Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone in this fanfiction.
Spoilers: post-series.
Rating: K+, in case.
A/N: I wrote it long time ago, but yesterday I kind of "refreshed" it. Three short stories (3x150), featuring Draco/Astoria, Luna/Rolf and George/Angelina.
FACES OF HAPPINESS
I. For Draco Malfoy happiness didn't have a color, because he was never truly happy. It was an abstract form of showing a stupid optimism in a way annoying everybody else. He preferred something real; pain, anger, hatred.
When he once thought he could be happy, life slapped him in the face and happiness fell out of his hands before he could even precise it, keep it. It hurt. It shouldn't.
He met Astoria Greengrass, younger than him about year, when he was knocking in a wall of school corridor around midnight. He was trying to get rid of that feeling of bitterness and losing something that he never had. Completely ignoring a fact that he's a Malfoy, she told him that he's an idiot, and playing a rebelled one like that is really stupid. He was looking then at her, thinking – happiness is red blood on your hands and sleeves.
…
II. Luna Lovegood knew that happiness – if it's got a color – is more likely a whole range of colors, where every single one has its own shade. Her joy wasn't constant – once it was blue sky at morning, then again green grass on a hill.
Happiness was ephemeral; she was looking for it, founding and losing, knowing it will back; good things always come back. Her mother told her that once.
Rolf Scamander never asked of she likes pancakes with syrup or with fruits, if nargles look like little dragons or funny cats. He was accompanying her during unexpected travels, helping in researches. After she received an award for the most promising young scientist, he kissed her in cheek, blushing, and when she asked if he believes in something he can't see, understand, he said 'yes'. That day she wrote in her journal – happiness became an air, because he was there.
…
III. George Weasley and happiness never had their paths crossed, not too much – what could surprise, but it was true. After Fred's death, joy disappeared and didn't come back, at least not as his brother's ginger hair and smile.
Feeling of joy is fragile; sometimes it's being mistaken, appears to be false, runs away, dies, borns in pain. Happiness circulates and often it's hard to believe it actually exists.
Angelina Johnson was in his life like one of several constants among hundreds of variables. Sometimes you don't even notice somebody; they just are, here, next to you, always. Shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, she told him that he reminds her of him too much. Some months passed before admitted they were so not alike. When you think you won't get over, a slow realization comes – you don't forget, you just move on. Finally, he said – happiness becomes just… life.