Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, Sirius Black would be still alive.
Assumptions and Misinterpretations
Sirius Black was grateful for all the assumptions and misinterpretations, ever-present whispers around his figure and the simple idea of his being. They made his life a lot easier.
They who were older than him took pity in the little boy they saw for what he had been trough, utterly terrible, because how could a lion live in a house full of snakes? Pity wasn't something Sirius craved for, but it did have his vantages. Everything was better than letting them know.
Then, he was a legend for making it trough the Black's Manor, and still be ready face Voldemort, and he was looked at with fear and admiration by the other youths.
And he had gained the respect of both young and old, for his strong spirit and brave heart.
So, he was grateful. Grateful for the cliché he had been transformed into, because there had been enough hurt and worry in his short life for having to explain al the whys and because of his existence. Grateful for his looks of hatred being misinterpreted, for no one to notice the utter and deep betrayal hidden right underneath his glare.
So, every morning, Sirius Black got up, got dressed, combed his hair and thanked God yet again for all the assumptions and misinterpretations.
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