chapter six, young miss brierley
( contains verbal domestic abuse )
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀MAGDALENA'S MOTHER, FLORENCE, WAS A CRUEL, cold-hearted witch, according to the girl herself. Though not quite so awful when on her own as when compared to in the company of her father, she still could not deny the harshness of the woman's tone and behaviour, especially towards her. Others would agree, had they witnessed Magdalena in her mother's company, but none of her friends had ever met her, and of course, any pureblood children shared parents of similar types and wouldn't raise a brow.
⠀⠀⠀⠀But Florence Parkinson, this cruelly painted mother with her strict, immoral method of raising her children, had not always been such an awful soul. She was parenting the way she knew how; the way her husband believed. And unfortunate as it was, she was merely, and innocently, repeating a cycle.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Before marriage, she had been young Miss Brierley. The third child of five, the second daughter, born January nineteen-twenty-six. Different customs were in place, and she had grown up far wealthier and more traditionally than she'd chosen to raise her own children. Florence had been a girl of class, of courtship and of the male economy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀A very idyllic daughter for such a very high society family.
⠀⠀⠀⠀And come sixth year at school, this perfection seemed to really come into play, what with the development of her relationship with her best friend, and the agreement between her father and his.
⠀⠀⠀⠀She'd been seated in the courtyard with her best friend, Kaitlyn Flint-Noble, as well a few others from their little self-defined elite Slytherin entourage, simply talking about the most pointless things. She and Kaitlyn had not always been friends, but rather academic rivals that could not see one another beyond being competition. Eventually, with both of them being descendants of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, they'd been forced to socialise with one another at a Christmas ball, and decided that actually, they rather liked one another after all. And two years on, they appeared to have never been anything less than best friends.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Oh, Flo," Kaitlyn said suddenly, interrupting the other girl's speech. "Don't turn around so quickly, but Greengrass is almost here with the others. He's looking right at you."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Florence did not turn around, just as her friend had instructed, and instead pretended she had said nothing at all and continued their conversation.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Whom Kaitlyn had referred to as 'Greengrass' was actually Wilfred Greengrass: a boy in seventh year who sometimes merged his friends with the sixth year Slytherins. It appeared that whenever he was around, he would make an effort to speak with Florence Brierley, and it appeared that he seemed to quite enjoy her company. Luckily for her, she returned such feelings. And oh, Kaitlyn encouraged it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Florence," he said as he neared her, and she turned.
⠀⠀⠀⠀She could not contain her smile from him. "Hi, Fred."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Fred.
⠀⠀⠀⠀He'd let her call him that, but not a soul else. Sometimes he called her Flo, but that was less special because most of her friends did too. The fact he was calling by her first name as opposed to her surname was personal enough, really. Most students called each other by their last names if they were important.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Florence waved Kaitlyn off very subtly, and her friend simply smiled and did so quite happily. Greengrass' friends had gone off to join the rest of the group anyway, of whom Kaitlyn was now making her way over to as well, leaving Florence alone with him to the side.
⠀⠀⠀⠀As it would later become known, Greengrass had spoken to his father about what was to happen to him and what was expected of him post-graduation, and certain conclusions had been drawn. Unfortunately, such conclusions included the likes of Florence Brierley, but without so much as a thought to ask her what she thought on the topic. Her father had been asked though. Close enough, she supposed.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"I'm to work in the Ministry with my uncle," Greengrass said when she'd asked him what undoubtedly impressive career he was supposed to pursue. "He's the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation there, so I'll be a position below him until I'm promoted. But I've been told there's opportunities for me to work alongside the Magical Congress of the USA as well, which sounds interesting."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Florence had to admit she was intrigued by this news. It did sound good, and perhaps she'd be permitted to travel with him to the States every now and then. Her own parents certainly never achieved that, and neither had any of her siblings. She would be deemed the most successful of the family.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Though she had to remind herself that whilst this man was out living some sort of dream, she would be stuck at home in their - undoubtedly obnoxiously large - manor with their staff, and at some point their children. All of a sudden it was so much less interesting to her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"You..." he paused, as though thinking how to word his next sentence carefully. "You are OK with all of this, aren't you, Flo?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀She nodded immediately. Perhaps too quickly.
