A/N: Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Round 10 for the Keeper. (mascot: Sirius Black, prompt: Write about your mascot's end of life)

Warning: AU, please don't tell me things happened another way in the actual series.

Fast

Pace.

It's in everything, everyone, everywhere. There's a reason it's equally and inextricably tied to the dawn of existence and the abyss of death itself.

There are people who's entire lives seem to be consumed by a single task, centred around a boring task that makes their days bleed into one boring blur.

And then there are the people who race through life, flying from one task to the next and soaring through people or places or both with supersonic speed.

Sirius Black was someone who fell in the second category, lorded over it even. There was little anybody could do except perhaps desperately wish for a 'pause' button that allowed them to witness Sirius function in normal speeds.

His thoughts were flames fed by the ideas they consumed hungrily, sending his brain into overdrive and his entire body into a frenzy. His hands rapped and feet tapped as a plan began to gain life within him. It was beyond impossible to see him grab a second's rest till he was done.

Sirius life ended just as fast as it had begun, and just as unexpectedly. One minute he was hugging his godson and wishing him goodbye, and the next minute he was gambolling as a huge black dog besides his very nervous godson on platform nine and three quarters. A fought broke out, wands were raised, curses thrown...and Sirius died. There was no prior warning, no indication of anything abnormal that was to come.

It was simple - he was alive one moment and dead the next, and it was all because Sirius Black was a man who lived fast, much too fast. But who's to say where the boundary lies between just too fast and fast enough?

They say that those who talkfastwalkfasteatfast also tend to die fast, but they are rather unpredictable and very biased, so Sirius never bothered believing in their unseen unheard often quoted pearls of wisdom.

He chose to make the best of the sweet taste of semi-freedom that was doled out to him after twelve agonisingly slow years and it wasn't wrong of him to want to make the best of it. Every single minute that his heart still beat on was dedicated to protecting and loving and caring for his godson, his only surviving family and it was cruel really to have his life snatched away too soon after he had just about gotten it back to begin with.

Pace.

It really is everything, for it takes over decisions and emotions and actions. It even manipulates and controls and changes. So maybe it is right to believe 'them' when they say that those who live fast, die fast. Maybe that's why someone as burdened with evil as Voldemort lived long, for he waited and watched and burned alive in his quest to live forever.

But Sirius, he lived each moment like they were his last, and so his last moment came too fast. He couldn't stay indoors and deprive himself of another hour with his godson, but he was now deprived of a lifetime.

Sirius should have stayed at home that day, the first of September. He could have. There really was no logical need for a man as wanted and misunderstood as he was to accompany the godson he was sure to spend Christmas with, concealed within the safe walls of his childhood home.

Shouldhavecouldhavewouldhave.

They're nothing but empty words spat out by those in vain, those in pain, those with absolutely nothing to lose or gain.

It's an absolute shame that an immensely brave heart was stopped by such a cowardly one, Harry thinks bitterly as the image of Lucius Malfoy killing his godfather haunts him in his daydreams and nightmares and lucid moments. But death is death is death, and there's no magic to cause a stopped heart to start beating again.

Harry had the hideous misfortune to witness the entire scene and his heart shatters into pieces as he watches the life stolen from Sirius with the merest flick of a wand. There's no duelling, no preamble to ease Harry into a world where the last dregs of his newfound family would be mercilessly seized from him before his very eyes. He spends every single moment after that longing to join his godfather on the other side, longing to finally experience his mother's love and hear his father's laugh and learn the true meaning of the word family.

But death isn't fair and doesn't treat everyone the same, and while some people's fates guarantee them a peaceful one way entry to the other side, some others are forced to live out their lives devoid of their loved ones as they've already been snatched by greedy old Death.

Harry doesn't return to Hogwarts for a month that year, for his brain has ceased to function effectively and does nothing save keep him barely alive and breaking. He and Remus bury Sirius beside James and Lily's graves, both crying bitterly and both afraid of admitting it.

Remus' scarred hands shook as he piled the last of the sand above his best friend's still body and his resolve turned to ashes.

"It'a awfully quiet, isn't it?"

Harry manages a grimace. "Awfully just about sums it up, yes."

For the first time in three years, Remus watches as a silvery tear rolls off the bridge of Harry's nose and lands on the heap of mud that forms Sirius' grave. His stomach clenches as more land to join the first and it takes less than a second for his eyes to mist over.

"I think," Harry manages to choke out. "I'd like to have something on his - " His voice breaks and he points a quivering hand instead to his late godfather's tombstone.

Remus nods in agreement. "You should be the one to write it, Harry. You meant everything to him, as did your parents." But Harry shakes his head in response.

"No, it should be you, Remus. After all, you're his best friend - and the last of the Marauderers -" here, his voice catches a little but he manages to complete his sentence. "You meant the world to him, too, Remus. Go on. I'm here, and I trust you."

Remus finally engraves an epitaph on his best friend's grave:

'Sirius Black. Brave Gryffindor, loyal friend and one who flirted with life and time as he flew alongside them as an equal.'