Just a little drabble I wrote a few nights ago ;)
Please read and review, especially if you favourite/alert!
She's ugly, she knows it.
The scars, they trail down from the left side of her face to the side of her throat. They're pink and white and red, weak and faded yet so angry; they're reminders of the few moments that Greyback was on her, a few moments too many. They're scars from the war, ghosts from her past, condemned to linger on her forever.
You know, once upon a time, she used to be pretty; she used to be wanted; she used to be normal. Boys admired her from a distance, her and her pale blue eyes and curly caramel hair. The boys, they loved her, they wanted her, they made her feel special.
But that was a long time ago, so long that it's a distant dreamland; nowadays, no one looks at her in the eye. They stare at her scars; they look away (politely); they avoid her entirely. To them, she'll always be the poor wolf girl, or so they say; but if they really cared, she thinks, they'd help her instead of offering their condolences.
And then he came along, just when she'd lost faith in happily-ever-afters, in the fact that she'd ever be loved again; him and his nimble artist's fingers, his caring brown eyes and soft black hair.
Him, he loves her, he says; he holds her as they dance, dries away her tears, gingerly kisses the scars on her throat. He makes her feel pretty and wanted and normal again, and that's what matters.
She smiles and throws her arms round him, and thinks that this, this is what it is like to be loved.