The Curious Autopsy of Anna Clarke (Harry Potter)
Morgana doesn't have a distinct moment she can say she 'gained consciousness' as many tend to phrase it. There was no one day she wasn't and the next, she was.
She simply always was. The fact she couldn't remember much of the older sensations wasn't something of particular note to her.
(Does a falling tree make a sound if no one is there to hear it?)
(What a particularly asinine question. Of course it does. Do you have such pitiful object permanence that this is a serious line of thought for you?)
(It was just a question.)
On some inconsequential date that Morgana later tends to pin at around four years old, she comes to a startling realization.
Babies don't talk.
Morgana knows this because Agnes from down the street had one recently, and Morgana was interested for all of three seconds before she realized that babies aren't very good conversational partners.
She asked her mother why Claire was so quiet on the way home. Did Morgana not make good company?
Her mother gently corrects her pronunciation before explaining that "Claire just can't talk very well yet, surely she'll have more to say when she can."
Morgana's mother claims Morgana to have been a baby once herself, and she finds herself struggling to believe the notion. She's seen the pictures, and begrudgingly she can admit they do look more like her later on, she just can't imagine ever being so..small.
This begs the question, however, of when exactly was it that Morgana gained the spontaneous ability to speak. That is, of course, assuming that Morgana's mother wasn't lying to her about the baby thing.
Planning on asking immediately, Morgana sets off to find her mother 一 only to be immediately distracted by her stuffed toy. She forgets all about it.
Morgana doesn't recall her line of inquiry until she's eight, and by then she already knows that babies slowly develop speaking skills through their environment.
Sometimes, Morgana wonders what would have happened if she had asked her mother about it back then.
It's not a particularly glamorous what-if 一 Morgana doesn't imagine much of anything would have happened if she did, save for the idea she perhaps may have been aware of the complexity of language learning sooner.
Morgana was just a sentimental kind of person, and maybe sometimes she simply thinks that having a memory of her mother explaining how babies develop language skills would have been nice.
Maybe. Maybe not. Morgana might just wish she had more memories of her mother overall.
Well, there's not much she can do about that now.
Morgana asks about her name for the first time at four. She asks again at five. She asks again frequently when she's six.
She doesn't get a good answer. She gives up by seven.
Morgana is only ever called Anna 一 but for as long as she can remember she's been Morgana, if only in her own mind.
Her mother told her once, "Your name is Morgana - but everyday folk find Anna more normal."
She didn't quite understand until year four of primary. Jesús was a kid in her class 一 he was quiet, but she never figured that a problem when Morgana knew herself to be the very same.
He was bullied. A lot. Especially by the teachers. They didn't quite do any of the hair pulling and gum sticking her peers did, but they just.. ignored the fact it happened. On occasion they'd even say it was Jesús' fault, somehow.
Morgana is older now, and she knows with hindsight this had more to do with his darker skin and foreign last name 一 but Morgana was eight in a small white british town, and her world wasn't quite vast enough to understand that yet.
In the end, she came to the conclusion it had to be his name. His name spelled nothing like it was spoken, and baring odd resemblance to the name of Christ despite knowing it sounded very little like it.
God wasn't someone Morgana thought of often. Her mother insisted she never speak ill of the Lord, but she never made Morgana do anything more then that. They didn't attend Sunday Mass, they barely celebrated holidays in the first place, they had no proper prayer before eating and sleeping 一 all things more then a few of her peers spoke about.
It was important to them, surely, but most definitely not to Morgana.
Morgana didn't bring any of it up among them, of course. In the end, Morgana was a quiet child, one with an odd name and with an even odder way of speaking. She wasn't bullied, but this was solely case due to the fact only teachers knew things like that. Ones that had papers that claimed her name to be something other than Anna, ones that detailed concerns over her odd speech back before she knew better then speaking in class when not necessary.
Her mother never hesitated to explain that while she could hide some things, others would always be on her record 一 so it was of utmost importance she be careful.
Her peers had no such papers, however. Admitting freely to them her family was made up of Heathens 一 nevermind the fact they most certainly were not and they'd be much closer to Infidels then anything else 一 who did not believe in the Lord, who spat in the face of Christ himself... Morgana loathed to imagine it.
Morgana never had a problem with Jesús. She imagines herself in his shoes, however, and she can't help but imagine the sentiment would not be returned.
Because despite the fact Morgana never had a problem with Jesús, she remained silent all the same.
And maybe Morgana was not the God-fearing type, but in the end she understood the situation as this;
Jesús has a name other people don't like, and people don't like him for it. Morgana too, presumably, has a name people don't like.
Morgana desperately could not afford to be Jesús.
Morgana isn't sure how or when it first appeared. Not asimilarly to her "gaining of consciousness," she held the opinion that perhaps it was always there.
It simply always was, and the fact she can't remember ever noticing it earlier on isn't something of particular note to her 一 as in the end it was there, and Morgana at some point became aware of that fact.
The thing about Morgana 一 odd things had the truly unfortunate tendency to happen when she was upset. Not the normal or coincidental kind either.
No, what Morgana had was another kind. The kind that, had it been two centuries earlier, would have had her burned at the stake. The kind that, had it been five centuries earlier, would have had her assumed to be a changeling or perhaps wicked sorceress. The kind that now would only have her called hysteric and shipped off into the nearest asylum.
Because when Morgana got upset she didn't become more daring, and when Morgana got upset the victim of her ire didn't undergo rightful karma in due time ー no, when Morgana got upset, it was swift and irrational. Lights went out, fires got started, people fell violently ill almost immediately after upsetting her, and any other thing out there save for perhaps anything that originated longer then a few seconds.
Morgana did not curse people, did not make them live entire lives full of unjust supernatural misfortune 一 she just started fires where they stood.
Because oh yes, that was truly so much better.
She never understood the power seemingly unceremoniously shoved into her hands. All she knows about it for certain is two things.
The first is that if she gets upset enough, other people have to suffer alongside her.
The second is, no matter what she does, her mother can get rid of it. After that, she'd be subjected to a talk about how to limit these outbursts. How she was not to try and stop them as they happen, but prevent the stimuli that made them occur in the first place.
Morgana tried to listen, and often she succeeded 一 but despite her best efforts, sometimes she'd let something effect her. She'd be so sure she could handle it, that she knew her limits, that'd she see herself out before it got too bad.
Arrogance was not a befitting emotion, and Morgana's mother wasted no time in ensuring she knew this.
Morgana had many talks about preventive measures over the years. She knew better then to ever let herself start tuning out the advice 一 especially seeing as, clearly, she wasn't very good at listening and enacting them as is.
She likes to think that over time she was getting better.
Morgana didn't know much about her father, despite people constantly remarking upon his supposed existence.
There seems to be a mistake in our files, we have your mother's number here 一 but where's your father's?
Oh, you poor thing, did your father pass recently then?
