A/N: A good while overdue, but...

PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCE

Part II : ...and Mr.

The small brass nameplate reading "Eleanor Beckett" clattered noisily to the floor as the heavy door to Ms. Beckett's office was flung violently against the wall adjacent. Ms. Beckett's fountain pen started skittishly, trailing a large, inky blot across her page, and Ms. Beckett, lips pursing with indignation, looked up hastily into the face of the man who had so swiftly crossed the distance of the room between them to brace his hands on the neat stacks of graded work before her and lean, fiercely livid, across her desk.

"May I help you?" Ms. Beckett enquired, her throat just barely suppressing a quaver.

"You may indeed," the man spat, imposing himself even further so that his remarkable nose was but inches from Ms. Beckett's own. "I have reason to believe that you, madam, have found some cause for dissatisfaction in my child?"

Ms. Beckett paled slightly. "I take it I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Snape?"

"No pleasure of mine, I assure you," Mr. Snape replied coldly. He drew back at last to take possession of the rigid wooden chair behind him, his black eyes flashing. Ms. Beckett released an infinitesimal breath of relief.

"I rather thought, er, Mrs. Snape would be joining me this afternoon?"

"Mrs. Snape was detained today at work. She assured me that this meeting would waste no more than fifteen minutes of my time."

"Ah – yes – well, then – if you'd be so kind – "

"Is Lucretia not performing competently?" Mr. Snape demanded. "Her mother and I have been under the impression that her work was perfectly satisfactory. She is a very intelligent child."

"Yes – well – I mean to say – yes, her work is quite satisfactory, more than satisfactory," Ms. Beckett fumbled, rapping her fountain pen nervously against the edge of her desk. "Her performance is exemplary, she is easily at the top of her class, a real credit to Hethanall Primary, I assure you. But the issue is not – "

"Then is she having difficulty making friends?" Mr. Snape interrupted. His expression seemed scornful of the very possibility. "She's a thoroughly delightful young girl, takes just after her mother, and she speaks often of the other children at school, I cannot imagine – "

"No, no, Mr. Snape, your daughter is very friendly with the other children – she does occasionally seem frustrated by the fact that none are quite so clever as she – nevertheless – she is in general a very amiable and engaging girl, the other children like her very much – "

"Well then," snapped Mr. Snape, "what can possibly be the problem?"

"The trouble is, Mr. Snape – " Ms. Beckett wrung her fat hands, having laid aside her fountain pen altogether. "The trouble is, some of your daughter's behavior, you see, is not quite – not quite – "

"Are you attempting to insinuate," Mr. Snape said slowly, "that my daughter is some manner of delinquent?"

"No, Mr. Snape – " declared Ms. Beckett quickly, "that is to say – not precisely – "

"Well then explain yourself, madam," Mr. Snape said frostily, "because I am growing exceedingly short on patience."

"Well, first of all – " Ms. Beckett hesitated – "First of all, Lucretia has been failing to participate properly in classroom chores. The students are all assigned to a weekly chore roster, and when it came to be Lucretia's turn to sweep out the supply closet, she flatly refused to do so, announcing the job to be "ill use of a perfectly good broom" and – and proceeding, Mr. Snape, to trot about the classroom with the broom between her legs." Ms. Beckett watched Mr. Snape apprehensively, fearful of his reaction to this peculiar bit of information.

Mr. Snape, however, did not erupt with any of the anger that Ms. Beckett had anticipated. "Potter," he ground out, simply and ambiguously, scowling at the desk, and when he glanced impatiently up again at Ms. Beckett he gave a brusque wave of his hand, indicating that she should carry on.

"Your daughter has also taken to bringing sweets to class and distributing them among her fellow students," Ms. Beckett continued; Mr. Snape's eyes positively bulged incredulously at the ludicrous nature of this statement. "Only they seem to be highly unpleasant – something about an Every Flavored Bean? The children have made a game of it, they all take it in turns to eat one, only sometimes they're ordinary, and sometimes they're odd-flavored, pepper and liver and vomit and the like – it's terribly distracting when I'm trying to conduct a lesson," she concluded waspishly.

Mr. Snape only rolled his eyes. "Weasley, of course," he said contemptuously, much to Ms. Beckett's mystification. He relaxed back into his seat, seemingly exasperated but nonetheless more at ease than he had heretofore appeared. "Well, and is that all, Ms. Beckett? I am really not alarmed by these occurrences – I will speak to my daughter, and I assure you, she will not – "

"Only one last thing," Ms. Beckett interjected hurriedly. "It's just – I've already spoken to Mrs. Snape once about it, and really, I don't find that it's necessarily meant in aggression – in fact at times I think Lucretia intends it to be endearing or fond – but, Mr. Snape, I've already had several parents complain to me about their children adopting the term, and as I can't for the life of me make any guess as to what it means, it just will not do."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Your daughter, Mr. Snape. I simply cannot allow her to go about calling the other children 'silly Muggles'."

Mr. Snape laughed, his lip curling derisively. "And are you quite sure, Ms. Beckett," he said smoothly, pushing back his chair and rising to stand, "that they don't deserve it?" And, smirking, he gave a curt nod of farewell, and swept dispassionately from the room.