Post by Nerweniel on Apr 10, 2007 11:25:31 GMT -5
A/N: Okay, this is a random piece of madness Cammie and me came up with 
. Salena Snape is Snape's niece, she is about 26 during Book 6, and she's the daughter of his brother and Miranda Priestly (Devil Wears Prada). Don't tell me I am crazy - I know 
.
So, here I go... to Cammie, my little Danish vikingpixie ;D!
Different
The woman’s hair was unnaturally white and her clothes, while obviously Muggle, were not exactly what the average person in the streets wore. The other people in the pub did not seem to think them anything special – Merlin knew they had seen more extraordinary garments than these – but Minerva McGonagall, a half-blood on her father’s side of the family, had quickly taxed them as expensive – very expensive. She frowned as she took a long, pensive sip from her tea, looking at the woman who called herself Mrs Priestly over the rim of her glasses.
When she had received the owl, she had thought it strange that a parent would choose to meet her in Hogsmeade instead of – as most did, when they had a school-related matter to discuss – in her office at Hogwarts, but she had replied immediately and dutifully arranged a meeting. Muggle parents, as she supposed this woman was, often had their eccentricities; one simply had to bear with them, as she had learnt years ago.
Now, she wasn’t sure anymore. Mrs Priestly – there was no student by the name of Priestly, was there? – did by no means resemble the average, nervous Muggle mother, worried about her child taking subjects she had never even heard of. This lady – for a lady she certainly was – did not have a trace of uncertainty or doubt about her… quite the opposite. Her quiet, commanding “That’s all.” after she had placed her order had antagonized Madam Rosmerta and, Minerva thought, not entirely without a reason. This woman was used to being in charge, that much was clear – and Minerva silently resolved not to allow herself to be pushed around.
“Mrs Priestly,” she briskly began, after the other woman had, with a not-quite-delighted look on her face, tasted her drink as well.
“I must admit I am not quite sure what we’re supposed to be talking about. I am reasonably sure we have no student by the name of Priestly at Hogwarts – certainly not in Gryffindor – and I am not used to meeting up with parents in Hogsmeade. It seems a strange place to discuss school matters.”
Somehow, she’d expected the other woman to smile apologetically – to utter a few words of excuse, to clarify the matter right away. Not so.
“I can’t afford to be seen at Hogwarts, so I had my assistant do some research. This seemed to be the most convenient place to meet.”
“Your assistant – Mrs Priestly, may I remind you of the secrecy – what if your assistant starts wondering - ”
Miranda made a small, impatient gesture with her hand as she interrupted the other woman again.
“Professor, my assistants don’t wonder. I am not in the habit of being bothered by their petty little questions – and I can assure you, too, that they have better things to do than ask them. I am also aware of the fact that there is no student by the name of Priestly at Hogwarts; there wouldn’t be. My daughter’s name is Salena Snape, and I believe she is a Slytherin.”
Minerva frowned, then, upon closer study of the other woman’s face, nodded. While Salena, whom she knew quite well, definitely looked like her father – and, she privately added, her uncle – Minerva could not deny that she saw something of the girl in this woman, as well. It was very minute and nearly indefinable – something in the line of the nose, perhaps, or a certain glint in her eyes – but it was there.
“I see.”
“Do you?”
Miranda Priestly still didn’t smile, but her mouth corners stirred a little, and Minerva realized that she had, perhaps, misjudged the other woman. Arrogant, yes – rather rude, certainly – but without a trace of the stupidity that so often accompanied those qualities. If this woman was successful in the Muggle world – and her clothes and attitude indicated she was – she had made herself so, that much was sure.
Minerva allowed herself a small smile.
“She doesn’t look like you, if that’s what you mean, but there’s something in your face that’s in hers as well. It’s hard to describe. I always thought Salena was a half-orphan, though. I know the Snapes to a certain extent, and you were never mentioned.”
“I wouldn’t be. I married Sabastian Snape when I was twenty-three years of age and pregnant with his child; I left soon after Salena’s birth. She never knew me, and that’s exactly the way I wanted it. I went to Paris at that point and found a job at a magazine. I was a success. I made money. Later, I was transferred to America. At the moment, I am about the most successful woman in the fashion industry. I never contacted my ex-husband, my daughter or, that is, anyone in the magical world, up till now.”
The story of her life had been told succinctly, without emotion, and surprisingly, Minerva thought, without both false modesty and conceit. Miranda Priestly had said she was about the most successful woman in the fashion industry and Minerva was inclined to take her word for it. If anyone could do it, she thought, it might just be this woman.
Traditionally professional, she nodded and, without further ado, asked directly
“Why have you done so now?”
The other woman raised her shoulders in a small, elegant shrug as she took another sip from her drink.