Now you didn't hear it from me, but I have a lovely cousin who could do well with a woman in his life to finally whip him into shape. Tell your mother that, would you, dearie?
Morgana also hears others remark about it to her mother.
Sorry Ma'am, we need your husbands signature for this as well. Do you know his number so we could contact him?
I can't help but notice a lack of ring 一 are you recently widowed, or was it maybe a nasty fight...?
Oh, raising her alone must be so hard. You're so brave to do that instead of remarrying right away. I had a second cousin who did that, you know, ended up with a real nasty piece of work who never carried his weight.
Everyone always has something to say when it comes to unmarried women, especially so when it comes to unmarried mothers.
Morgana grits her teeth and knows that proper ladies do not punch those that irritate them 一 and yet, it barely does anything to rid her of the urge.
Morgana has no interest in marrying. She has no need or want for a good husband, and has even less so for a bad one. She gets comments about that too, and she loathes the idea of it.
Yet, Morgana's mother wanted a husband. She got sad when people mentioned that she doesn't have one for whatever reason, and always turned down suggestions and prods at the idea of "moving on," and loved reading cheesy romances where the male love interest loves the female lead with his entire heart no matter what.
Morgana's mother must have dearly loved her father 一 husband or not 一 and Morgana isn't sure why he isn't here to dearly love her back.
Morgana wants to blame him, but she always felt uncertain about the idea.
Blaming the dead 一 nevermind the fact she's not even sure if that's the case 一 for your problems, while convenient, isn't very good for the soul.
Call it a spiritual belief if you must, but Morgana maintains it simply to be a matter of not being an idiot.
It does you well to not spit on the grave before yours.
Morgana has been taught her entire life what it meant to be a proper Lady.
The first thing she was taught was that other people didn't know the first thing about being a proper Lady, and Morgana has found this be the truth thus far.
People speak of good women, and proper women, and the right kinds of women 一 ones who cook for their husbands, who clean after their children, and who never have anything but a loving smile on their face.
Morgana's mother teaches her that a proper Lady knows how to hurt you without ever necessarily needing to break her smile. A proper Lady can crush your life into pieces, and wear attire she can't even crouch in while doing it. A proper Lady never lets on the fact that she's anything but what you assumed of her at first glance 一 which is often weak and dainty, but it can vary, and how a Lady behaves shall vary with it.
It can be restraining, almost as much as what everyone else says to be a proper woman 一 but almost is the key word here. Between two evils, Morgana wasn't raised to be the kind of fool to pick the greater one.
Morgana does not want to play into expectations other place on her. Does not want to play a role in a manner she otherwise wouldn't have to. In a kinder world, in a better world, in an ideal world 一
Well, lots of things would be different in an ideal world.
But Morgana knows her mother doesn't tell her these things in vitriol, like some others do not hesitate to when it comes to telling her unprompted what she should and should not be.
That's better then nothing, and at least the makeshift etiquette classes about bowing and tea and quill writing and any other number of things is fun 一 if not, as Morgana not so secretly suspects, entirely relevant in everyday life.
Morgana is ten, and girls at school are whispering about her more then ever previously.
She was never a beauty worthy of magazine 一 but Morgana had never gotten comments about being hard on the eyes, so she used to tentatively place herself at average.
Apparently, Morgana was wrong.
She has a gaunt and sunken face that made her look older and faintly ill. Her jaw housed crooked yellowed teeth Morgana never showed off in smiles 一 not that she smiled in the first place. She's thin enough to look unpleasant but fat enough it wasn't 'fashionable.' Her eyes are buggy and slightly uncoordinated, and to top it off her hair is greasy and barely taken care of.
No one mentioned clothes, as no one had ever seen her out of uniform. This realization lead way to attacks on her social life, or lack thereof, and speculations on her character that may make that the case.
It took Morgana a shamefully long time to realize this sudden shift of focus onto her was because Jesús, the previous target of their harassment, recently moved away.
She failed to even notice he was missing from class.
Morgana hoped he was happier now, in a distant way, but she's found preventive measures worth nothing if what she was meant to be preventing seemed to be a predetermined outcome.
Why turn a blind eye, why sit in silence in the suffering of others, why not correct behavior when she was nothing but a concerned onlooker, and most of all 一 why does she feel so betrayed when no one ever says anything?
Someone, anyone, just 一 pretend to care, for even a moment..!
Perhaps this was just karma is coming for it dues, and it's very effective if so.
For the first time in her life, Morgana is presented with the tangible outcome of inaction in the pursuit of self-preservation.
It's not a pleasant experience, but it's a valuable one.
Morgana and her mother weren't particularly well off.
Her mother wasn't payed very well, and she was the sole monetary provider of the house. Morgana wasn't exactly eligible for employment 一 but she had plans. Just a few more years, and Morgana would be old enough to get a job to help support her mother.
It didn't need to be anything amazing 一 the situation was not quite so dire. It just had to be something extra to put aside, for luxury expenses.
Food was always on the table, and Morgana was never harassed over her shoes seeming more tattered then her peers. And to a young Morgana, that always meant their money situation wasn't good, but it wasn't quite that bad either.
She didn't consider herself that far off in her assessment either.
They could afford books by proxy of library card, yes, but Morgana was one of the only kids she knew out of her peers to not have a tele. There was always food on the table, but Morgana had seen her mother stare longingly at snacks she never bought one too many times to think they could comfortably afford anything beyond that.
Despite this, Morgana's mother never fails to have quills, ink, parchment, or any other frivolous expense she made for her at home etiquette clases.
Morgana supposes it's just a sign at how much she loved her, if she was willing to make such unnecessary purchases several times over just for the sake of entertainment.
Though Morgana is getting older still 一 she's no longer a toddler who must be treated like a young royal in the making in order to be satisfied. She doesn't understand why she still takes the classes. Her mother never gives her a straight answer when she asks.
This, Morgana finds, is a consistent theme when it comes to her mother.
Her mother's death wasn't a grand affair. No blaze of glory, no sudden car accidents.
Morgana was surprised and appropriately terrified when her mother was first diagnosed. She was told to grieve a person still living 一 though, evidently, that was going to be changing rather soon.
It felt sudden 一 one moment everything is okay, and the next her mother is on the way to the A&E because she collapsed in their living room.
Poisoning, they said. Something terribly advanced and clearly premeditated too, at the looks of it. She was estimated to have a month left, maybe even less then that.
Morgana rakes her brain and desperately tries to find if her mother had any enemies outside of Mary from the grocers 一 and even that wasn't serious enough to warrant poisoning.
Morgana fails on that front.
They said there wasn't much they could do. If they had caught it even a week earlier then they did, there'd be at least some hope 一 but as it was, the most they could do was make her last days comfortable.
Morgana asks questions 一 many, many questions. The doctors don't always have answers, but it's better then her mother, who never seems to have any.
