Dressing, Harry/Sirius, ~250 words.
Blue. Yes, he and Sirius would both wear blue, rather than the more traditional colour. Harry was being allowed to make all the decisions; blue felt right.
Formal robes, of course, but that didn't mean they had to be excruciatingly adherent to wizarding guidelines. Sirius would have the pocketwatch in his waistcoat, the non-magical one Harry had given him two Christmases ago, the one he'd exclaimed over ("Look at all the tiny wheels! Inventive blokes, those Muggles, even if it only tells the time") and vowed he'd carry always. In exchange Harry would have a fragment of Sirius's mirror on him, the largest piece that had been left after it had shattered, polished and set in a tiny frame.
And he wanted Sirius to have something of his, something not given as a gift, but lent, like a promise that it would be kept safe for him, always. He wanted it to be his wand, but that would have been foolish, so instead he had chosen the miniature Hungarian Horntail he'd pulled from the sack in the Triwizarding Tournament. Sirius had been so proud of him, defeating the dragon on his own in the first task.
And the ring, of course. Harry was already wearing his.
He lifted Sirius's left hand, slid the circle of gold onto Sirius's fourth finger. Bent, and kissed Sirius on the lips.
He straightened. Moved to the door on legs that seemed not his own and opened it. The attendants were waiting, hands folded.
"You can take him now," he said.