“I am a hard woman, Professor, but I’m not inhuman. I know Salena is sixteen now, and while she is very much a part of the life I left behind, I - ”
For the very first time, something of uncertainty flashed through the woman’s light grey eyes, Minerva noticed – it was gone almost before she could be sure it had been there – but somehow, she was sure.
“I care for her. I don’t know, and don’t want to know, how my ex-husband is faring, but if Salena is in any particular financial insecurity, I trust you to tell me. I want to contribute to her education. I want to know how she is doing at school. I want you to tell me your professional opinion about her progress. I’ve hidden away for sixteen years and I will continue to do so, but now, on this occasion and this occasion only, I will indulge my curiosity.”
As Minerva reassured the woman about her daughter’s financial position – Sabastian Snape had done alright in the world and, if anything, Salena could consider herself rather well-off – and about Salena’s school results – not brilliant, but acceptable, and with more motivation than the greater part of the student body – she could not help but observe Miranda Priestly sharply.
She could not quite figure out the other woman – her first impression had been partly wrong, partly right, and yet with every single word, Miranda seemed to become a greater paradox. She tried to resist her next question, then, reluctantly, briefly gave in to her own curiosity.
“Mrs Priestly, I have tried to respect your decision not to tell me any more about yourself than strictly necessary, but I cannot keep myself from wondering… why did you come to me? I am not Salena’s Head of House, I don’t teach a subject she is particularly brilliant at – although she is motivated – and I am not exceptionally close with her family. Why me?”
A faint flicker of amusement lit up the other woman’s eyes.
“I am not quite sure. I felt I couldn’t contact her own Head of House, obviously – as that is my former brother-in-law, and I could not believe he would keep silent to either Sabastian or my daughter. You seemed the obvious choice – I’ve had my staff do research on you, too, and I think in a way, you are like me.”
“Like you?”
She had tried to keep the note of surprise out of her voice but as Minerva saw something close to a smile creep up Miranda’s lips, she knew she had failed.
“Like me. We will most likely never meet again, Professor, and so I’ll be more frank with you than I’ve been with anyone for a long time. Look at us. We are both women of influence, each in our own sphere. We both got where we are through intelligence and sheer determination. It is not hard to see the similarities between us. We are successes, both of us – and I think that in a way, everybody wants to be us.”
Minerva looked into the other woman’s eyes, then shrugged.
“Perhaps. But there are differences.”
To her great surprise, Miranda Priestly laughed at this remark – a short, bitter, yet not unkind laugh. She nodded.
“Oh, yes, there are. I think the only thing more obvious than our similarities might be our differences. In a way, I think, we are two different versions of the same woman. You are the stronger of the two; you stay where you are and do what you must. I am quite different. I was born Miriam Princhek, my parents were Orthodox Jewish – I couldn’t live with that, so I ran away and changed my name. I married Sabastian Snape and bore his child – I didn’t feel I could do it, so I ran away to another country. I’ve spent a great part of my life running away from myself, Professor. My magazine’s name is Runway… and I always run away. Ironic, isn’t it? It’s my private little joke.”
She smiled and tapped her long, manicured fingernails on the wood of the table.
“That is half of the reason why I am here. I’m not a very happy woman, Professor, but today I am happy. For once in my life, I am not running away anymore. My reasons for this are selfish, but I have never truly believed in reasons – our actions decide who we are, not the reasons behind them. Maybe my philosophy is wrong, but I don’t want to change it now. It has brought me where I am – and I believe that there is, despite it all, not one place I would rather be.”
Her candidness surprised Minerva who, despite herself, felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the other woman. Hard, certainly – mistaken, perhaps – but not weak. Perhaps the entire tirade about her running away was true, it probably was – and yet in admitting that there was no place she would rather be, Minerva believed Miranda Priestly had proven to herself and to her that she was, despite everything, stronger now.
She wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t.
As she expressed these ideas, however – which she felt she owed Miranda – the other woman’s smile turned mechanical again, as if her unusual frankness had relieved her from something that had been weighing on her heart for too long, as if only now, she could fully return to her usual persona. Minerva’s feeling of sympathy, however, stayed. It probably, she realized, always would.
The rest of the conversation was uneventful – Minerva promised to send Miranda an owl with Salena’s chosen subjects and her subsequent results, but the sense of mutual trust, of private understanding, was gone. Only as Miranda got up to leave the place, most likely forever, Minerva asked a last question.
“Mrs Priestly – when you explained why you are here today, you said that that was only half of the reason. I am curious – what is the other half?”
When Miranda Priestly smiled at Minerva McGonagall for what would be the last time that day – and for a long time – it was a genuine smile, touched by the kind of warmth that could not be faked. It was, at least for her, a rare smile, but it was real.
“I’m pregnant again, Professor McGonagall.” she then said, simply.
“In six months, I am going to be a mother.”