Morgana spends as much time as she can with her mother when she's actually awake. It was light chatter 一 and that's why her mother's final words were so startling in their serious tone.
Her mother's last words to her seemed very clearly final 一 maybe she sensed her final hour coming near, and didn't want to leave any skeletons in her closet when her time came.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
It's not like Morgana could ask, is it.
"Morgana," her mother wheezes out between coughs, "Your Mother loves you 一 so listen carefully. When I..go to sleep, and the nice lawyers ask where you want to go, say your Father. No matter what, do not let them try and place you anywhere else. Can you一can you do that for me, Morgana?"
Morgana, not willing to deny her mother her request 一 no matter the undeniable oddity 一 said the only thing she could.
"Of course, Mother."
Two weeks after her admittance to the hospital, Morgana's mother flatlines. The doctors say she passed peacefully in her sleep.
It tends to blur from there.
Morgana spends a lot of time in what she considers a limbo of holding.
She's not sure who it was that asked if she preferred distant cousin a or distant cousin b when it came to 'long sleep-overs,' but she maintained that she wished to be placed with her father.
This, admittedly, may have been the origin point of her extended legal limbo.
Two months and some odd weeks after her first night without her mother, she gets good news from her new tag-along 一 her agent, or something of similar like. Admittedly, Morgana wasn't quite paying attention at the time.
Apparently, they found and successfully contacted Morgana's father 一 and he even agreed to take her in after some wrestling and explanations as to why yes it has to be you, no there is no one else viable.
That end point froze over in her mind, as she realized belatedly that him refusing to take Morgana in was a real possibility that may have come to pass should her agent 一 she's still unsure about that 一 have been less persistent of character.
Better late then never, she supposes.
She gathers her surprisingly less-than-meagre belongings, as instructed, and is told that her father is expected to arrive by three. She's told not to worry if he's late, as he lived quite far away.
Morgana can't imagine him being so far off he'd be any later thirty minutes, but three months ago she wouldn't be able to imagine much of him at all 一 so she supposes that may influence her view slightly.
She's in the middle of watching a rather bizarre cartoon on the tele about shoes with faces when she hears a call of "Anna Clarke?" ring from the desk.
Morgana startles minutely and moves to gathers her things, sending a longing glance at the tele right before setting off. Yes, the shoe cartoon was odd, but it was charming in a sense. It grew on her in the three minutes she spent waiting.
Stealing a glance at the clock on the wall, Morgana is surprised to find it not even ten seconds past three. She imagines her father might have arrived exactly as it turned three, making him rather coincidentally exactly on time.
As she stands awkwardly at the door, she finds herself at a bit of loss. The man looked... nothing at all like her.
The man had platinum blond hair and grey eyes that reminded her of metal. He had broad shoulders on an otherwise sickly thin frame, alongside high cheek bones and a narrow nose that came to a sharp upwards point that didn't look out of place alongside his other rather sharp and frankly unfriendly features.
He also wore an outfit Morgana would find not entirely out of place vaguely in the early eighteen-hundreds 一 ruffled shirt, buttoned vest, strange decorative walking cane, all finished by large boots with strange flaps bunny eared over the top. It was a bizarre outfit to wear as you set off to meet your estranged daughter of almost eleven years.
Morgana had dark brown hair that seemingly never wanted to decide if it was black or brown, paired with rather muted blue eyes she cannot recall ever receiving polite comment on. Her shoulders weren't exactly broad proportionality, as her frame held more rectangular formation 一 she still got the occasional comment about seeming sickly however. She had a nose on the ever so slightly wide side, one that came to a muted and anticlimactic dip 一 forming a hook shape that made it look like it just gave up on properly hooking halfway through.
She wouldn't go so far as to claim herself to possess friendly features, but whatever she held was surely less intimidating then the man in front of her.
Alternatively, her fashion sense was something of less note. A colourful jumper paired with equally colourful leggings was a rather popular combination right now, if not one that provided rather unflattering contrast when pit against her naturally drab complexion and overall colouring.
Her apparent father gave her a tight smile, as if mentally thinking something similar, but not being quite so daft as to actually speak it.
Morgana was starting to understand why she hadn't met this man previous to her mother's untimely end.
Lucius, more then anything else on this godless earth, did not want to be here right now.
It started when a letter arrived 一 not by owl, mind you, but delivered by hand to one of the only estates he owned that Muggles could actually see.
Estates of such nature are an unfortunately vital thing for any Pureblood worth their Galleons. Like it or not, Muggles were everywhere 一 like a hoard of insects left to breed and fester. Not everything can be waved away, and often waving things away is in truth more tedious then going through legitimate channels.
That is to say, according to Muggle registration 一 the Malfoy family exist, are fairly wealthy, and live in a shell house somewhere in Muggle France.
You need an identity to commit good fraud, he's found. Otherwise you're constantly stuck in a loop of making one every single time you want to commit the occasional felony on the Muggle side of things 一 which, in his case, is fairly often.
The letter itself was puzzling 一 if only for the fact it was delivered to him. Many Pureblood families have complex warding to redirect letters of the Muggle side of things. If you are unreachable, permanently, they find your closest relative and alter any relevant memories and papers so that the relative in question is assumed to be the true intended recipient. They seamlessly blended into usual mail, save for a small print on the envelope somewhere claiming it to be "Redirected"
No one likes to talk about it, but everyone knows it can be inconvenient to miss a letter from a Muggle intended for your recently deceased brother only to find that letter was actually a proposed peace treaty that your brother had been working on for years, and by ignoring it you ignited an easily avoidable war.
That Minister wasn't in office very long, for obvious reasons. The fact Lucius shared a last name with said Minister was nothing of note.
He's not sure who this letter was meant to reach, seeing as far too many heirs of influential houses died or otherwise were left incapable due to the last war. All he knows is that now the contents of the letter were, until proven otherwise, his problem.
And truly, what a problem those contents turned out to be. The more of the letter he read, his felt the blood unwillingly drain from his face. At the end his hands even started shaking 一 something Lucius was sure he spelled out of them after the fifth crucio at the hands of一.. at the hands of another, incentivizing him to want to stop it before he could no longer even hold a quill.
Because Lucius had a problem. One shaped like a little ten year old orphaned Muggle girl, who now under every registry and memory that mattered to Muggles, was considered his biological daughter.
Lucius consulted first and foremost, his wife. He wasn't quite so stupid to hide something like this from Narcissa 一 and even if he was, he'd hardly succeed for more than a week at best.
Her advice was unhelpful. Tremendously so.
"Oh, well, Draco always did want a sister."
It wasn't even accurate 一 Draco had actually had a phase where he so loathed the idea he tried to curse the Malfoy line a second time over just to ensure such a thing would never come to pass.
Narcissa elaborated that such a thing didn't necessarily need to make papers, and if the girl truly showed herself to be a squib 一 they could just put her into Muggle adoption.
