SONNET 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Her eyes have not sparkled in a great many years. The pain is not even attempting to hide behind the green orbs anymore. It has not for the longgest time.
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
Her lips are chapped and sickly looking as when they feel too dry she licks them as a child would.
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
The bruises left by the curses are ugly and greying and brownish and are splotched across her bosom. She doesn't even seem to have ever noticed her discolorated breasts and really just doesn't care anymore.
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
The dust settles on her hair every time she does her rare once a year manual dusting of the house. It turns her hair so dark and falls upon her red locks like metal fragments are attracted to a magnet. her hair, no matter how she tries to wash it clean, stays black for days and days after her cleaning spree.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
Her hair has begun to streak with gray among the naturally red strands of hair.
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
She does not blush anymore. It was something she would always do when she was younger. At least to the observations of some who knew her at that age.
And in some perfumes is there more delight
She does still smell of flowers and the scent is recognizable as the scent of the love potion Amortentia.
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
She has a love of onions and garlic and other smelly foods. Her breath smells like a deadly gas by the end of each day.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
She uses her voice to not be her...
She is the daughter who visited her father each day at St. Mungo's and was there with him when he died. She would speak in the way that she knew would make him feel happy and safe. When she walked into his hospital room she did not know what voice or, much worse, voices she would put on for him that day. She has been called by her own father "mum" and she spoke to him and she was her grandmother who had spoken to a younger her and her brothers when visiting her son and her daughter-in-law and her grandchildren. She has been called her own name by her father but only once or twice was she over the age of twelve in his eyes. She has been greeted by her dad by her mother's name...That was the only time she cried and left the room...she called up her mum and had her come straight over because dad needed his wife right now. She was not even her when she watched him die...she was a total stranger to him and he "was not supposed to talk to strangers"...she said that she had been sent by his mummy to be his "big boy" (not "baby") sitter... she watched him as he struggled to draw inside the lines of the most simple coloring book she had brought him...he was an old man with the mind of a six year old boy...but, like the 97 year old man he was his hands shook as he colored making it almost impossible for him to even get the crayon on the paper long enough to make a little line or even a dot, just a dot. He died when they were in the hospital garden that same day and she let got of his hand for one second and took some plants he reckognized from "mummy's garden" as stuff that he was not supposed to get near. So he ate the parts of the plants that he took. He showed signs of hysteria almost immediatly after ingesting the plants, as well as painful boils on his hands and around and in his mouth as well as down into his stomach, he died in Her arms as she screemed "Daddy, Daddy, I love you, please don't go, Daddy..."
She uses her voice to deny her and her family their rites to grieve...
She was dressed in black and sitting straight and unmoving, just staring at the casket. And then she heard a sob from someone who she had only just recently heard even cry or talk with a hopelessness in his voice. She then stood and walked up to where her father was crying as he tried to get the words of his speach in between his tears. She looked straight at her father, She took a deap breath and cut him off with a simple smile accompanied by these words "Dad, I was just wondering, how do we really know that the body in there is actually Fred's? I mean, that could be George in there. And don't go telling me that George doesn't have one of his ears and that fred did-I mean-does! This is most likely that last laugh, their last switcharoo!" everyone was completely silent and then the living young man missing an ear who discounting those two major differences could have been the same young man that was in the casket. he did some deep breathing before saying, "Ya' know what? I bet that that's what's really going on here! So, I'm Fred and dead one's George! Oh brother dearest this time you even caught ME off gaurd!" Than he smiled and said "come on let's go back to the joke shop and have a Funeral that corpse face over there will never forgive me for not proping him up in at his desk and giving him a glass of fire whiskey of his own...Wait mum that actually might not be a bad idea can-" "NO!"
She uses her voice to tell stories...
She reads each night to her daughter. And uses different voices.
She uses her voice to bring peace...
Her sons will never stop fighting for their dad, only their mum screaming "STOP YOUR BICKERING!" breaks up their tussels.
After talking to him about how she had been trying to comunicate with these two spirits at the moment as she had to ask them a question concerning their kid being taken even farther away from them then death takes someone. She uses her voice to say what her husband couldn't get the courage to say first:
"Harry James Potter, Would you marry me and make me the happiest woman in the world?"
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
She sings way off tune and cannot play any instrument but sings her heart out as she does the domestic tasks as if she was a muggle just to get her mind off other stuff that she thinks about when she is all alone and when she has nothing to keep her mind occupied. She said once that her singing scares away and drowns out bad thoughts.
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
She has adult acne which is still a problem for her and her teeth are undoubtedly English. She has had three kids and it has done a number on her figure.
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
She is so loud when she moves about that she can't even get out of bed silently to make special birthday breakfast in bed without the rest of the house, including, the birthday kid, getting out of bed and coming downstairs to eat breakfast at the table where she uses a dish towel to drive the birthday kid or man back in bed so thet the breakfast in bed will be real.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
I had never said these words to anyone before in my life before her
As any she belied with false compare
"I LOVE YOU!"
I love you Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter