Hello, all. I'm expecting this to be a few chapters long. It will be based around the five senses...and it might seem a little out-there to some of you. Anyway, give it a chance. Please read/review. Your feedback is much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or it's characters.

I had decided that I didn't like my looks long before I turned that age when I should start caring. I had known from an early age that I was not gifted with beauty; my boy cousins frequently told me so when we were younger. They weren't being mean, they were being truthful, and everybody knows that children don't have filters. Everybody also knows (or at least tells me) that I am destined for great things and it doesn't matter what I look like, or at least it shouldn't.

My lack of aesthetics never really bothered me until I turned sixteen. I never had problems talking to guys and I had friends who were girls, too, and they never judged. I just figured that everybody liked me for what was inside…and I was always told growing up that if anybody was interested in me. My hair is supposed to be auburn, a sad mix of red and brown that just sort of looks awkward on me. It's also curly and if I took the time to manage it I'm sure I could make it look decent. My complexion isn't bad but I was gifted with my father's freckles and I'm not fat but I definitely don't have a model figure. Overall, I look pretty plain.

The only problem I had with myself was that I didn't have noticeable eyes. Through my deductions I concluded that even truly ugly people could be considered gorgeous or handsome if they had a nice pair of eyes.

Technically, I inherited my mother's eye color: Brown; The color of chocolate frogs, my broomstick, my cat's fur and the cover of my favorite book. Also the color of mud, bludgers and Filch's Polyjuice potion. I found out the last bit in a nasty potion experiment gone wrong in my third year. I hate the color of my eyes like I hate my dad's everlasting obsession with the Chudley Cannons or my brother's obsession with getting higher marks than me, even though he is two years younger.

It's not even that my eyes are brown, it's that even though my mother has brown eyes, they're almost inhumanely beautiful. Her eyes aren't even called brown, they're called "chocolate" by most everybody who meets her. Like, really? Even if her eyes were just brown, they would still have the ability to light up any room and capture everybody's attention. I must have missed the brown/chocolate eye memo.

Dad and Hugo lucked out. They have blue eyes which are of course by default considered great no matter what shade or shape. Dad has mischievous eyes, strained by time but kept young by his sense of humor. His eyes have always been comforting to me, like when I was five and broke mom's favorite vase and he tried, with great difficulty, to charm it back together. In his eyes I have never seen anger or judgment, only love. Hugo's eyes are the exact same shade as dad's except they still hold some innocence that make them seem more like a vast ocean filled with questions instead of irises and pupils and corneas.

Of course, I shouldn't even bother pondering about eyes unless I mention Uncle Harry, who has everybody beat. Nothing can compare with green, the color of grass, my favorite Quidditch Team (The Kenmare Kestrels) and my birthstone….but also the color of Slytherin, really gross bogies and really tart apples. Even so, Uncle Harry had the most interesting eyes I have ever seen. I've been told that they are an exact replica of Great Aunt Lily's, so she must have been a very pretty woman. I imagine that she looked similar to my cousin, Lily. In Uncle Harry's eyes a lot of pain is evident, but there's also a lot of love in there, too. Who knew that eyes could hold such emotion? Uncle Harry's eyes even have history.

What brings about my rant on eyes? That would be none other than the bane of my existence, the top of my class, the cruelest of them all: Scorpius Malfoy. Even Scorpius, who is the ugliest (at least on the inside) person that I know, has the most wonderful silver eyes.

Silver…the color of sickles, jewelry, nice muggle cars and is often found around the outside of clouds. What upsets me most is that Scorpius knows that he's good looking. He frequently "struts", "saunters" and "glides" through the corridors of Hogwarts without giving a second thought about anybody else or their feelings. Frankly, it infuriates me. Whenever he looks me straight in the eye, though, I know I'm in trouble because his eyes are, sadly, my biggest weakness.

Then that leaves me angry…because up until now I never even cared about my eye color or anything having to do with features in general. I never cared or even noticed anybody's eyes until I actually looked at his. Now, I can't stop thinking about his eyes or what he thinks when he looks in mine…Mine are like brown puddles filled with nothing.