That too, was tremendously unhelpful advice. Narcissa knew that Lucius valued family, no matter how distant 一 if he acknowledged them as such, he had no choice but to see to their continued relative safety. Narcissa did this for him, in this case, by starting the conversation claiming her as their daughter.
He then only had one question.
"Why?"
She looked at him then, and there was something like steel in her gaze.
"Lucius, I didn't marry a fool. Tell me, who out of my family is close enough in relation for this letter to reach us instead of any other number of houses?"
Lucius, admittedly, did not immediately know. The Black Family all but collapsed after the war ended, but it was true they married into just about every family available over the years before that. He can only imagine Narcissa's siblings or perhaps first cousins 一 no removal 一 would be close enough for this to occur.
Andromeda and Bellatrix were immediately ruled out, if not for all of the other reasons out there 一 the fact they were both women, the last he was aware, would. Evan would rather take an Avada Kedavra to the chest thirty times over before ever laying a Muggle, let alone a woman. That only left一
Lucius couldn't quite keep the horror off his face when it finally hit him.
"Now, do you see why we can't afford to let the girl go?"
Sirius Black was a conundrum Lucius put more than occasional effort into pondering. His betrayal of the Potters was almost entirely unpredictable 一 not a single person who knew Sirius Black suspected it.
Narcissa always maintained that she doesn't believe Sirius was a deep undercover Death Eater 一 she herself more a follower of the idea the Black Family Madness hit him particularly roughly after so many years of constant hex after hex. The Dark Lord may have approached him and offered him a deal he couldn't quite refuse 一 perhaps something about his family. That's why he did it.
Lucius was not so optimistic. He personally believed Sirius was more insidious then that.
For years, years he pretended to care about Muggles. May even actually had, at some point. He was sorted into Gryffindor, and he made sure he exclusively kept the company of apparent like-minded individuals. He harassed Slytherin students 一 Severus being one of his favourite targets 一 and he did it with a sort of righteous tinge to it all that almost made you ignore the sadistic brutality of it.
Sirius Black was either the best infiltrator the world had ever seen, or Sirius Black was positively mad.
Either way, Lucius agreed with his wife on point 一 Sirius was always the kind to care more about family than house. He especially cared about children, it seemed. It could be evidenced by the fact that despite there being claims of his presence at the Potters home after The Dark Lord's defeat, he laid not one hand on Harry Potter 一 the babe behind it.
It could be because he held no loyalty to The Dark Lord, but that theory relies on Sirius being driven mad by blood-lust. Surely, if such a convenient method to channel such murderous urges existed, it would have been used?
But no.
Harry Potter lived. Twelve Muggles and three of Sirius' friends of ten years did not.
Lucius drew the reasonable conclusion that no matter what caused Sirius' to betray the location of the Potters, Sirius drew the line at harming family and children.
Both of which orphaned ten year old muggle Anna Clarke checked off.
So Lucius schools his expressions, and sighs, and murmurs "Well, atleast Draco is getting that sister he asked for so urgently."
The first thing the odd man 一 Lucius Malfoy, apparently 一 did once they made suitable walking distance from the building was make it incredibly clear to Morgana that despite several claims otherwise, he is not her father.
She doesn't bother hiding her audible sigh of relief. She suspects that the now identified Lucius was less charmed by the sheer gall and more annoyed by it. However that is, to put it simply, not her problem.
Once the initial relief comes to pass, she finds that to be in truth be rather alarming information. Her mother's death was ruled a murder, which only makes sense considering the several years of poisoning. The local police force were still investigating, however they didn't have much to ask Morgana. Well, excluding one statement after her mother's admittance to the hospital and an additional statement after her passing, that is.
Morgana's mother had one request of her daughter. No matter what, she is to ensure that she is placed with her father. Conveniently, after her death a strange man appears, claims to be her father, and just whisks her off.
It's not a very flattering image being painted, when Morgana pieces these things together.
She knows her body temperature rises when she's nervous 一 but it's never been nearly as inconvenient as it was then. Morgana leaves her hands limp against her sides and silently hopes they don't get past the too-warm stage into the more unpleasant sticky or moist ones.
He doesn't elaborate much from there. He simply says her father is unreachable indefinitely, and if they're lucky it'll stay that way. Lucius and his family will be hosting her in his absence.
Then, something inexplicable happens 一 he takes her by the arm, and suddenly the entire world tilts on it's axis as she hears a loud and disorienting pop.
Distantly, she wonders about her belongings being left on the sidewalk.
Magic is such a nice word, Morgana feels.
Deceptively so, she'd go as far as to say.
Morgana never considered the thing inside her was so wondrous and pure to be magical.
She set fires, she caused sudden storms, she cried and sometimes entire rooms could be flooded with tears.
Never, not even once, did Morgana think this was something so lovely and whimsical it could be referred to as magic.
The Malfoy's 一 Lucius, Lady Narcissa, Draco, none of them bothered sitting down and explaining it to her. Not really.
They didn't quite hide it, but they didn't quite explain it.
Lady Narcissa tried to get Morgana tutors at first. Puzzlingly, Morgana found that she knew everything they could possibly want teach her. Magical theory tripped her up for a bit, but she quickly found herself progressing on that front when she had little else to do.
The tutors lasted two weeks before they ran out of material. Morgana could do the perfect faux polite smile, could write fluidly with a quill, could keep up in passive aggressive politically charged small talk, could speak in a 'regal tone' that was almost entirely a step down from her natural patterns. She learned important names, who had an alliance with who and who were enemies so dire it'd do you well to keep them out of the same building if you could.
Anything they had left, Lady Narcissa explained, would be best learned after her eleventh birthday.
None of it felt particularly interesting, and their loss was only felt because of the lack of other things to do. She wondered where the math, science, or even english tutors were.
She wasn't naturally good at math, and she didn't like doing it, but begrudgingly she could admit she felt unchallenged without it. Science was just intrinsically fun, it was constantly changing and updating alongside the people learning it. She missed it as much as anyone could miss a school subject, she supposes. English was... okay. She was good at it, but memories of being hounded on grammar rules as her hand cramped around her quill tame any true enjoyment she could derive from it.
At this point, she'd even take PE if it meant she could have something to do besides sit around and twiddle her thumbs all day.
Perhaps that's an odd stance to take, when magic is real and the only true limit to the world and what she could now make of it was imagination. But Morgana has lived her entire life alongside the beast inside her 一 it's never quite so wondrous when it's just another fact of life for you.
Magic is real, and Morgana thinks a word so whimsical and airy could never quite encompass what Morgana knows it to be.
Draco doesn't like her. It doesn't take a genius to figure such a thing.
Her first impression of him was that he looked much more like his father then Morgana did 一 which makes a measure of sense, considering at the time she was almost certain they weren't even related. She still thinks as such, even.
