Drabble: an extremely short work of fiction of exactly one hundred words in length.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the HP series-it belongs to The Queen.
Sirius was sitting with his head buried in his arms.
James pressed his fingertips together. He fidgeted. He coughed.
Sirius didn't look up.
They sat like that for a while.
Finally, James plucked up the courage to tap his depressed friend's shoulder. "So, do you want to talk about it, or..."
Padfoot's head whipped up. "You died," he growled, "while fighting Lord freaking Voldemort. But I died by falling through curtains. NO. I do NOT want to talk about it."
James stifled a smile. "As you wish, mate."
He groaned. "I can't believe my luck," he muttered under his breath, "Death by draperies..."
R.I.P. Prongs and Padfoot.