My cousin was blamed for murder

My cousin was blamed for murder. I'm sure you've all heard of him; Sirius Black, murderer of thirteen people with one curse and betrayer of his best friends. Not so many people know the real truth about Sirius, though, but I wish they did.

Sirius was always in high spirits. He always remained optimistic when we were all feeling down in the soles of shoes. He avoided mentioning the darkness looming ahead of us, though we all knew the thought of it saddened it. But he never showed it.

All he wanted was to be free. To be allowed to walk amidst the streets of London and not fear being recognized, to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies and view the latest broom model, to go and have a shot of firewhisky at The Leaky Cauldron. Was it so hard to grant a man such a small favor?

All the while I was thinking that when the war was over, surely the Death Eaters would get caught, and with the proof that Pettigrew was alive, Sirius could be rightly claimed innocent. Never did it occur to me that he might not live until then.

I take a swig of butterbeer and set it back on the table, pondering. Is that all there is to life? Trying to save the lives of millions of people and stand up for what's right, but at the same time risking your own life? And maybe even losing it?

Is it worth it?

Seeing Sirius take the blow of the curse to the chest, to see him get sucked into the veil, and Harry, who loved him most, screaming in agony, is it worth all this just to save people?

I wonder what Sirius was thinking in his last moments. Was this how he wanted to die? Didn't he want to live a long, happy life, have a chance to go out and breathe some fresh air? Wasn't he scared?

It only takes one death, I suppose, to make me realize what it is I'm really doing. I'm not just stopping Death Eaters and the like. I'm fighting to stop things like this from happening. Things like Sirius' death, and Pettigrew's decision for his life, and Lily and James, and all of those people whose lives have been ruined. It's to stop the pain.

But it also only takes one death to realize how dangerous this is. I've never been a very graceful or nimble person, and I don't always watch where I'm going. Clumsy me, tripping over things and blowing my (or our) cover. It happens to me on a daily business. And lord knows it wouldn't be helpful in battle. Honestly, I need lessons in not being clumsy.

Sirius was never clumsy.

I sigh and nurse the bottle in my hand. Though Sirius and I had never spent any time together before my recent joining to the order, what with he being many years older than I and his untimely exile to Azkaban, we became extremely close in the year or so that we'd had together. We were great friends, and I miss him terribly. He was the only person I could confide in without worrying about him laughing or going off to tell everyone. I think all those years trapped inside his own head taught him that.

My reflection flashes in the bottle of butterbeer. My hair has gone lank and dull and my face appears rather pale and drawn in. It seems that my mood affects my appearance a lot more nowadays, and for some reason, I can't even change it. God, I look disgusting.

There are quiet voices approaching the front door of the Burrow. I keep my hand close to my wand, hidden in my pocket, as Molly apprehensively advances towards the door. It's been a routine, for the past many weeks, for everyone to check who's at the door before opening it. Personally, I think it's rather pointless, but they insist upon it.

Anyways, it's Harry and Dumbledore, thankfully. But… I really don't want to be around people right now. When I'm in one of these thinking moods, I tend to space out and everyone thinks I'm totally depressed. Which might be true, but I'd like to avoid the conversation. So I politely (or at least remotely polite, I think) excuse myself and Apparate away to my dinky little flat.

It's pretty late, so I'm going to head off to bed. There's an order meeting early tomorrow, and god knows if I don't get enough sleep I'll start snoring smack in the middle of one of Moody's talks. Highly embarrassing, no thank you. My bed looks very comfy. I crash onto it without changing into pajamas and fall asleep. And start snoring. Lovely.

Author's Note: I know, I know, it's short… But it's quality, not quantity, correct? Yes. Anyways, please please please review!!