they were Muggles. They probably were never cursed for refusing to use a first year for target practice, for being kind. All of their brothers are most likely alive and whole, not scarred and mangled. These average people didn't have to watch their boyfriend die in battle, taking a stray spell to the chest only moments after defeating the darkest wizard to ever live. I am sure these average people didn't have to listen to speeches about how great their dead boyfriend was. How much of a hero. Didn't have to accept a medal for fighting someone else's war when they were hardly more than a child.
Yeah, those people probably had lots to smile about because their lives still make sense. And that's just not fair.
Sometimes at night I dream that the war never happened. I dream that none of it did and I am still that nine year old girl holding her mother's hand as she waves off her big brothers, minus the youngest who is telling anyone who will listen how next year that will be him.
But I'm not nine. And it did happen. I am 17 and lucky to be alive, unlike so many others. And this, this second chance at living, should make me happy. But it doesn't. All it does is remind me of what I lost and can never have again. I go through my days quietly, and as I am expected to. Waking, breakfast, class, dinner, bed, and repeat.
Maybe I will try to smile more though. Not to me like the average person. But for the memories of those lost but not forgotten, and for poor little Teddy who lost both his parents and his Godfather on that fateful day. But also for myself. I deserve to be happy, and if I can't be happy I can at least pretend.
The average person smiles fifty times a day. Maybe they are truly happy. But maybe, just maybe, they are liars too.
AN: Hope you enjoyed that. Let me know what you thought! Reviews are seeing a double rainbow!
