Hugo was the boy who spun
Great webs of stories, all in good fun.
Never tapestries of thread
That alone would never keep him fed.
Silver, brass and copper.
Occasionally bright gold.
Perfection was never the goal, see?
Richness of language so new.
Though sadly, tragically.
When Saint Valentine's Day came at last,
He fell below his morals…
He would sell his talents for a price.
("Weasley! I need your help."
"With what? It's not exam time I know that. I know you bullied a Firstie to iron your pants and starch your socks. Oh, do you need spelling help again?"
"Enough with the lip. I need the usual, the Valentine's deal."
"Not so loud! Last year was a mess!"
"Yeah, I heard about the parakeet thing, but I hear you made a killing."
"Forty Galleons to be precise."
"Want to make some more?"
"… A Galleon a session, same as last year. If you don't wish to dictate anything I can come up with something based on a description of the girl or boy in question."
"Get your quill Weasley. It's still anonymous right?"
"Why would I change that now? That would make no sense."
"I never know when somebody will turn into a gossip."
"That's insulting. The only one who will know is the owl who sends the message. And me, and who would listen to me?")
Eyes like the ocean morn,
Graceful as a bird in flight.
Pretty, rose-red cheeks.
Flaming red sunset,
Bloody mouth when we talk again.
With a busted nose.
("Merlin Dom, that's kind of violent!"
"I'm getting better at this.
Now I can make threats in verse.
I wish to show off."
"Not until Tuesday.")
"Hugo, I hear you are running some kind of business?"
"I'm in the love poetry business for the next 72 hours, do you need my services?"
"… Well… Maybe…"
"As long as it's not for my sister, I won't have a problem!")
Lips like a rose petals,
Deserving of a kiss.
Hair like bird nests,
A tangled and wild mess.
Mind like a steal trap,
Sharp as a new tack.
Bright as a shining star,
Glimmering like glass.
("Hugo, I need a response for this. You're the creative one, here read it, and this looks up your alley."
"Why aren't you saying anything? Isn't it ghastly? I can't stop blushing though. Oh, what do I do, with exams and everything, I can't handle romance right now. Your eye is twitching, maybe you should get that checked out."
"Rose, you are my favorite sister, meaning you qualify for the 'Favorite Sister Discount!' If you let me handle this completely, you don't have to pay me."
"Oh, that is marvelous! You are a wonderful brother. I would love to stay and talk, but I told Scorpius that I would meet him by the lake for a Herbology project. You should get that eye checked, I think you're to young to be developing a nervous twitch.")
Your wit is lacking.
You deserve a swift kick.
Or to be attacked
By two wild Griffons.
With very sharp claws.
Best dwell on that, for now.
'Tis best for your health!
("Hugo, I need a favor."
"What do you need, Ollie?"
"I need the Valentine's Day special. Sort of. I need you to write while I dictate."
"Sure, That's kind of what I do actually… Do you have the money?"
"You get it when were done and an extra for your silence."
"I should warn you, I'm not poet."
"It does not have to rhyme."
"Alright, here goes.")
Have I told you lately,
About your beautiful eyes?
They sparkle with knowledge,
A light so bright.
You leave me mesmerized,
With each cut of your razor tongue,
Upon your foes.
I feel so inspired.
You say you can't dance,
But you dance when you duel.
Your eyes blaze with knowing
Of your skill and power.
That was sweet Ollie.
("How did she know it was me? Hugo, did you say anything?"
"No, if it sounded like you when she read it, I can't help you. Besides, you could not stop smiling when she got the owl. You don't get a refund either."
"I'm still in one piece? Think I have a chance?"
"That's my cousin… As both a family member and a male, I don't feel comfortable answering that question.")
Your voice is a sweet melody,
Soft like a songbird.
Each laugh makes my heart leap so high,
Your smile warms my chest.
I know we do not get along,
But maybe we could?
Perhaps we could set a date, please?
I think you're pretty.
These were hard to obtain my dear.
Are against every school rule, sweet.
We could light them over the lake?
("Hugo, what is this? I would never say anything this sappy!"
"You said you wanted a romantic poem for the Harper girl, and that's what I gave you!
"I wanted to ask her out, not turn her to goop! I never said anything about romantic poetry. Besides, you sound like you swallowed a Harlequin novel!
"I-I do not!"
"Yeah, you do."
"… How would you know what a Harlequin novel sounds like James?"
"What's to figure out? They're something women lose their minds over."
"They're porn, James. Housewife, mummy porn… Yeah, quiet now aren't you?"
"I'm trying to forget about you saying… that whole sentence. Therapy was an all time low. Meaning something I don't care to repeat."
"You were in therapy? What did you end up in therapy for?")
How deep will you sink?
What do you think?
I do love the fireworks,
Let me make that clear.
I went to your dorm,
To thank you in person…
But I dropped them, in good form.
They rolled under your bed…
And the fuse somehow got lit.
Sorry for your socks.
"I tried to tell you James, you just gave her literal ammunition."
"There's no need to rub it Fred."
"Yeah, there is. It was a stupid decision."
"It was kind of hot though…"
"What's left of your socks agrees with you…")
Hugo was a weaver and spinner,
He lied with his words,
Until the last inkwell was bone dry.
Each word had value.
(He hated Valentines Week.)
This was just weird…
Therapy, All Time Low.