Sunday, June 11th || Evening
"Yes, bloody brilliant. Tell McGonagall we'll be happy with whatever."
The House Elf nodded and made a check on her list, then vanished with a pop.
Lupin shook his head and slumped at his desk, ashamed of himself. All the elf was trying to do was get preparations in order for the end-of-term feast. That was no reason to snap at her.
Particularly as he'd been purposely rather hard to get a hold of the past couple of days and she'd been forced to spend some time seeking him out, tonight of all nights.
Ever since "the little incident," he'd been sequestering himself almost. With the approach of the full moon, and all that it implied, Remus was doing a much worse job than usual in hiding how it affected him, worry driving the irritability to the surface.
One left. Then the summer. Summer will be better.