One Year
Hugo/Lily – Seasons
For: Connect the Weasleys challenge
Don't own anything
Summer
You go to the shops to find your style.
A pink maxi dress, golden sunglasses and curled hair?
That'll do.
You rock up at Hugo's.
He's got a party for you tonight.
You meet a boy for the summer.
Tell him you love him for three months.
Get screwed.
And break up on the last day of the season.
And Hugo watches, participating in the parties.
He tells you to stop.
You tell him no.
It's way too much fun.
Autumn
Another guy comes round.
A pizza delivery one.
He's a muggle, but what do you care?
You play in the leaves like you did when you were little.
Hugo tells you not to.
He says you'll get hurt.
You laugh now.
And, his copper hair rippling, he shakes his head and walk away.
You don't know it's because you're his favourite cousin.
You don't know it's because he wants you to be happy.
You don't know it's because he doesn't want you to die.
And you play in the leaves.
Watch them swirl, multi-coloured, just like you.
Maybe you're going crazy, something says.
Maybe he was right.
Winter
It's colder now.
A warm black coat suits your needs.
Hugo drops you off.
"Is this the place?"
It is.
The snow is falling and you hurry inside.
Another man's house, a Christmas gift.
Hugo calls out to you, all through the snow.
"Be careful."
You shrug it off.
He's ruining your Christmas Eve.
While he eats turkey with his family you're having the real fun.
Spring
Things are born in spring.
It's true.
But not a good thing.
A bad thing.
Hugo's gone to Australia.
Living with his grandparents.
You never really paid attention to him as the seasons went by.
But now you miss him.
His blue eyes were like the spring sky.
And his red hair the colour of the blazing sun.
That's all gone now.
A baby is born in the late spring.
One of your mementos.
Keep-sakes from the men.
And you name him Hugo to say thank you.
Thank you, you say, for driving me from place to place.
Thank you for trying to save me.
I'm sorry it's too late now.
Later
And the seasons past, four, eight, twelve, sixteen and more of them all pass until you see your son off to Hogwarts.
Hugo's faded with the long ago summer maxi dress; a distant memory, something forgotten, like a box misplaced that has never been opened again.
But he turns up.
He bids goodbye to the boy who shares his name.
His smile is overwhelming.
It's the same color of the shopping center and the Autumn leaves and the falling snow and the tiny buds of hope that bloom in the Spring.
You understand now.