A/N: Lately, thanks to "Noldo" (a thoroughly brilliant Marauder era writer) I've ben on something of a Marauder binge. And I just had to try my hand at this. Really, it's some rambling that I tried to form into a coherent oneshot. Tell me how I did!
"Ever day's a tragedy." Sirius had proclaimed one night, sitting in front of the Gryffindor common room fire. His best friend turned to him and laughed, but there was unease buried there.
"You're so optimistic." He'd observed in a lazy, sarcastic tone, but hidden under the laziness was urgency.
"Don't be so morbid Sirius." Lily said, but her eyes snapped and her mouth was worried.
Sirius shrugged, and only his laziness was actually real. "But every moment's a comedy." He amended, to placate Lily.
The world was crashing down around their ears. Death soared around their heads and hovered by their shoulders. Sirius glanced at his best friend and frowned, because he knew that no one was safe.
Years later Sirius Black fell.
Fell did not do it justice, really. He floated downwards, he arched gracefully towards doom. He was surprised perhaps. But he was not resigned. Resigned was never the word for Sirius. He knew he was going to die. But his eyes swept the room and took in everything and resignation did not even flicker in his face.
The way he died did not seem like him. He didn't make a sound.
The thin material of the veil barely even swished, and Sirius hardly had time for a grunt of surprise. Mutely, the veil moved and the world didn't even stop to acknowledge the fact that Sirius Black no longer inhabited it.
Later there would be newspaper stories and public apologies from the Ministry (well, that was much later, after Voldemort's defeat) and grieving friends. But at the moment of his death, the world kept spinning.
Every day's a tragedy.
Every moment's a comedy.
And for every Sirius Black there are ten Peter Pettigrew's, and twenty Bellatrix Lestrange's, but Sirius never cared.
Because that was how he viewed the world.
Every day was a tragedy.
But every moment was a comedy.
Sirius knew that at the end of the day tragedy would crash down, with green light and high, cold voices and ruined homes. But in the moments between sunrise and sunset, there was always something to laugh about.
And he laughed.
Sirius Black might have been just a little bit mad.
A/N: Let me know what you thought of it please!