Closed The Face In The Mirror Looking Back At You

Professor Gabrielle Moncrieffe

Alleged Adult | Exists on Stress | HoM 1-4
 
Messages
539
OOC First Name
Camilla
Blood Status
Mixed Blood
Relationship Status
Single (Not Looking)
Wand
Straight 15" Ash Wand, Essence of Mermaid Scale
Age
45
It hadn't taken very long for the gossip to circle back to Gabrielle. Hogwarts was a very small and insular school, after all, and Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were on the same floor as History of Magic. Naturally it was only to be expected Gabrielle would find out that she had made an appearance in the third years boggart lesson, thanks to her daughter. It had taken a little longer for Gabrielle to compose herself from the initial anger and humiliation that bubbled up in her chest, however. But even as someone who was, by all accounts, a terrible mother, knew better than to lash out at Miranda for it. Her MO for parenting since Miranda had been sorted was 'sort of be there for her but don't push anything', but that could only take her so far. No, she needed to talk to her daughter, properly, and try and offer her at least some form of real, tangible support.

"So," she started, looking over the desk at the sullen teenager sitting on the other side. "Can we talk about the whole boggart thing, or..." This was, unfortunately, clearly an area she wasn't well researched in. "Are you really that frightened of me?"
 
Miranda couldn't think of anything she wanted to do less than have a heart to heart with her mother about the whole boggart thing. Mother-daughter tea time was already one of the week's most awkward and painful experiences, and now it was about to get a whole lot worse. She would've preferred to not talk about it at all, or if she did, talk to her dad - but that wasn't an option at the moment. Miranda sighed, slumping down in her chair and folding her arms. "I don't wanna talk about it," she said, sullenly, slumping somehow even further at her mum's question. She felt a strange twinge of guilt, although she wasn't quite sure her mother deserved that. "I'm not scared of you," she clarified. "I just..." Miranda gave a heavy sigh, looking down at her hands. She knew this wouldn't go over very well. "I don't want to be like you."
 
Gabrielle drummed her fingertips against her teacup, feeling a little out of her depth. She'd never been much of a maternal figure - that was the very reason Miranda had stayed with Stephen over her - but of course she loved her daughter. Even if she didn't know how to be a good mother, she still wanted Miranda to be safe and happy and have everything she needed. Emotional support just wasn't exactly her forte. But she had to be mature and kind and...not start yelling, like she was tempted to at Miranda's comment.

"Oh," she eventually said, exhaling sharply and leaning back in her chair. Gabrielle's free hand tensed, but she simply closed her eyes and counted to ten. No, it wouldn't help anything getting upset now. "That's...rather harsh."
 
Miranda felt that twinge of guilt in her chest again, but the words were hard to stop once they actually started coming out. Her father had always insisted on the golden rule of 'if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all'. Harsh words, however, needed to be spilled, lest they be bottled up and backfire. "Well, fears don't follow social rules," she said, stiffly. "And it's not like it's my fault, you're the one who ran off on me and dad and now you're horrible and alone and miserable and..." she trailed off, her voice noticeably wavering on the word 'dad'.
 
Gabrielle drew in a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she fought back anger. No, she thought, Miranda had every right to be mad at her for the rest of her days if she wanted to, but that wasn't going to help either of them in the long run. Gabrielle was trying, she'd made mistakes and she was still far from perfect, but she owed it to both Miranda and to Stephen to try harder. "Hey, take a deep breath." She sat up a little straighter, put down her teacup and extended her hands across the table. "Look, I know you'd rather talk to your father if something at school's upsetting you, especially since I'm apparently horrible and miserable, but if you want to vent things out, I'm always going to make time to listen to you." She winced, still feeling the verbal slap of her daughter's words, and took another deep breath. "You're the only person in this school who gets out of office hours privileges." She raised an eyebrow. "I'm still your mother, and believe it or not, I do love you."
 
