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❛ our souls have conversations words could never describe. ❜
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The rest of the day went by like a flash; practicing Steelclaw spell in Transfiguration, listening to Binns about the famous and historical wizard duels (Ray and I fell asleep halfway through, knowing Juliet would take notes for us), collecting manures from a Sneezewort in Herbology.
All I wanted to do was pass out on my comfortable four poster bed but well, Slughorn had other plans for me.
So at sharply five o'clock, I begrudgingly bid goodbye to my two friends and walked towards Slughorn's office. Surprise, surprise, Sirius Black was late.
I sat down on one of the chairs and waited. He came bursting in through the doors after ten minutes, looking crestfallen.
"Sorry— sorry, I am late," he panted.
"No matter, Mr. Black," said Slughorn. "Now, you and Miss Larson here need to clear out the rotten ingredients in the school cupboard. Search through all these jars and remove the wasted daisy root from the good ones and such. Use no magic! I need to go to Dumbledore's office, I'll see you both after an hour."
"Yes, sir," Sirius and I chorused. Slughorn left the office and closed the door behind him.
I quickly went over to the shelves and started to pick the jars and placed them on the table when I noticed Sirius looking down at the ground, as though he was asking the ground to swallow him whole.
"Black," I announced, snapping him out of his reverie. "Get to work, I am not doing all of this alone."
"Right," said Sirius simply as he hurried over to me. That was odd, the Sirius Black I knew would've retorted something back. That was what got us both in detention in the first place.
"You can sort out the jars on the bottom shelf while I do the top," I said. Again, Sirius said nothing but nodded.
Without another word, he got on his knees and started clearing out the jars while I went back to my part.
There was an awkward yet peaceful silence between us as we worked. I was hundred percent sure he would say something snarky, then I would snap, and boom we'd end up in another detention. But that Gryffindor was not even looking up at me. His face looked tired and flushed, as though he hadn't slept for a week and was crying.
After thirty minutes, I broke the silence.
"Do you know when Potter's calling trials? I need to book the pitch accordingly."
"Thursday."
"Right. I know the Hufflepuffs are doing Wednesday. . . You wouldn't possibly know when Davies has booked it, would you?"
