ARSONIST'S LULLABY ━━ r. black¹

𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎. family affairs

彡 chapter eight
( family affairs )

IT WAS LIKE looking into a mirror. Ropes of golden brown hair braided into an updo, lips tinged cherry-pie red, eyes ever so slightly smudged with kohl. Pandora's portrait with a newborn Morgana was framed on the young girl's vanity, not much older than she was now, and they looked practically the same. She turned her head to the side, carefully clasping ruby and pearl earrings that felt like they'd tear her earlobes off on, nestling the matching necklace between the sharp crooks of her collarbone. Her dress was an iridescent carnelian satin, flickering in the dim candlight, flickers of which reflected off the vanity mirror and dappled her dress in spots of bright color.

"We need to leave."

She froze, slipping on her coat and gloves, and standing up to turn around and face Lavinia, who had her arms crossed over her chest, face set in its usual, hardened sneer. The woman had her hair intricately done into a neat bun, not a single flyaway escaping. She was dressed in a black silk gown with flowing sleeves that shimmered ever so slightly in the light, paired with the finest diamond jewelry. "You look beautiful darling."

Morgana knew that her grandmother didn't really mean that. The words felt empty, and hollow, but she did not dwell on that as Lavinia clasped a gnarled hand on her shoulder and led her outside, the familiar tugging sensation pulling at the back of her navel before suddenly she was standing in front of Malfoy manor, brushing a flyway from her hair and adjusting her coat as her heels nearly slipped on the iced over cobblestones. Could Lucius not charm them to make them warm enough to melt ice? Or was he determined to make his guests slip?

"Mrs. Fawley," Lucius greeted smoothly, standing in the doorway, seemingly awaiting their arrival. "Cousin," he added, nodding curtly at Morgana. He seemed startled at her appearance in that moment, and Venus knew it was because she looked like the spitting image of her mother.

Narcissa was glowing, belly swollen from her pregnancy under a flowing silk gown of emerald fabric. She kissed her cheek, and led the way to the sitting room, her gardenia perfume lingering where she had walked. Regulus should be here.

They had been sending letters back and forth for the three days since Christmas holiday had started, and had been elated to find out that they were both invited to the annual Malfoy family's Christmas dinner. Yet as she gazed around a crowded room, she couldn't see him, until she spotted a familiar mop of curly dark hair, and waved at her grandmother, before making her way over.

"Hey," she smiled, placing a hand in his chest as he turned, startled. His cheeks seemed more hollow, lilac shadows under his eyes more pronounced like he wasn't sleeping, eyes a tepid sea instead of their usual typhoon. "I missed you."

"Hello," he greeted with a pinched smile, oddly stiff. "You look beautiful."

She frowned, head tilting, brows arched. It was easy to know what he was trying to say. Wordlessly, she clasped her lithe fingers around his narrow wrist and led him out into the corridor, seemingly mindlessly wandering, but she knew where she was going. A hallowed room with the hollow bones of its skeleton still remaining behind, the room where Pandora Malfoy had slept was what Morgana held like water in her hands, dreams about her mother's childhood and life, her hopes and dreams all contained in this spacious suite decorated in the emerald green of Slytherin house.

She kissed him, away from prying eyes, melting into his tender embrace. She was Icarus, and he was the sun, her wax wings of bitterness and cruelty melting the moment she drew close to him. "How has been home been treating you?"

He laughed, mirth disgusting spite. "Glacial as usual. And you?"

"Terribly lonely. I'm a bird in a golden cage."