Miranda could feel the sting not just of guilt, but of tears in her eyes. She'd always tried to be nice and friendly, but it felt like it hadn't gotten her anywhere. Maybe she really was just a carbon copy of her mother. "You never wanted me around, and now dad doesn't either," she blurted. In the morning, perhaps, Miranda would look back and shamefully regret being so melodramatic, but in the heat of the moment she found she couldn't help herself. "And the girls in my dorm are already friends and don't like me," she added, in a somewhat strangled voice.
 
Gabrielle paused, ignoring the comment about Miranda's dorm - teenagers were fickle, after all, and couldn't be trusted for anything a majority of the time - and focused instead on the comment about her father. "Hold on. What do you mean about your dad?" She tilted her head, confused. "Miranda, darling, if I know one thing about your father it's that he utterly adores you. Did he do something to upset you?" Sure, there wasn't much Gabrielle could do in that case, but if worst came to worst she could write to Stephen or even try and meet with him to talk about their daughter.
 
Oh no, thought Miranda. Now the tears were coming. She'd been trying so hard not to be bothered by this - she had a paper to run and schoolwork to do, after all - and yet here she was, getting teary. "Dad's got a new girlfriend," she explained, as calmly as she possibly could (which was not very calm). "And I heard him on the phone being all like 'oh my daughter's visiting me for holidays, she lives with her mum in New Zealand', and it's like, now that's not even my house anymore," she whimpered, a little pathetically, before burying her face in her hands in embarrassment.
 
Ah, Gabrielle realised. That explained a lot. She sighed, standing up from her chair and moving around the desk. Hugging wasn't exactly her style, but she placed a hand on Miranda's shoulder to cautiously test the waters. "I'm guessing she's a muggle?" Gabrielle asked, as gently as possible. If she couldn't do comfort well, she could at least do sensible problem solving. "You know very well that sometimes you have to tell some little white lies to protect yourselves. I dare say your father was only saying that because he can't exactly say 'my daughter goes to a magical boarding school', yes?" She gave Miranda's shoulder a small squeeze. "Did you talk to him about it, or have you just been mopey about it ever since?"
 
Miranda tensed for a moment, before relaxing. Despite everything, she did still love her mother. If she didn't, she might have made her look much worse in boggart form, as it was. She did feel a bit affronted by the suggestion she'd been moping. "I overheard it. I'm not supposed to eavesdrop," she explained, stiffly.
 
"And if you didn't eavesdrop, you wouldn't be a superstar reporter," Gabrielle joked, hoping that would lighten the mood a little. "Talk to your father. Knowing him, he'd just want you to know how much he loves you and wants you around, he's not going to get upset at you for eavesdropping." She gave Miranda an awkward one armed hug, before standing up and heading back to her chair. This motherly thing was hard. "You aren't going to turn into me, you know. Most teenagers are stupid - present company excepted of course, darling - and if you're that afraid of being like me, and there are worse fates, then that fear's going to stop you making the same mistakes I have." She picked up her teacup again. "Well, this has been sombre." Gabrielle pushed a tissue box over to Miranda and leaned back in her chair. "How about I give you some gossip to cheer you up so it doesn't look like I've made you cry when you go back to your dorm. Let's see..."
 
Miranda rolled her eyes somewhat - which was hard to do when they were red and sore - but she supposed that, unfortunately, her mum was actually right. Not that Miranda really wanted her to have that satisfaction. But she was at least pleased that she was trying, even if it really was the least she could do.

"...wait, how many?" Soon enough, the tears and anxiety had been all but forgotten as she almost spat out her tea at some of the stories being shared. "And they just...had this conversation at the staff table? Wow." Miranda couldn't help but laugh, feeling strangely more at ease than she had for a little while now. "Honestly, mum, it's a miracle you haven't gone postal." She paused for a second after saying that, realising she very rarely actually called her 'mum' to her face (it was strictly 'Professor' in class), but maybe that wasn't the worst thing in the world. At least, for the moment.
 

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