When: Saturday, round three or so.
Where: Remus' office.
Rating: Probably PG-13ish? Harry's likely to swear a bit. XD
Summary: Tea. Chatting. That sort of thing.
It was mid-afternoon, well after lunch but with plenty of time before dinner; the rest of the school was studying or Pribbling or getting in some last-minute practise for the Quidditch try-outs tomorrow, but Harry Potter found himself standing silently outside of Remus' office. His hand was resting on the doorknob, poised and ready for twisting, but it did not move. He hesitated. He hesitated for five solid minutes. To be honest, Harry wasn't especially keen to see Remus just now, because he knew what was coming. Remus wanted to talk about Harry's fight with Ron and the Pribbler entry that caused it and - ultimately - about Sirius.
Harry didn't want to talk about it at all. Talking about it kept it real and present and painful, and Harry just wanted it to all go away. He wanted to lock his grief in a little box and hide it at the bottom of his trunk so he'd never have to look at it again. He didn't want to torture himself with the obsessive-compulsive thoughts that were sure to cloud his brain like they had over the summer; the images of the Ministry Battle, of Sirius' death, of his corpse decomposing in the dank bowels of the Ministry of Magic. The last of the noble house of Black was reduced to food for the maggots. Soon, all that would be left of Harry's godfather would be a pile of dust and moth-eaten rags. He could barely stop himself from gagging at the thought.
He breathed. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Harry couldn't stand in the hallway forever. He had to face Remus. He'd made a commitment, and he was not the type to chicken out. He was not accustomed to disappointing people. He opened the door.