ARSONIST'S LULLABY ━━ r. black¹

𝖎𝖛. cynical kisses

彡 chapter four
( cynical kisses  )

OCTOBER BROUGHT WITH it darkening skies, and thunderous rain, which shrunk the sun into a distant object hidden behind ominous clouds. October brought with it the customary invitation Morgana had received every year since her first, when she had surprised Professor Slughorn with her sorting into Gryffindor. With it, came her reputation for her furious temper, wicked tongue, and devilish smarts.

The Slug Club, as Professor Slughorn called it, was a collection of the best that Hogwarts had to offer, three dozen carefully selected students with accomplishments of their own, or, those who had snuck by on the merit of their noble families. Some, like Morgana, were both.

The invitation arrived as she was walking out of her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, a nervous first year stopping her, and her friends outside of the Great Hall clutching a teetering pile of scrolls embossed with Slughorn's stamp, and fastened together with a shiny green wax seal.

Morgana never did like the color green. It reminded her of snakes. Of boys with chiseled cheekbones, soft smiles, and eyes full of storms. He'd be there, of course. Perfect Regulus Black, obedient son, and brilliant student, yet a cigarette smoking disappointment nonetheless.

Professor Slughorn grinned as she enters his classroom. It's dark, and positively gloomy, just like the Slytherin dungeons, and there's a foul smell in the air from some nasty potions brewing at the back of the class. "Over in the back with Mr. Black," he said, Morgana stopping still in her tracks. Being partners with Regulus Black was never a part of her plans, but every teacher seemed to pair them together.

She nodded, flicking a hand towards Salem, who was making her way over to Kiaan, her two friends giving her a knowing look. "Morgana," Regulus greeted.

"On a first name basis now, are we?" she replied, eyes passing over his porcelain visage, milk-white skin stretched taut to display cheekbones so sharp, she was sure she could run her wrists over them, and draw pomegranate hued plasma from her mottled veins.

Regulus leaned forward, cradling his chin in the palm of his hand with his fingers outstretched. Each appendage of his bony, knobby, fingers, covered in silver rings that were surely heirlooms, tapped imaginary rhymes in the damp air. Even portraits could not capture the contrast of his skin against the shadows at the back of the class, an apple split in half to display milk white flesh gleaming in the moonlight that barely penetrates the darkness.

"Amortentia," Professor Slughorn smiled, scratching out the word in chalk on the board. He turned around, clapping his hands together. "Page one hundred and six."

Regulus peered curiously at her over their shared cauldron, as he began methodically setting aside ingredients in a line on the table. "Are you going to the dinner tonight?"

She nodded, trying not to make eye contact as she sifted pearl dust into the cauldron, watching as the powder reflected what little light it could find inside the darkness of the dungeons, resulting in a kaleidoscope of colorful hues.

Curiously, he glanced at her once more as she was nearly done, licking his finger and flipping a page in his potions book. "Morgana? Cat got your tongue?"

"Why are you even talking to me?" she snapped. "We should be focusing on this potion, not one of the many dinners we are invited to every year."

Regulus nodded, lips creasing as his usual mask of indifference slipped, a frown painting his visage. "We're practically done," he mumbled. "We have added and stirred everything together, and it's the color it's supposed to be according to the book. We just have to leave it 24 hours now, so it can brew."