Her second impression was Narcissa and Lucius informing her that Draco, for all intents and purposes, is now her brother in most ways that matter.
Draco didn't look happy about that. Morgana was always favourable to the idea of a younger sibling, but had long since accepted that such thing would likely would never come to pass. Draco, quite obviously, did not share her enthusiasm at the turn of events.
She tried to not take it too harshly. Morgana knows not everyone is her, not all families her family. Morgana struggles to emphasize with Draco's not so silent plight, however, because if Morgana's mother appeared one day with a strange girl she's never seen before and informed them they are now sisters 一 she'd accept it like it was just another fact of life.
Though, Draco lives a life unlike Morgana's, is a person unlike her as well. The Malfoy's are rich, and according to later lessons 一 important. Like the cliched tale of foreign royalty in faux unnamed europe; Morgana was an orphan in rags, given a chance by aristocracy for reasons she cannot parse.
Morgana understands that perhaps if she was the son of a wealthy family taking in some poor impoverished orphan from the streets, she'd be confused as to why this was happening as well. May feel anger that suddenly they are spending so much time on someone beneath them.
But Morgana supposes this isn't a fairy tale, because in those the royals are taking a chance on the orphaned peasant out of kindness or pity. They may believe in their intrinsic superiority, but they bring their ward to their level. Maybe, if the author is kind enough, they even get over such biases by the time the story comes to an end.
The Malfoys aren't that.
They aren't blatantly unkind to her, but Morgana has no difficulty picking up on their unsaid words and whispers.
They, similar to Morgana, have lived their entire lives with knowledge there was something unnatural inside them. However, unlike Morgana, it was considered normal to them. Better then the alternative, even.
When you can rewrite reality, and you're told your entire life you're better then those who cannot ever even hope to 一 well.
The Malfoys aren't unkind to Morgana, but she doesn't hesitate to imagine the same couldn't be said if they ever met her mother.
Really, Draco barely even bothers pretending to tolerate her, some days, and he has active incentive to do so.
So when Lady Narcissa and Lucius both try to take her unflattering colourful jumpers and leggings 一 helpfully retrieved by servants Morgana never sees 一 and replace them with odd robes一
Well, Morgana does not hesitate to growl and snarl and kick and bite as she draws a line in the sand.
"These are mine," she says, anger and panic not as tightly controlled as it could be, "and you have no right to take them from me."
And she's not sure what they may have seen on her face then, but they don't try to take her possessions from her again after.
She considers this something of a blessing.
Morgana could fight, could bite and kick and growl and snarl. But she doesn't want to. Doesn't want to have to.
She can, if such thing is necessary 一 but that doesn't mean she awaits every opportunity to do so eagerly.
Morgana is, at heart, not a violent girl. Isn't a rabid snarling dog 一 or, well, most days she isn't.
Sometimes. Sometimes, Morgana thinks that perhaps she's who is wrong. That the beast inside her is all she can be, and Morgana is the fool trying to pretending to be a human.
Sometimes.
In the end, Draco doesn't like her. Girl or dog, he always seems to have something holding him back.
There's not much Morgana can do about that.
The death of Morgana's mother burns in a distant manner.
It was once less so. Morgana was once standing on the burner before fire even thought to exist near it 一 and she paid the price the day it first lit, coinciding with her mother's final breath.
Morgana knows better now.
It's not quite gone, but it's not burning her as actively as it used to. That's the most she can ask for, right now.
Morgana hopes it'll stop burning one day.
Morgana dreads it'll stop burning one day.
Morgana wants to learn peace without fighting a fire to get to it. Morgana can also imagine a future where peace is possible and she's learned how to coexist peacefully with the fire raging within. Morgana just thinks 一 it'll be a painful and long time yet before she can get there.
She's must be a coward, because she constantly fantasies of a reality where life is easier for her. One where she has no such worries, and the fire stops itself given enough time.
But Morgana has to be brave, has to weather through this despite it 一 because Morgana, no matter what, will not allow herself to forget her mother.
Morgana sees her mother in odd places. As if the fire sparked and nicked her skin.
Morgana finds her mother in her steady writing with a quill. Morgana finds her mother in her excessive control on her emotions, biting down whatever wasn't of current use to her. Morgana finds her mother in her unflattering rainbow neon jumpers that never failed to make her mother smile when she wore them.
Morgana finds her mother in many things 一 and it undeniably burns, but she can stand to wait until the day comes when she can think of how her mother loved romance novels and feel more fond then hurt.
She can wait.
(Hey, what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?)
(Do you truly have nothing better to do with your time? It'd almost be impressive, how well you exercise your grotesque talent of meandering over the most useless of things 一 if it weren't so irritating.)
(Yeah, yeah. Are you going to answer this time?)
(I believe I'll have to decline. Oh, and一)
(Yeah, I know.)
Slowly, Morgana has been learning more about the Malfoys.
Lucius, for instance, has what she can only assume to be chronic pain in his legs 一 perhaps elsewhere additionally, though that's speculation on her end 一 that flairs up from time to time.
What Morgana had assumed to be a decorative walking cane at initial glance turned to be not quite that decorative. She would be more embarrassed about the assumption if not for the fact she's almost certain that the cane was specially charmed otherwise.
Decorative walking canes often have cosmetic handles that are painful to grip over extended periods 一 which Lucius' cane possessed. After careful and extended observation, however, Morgana came to the conclusion some kind of spell or perhaps runes were on it to make it specially comfortable to use for extended periods of time.
No indents in his hands ever appeared either, no matter how subtle 一 despite never leaving his cane far from his body.
Additionally, Morgana assumes his problem to be flaring chronic pain as, rather kindly, Lucius Malfoy was perhaps one of the most unsubtle people on the planet. His hands and eyes ever so slightly shook whenever it flared, and he'd find any excuse under the sun to sit down as he began to lean that much more on his cane.
Though, she supposes he'd have no reason to hide this in his own home 一 a structure meant to be filled with only his closest family members.
She feels a slight tinge of guilt in her chest on that front. Lucius Malfoy 一 who never quite gave her something to call him 一 made it clear, not entirely vocally, that him bringing her into his home was less his choice then she first thought.
Morgana mentally apologized for her initial assumption. And perhaps for quite a bit before and after that.
She'd do so vocally, but she didn't exactly ever speak any of these slights. From experience, she can safely say that people tend to focus more on the insult part then the apology part if you try to right a wrong that existed solely in your mind.
That aside, Draco seemed as unfriendly as ever. Occasionally, however 一 it was as if he forgot he wasn't meant to like Morgana.
He'd make a joke, and Morgana would laugh, and he'd visibly preen before remembering he's not supposed to care if dirty orphaned Anna thinks he's funny or not.