. Salena Snape is Snape's niece, she is about 26 during Book 6, and she's the daughter of his brother and Miranda Priestly (Devil Wears Prada). Don't tell me I am crazy - I know 
.So, here I go... to Cammie, my little Danish vikingpixie ;D!
Different
The woman’s hair was unnaturally white and her clothes, while obviously Muggle, were not exactly what the average person in the streets wore. The other people in the pub did not seem to think them anything special – Merlin knew they had seen more extraordinary garments than these – but Minerva McGonagall, a half-blood on her father’s side of the family, had quickly taxed them as expensive – very expensive. She frowned as she took a long, pensive sip from her tea, looking at the woman who called herself Mrs Priestly over the rim of her glasses.
When she had received the owl, she had thought it strange that a parent would choose to meet her in Hogsmeade instead of – as most did, when they had a school-related matter to discuss – in her office at Hogwarts, but she had replied immediately and dutifully arranged a meeting. Muggle parents, as she supposed this woman was, often had their eccentricities; one simply had to bear with them, as she had learnt years ago.
Now, she wasn’t sure anymore. Mrs Priestly – there was no student by the name of Priestly, was there? – did by no means resemble the average, nervous Muggle mother, worried about her child taking subjects she had never even heard of. This lady – for a lady she certainly was – did not have a trace of uncertainty or doubt about her… quite the opposite. Her quiet, commanding “That’s all.” after she had placed her order had antagonized Madam Rosmerta and, Minerva thought, not entirely without a reason. This woman was used to being in charge, that much was clear – and Minerva silently resolved not to allow herself to be pushed around.
“Mrs Priestly,” she briskly began, after the other woman had, with a not-quite-delighted look on her face, tasted her drink as well.
“I must admit I am not quite sure what we’re supposed to be talking about. I am reasonably sure we have no student by the name of Priestly at Hogwarts – certainly not in Gryffindor – and I am not used to meeting up with parents in Hogsmeade. It seems a strange place to discuss school matters.”
Somehow, she’d expected the other woman to smile apologetically – to utter a few words of excuse, to clarify the matter right away. Not so.
“I can’t afford to be seen at Hogwarts, so I had my assistant do some research. This seemed to be the most convenient place to meet.”
“Your assistant – Mrs Priestly, may I remind you of the secrecy – what if your assistant starts wondering - ”
Miranda made a small, impatient gesture with her hand as she interrupted the other woman again.
“Professor, my assistants don’t wonder. I am not in the habit of being bothered by their petty little questions – and I can assure you, too, that they have better things to do than ask them. I am also aware of the fact that there is no student by the name of Priestly at Hogwarts; there wouldn’t be. My daughter’s name is Salena Snape, and I believe she is a Slytherin.”
Minerva frowned, then, upon closer study of the other woman’s face, nodded. While Salena, whom she knew quite well, definitely looked like her father – and, she privately added, her uncle – Minerva could not deny that she saw something of the girl in this woman, as well. It was very minute and nearly indefinable – something in the line of the nose, perhaps, or a certain glint in her eyes – but it was there.
“I see.”
“Do you?”
Miranda Priestly still didn’t smile, but her mouth corners stirred a little, and Minerva realized that she had, perhaps, misjudged the other woman. Arrogant, yes – rather rude, certainly – but without a trace of the stupidity that so often accompanied those qualities. If this woman was successful in the Muggle world – and her clothes and attitude indicated she was – she had made herself so, that much was sure.
Minerva allowed herself a small smile.
“She doesn’t look like you, if that’s what you mean, but there’s something in your face that’s in hers as well. It’s hard to describe. I always thought Salena was a half-orphan, though. I know the Snapes to a certain extent, and you were never mentioned.”
“I wouldn’t be. I married Sabastian Snape when I was twenty-three years of age and pregnant with his child; I left soon after Salena’s birth. She never knew me, and that’s exactly the way I wanted it. I went to Paris at that point and found a job at a magazine. I was a success. I made money. Later, I was transferred to America. At the moment, I am about the most successful woman in the fashion industry. I never contacted my ex-husband, my daughter or, that is, anyone in the magical world, up till now.”
The story of her life had been told succinctly, without emotion, and surprisingly, Minerva thought, without both false modesty and conceit. Miranda Priestly had said she was about the most successful woman in the fashion industry and Minerva was inclined to take her word for it. If anyone could do it, she thought, it might just be this woman.
Traditionally professional, she nodded and, without further ado, asked directly
“Why have you done so now?”
The other woman raised her shoulders in a small, elegant shrug as she took another sip from her drink.
“I am a hard woman, Professor, but I’m not inhuman. I know Salena is sixteen now, and while she is very much a part of the life I left behind, I - ”
For the very first time, something of uncertainty flashed through the woman’s light grey eyes, Minerva noticed – it was gone almost before she could be sure it had been there – but somehow, she was sure.