⠀⠀⠀⠀What else was she to say? She had a strong friendship with this boy, which was certainly more than some married couples could declare, and he was set to have one of the most impressive jobs out of all of the upcoming graduates of the year. He was nice to her, and her parents liked him, and he would do her family's name a world of good. How could she possibly turn around and say no to him? To all of them?
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Fred, of course I am," she said happily. "I really cannot wait until you graduate and make a start to all of this for us. Then when I do the following year, you'll already have made a name for yourself at the Ministry and we'll have a great foundation to absolutely everything."
⠀⠀⠀⠀She didn't have a clue what she was saying. It was something her mother had taught her to do.
⠀⠀⠀⠀But it pleased Greengrass nonetheless. He took her hands and squeezed them. "Yes, exactly! This will all be perfect, Florence, I can promise you that."
⠀⠀⠀⠀And as time went on, perfect certainly seemed to be within sight. With the parents' approval, a relationship between the two officially began and Wilfred Greengrass and Florence Brierley essentially became the pureblood couple of nineteen-forty-four (once the girl had finished school) to beat.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Because yes, for some unforsaken reason, this wedding was merely one ostentatious display.
⠀⠀⠀⠀It was unfortunate that the wedding was never to actually take place however - for the reader will notice it is not Wilfred Greengrass who fathered neither Magdalena nor Creon. Despite the celebratory mood people felt whenever it was mentioned, the relationship and therefore inevitable wedding soon became very, very uncertain, and with it, people's support simply faded to dust.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Florence Brierley was the middle child of five. An elder brother who'd been three years above her, a sister only one above, a brother two years below, and the youngest sister was six years her junior. It was shortly after her youngest sister's twelfth birthday that this wonderful union fell entirely apart.
⠀⠀⠀⠀The party for the youngest Brierley was held at their own manor, and people of all sorts came to celebrate. Beyond about ten o'clock, the party finished for the girl and the children were dismissed to sleep, whereas the adults stayed to simply enjoy something of a soiree.
⠀⠀⠀⠀But it was here that the youngest girl disappeared inside, crossing the foyer and passing the drawing room with the ajar door. She paused. Ajar door? It was certainly not supposed to be open. Everyone was in the gardens, the only people indoors were the staff and herself - the other children had gone back to their own homes. And so she peered through the gap, desperately curious as to what was going on, and was horrified by her discovery.
⠀⠀⠀⠀For there, in her very own drawing room, the youngest Brierley witnessed her sister's Wilfred Greengrass with his hands snaking Kaitlyn Flint-Noble's waist and his lips pressing hers.
⠀⠀⠀⠀The girl fled from where she was spying: bursting through the double doors out into the gardens; weaving through guests and dragging herself out of the hands of staff attempting to remove her from where she was too young to stay. But she ran for her life, straight into the arms of her dearest, most unaware sister Florence.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Stella, honey, aren't you supposed to be asleep by now?" she asked with concern, though hugging her sister back all the same. It was only when she noticed the look on the girl's face that she realised something was truly wrong. "What? Oh, what is it?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Your husband," she began, to which Florence laughed lightly with the friends she was standing with - after all, he was not yet married to her. "He loves your friend too!"
⠀⠀⠀⠀"He what? What do you mean, 'loves my friend'? Which friend, Stella?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀"He's kissing Kaitlyn Flint-Noble in the drawing room! I saw them, Flo, I saw!" she cried.