Sometimes he'd get excited about something 一 usually over new trinkets and toys. He got those fairly frequently. Occasionally, and rather oddly, it was news about new books in the malfoy library as well 一 a place Morgana wished to go, but hesitated to. Despite how it may seem, Morgana was raised with manners. Excessive ones. She was not so poor of a house guest to enter their personal family library when no-one was looking.
However, she digresses. When Draco would get excited, he'd smile and he'd whip his head at her 一 as if expecting to see her smile as well. It only took the first few times and faltered excitement in the face of impassive bewilderment for Morgana to cotton on. She'd smile when he looked and Draco, content with the apparent peer approval of his excitement over his brand new thing or the other, would often immediately forget it happened.
It was something approaching progress, she thinks. She pushes her frustrations at being called a lowly dirty-bred street urchin again aside and focuses on ensuring that their friendly interactions continue.
Morgana doesn't want to do all of this, mind you. Pandering to Draco's every whim and putting up with every insult never fails to grate.
She's just 一 patient. Draco doesn't like her. Morgana assumes most of this to be bred from unfamiliarity and the perceived threat of having to share his parents with someone else. She'll start giving his behaviour less leeway once he likes her more. That, or in a year or so. Perhaps less, if it suits her. It depends on both her patience and progress which of the two will arrive first.
Lastly, though definitely not least 一 Lady Narcissa was quite the difficult person to get a read on.
She reminded Morgana of her mother in a sense, but she didn't quite have the years of familiarity and instinctive affection granted that her mother did on the loving basis of birthing her. In the end the familiarity did little but unsettle Morgana.
She tried to not let it colour her impressions, but it's rather hard to get along with someone who you're not even sure you like 一 though, admittedly, Lady Narcissa was rather kind to her despite the lack of recuperated care.
It was like she fully absorbed the idea that Morgana was now, for all intents and purposes, essentially something of a daughter. She doted and worried over her as much as, if not more than, Draco. She carelessly threw phrases of natures as 'my children' and 'my daughter' around, especially if the other party 一 most usually Draco 一 tries to pull the 'your son and ward' card in order to make things awkward.
Was like being a key phrase, in this situation.
Like most the other Malfoys, there seemed to be a layer of an indescribable something holding their interactions back.
It was the smaller things that clued her in.
Draco got hugs that lasted that much longer, had his requests considered and approved that much faster, had more time and care when it came to listening to his stories regaling his day.
It was a terribly isolating thing, she thinks. To have to see all of that, and be told in the very same breathe they are siblings in all but blood.
Morgana, rather fairly, does not feel in place among the picture perfect Malfoy family.
Her own self-pity aside, Morgana wasn't sure how genuine it was in the first place 一 but she supposed Lady Narcissa treated her most kindly out of her hosts. That'd be why Morgana afforded her such formalities internally.
Not a single Malfoy introduced themselves to her with an allowed title. None. Morgana figured at first this to be something of a subtle slight meant to embarrass her 一 but Lucius and Lady Narcissa, at the very least, try to pretend to be caring parental figures for her. This would be rather hostile for their usually more reserved approach when dealing with Morgana.
So perhaps they just figured Morgana would decide on her own. Loathe she is to admit it, she is afterall a young lady 一 not quite Lady 一 of ten years of age. She quite hesitates to imagine they'd take any of her titles quite so seriously. She could wake up one morn and call them Sir Malfoy, Madame Malfoy, Sir Malfoy the Younger, and the most she imagines will happen is a correction and minor lecture on proper address among family.
Because, despite it all, it seems the Malfoys truly do see her as family 一 if not exactly the daughter and sister they try and verbally claim they should be.
It's a rather odd and positively novel experience for Morgana, who never had met extended relatives of any sort 一 and never was very charmed about the idea of doing so.
Despite this, she reluctantly finds herself liking the Malfoy family. If not only for the fact they provide her food and bed, then the fact they clearly do care at least somewhat under all of their... eccentricities.
The thought is less scathing then she'd thought it'd be.
Morgana's birthday isn't that far off now.
It's been almost a month since first coming into the care of the Malfoys, and Morgana finds that she's fallen into something of a familiar rhythm.
Wake up. Make sure to remember to inform the empty air to not enter her room or otherwise clean it unless she gives instructions otherwise 一 failing to do so will see that her possessions are rooted through for cleaning.
It took only the first time of Morgana going to Lady Narcissa about it for Morgana to be informed that the servants were as bound to her word as any others. As long as she gives them clear instructions not to do something, it won't happen again.
After that, sit in boredom until dawn fully breaks and Draco deigns the waking world worthy of his presence. Maybe take a walk inbetween, if she feels inclined.
She used to fill this time with exploring Malfoy Manor 一 but she's found that there's only so many hours in the day one can devote to exploration before you run out of things to explore. So now she tends to instead mindlessly retread old ground and wait.
Waiting is what Morgana finds characterizes much of her days, now.
Lady Narcissa awakes first, but she doesn't leave her room before Lucius unless Morgana knocks to ask after something. Lucius typically wakes a quarter after, and he sets off to working the moment he's oriented enough to tell left from right. An hour or so after both his parents, Draco wakes. By then, Morgana will find herself shadowing him around for the day.
Draco was more irritating then kind on even his best days, but Morgana found by several differing attempts at personal research that dealing with Draco beat out boredom tenfold in desirability.
Morgana finds that she wakes much earlier than any of her hosts, save for perhaps the servants she's yet to ever actually see. It gives her suitable time to observe their habits, and they've yet to act with atypical hostility or discomfort to her observations 一 so she hasn't found a reason to stop doing it quite yet.
From there, her day depends on Draco's schedule. She's technically allowed to sit in on Draco's tutoring 一 but she'd have to be blinded and deafened by presumably magic the entire time. She tried it once, and it really wasn't very interesting once she explored what it was like to be unable to see and hear and how it tangibly affected her other senses.
She now opts to instead go on runs during Draco's lessons. They aren't fun, not exactly 一 not even easy, either. Morgana just knows it to be better then the alternative, which was sitting alone in a hallway for however long the lessons lasted.
She stops her run when Draco inevitably manages to find her. She thinks that despite the rude comments, Draco is actually quite taken with the concept of being followed around by a shadow that always laughs and smiles at the right times. It never takes him very long to notice her absence.
After his tutoring, Draco can go either way. Sometimes he goes into the manor's library 一 a place Morgana utterly refuses to enter without permission. Occasionally, he'll write correspondence to some friend or the other Morgana hasn't yet had the dubious pleasure of being acquainted with. Sometimes he'll be content with just retreating back into his room, another place Morgana disallows herself to enter.
Despite the several gaps in the places she can be in her day when she follows Draco, he usually places a token effort of talking to her when they are in the same room 一 even if only to kill festering silence.
Inbetween these tasks, they're usually both called for meals.
