"Why the long face?" You curled up on the common room couch with Sirius, leaning your head against his shoulder. He let out a breath and showed you a painting of a strict looking woman and her two dashing sons. One, wearing a Gryffindor tie, had light grey eyes, and you assumed it was Sirius. The other was smaller in stature, and had warm brown ones. The mother's eyes weren't even pictured, just her crimson, unsmiling lips. No one was talking. The boys' eyes darted about, and the woman would sigh every so often. No one looked happy. The two sons had sadness in their gaze. The mother was decked out in finery.
"Is that you and Regulus?" You asked Sirius softly.
He nodded.
"And mother," he added quietly.
You stared sadly at his forlorn face and wrapped him in a hug.
"She told me I was scum. That I was worthless," his voice cracked, muffled by your sweater.
You felt your heart break for him.
"I don't think you're worthless," you whispered reassuringly.
"You don't?" He asked.
"Not at all."