Granger has the plainest brown and ugly eyes

They remind me of that mud back in the yard at home

After a heavy rain.

But they – her eyes, not the mud-have the tendency of shining

When ever she starts reading something she loves

Granger's hair, if that's what you call it,

Is like a bunch of crows nest

Tide together

They look like it might strangle some poor creature

That has the unfortunate fate to walk in to it

I still don't understand how it smells good

And how come it's soft

When once she walked past me close by.

Granger has a mouth that

Talks, talks, talks, talks

Rants, rants, rants, rants

Quote, quote, quote

And generally that NEVER shuts up

But its weird that her infectious laugh

And her beaming smile

Come from the same lips

That never seems to stay closed…

Literally, even in her sleep

Granger has wild hands

Which she waves them around when she talks

As if she's swatting flies nearby.

Those maddening hands that shoot up every time in class

At every freaking question asked,

Or even to comment on something no one cares about

The same hands which once had the nerve

To slap my face

And leave a mark on my cheek

And on my pride

But they still have that little current

Which passes through from her hands to mine

Whenever they accidentally brush

Granger's face is peppered with freckles

Not as much as Weasley

But still enough

Her face has no hint of make up

Cause she doesn't give a damn about how unpleasant she looks

Her brows are furry and worsens, when she frowns

Her button nose is always in the air

Her cheeks are boringly pale

Except when she blushes

She doesn't need make up then

Because I find that kinda cute

But despite all that

I can't help think

How Weasley could be attracted to her,

When she's plain ugly.