Meal times are Morgana's favourite parts of the day, if only for the fact they don't force her to scrape the bottom of the barrel for entertainment. She eats food, the Malfoys converse about some thing or the other she's allowed to listen in on, and her input is otherwise only occasionally sought after.
It's a favourable system.
There's also the fact that letters are delivered during meals if not marked otherwise as urgent. It adds something of an unpredictable factor to the day. Morgana asked about it only once 一 having deigned it a question that was perfectly reasonable, and likely to get answer.
All she got was a simple "it's tradition." 一 more then she usually gets, but admittedly rather lackluster for her tastes.
That aside however, with no contest, Morgana finds meals the most engaging parts of her otherwise mundane day. It was often plagued with small talk, but even the barest of small talk is better then the alternative.
Morgana finds that there exists very little things on this earth worse then the alternative.
So when Morgana wakes on her birthday, and for once a letter bares her name during breakfast 一 she does not panic. Rather, she finds herself more excited than anything else, as she gets to be the one to regale the rest of the table with a summary of the contents for once.
The envelope had an odd insignia on the front, and the address was odder still. She's never seen one so specific before.
To Ms M. Clarke, the fifth bedroom on the second floor, Malfoy Manor.
Morgana felt directionless at times.
The future wasn't something Morgana could afford to put off, but she was always more of the contrary sort. She tended to block out the future beyond the next ten minutes.
She supposed she could stand to be the more proactive sort. It's not like planning ahead has ever hurt anyone with enough sense to remember to keep half on eye on the present as well 一 and Morgana was hardly raised the kind of fool to make a mistake so costly.
Though, importantly, Morgana was bluntly 一 something of a hothead.
It shocks people, when she informs them of such. They look at her, almost always then, as if she's purposefully having them on. As if she finds amusement in lying to them. But it is true, whether she's believed or not.
Morgana is far too impulsive for any plans she makes to survive more then a few brief seconds in the larger scheme of things.
That's not to say she didn't have any 一 it was just that they were often vague, flexible, and relied on very little factors to stay intact.
Magic was never a factored in variable. Her mother's early death hadn't been either.
Since the upheaval of Morgana's knowledge of reality, all plans she had 一 the vague, flimsy things they were 一 all but disintegrated.
She's not too sure where she's meant to be going from here.
Morgana left, frankly, a lot of things behind very suddenly. Morgana of five months ago had never even left her home city before.
Morgana of now doesn't even know if she'll ever see that city again.
She feels sometimes like the world is rushing by at breakneck pace, yet simultaneously every second drags on for a seemingly infinite stretch.
Morgana misses when life was slow, and her biggest worries weren't of the type as wondering if she'll ever see home again, and anxieties and questions over her mother's no doubt free walking killer.
She's not sure if her hosts pick up on that, and she's not sure if she really wants them too either. Silence gives Morgana time to untangle a problem herself in her own manner, but talking with一 others never feels to make her chest feel lighter.
Morgana was never the planning type. She feels like the sudden need to have to do so every time she does anything sans perhaps exist is maddening.
Morgana wasn't the planning type. Morgana needed to be, if she wanted to even somewhat thrive the next few years, and however long again after that as well.
The thing is, however 一 Morgana was contrary on even a good day, and Morgana hasn't had many of those as of late.
It was a foregone conclusion from the start, really.
Morgana's birthday started with an odd letter addressed to her bedroom, apparently from a boarding school where she was to be enrolled should she desire it.
Disappointed by the boring innards of an otherwise potentially intriguing letter, Morgana dully stated the contents of the letter before setting it aside to continue her meal.
It was silent for a small while before Draco had asked Morgana why it was that her first initial had been M, and not A. Still mourning the loss of being the one to regale the table with her interesting letter, Morgana only said it was the initial for her full name.
Draco made a fuss then about her name being Mary-Anne the whole time 一 and really, Anna wasn't even pronounced like that. She was almost offended.
Distractedly, Morgana only said "Morgana, actually."
No one said anything after that. She imagines there wasn't much to say, really.
After that already quite awkward event, each individual Malfoy approached asked her what she wanted at varing stages of the day.
An odd thing, but she supposed a month is hardly ample time to know someone well enough to figure such things through proximity. She excused the perchance lackluster potential quality of the perhaps less then thought-out gifts in advance.
Lady Narcissa approached Morgana quickly after breakfast. Morgana, figuring this to be perhaps the only time she'd get such a chance, sieged the opportunity. Lady Narcissa was the kindest of all of her hosts, and it is her birthday, so she hopes she'll get off easy if the answer is a stern no.
"Morgana, darling? This might be an odd ask, but humour me would you? If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be you'd want most?"
Morgana noted the term of address with not so mild surprise. No one ever called her Morgana, her hosts not excluded from that list. Perhaps it was to draw attention away from the fact this was most definitely an attempt to inquire about desired gifts.
That aside, Morgana could not afford to let such mild diversion guide her away from an opportunity she otherwise might not again be quite so freely granted.
Taking a gamble, Morgana haltingly states "..Access to the Manor Library would be... nice."
And perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but Morgana could almost swear that Lady Narcissa had looked confused for a moment. Her face smoothed over before Morgana could well and truly commit to the memory being true, however.
"Is that so? Well, thank you for taking a moment from your schedule to answer my question. I'll let you get on your way then, I can tell you're iching to go wander off and find Draco again."
Well, it wasn't a furious glower. Morgana considered it a fine outcome, and dutifully made her way to find Draco.
Draco similarly inquired about gifts around an hour later, in an almost identical off handed and indirect manner to his mother, bizarrely enough. To him, Morgana answered that a carving knife would be perfect.
After his subsequent immediate questioning as to why she could possibly want that, Morgana said only that it was a rather frivolous response to a hypothetical. There wasn't much she really wanted, but she supposed a carving knife would be an intriguing conversation starter in theory. It's hardly like anyone else would be getting her one, the idea she had one in her possession already would also be quite laughable, so it'd be unique enough.
In not so many words, that is.
Morgana always struggled communicating her thoughts quite the way she had them. She supposes that's just what happens when one spends a large amount of time as a child sitting alone at recess instead of playing and talking with hypothetical friends. She came to begrudging terms with it over time.
That is, to say, Morgana often spoke in clipped sentences stripped of most pleasantries. She's proven herself to be able to speak with such pleasantries during tutoring, but it was always very artificial feeling to Morgana.
This is just how she is. If she was to force herself into playing the role of the perfect sweet and talkative little Lady 一 well, Morgana figures she'd be driven mad within the year.
Draco drops the matter then, and continues on as if it didn't even occur.
Distantly, Morgana noted that he called her not Anna 一 but her actual name as well.
Lucius was last. He asked her to stay behind after dinner, and asked perhaps in the most blunt manner yet一
"What would you like for your birthday? We'll be celebrating tomorrow."
Morgana did note the lack of birthday esque activities previously, but she had attributed that to the Malfoys not quite caring enough to do any of the more typical celebrations. She supposes that's her fault for assuming the worst of her hosts.