⠀⠀⠀⠀And almost exactly on cue, the pair emerged from inside the manor: Kaitlyn first and leading the man out by his hand. No one beside Florence and her sister had noticed before she dropped his hand, but by that point it had been far too late. She hadn't known if she'd have believed her tired, twelve-year-old sister's rumour of her boyfriend's infidelity had she not seen this, but she certainly believed it now. His eyes that followed Kaitlyn as she walked away. The hand that he didn't drop initially once she'd let it go. The fact he failed to look for Florence, but instead stood by his sorry self looking like a young, giddy schoolgirl.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Florence wanted to kill him. But she certainly wanted the wedding cancelled first.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀THERE WAS STILL A WEDDING, JUST not between young Miss Brierley and Wilfred Greengrass. Of course, despite the unfortunate fate that their seemingly perfect relationship had met, Florence could not go a day beyond her graduation without a man to marry, or else her parents would fly into some fit of rage with her. And though she was not as treacherous as her elder sister was, she feared she might otherwise meet her same fate.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Ignoring Wilfred's pleads in the owls he sent, Florence moved on with her head held high.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Wilfred,
⠀⠀⠀⠀If you keep sending this poor owl to my house or my school to do your pitiful biddings, I might just keep him for myself. Let the thing rest and leave me be. I, just as I have said in my previous seven letters, want nothing to do with you anymore.
⠀⠀⠀⠀If I receive another letter from you, I will burn it without even breaking its seal.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Florence Brierley.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Returning to school for her seventh year following from that awful summer party proved to be only slightly more difficult than she'd presumed. Of course, Wilfred was gone and she was free from having to see him in any corridors or common rooms, but her best friend, Kaitlyn Flint-Noble, was still very much present. And though Florence loathed her passionately and would refuse to even look at the girl, it still hurt her to let her go. Kaitlyn had been her closest friend these recent few years, and she'd felt as though she'd been her only genuine friend, too. The others were mostly alliances, if anything.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Wilfred did not stay with Kaitlyn. In fact, since the party he had done his utmost best to avoid her. But this was also what Florence was doing with the pair of them. She didn't care if it had been a mistake; if he'd never do it again. He'd done it once, and that was enough for Florence. And Kaitlyn? She didn't even want to think about the girl anymore.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Instead, Florence found herself closer associating herself with a boy she'd been reluctant to properly befriend - Marcellus Parkinson. He'd been particularly clingy with her ever since they'd met, and though she didn't really worry too much about it because he was entirely harmless, sometimes it had made her uncomfortable. But despite this, he was still kind to her. Not to everyone, but to her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Parkinson, hm?" her father asked her when she'd told him that Christmas. "You know, that's not half a bad idea. I think they've been doing rather well for themselves for quite a while. I like it."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Her mother gave her arm a squeeze and smiled. "Good girl, Florence."
⠀⠀⠀⠀And really, that was that.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Marcellus was beyond elated with the decision. He cared for Florence, perhaps even more so than Wilfred had, and he made no hesitation at showing her off to everyone that even looked their way. He did everything for her, and he was pleased to be doing so. For a while, Florence was happy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Until she remembered she had to marry him; have his children; spend the rest of her life with him. Suddenly the weight of the world fell onto her, and she didn't know what to do. She couldn't get out of this now. One of her potential husbands had already failed her, and if her choice the second time around was also taken away, what did that say about her? She wanted to be able to choose, she didn't want someone forcibly taking her hand. She'd chosen Marcellus Parkinson. She should remain with that decision.
⠀⠀⠀⠀He got along with her father. He got along with her elder brother. He got along with her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀They married at the end of the nineteen-forty-five summer, following the cease of the Global Wizarding War and Grindelwald's defeat. Florence, only nineteen, was quite reluctant by this point in time, but for reasons she could not quite pinpoint. Instead of raising her concerns, she remained silent and married the man.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Attending an evening party only a few months later, Florence's concerns became clearer to her. As she stood beside another one of her friends from her year in school, Corvus Nott, she felt a hand on her arm dragging her away. Corvus looked confused as their conversation was cut short, but noticed who the hand belonged to and shrunk away. Marcellus looked displeased that his wife had been seen apart from him at a party such as this.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Don't do that again," he said sternly.
