Imagine being Sirius' past lover. Although the two of you never married, he still added you to the family tree.
”My mother did that after I ran away.” Sirius pointed to the burn on the wall. ”After I came back for The Order, I redecorated a bit.”
His finger pointed next to the black spot. There was a wonky tree branch drawn in white paint. It connected the leftovers of Sirius’ portrait with a taped-on photograph. In the picture, there was a woman possibly in her mid or late twenties. She had a buzzcut, plenty of jewelry in her ears, and a remarkably youthful face. From underneath her white shirt and a bit too big leather jacket, emerged jet black tattoos, leaving only her face spotless. The woman was laughing about something and talking to someone who must’ve been behind the camera. Underneath the picture was a shabby handwriting spelling ”(Y/N)”.