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.
