┌───── ･☆☽･ ─────┐ 𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝟙 𝟡 𝟡 𝟝 ━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━ "people are always so quick to judge, without truly understanding"
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Sirius walked across the room, where the tapestry Kreacher had been trying to protect hung the length of the wall. Sirius placed a hand on Rosalie's shoulder watching as she glanced around the room.
Harry appeared at the door, intrigued by the sight of Sirius and Rosalie. Sirius simply gestured for Harry to enter the room.
The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though doxies had gnawed it in places; nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back to the Middle Ages.
Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black "Toujours Pur"
Both Harry and Rosalie's eyes scanned the tapestry intensely, searching each and every face that was embroidered across the tapestry and the golden threaded connections that came off them.
"You're not on here!" Rosalie breathed turning around to face Sirius, after scanning the bottom half of the tree.
"I used to be there," Sirius said, pointing at a small, round, charred hole in the tapestry, rather like a cigarette burn.
"My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home — Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath." Sirius remarked letting out a sigh, he really did hate that House Elf.
"You ran away from home?" Harry asked in slight shock. Rosalie nodded, sending Sirius a comforting glance. He'd told her the story the week she stayed at her Aunt Margaret's and she knew it had hurt him to relive it for her even if he pretended not to show it.
"When I was about sixteen," Sirius remarked, watching as Rosalie leaned into him supportively. "I'd had enough."
"Where did you go?" Harry questioned, staring at him as he embraced Rosalie tightly. Why was Rosalie suddenly close with Sirius as well?
"Your dad's place," Sirius said softly, reminiscing his time with James. "Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad's during the school holidays, and then when I was seventeen I got a place of my own, my Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold — he's been wiped off here too, that's probably why — anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr. and Mrs. Potter's for Sunday lunch, though."
