Flora. {Credence Barebone}

Chapter Three.

Flora had never entered her father's study without feeling an uneasiness in her stomach. Perhaps it was the fact that her father had to personally unlock the door, or a curse would befall anyone that wasn't him. Or, maybe it was the tragedy that had occurred in this place, years ago.

Crossing the threshold, beyond the dark, heavy door, her hands immediately caught at her middle, wringing furiously as if on command.

Dust mites floated through the air around her face, and the only glimmer of light in the room was the window right behind her father's desk, which was looking out on the busy West 24th street below. Out of it, Flora could just make out the figures of two woman closing the door of their dwelling behind them. As they turned, Flora could see it was the Goldstein sisters. She sighed, how she envied their lives and their freedom.

As her father moved to sit at his mahogany desk, Flora looked down and caught a glimpse of what was standing atop the table, immediately wanting to bolt from the musty study upon doing so. It was her box, her box from under her bed. That wooden crate was full of everything her father had told her repeatedly she was not allowed to have. That box was full of her dreams, her aspirations... hopes for the future she was not permitted to hope.

"Sit."

Her father gave her an order as he sat his tall figure into his own large, plush chair behind the intimidating desk which Flora had always hated. Nodding solemnly she dragged back the heavy chair which was placed opposite her father, flinching at the sounds it made as it screeched across the dark wooden floor. Slowly she lowered herself onto it, fighting the urge to run with every inch she neared the hard seat. Her heart was almost beating as fast as earlier, as her bottom reached the cold surface of the chair, her long dress pooling against her shaking legs.

Silently, her father pushed the box across the table, closer to her, and just as she felt herself reach towards it, a sharp pain whipped across her outstretched hand. Immediately she flinched, and pulled her quivering hand back to her chest. She rubbed the red mark with her other hand as she averted her gaze to the floor, her father's unforgiving blue eyes staring harshly at her.

It wasn't the first time she had received such a mark.

Her father, unfortunately, was quite skilled in wandless magic, something which had earned him a lot of respect in the wizarding community in New York. It was also something he used to his advantage. At least if she could see his fir wand in his strong hand she could prepare herself for the pain, but her father seemed to enjoy the element of surprise.

"So," he began slowly. "Tell me about this new hobby of yours."

Flora suppressed a whimper, and kept her gaze fixed on the dark floor beneath her feet which fidgeted mercilessly.

"I'm afraid it's a past-time that will have to be left in the past Flora," he continued, and Flora looked up to the stern blue eyes which never seemed to hold the warmth that her mother's had.

"Father I-"

Flora didn't need to hold in her whimpers this time, as as she had begun to speak, she felt her mouth being bound shut.

"I wasn't finished Flora," her father spat. The anger in his voice terrified her. Without another word, the box flew across the desk towards him and he placed his large hands upon its lid. He began to drum with his fingers in an eerie pattern as he continued to stare down his daughter who was trying terribly hard not to shake uncontrollably under his hard glare.

"I have told you many times Flora that there are no secrets to be kept in this household. I have also told you not to mess around with things you shouldn't, yet, look what one of the maids found under your bed."

The lid flew off of the box, leaving the contents visible. Flora fought her hardest not to cry or look weak in front of her father, when one by one he removed book after book, herb after herb, vial after vial, until all of the contents she was using to teach herself the skills of a Healer were laid out on the desk in front of her.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Her father glowered, and Flora finally found herself able to open her mouth once more. But though she was now physically able to speak, she couldn't find the words to say what she wanted to say.

"I... They- ... Father I-"

"Enough." Flora squeezed her eyes shut at the bellowing of his voice and took a deep breath, not looking forward to what her father was about to say.

"How many times, Flora, do I have to go through the fact that you will not become a Healer, or whatever it is you are attempting to achieve. How many times?"

"Father pleas-"

"How many times Flora?" He bellowed.

"No more times," she whispered.

"I hope that's true Flora, because your place in society is not to have a job. Your place, is to keep a home. You will live under my care, under my roof, until there comes a day when a young man asks for your hand in marriage, and then you will live under his care, and under his roof."

Flora had heard this speech of his many times, and each time it angered her more than it had before. It wasn't fair. It was not fair that women like the Goldstein sisters could have jobs, No-Maj women could have jobs, yet she was stuck under the tyranny of her father, destined to live the life of an aristocrat's wife. To keep a home, to keep a family. But that wasn't what Flora wanted, Flora wanted to help people like she should have helped her mother. Flora wanted to help people like the Salemer boy. Flora, she just realised, wanted to help him.

"Father if you just let me-"

And her mouth and tongue were bound again.

"You were privileged enough to go to school Flora," her father growled. "If it hadn't been for your mother, you would have spent your childhood here, like Elizabeth Adler stayed at her home. She was home-schooled in domesticity, and she seemed to turn out a much better girl than you. She listens to her parents, listens to Walter. So, that leads me to think that it is the wretched education you obtained at that damned school that is making you act like this."

Fuelled by anger, Flora somehow managed to break the curse placed upon her tongue.

"My education is not wretched," she exclaimed, and sprung out of her chair before he could stop her. "My education is my salvation, from this life, and from you."

Her father's eyes blazed with fury as Flora reached for her things on the table in front of him, but she was not quick enough. Before she was even within a finger's reach of one of her books, the herbs, vials and books all thrust towards the wall behind her. The vials smashed, the herbs were crushed, and the books were torn to shreds. Flora screeched in frustration as she looked to see months of work in pieces on the floor behind her. As she turned back to her father he stood inches from her face, a sadistic smirk plastered across his expression.

"And how is that salvation working for you now?"