“I care for her. I don’t know, and don’t want to know, how my ex-husband is faring, but if Salena is in any particular financial insecurity, I trust you to tell me. I want to contribute to her education. I want to know how she is doing at school. I want you to tell me your professional opinion about her progress. I’ve hidden away for sixteen years and I will continue to do so, but now, on this occasion and this occasion only, I will indulge my curiosity.”
As Minerva reassured the woman about her daughter’s financial position – Sabastian Snape had done alright in the world and, if anything, Salena could consider herself rather well-off – and about Salena’s school results – not brilliant, but acceptable, and with more motivation than the greater part of the student body – she could not help but observe Miranda Priestly sharply.
She could not quite figure out the other woman – her first impression had been partly wrong, partly right, and yet with every single word, Miranda seemed to become a greater paradox. She tried to resist her next question, then, reluctantly, briefly gave in to her own curiosity.
“Mrs Priestly, I have tried to respect your decision not to tell me any more about yourself than strictly necessary, but I cannot keep myself from wondering… why did you come to me? I am not Salena’s Head of House, I don’t teach a subject she is particularly brilliant at – although she is motivated – and I am not exceptionally close with her family. Why me?”
A faint flicker of amusement lit up the other woman’s eyes.
“I am not quite sure. I felt I couldn’t contact her own Head of House, obviously – as that is my former brother-in-law, and I could not believe he would keep silent to either Sabastian or my daughter. You seemed the obvious choice – I’ve had my staff do research on you, too, and I think in a way, you are like me.”
“Like you?”
She had tried to keep the note of surprise out of her voice but as Minerva saw something close to a smile creep up Miranda’s lips, she knew she had failed.
“Like me. We will most likely never meet again, Professor, and so I’ll be more frank with you than I’ve been with anyone for a long time. Look at us. We are both women of influence, each in our own sphere. We both got where we are through intelligence and sheer determination. It is not hard to see the similarities between us. We are successes, both of us – and I think that in a way, everybody wants to be us.”
Minerva looked into the other woman’s eyes, then shrugged.
“Perhaps. But there are differences.”
To her great surprise, Miranda Priestly laughed at this remark – a short, bitter, yet not unkind laugh. She nodded.
“Oh, yes, there are. I think the only thing more obvious than our similarities might be our differences. In a way, I think, we are two different versions of the same woman. You are the stronger of the two; you stay where you are and do what you must. I am quite different. I was born Miriam Princhek, my parents were Orthodox Jewish – I couldn’t live with that, so I ran away and changed my name. I married Sabastian Snape and bore his child – I didn’t feel I could do it, so I ran away to another country. I’ve spent a great part of my life running away from myself, Professor. My magazine’s name is Runway… and I always run away. Ironic, isn’t it? It’s my private little joke.”
She smiled and tapped her long, manicured fingernails on the wood of the table.
“That is half of the reason why I am here. I’m not a very happy woman, Professor, but today I am happy. For once in my life, I am not running away anymore. My reasons for this are selfish, but I have never truly believed in reasons – our actions decide who we are, not the reasons behind them. Maybe my philosophy is wrong, but I don’t want to change it now. It has brought me where I am – and I believe that there is, despite it all, not one place I would rather be.”
Her candidness surprised Minerva who, despite herself, felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the other woman. Hard, certainly – mistaken, perhaps – but not weak. Perhaps the entire tirade about her running away was true, it probably was – and yet in admitting that there was no place she would rather be, Minerva believed Miranda Priestly had proven to herself and to her that she was, despite everything, stronger now.
She wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t.
As she expressed these ideas, however – which she felt she owed Miranda – the other woman’s smile turned mechanical again, as if her unusual frankness had relieved her from something that had been weighing on her heart for too long, as if only now, she could fully return to her usual persona. Minerva’s feeling of sympathy, however, stayed. It probably, she realized, always would.
The rest of the conversation was uneventful – Minerva promised to send Miranda an owl with Salena’s chosen subjects and her subsequent results, but the sense of mutual trust, of private understanding, was gone. Only as Miranda got up to leave the place, most likely forever, Minerva asked a last question.
“Mrs Priestly – when you explained why you are here today, you said that that was only half of the reason. I am curious – what is the other half?”
When Miranda Priestly smiled at Minerva McGonagall for what would be the last time that day – and for a long time – it was a genuine smile, touched by the kind of warmth that could not be faked. It was, at least for her, a rare smile, but it was real.
“I’m pregnant again, Professor McGonagall.” she then said, simply.
“In six months, I am going to be a mother.”
I have a soft spot for such cross-overs - and this one is not half as crazy as it sounds at first 
, I like it a lot! Very nicely done!
