Disclaimer: Naturally, none of it is mine.
PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCE
Part I : The Mrs.
"Ms. Beckett?"
Eleanor Beckett of Hethanall Primary School drew a smooth black slash though a question on the mathematics homework she was marking, neatly wrote in the correct answer, and laid the third-year's paper away in a filing drawer before looking up from her desk. A head of curly brown hair was poking around the corner of her office entry, the accompanying shoulder braced hesitantly against the edge of the door.
"You must be Mrs. Snape," Ms. Beckett said. The door was pushed wide with greater confidence and a young woman entered, pausing only briefly for permission before seating herself in the straight-backed wooden chair opposite Ms. Beckett.
"Call me Hermione," the woman said brightly, and Ms. Beckett reluctantly shook the hand that shot out across her desk, eying the visitor as she did so. Mrs. Snape appeared to be a woman of cheerful efficiency: she wore a clean, practical blouse, minimal make-up, and an unwavering smile.
"Yes, well," Ms. Beckett replied gruffly. She rolled her fountain pen absently between her thick fingers. "I take it, madam, that you received my message?"
"Lucretia gave me your note yesterday, yes. You say she's been a source of some trouble?" A small, worried frown creased Mrs. Snape's brow.
"She has, indeed. Have you no notion at all as to the unruly conduct of your child?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"To begin with," said Ms. Beckett, tapping her fountain pen significantly against her desk, "your daughter possesses an unfortunate disregard for the directions given in class. Last week, for example, the students were instructed to write an essay about their favourite animal. Your daughter chose to write her paper about dragons."
Mrs. Snape pressed her hand quickly to her mouth, smothering a smile. "Is – is that so?" she asked presently.
"When I explained to your daughter that dragons were creatures of fantasy and, in fact, did not exist, she proceeded to inform me – quite freshly, I might add – that some book called Fantastic Beasts claimed that the – that the 'Welsh Green' was perfectly well known to inhabit numerous regions throughout Britain."
"Oh, dear. Well, I do apologize, but surely there's no harm in encouraging a child's imagination? Fantastic Beasts is a storybook that Lucy quite adores, Severus gave it to her for her sixth – "
"I've sorry, severance? I must misunderstand you. Are you saying that your daughter's behavior is a result of your losing your job?"
"Pardon? No – Severus. My husband. Lucy's father."
Ms. Beckett pursed her thin lips unattractively, her thoughts swelling with dislike for these queer people with their queer names. No one was called things like that, anymore – and as if the parents weren't quite enough, they had to go and inflict their poor daughter with a name like Lucretia...
Not, thought Ms. Beckett grimly, that she'd spare much pity for the girl. The child was a dangerous nuisance, and the twenty-nine years of order with which Ms. Beckett had ruled over her students now stood in jeopardy.
"Even so." Ms. Beckett cleared her throat and crossed her fleshy arms across her substantial bosom. A small blot of ink began to seep from the tip of her fountain pen out across the chartreuse fabric of her blouse. "Your daughter's imagination is the least of my worries at the moment."
Mrs. Snape arranged her features into a suitably concerned expression. "Is it?"
"Your daughter, Mrs. Snape, has become a vandal."
The woman seated across from Ms. Beckett stiffened in her chair. "I beg your pardon?"
"Lucretia has taken to scribbling upon desktops. Funny words and pictures all over the place. I can't make out what they ought to be, but I certainly don't like it."
Mrs. Snape visibly relaxed. "Well, that's nothing horrible," she said, with a slight chuckle. "Can't you just wash them off?"
"That's the trouble, madam, nothing seems to erase the marks. Somehow the child has gotten her hands on some odd sort of permanent pencils."
"Well, I'll speak with my husband about it. He's, erm, a chemist, you see, and I'm sure he's got something that will strip the marks right off." Mrs. Snape rose to her feet. "I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Beckett, that Lucy has been causing such disturbances in class. I'll be sure to address these issues with her tonight. But if that's all?"
Ms. Beckett scowled darkly. "Not quite." She flapped a hand, and Mrs. Snape resumed her seat. "Your daughter has also been exhibiting some poor choices in language, Mrs. Snape. I don't know what in the world a 'Muggle' is, but it is unacceptable for her to use the term towards other children."
Mrs. Snape winced. "I haven't a clue what she could mean by it. Are you sure she doesn't intend it as something friendly?"
"The word is generally preceded by 'stupid' or 'idiot'."
"I'll tell her off," Mrs. Snape said with a sigh. "Is there anything else?"
Ms. Beckett shook her head and drummed her fountain pen against the edge of her desk. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Snape."
"Good afternoon, Ms. Beckett. Thank you for your time."