Can you read this too? God, you're so fucking sexy, you make my bones ache, and I just want to crawl inside your clothes and live there forever. Can I be your pants, please?
I don't care about my marks anymore. I'm going to be a clown in a circus. A whiteface clown, you know the one. Would you still love me if I was a whiteface clown?
[private to Kevin]thepuceyJune 9 2004, 18:54:21 UTC
Yes I can and you are coming to my dorm tonight after dinner and we can see about making all your wishes come true.
Yes, I'd still love you, if you can put up with a Quidditch jock I can put up with a clown, but you know, I am just going to make you study harder now (in-between shagging of course).
[Private to Pucey]mcgonagall_catJune 9 2004, 19:45:22 UTC
My felicitations, Mr Pucey.
Revise. That is not an option. My suggestion -- which is not an order, of course, as you're of age -- is one half hour practice to every three hours revision.
[Private to Professor McGonagall]thepuceyJune 9 2004, 19:54:33 UTC
Thank you Professor, will try to stay focused do want to make you proud after all. If I make it on a team, you'll have to come see me play, you know, if you wanted.
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That's amazing - well done, you! I'm jealous, really.
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And I will, you know me though, never been much of a studier.
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You, I reckon.
Love you back.
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Study me, eh? Guess that will work, long as I can return the favour. And I demand some real study as well, want you to get brilliant marks.
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I don't care about my marks anymore. I'm going to be a clown in a circus. A whiteface clown, you know the one. Would you still love me if I was a whiteface clown?
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Yes, I'd still love you, if you can put up with a Quidditch jock I can put up with a clown, but you know, I am just going to make you study harder now (in-between shagging of course).
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Revise. That is not an option. My suggestion -- which is not an order, of course, as you're of age -- is one half hour practice to every three hours revision.
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As there are few people about whom I can say that truthfully, I suggest you believe me and commence the crossing of fingers.
Celebratory drinks on me when you find out, of course.
Don't flunk your N.E.W.T.S., Pucey.
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