Its is known that most of the Pure-blood wizarding families are related through the marriages of their young witch(s) or wizard(s) with another Pure-blood wizarding family or by marrying their cousins to keep their bloodline pure.
Marriage with cou...
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"Sirius! Come on boy. Hurry up!"
Sirius Black sighed, brushing his hair, for nth time on the evening before his return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for his fourth year in that school. That school, which has become more of a home—after Potter Manor—than 12 Grimmauld Place has ever been.
Home- which is what he is to call Grimmauld Place. His stay had, very much, been fun in the Grimmauld Place all these years. His parents house is nothing but a mere shelter which had once been his home. That was, up until his first year. The year where lot's of promises were broken alongside his naive, mischievous heart. His innocence that was once seen as a charming attitude, was torn apart as though it was just a piece of parchment. Source to his so called family.
The family he was once upon a time proud to be born in. The family he had thought would always back him in any situation. The family he believed had loved him in their own way. His belief was as well torn apart as though a piece of parchment on his first year's Christmas break. The Christmas break for which he was both excited and nervous.
Excited to be able to celebrate the festive occasion with his cousins and his brother. To, especially, unfold all of his tales and adventures of him and his friends to Merry and Reggie. Nervous to face what was in store to him from his family. Although everything was as calm as sea and normal as it seemed to be when he got down from the Hogwarts Express. Whenhe had spotted his family all in their The Black glory—Sneering at every faces that turned to take a sneak-peak at them.
He remembered that afternoon on platform 9 and ¾.
Donned in black and dark maroon suit and robes was his father, Orion Black. His thin moustache on his grim face twitching ever so often because of the prominent sneer on his lips. Eyes; steel grey, as cold as ever, sweeping across the sea of witches and wizards and muggles. The same color both he and Regulus had inherited from him. And then there was his mother fitted in silver gown and a black fur cloak draped on her shoulder. Nose up in the air. Hair set as tight as ever into an elegant bun. Lips set in a firm line. Her familiar light grey eyes narrowed.
No sooner did he step on the platform, did all the three pairs of grey eyes meet. A chill ran down in his spine when he saw his parents hurrying towards him, pushing past anyone and everyone that came in their path, like a hurricane. Everything was a blur from then on. To his parents getting hold on his wrist, dragging him towards the exit and appariting to the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place.
That evening was an absolute nightmare.
A nightmare that only lead for him to uncover that there is nothing such as being affectionate in the family he was born in. Neither from his parents nor from the distant family or from the other acquaintance he had made during the gatherings, who deemed to be his best friends then.
