January 23rd, 1890 mdash; Ministry of Magic Elevators
The bright office lights reflecting on the freshly polished floors startled Maggie as she stepped out of the chimney. It shouldn't have, for she had crossed this same floor for countless functions when Edmund had required her presence, but she found she could take no more than three steps into the grand hall. Was it here where her husband perished? Or perhaps closer to the elevators? The Ministry had refused her countless requests for more information, nor even a simple explanation as to how she shockingly became a widow the week before Christmas.
Maggie held no great love for her late husband. He was a cheating bastard who cared more for his career than his family. The money she belatedly realized he was spending on his mistress was even more upsetting than her instant widowhood. Edmund had squandered away such an obscene amount of money that Maggie was certain she would have to let go of some, if not all, of her household staff. Not to mention, Oliver would be heading to school in the fall. Did Edmund not realize how expensive tuition and school supplies for three children could be? Maggie smoothed a frustrated hand down the side of her widow's black dress. Maybe Edmund, just as she used to, simply believed there would always be more time.
A man brushed past her, clearly agitated by a sudden statue in a sea of moving parts. Right. She was supposed to be meeting with the new head of her late husband's department today to collect his belongings. Victoria had tried to insist on going on Maggie's behalf, but the widow wouldn't hear of it. Maggie couldn't avoid the ministry for the rest of her life because her husband thought it prudent to die on the polished floors. Really, were there no lasting effects of whatever happened? No physical proof to explain why she had three grieving children at home outside of a nearly unrecognizable carcass? For a moment, Maggie debated heading to the minister's office to beg an audience, before promptly deciding it would be a wasted effort. There were no answers to be had, and she would have to come to terms with that fact eventually.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of her remaining motionless, Maggie approached a welcome witch and was led through the building to the office she spent far too many nights envisioning. The evidence Maggie threw in Edmund's face of his affair had come from this room - the very same earring her dear husband hadn't thought to deny. After their confrontation and her stark realization that her marriage was a sham, she had envisioned the he and the mystery woman all over this office. The photo of her children shoved aside in a moment of heated passion. The quill Maggie had given him as a birthday gift last year snapped by the weight of them. Standing in the face of all her worst fears, it was even more apparent now that her husband was happier in his affair than he had ever been in their marriage. Abruptly, as though something had snapped within her, Maggie began shoving all his effects into the crate the witch had left her. Later, when she was done, she would transfigure the crate to fit inside her pocket. The black of her dress was an obvious enough statement; she needn't draw more attention carrying a heavy wooden crate across those floors.
Maggie muttered her goodbyes to Edmund's former coworkers as quickly as she'd said her hellos and hastily made her way towards the elevators. Soon, she would be back in the security of her home. She could settle in the parlor with her children and leave the strange tides of grief to the other woman her husband loved.
Maggie held no great love for her late husband. He was a cheating bastard who cared more for his career than his family. The money she belatedly realized he was spending on his mistress was even more upsetting than her instant widowhood. Edmund had squandered away such an obscene amount of money that Maggie was certain she would have to let go of some, if not all, of her household staff. Not to mention, Oliver would be heading to school in the fall. Did Edmund not realize how expensive tuition and school supplies for three children could be? Maggie smoothed a frustrated hand down the side of her widow's black dress. Maybe Edmund, just as she used to, simply believed there would always be more time.
A man brushed past her, clearly agitated by a sudden statue in a sea of moving parts. Right. She was supposed to be meeting with the new head of her late husband's department today to collect his belongings. Victoria had tried to insist on going on Maggie's behalf, but the widow wouldn't hear of it. Maggie couldn't avoid the ministry for the rest of her life because her husband thought it prudent to die on the polished floors. Really, were there no lasting effects of whatever happened? No physical proof to explain why she had three grieving children at home outside of a nearly unrecognizable carcass? For a moment, Maggie debated heading to the minister's office to beg an audience, before promptly deciding it would be a wasted effort. There were no answers to be had, and she would have to come to terms with that fact eventually.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of her remaining motionless, Maggie approached a welcome witch and was led through the building to the office she spent far too many nights envisioning. The evidence Maggie threw in Edmund's face of his affair had come from this room - the very same earring her dear husband hadn't thought to deny. After their confrontation and her stark realization that her marriage was a sham, she had envisioned the he and the mystery woman all over this office. The photo of her children shoved aside in a moment of heated passion. The quill Maggie had given him as a birthday gift last year snapped by the weight of them. Standing in the face of all her worst fears, it was even more apparent now that her husband was happier in his affair than he had ever been in their marriage. Abruptly, as though something had snapped within her, Maggie began shoving all his effects into the crate the witch had left her. Later, when she was done, she would transfigure the crate to fit inside her pocket. The black of her dress was an obvious enough statement; she needn't draw more attention carrying a heavy wooden crate across those floors.
Maggie muttered her goodbyes to Edmund's former coworkers as quickly as she'd said her hellos and hastily made her way towards the elevators. Soon, she would be back in the security of her home. She could settle in the parlor with her children and leave the strange tides of grief to the other woman her husband loved.