For the Fanfiction Tournament- October Round 2.

Also for the Character Diversity Boot Camp Challenge with the prompt: star

They named him after the brightest star in the sky; Orion's Dog and heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. They trained him in the proper pureblooded ways and they were convinced that he was their greatest achievement. And they all thought he'd grow up to be proud and aristocratic and everything a Black ought to be.

But they were so very wrong.

He was black all right; the black sheep of the family, who preferred Gryffindor red to Slytherin green. No one went in his room so they would not be subject to the Muggle filth he hung up on the walls. They were covered in pictures that didn't move and contraptions called motorcycles. And then there was that banner with that hideous lion where a serpent should be, staring smugly down at them all.

They were constantly reminded of what a disgrace he was even when he was gone away to school. He was the bane of prefects' existence and he had partners in crime. Owl upon owl would arrive from Hogwarts informing his parents of detentions and mischief. And no amount of shaming could prevent him from bringing home blood traitors with strange names like Moontail. What was a moontail?

Walburga always wrung her hands and wondered what she'd done wrong. And he always grinned cheekily at her and said she just didn't understand. All she could do was agree with him and march up the stairs in a huff, screaming obscenities because she never had the nerve to do much else. And when Orion was home, Sirius was smart enough to be somewhere else.

When he left home for good, he was no longer the son of a Black and he was definitely not the brightest star in their sky. He was merely the largest hole in a tapestry and he was perfectly all right with that.

Strange then, that it was the first thing he found when he came back years later.

When he first came into the house and heard his mother's portrait screeching, he couldn't help but laugh bitterly that things never did change. He felt his feet walk the familiar path through the house and he marveled at how it was like going through the motions. It had been over a decade, but it didn't feel like it at all.

He resisted the urge to kick Kreacher out of the way as he walked purposefully up the staircase. The house elf heads seemed to watch him from the wall and he imagined what they would say if they could talk. They would probably wonder what the son-who-was-no-longer-a-Black was doing there. That's certainly what he was thinking.

One would think he would head straight for his bedroom like he did when he was a teenager. But he didn't need to seek refuge there anymore. Instead he sought out the dusty room down the hall and came to stand before the old tapestry that was permanently stuck to the wall. He smiled at it in grim satisfaction and traced the place where his name used to be with his fingers. Then he drew imaginary lines connecting the burnt holes that littered the tapestry, imagining a new constellation they could make all their own.

Sirius, Andromeda, Alphard... He smiled fondly at them all, thankful that there was some sanity left in his twisted, dysfunctional family. He took comfort in the fact that at least he was in good company.

Because their name was Black, but they could still bleed red like everyone else.