ARSONIST'S LULLABY ━━ r. black¹

𝕻𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ━ a girl on fire

彡 prologue
( a girl on fire )

HER INNOCENCE DISAPPEARED as soon as she began to form tangible memories, for Morgana Fawley was an anomaly in the flesh, the product of a loveless marriage between Pandora Malfoy and Jasper Fawley. Morgana Fawley was a mistake, conceived and birthed with war on the horizon, before Pandora died in childbirth, and Jasper ran away with one of his whores to the warmth of southern France.

Morgana was an anomaly in that although she was born into bitterness, she was as sweet as she could be. At least as a child, for it all changed as her limbs grew longer, almost like a weed in the sense that she was destruction shrouded in beauty. It didn't take long for the bitterness to seep through her pores, darkening her smile, and extinguishing the fire in her eyes. The very bitterness that ran through Morgana's veins coursed through the blood like a parasite, until Morgana herself became the embodiment of one.

Of course, her grandmother, harsh as she may be, thought Morgana was soft. Pliable clay that could be molded into everything Pandora had not been. Truth be told, Morgana may have a soft appearance, but her core was as solid as steel, her sorting into Gryffindor being no surprise.

She couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she attempted to light her cigarette with her beloved zippo, one that was so scuffed that its original texture seemed to be a mystery. She took a long drag as the end glowed bright red, exhaling a spiral of smoke.

It was a warm summer's night, and the garden was in full bloom, a beautiful sight for most, yet from her eyes, the garden was a manifestation of her grievances, the main one being that her grandmother was a sycophant, a bootlicker, someone with her head so far into pureblood bullshit that she believed almost all of it to be true. Lavinia was conservative, and strict, everything her mother was not, and perhaps that was why Lavinia had taken it upon herself to be the epitome of a perfect grandmother.

There's faint music from the orchestra in the ballroom, which floats its way to the garden as she takes another drag from her cigarette and kicks off the champagne hued heels her grandmother had made her wear, the soles of her feet finding the damp lawn to be a sweet release from the stifling air inside the mansion. She's in a plum colored gown of gossamer fabric that shines in the moonlight like a spiders web, and pretty it may be, but equally was it uncomfortable. The white gloves she had on had been abandoned somewhere in between champagne and dancing with Augustus Nott, who had tried to slip his hand into her dress after a couple of drinks, and she knew she looked like a mess, but couldn't care less about it.

"Shouldn't you be inside?"

Morgana nearly choked on her cigarette as she whipped around, only to find the haunting eyes of Regulus Black staring into her own. Regulus was confident in a relaxed, easy going way, charming, and soft spoken. He carried himself with an aura that radiated light, until you looked into his eyes, that was.

A smooth patchwork of gunmetal grey and sterling silver, Regulus had the type of eyes that told you everything, the epitome of eyes being the window to the soul. His was shattered, broken, torn down by those of his own blood, an anomaly as wondrous as Morgana herself. It was a miracle the two were even alive. She couldn't call herself human, because Morgana was nothing more than a filthy leech, a bitter, angry girl, who destroyed everything she touched.

If Midas made things golden with his touch, Morgana brought death with hers.

"Fancy a smoke Black?" she greeted, holding out a cigarette with the knowledge that he would accept. Regulus nodded, making his way towards her, slender limbs swaying as gracefully as a dancers. He was softer around the edges than his brother, smaller, and quieter, a mere shadow.

Regulus was the type to enjoy the shadows, always in the comfort of his own small friend group. Where Sirius was the self proclaimed playboy, Regulus was the real heart breaker, as he did everything with a stunning sense of calculation and cunning, that put even Morgana to shame.

Of course, she hadn't spoken to him all that much, even though they were in the same year. Their rival houses made it all the more difficult, when he wore ivy, and her crimson. The least she could do was offer him a smoke. She'd seen him at the Astronomy tower, a common place for the smokers of Hogwarts to sneak away too in between classes, and at night. Regulus Black was a chain smoker, just like her, although that was perhaps the only thing they had in common besides their blood status.

"Sixth year," Regulus started to say, Morgana turning to glance at him curiously. He exhaled a spiral of smoke that dissipated into the gentle zephyrs that had picked up in the last few minutes. The very hair on her arms seemed to stand up as her eyes met his charcoal ones, watery, yet dark, captivating like the sea. "How many O.W.L's?"

Morgana nodded, a slightly softer smile replacing her usual scowl. "Ten. Eight O's and an E's in Astronomy and Arithmancy. How did you fare, pretty boy?"

Regulus opted for a rueful smile. "After Sirius didn't even contact us this summer, my O.W.L.'s meant nothing. Six O's, two E's, and an A in Arithmancy."

"On that note, Sirius is staying with the Potters," Morgana muttered, exhaling loudly. "He owled me nearly every day."

"Of course," Regulus replied, expression bitter. "He owls one of his whores, but not his brother ━"

"Who are you calling a whore?"

Regulus almost seemed to cower when she stood up, eyes blazing. Morgana had a legendary temper, as her many victims would know. She'd set Althea Travers hair on fire in their second year when the girl had attempted to copy answers off of her during Charms. Ironically, they were discussing the very charm she had used on Althea, and Professor Flitwick had been convinced it was simply an accident. Then there was Severus Snape, who she had hexed to make his nose grow even larger in their third year after he called her muggleborn friends the filthiest words imaginable, and many more.

Morgana Fawley was a cruel girl.

"Sirius and I are friends. You should try having some, Black. You just wander around with Romulus Avery and Margot Selwyn looking like a depressed little fuck while they suck face."

Regulus simply smirked, arrogant as always. "Sirius told me you two slept together multiple times at the end of last year, so yeah, you are one of his whores. He moved onto that mudblood after."

"Oh, fuck off Black."

"Suck a dick Fawley."

"Yours?" she smirked. "Oh wait, it's two inches long."

Regulus's face contorted into a grimace as he stood, stunned, unable to find words, as she shot him a wink before disappearing back inside.

( AUTHOR NOTE )
thank you for reading <3
have an amazing day or
night wherever you are :)