⠀⠀⠀⠀She looked at him, displeased and defensive. "Do what again?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀The girl was nineteen. She still had fight in her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Just don't run off. I don't want to look like I can't control you in front of these people."
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Can't-?" she paused. "Can't control me? What am I, your dog?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀He waved her off, almost mockingly. There was a sigh that accompanied it, as though he was genuinely annoyed by her defensiveness about herself. He didn't care what she had to say because he knew that at the end of the day, he, as the husband, would be right.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"I suggest you stop talking, Marcellus, or so help me Merlin, I'll-"
⠀⠀⠀⠀"You'll what? Divorce me, will you? And never marry again because no one will want a raging, argumentative, high-maintenance whore?" he snapped at her, completely catching her off guard. She'd never seen him this ill-tempered with her, and she certainly never wanted to see it again, but somehow she knew that she would. She recognised, right then in the middle of the party, that this was what she'd seen in him so long ago, but couldn't identify until it was too late. She froze into place. "I rescued you from your family, Florence - it was falling apart! Look at it! They only care about your elder brother; they don't even look at you anymore! And your sister - look at what she turned into! I saved you Florence! Start treating me like I did!"
⠀⠀⠀⠀Did he? Had he saved her from her sister's fate? Would she have been a failure had she not married Marcellus, or would she have found another path? Was this all she'd ever been destined to do after all?
⠀⠀⠀⠀And yes, obviously she knew how much her parents adored her brother because he was their heir, and Merlin was he perfect for the role. But her parents had loved their other children too, had they not? Some were more of use to them than others, of course, but they'd loved them all anyway. Was she wrong to have believed that?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Florence had not moved since Marcellus had started speaking to her. Shouting at her. She felt as though she couldn't. She was overwhelmed by the volume of voice of the man beside her, and she was lost in her own thoughts and panic. She didn't look at him for the rest of the night. She didn't speak to him besides responding to whatever he said very quickly and very quietly. And when they returned home, she made the decision to sleep in their guest room for a few nights until she mustered the courage to return to him.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Or before he told her off for ignoring him. Either or.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Marcellus had always reminded her of how much he disapproved of her family. And eventually, this meant she'd effectively cut all contact with the whole lot of them. Every now and then she'd send owls to her parents, but it was far more important to maintain her peaceful relationship with her husband than it was with the family she never saw anymore.
⠀⠀⠀⠀And when the summer of nineteen-fifty-one rolled around and Florence gave birth to a girl, she couldn't even imagine the rage Marcellus would fly into. Fortunately, he wasn't as dramatic as she'd imagined him to be, which was an incredible relief, but he still wasn't pleased. He blamed his wife for the child not being a son, and he reminded her what a disappointment their girl was already, even by doing nothing. Even beyond the birth of their son two years later, he still wouldn't hesitate to remind both Florence and their daughter of why it was such an awful thing to have had a daughter born - and a firstborn, at that!
⠀⠀⠀⠀Florence regretted her decision every single day of her marriage. But it got easier when she stopped defending herself and simply let him have his way. He stopped shouting at her so much, and she felt more at peace because she felt like she was doing something right. But she wasn't happy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀And she'd always wondered, had she looked past the fact that Wilfred Greengrass had temporarily been in love with her best friend and married him anyway, perhaps she would've been happier. Was it better to marry a man that didn't love only you, or a man that didn't really love you at all?
⠀⠀⠀⠀She supposed she would never know. She only hoped that when her daughter, her darling Magdalena, would one day marry, that her husband was kinder to her than any man ever had been to her.
i'm sorry this is the most horrible and sad chapter i've ever written i swear it literally hurt me to write it, but i wanted to give a bit of context to my bby florence and her story <333
and magdalena doesn't know any of this, this chapter is purely for readers' knowledge!!
but also... ahh the parallels between stalker marcellus with florence and his son being the same (but much less an absolute dick) with andromeda... we do hate family cycles sometimes!!!!