Once more, she finds herself mentally apologizing to the Malfoy family for her uncharitable assumptions of their character. This time with quite a bit more remorse then usual.
That aside, Morgana wasn't too shocked Lucius was the only one to say it outright. He tended to give Morgana the impression that he was never quite sure what he was to do with her.
She can admit she may be something at fault, as her first arrival to the manor was characterized by Morgana puking, wiping her mouth, and then immediately biting Lucius so roughly she could taste blood and could feel perhaps a bit more then that.
The feeling of muscle under her teeth, washed and diluted by rapidly flowing blood 一 it's not an experience Morgana ever needed to live.
For that, Morgana did apologize. Very sincerely, might she add, the very next day after the sedation wore off and bare-boned explanations were given.
Morgana does not relay the fact Lady Narcissa and Draco both already asked her this. Mostly because she's taken to seeing how long she could go without addressing her hosts by name aloud. Though, additionally, Morgana suspected the not entirely irrelevant fact he most likely already knew didn't hurt either.
She gives a less immediate response then, all of her other knee-jerk requests being taken up by her former interrogators of the day.
In the end, she settles for something simple 一 and she desperately tries to crush any guilt she feels at the test this mostly was by reminding herself this was a rather personal request, and she would treat it with care. It doesn't hurt that Morgana also was something of a sentimental sort, and something so tangibly filled with care may rid her of the unsavoury habit she has of expecting nothing but the worst from her hosts.
"A blanket, then."
By the look Lucius gave her, he didn't quite understand the request 一 but he didn't refuse her it either. The first part wasn't even that bad, her plan worked better if he didn't know anyway.
It was nothing too insidious, not really. Morgana didn't quite have the long-term planning skills for something like that.
It was a broad, simple, and unspecified request. He could get her any blanket on earth, and it'd do fine. It's rather difficult to buy a blanket that was bad at executing it's main function, after all.
That is to say, you'd have to purposefully look for a poor and uncomfortable blanket to come across and gift someone one.
What Lucius gives her, when given no limitations or specifications at all, are vital to her growing understanding of his character.
She keeps her eyes firmly planted to the floor, ashamed. She was never made of the cloth of some evil mastermind, but she finds herself more easily torn over even the most lighthearted and tame schemes then she had expected.
It's less so the deception that has her caught up 一 Morgana could lie her way out of a paper bag if need be and she'd hardly bat more than an eye 一 and more the implications.
Morgana, in the end, does not trust Lucius Malfoy, nor his family. Despite the hospitality, Morgana knows there's many things going unsaid that she can't pick up on. Many subtle undercurrents she had no hope of deciphering.
She needs this, to understand better. Needs to see what his first response is when given such a broad selection of potential options.
Lucius dismisses her, and Morgana all but flees 一 well, as much as someone walking at a reasonable pace with perhaps less reasonable poise could flee.
Morgana learns that night that there was a justified reason as to why moral guilt had never once been a suggested solution to insomnia.
She insists to herself that it wasn't that bad. This isn't even a scheme, not really. It's so mild a toddler could think of it, and it's not going to hurt anyone even if it went drastically wrong.
Trust is forged, and Morgana just needs to see first if the Malfoys are made of a metal that's not quite as brittle as she's been assuming thus far. Nevermind the shaky connections she all but one-sidedly snapped to get to the preparation stages.
It's not that bad. Really. She has no reason to think of it as if she singlehandedly murdered them all in cold blood.
Morgana isn't quite sure who it is she's trying to convince.
She always was softhearted.
Draco's birthday is, coincidentally enough, the very next day. It's a strange experience, the expectation that they're to celebrate at the same time, but Morgana can make do.
Breakfast starts, Draco gets a few letters 一 mostly well wishes and congratulations, but she saw a few school offers. Lady Narcissa and Lucius inform them that gifts will be presented and opened at noon, and school shopping will occur sometime late next month.
Morgana isn't sure how typical that all is. Her mother would give Morgana her presents the second midnight hit. After that, they'd bake some kind of pastry together during the day. Though, Morgana was often more delegated to mixing then any real baking.
It's different at the very least. She's not sure how to feel about that.
She doesn't bring up the tradition with her hosts. They seem content to assume Morgana had no life before appearing on their door step, and she's not one to break the status quo just to get awkward and not entirely genuine consultations like "Oh, well... we can certainly... try? That? Only if it makes you feel better, that is."
Draco gets, anti-climatically, mostly books and trinkets. A bracelet that warms you when you're cold here, a dress shirt that changes colors to match your mood there. It's all fairly minor stuff. Morgana wonders if there's more personal gifts they plan to open when she isn't present.
Though, she didn't get the opportunity to see what the books were about. She thought that perhaps those were the more personal gifts she was imagining.
Her gifts were also, surprisingly, characterized by mostly few trinkets as well. A bracelet similar to Draco's, only hers cooled her when too warm. A locket that played music when she opened and winded it just so. A deck of intricately painted playing cards that were charmed to play against her when she suggested a game.
The last reminded her of computer games that similarly set you against a nonexistent opponent. She liked playing those, at the library.
When she opened the last of her gifts, she was disheartened to realize not a single one of her requests were granted. Lady Narcissa and Draco could be rationed as Morgana misunderstanding a genuine hypothetical, but Lucius was very transparent about his intentions.
Admittedly, she hadn't considered the idea they just一 wouldn't actually get her anything she wanted. Incredibly foolish of her in hindsight, but well一
Maybe she just... wanted to believe at least one of them would listen to her, if they were going to bother asking.
Disgusting sentimentalities like that would have Morgana's mother roll in her grave, if she knew her only daughter was entertaining them.
Assuming her hosts would carry out her admitted to be frivolous whims, based on nothing but raw unfounded faith 一 Morgana was better then that.
Morgana should be better then that.
She crushed any disappointment before it could rise to anything unseemly. Morgana really should have seen this coming 一 or at the very least suspected. The sun didn't rise every day just to see her face, after all 一 not everything had to be about her. She's lucky they got her anything at all, really.
Keeping that in mind, Morgana sat off to begin to plan out her gift for Draco. It wouldn't be any extravagant 一 Morgana not able to leave the Manor, and not having the funds for anything quite yet either 一 so there was a non-miniscule chance he'd reject it out of the gate.
She'd have to try, however 一 he did at least bother to hypothetically inquire about her desired gifts on her birthday, and that was more then Morgana had planned when rising that morning.
It's his birthday, in the end. Any celebration intended for her clearly ended months before midnight even struck.
Morgana, for the first time since arriving at the manor, entered her room during waking hours.
Her possessions weren't exactly meagre. Something in her care had to be worthy of repurposing into a gift Draco wouldn't immediately set alight the moment her back was turned.
She just had to find it first.