Post by Roxanne Weasley on Jul 6, 2012 20:19:41 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; background-image: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/34fb0ns.jpg);-moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; border: 4px ridge #9c5f5b, bTable][tr][cs=2] miranda louise mercier. 21. journalist & barmaid at the Leaky. chrishell stubbs. | |
[rs=2] | Miranda Louise Mercier was born on Dec 13, 2001 to Naomi Mercier and George Jones. Right from the start Miranda's status in life could be considered cursed, at best. Born on a cold winter's day - and not to mention the 13th day - Naomi's birth wasn't an event of songbirds and rejoicing, but rather a day of harsh reality, especially for Naomi, her mother. See in order to understand why Miranda's birth wasn't a moment of joy, you'd first have to understand her parents. Naomi Mercier first met George Jones during early spring (January) of 2001, during the British leg of her ballet tour. Naomi, a then 19 year old french ballet, had been studying dance since she was five year old. By 2001 she had been granted the prima ballerina spot and the lead in her company's version of Swan Lake (which was set to run for 3 months). George Jones, a muggle man twenty years Naomi's senior, was an arts - reportert for the national english news, set to report on Naomi's performance in Swan Lake. Naomi's performance went off without a hitch and afterwards George approached the young swan, taken by both her beauty and her ability. Dinner invitations were extended, and at first Naomi was hesitant to embark on any venture that would detour her focus from dancing. Eventually, however, she agreed, but only under one condition, their relationship would not become a part of the gossip section of his paper. George gave her his honest promise and soon the two were off, thrown head first into a torrid love affair. George had a bit of a violent/jealous streak to him that often ended with Naomi both in tears, and a bruised cheek. No matter how many times George hit her, however, Naomi would always brush it off, claim it as her own fault, and go back to seeing him. She'd take his apology, and word that it'd never happen again even though deep down inside she knew it would. Their relationship continued on, often interfering with Naomi's ballet practises, overall schedule, and performances; he wanted to know who she ws with and forever kept tabs on her movement. He hated to watch her performances with the male dancers. She continued to love and hold onto George tightly, however, he was harbouring something besides his violent behaviour and jealousy; he was married. As the final month of Swan Lake came to a close, Naomi ended on a high note, recovering from weeks of dismal performances. She was granted a standing ovation and retired to her dressing room with pride. What she found when she returned to her room, however, was a very angry Barbara Jones, wife to George. The woman demanded to know how long Naomi had been sleeping with her husband and when it'd started. Completely taken aback, Naomi grew defensive, maintaining that they couldn't possibly be talking about the same George. It was then that Barbara reached into the purse hanging from her arm, pulled out a pile of black and white photos and threw them at Naomi. Horrified, Naomi burst into tears, distraught by what she'd done. Barbara left in a huff, leaving Naomi's dressing door open for the rest of the company to filter into the room (having heard the screams and shouts) to find Naomi crying. Needless to say George all but disappeared from her life for the next month. He ignored Naomi's calls, invitations to talk and discuss what had happened between them. After all the arguments, lies, and fights, Naomi hated to admit it, but she missed him. She loved him. Nevertheless George had gone back to his wife. Having had the month off to rest before heading back out on tour, Naomi found herself sick and tired, often, so much so that once she returned to the dance floor to practise before the next leg of the tour, she was forced by the director to go to the doctors. After a few tests to make certain nothing was seriously wrong with her, the doctor announced to Naomi that she was pregnant; four weeks to be exact. The doctor offered to make Naomi's pregnancy go away, for a small fee. He knew that she was a prima ballerina and a pregnancy, especially at her age and THIS early in her professional career would ruin her. Naomi refused his services, however, and left the office. Both scared and alone, she considered returning to France, to head home and see her mother, but decided against doing so because she did not want to see the shame in her maman's eyes. Her own Maman had high hopes of Naomi becoming a prima ballerina who was famous around the land. And yet, her she was. 19 and pregnant. Yes, Naomi had fallen from grace indeed. With one last desperate attempt at contacting George, Naomi waited outside his office. She caught George and pleaded her case to him, unsure of what she wanted from him. He rebuffed her entirely and even scoffed at her admittance of pregnancy, chalking up their affair to a midlife crisis on his end. He offered her money for an abortion for their "supposed" child and left her, standing alone on the street corner. As he walked away from her and his child, a part of Naomi wanted to run after him, while another part - and these were her honest to god thoughts - hoped he went home and hit his wife. Instead of aborting her pregnancy, Naomi stiffened her upper lip and decided to go on with her life. Time passed dauntingly and three months into her pregnancy, Naomi was dropped from the ballet company. Without much education aside from her dance training, Naomi left her flat, and moved to sheffield, where she was able to use her last bit of savings to purchase a one bedroom flat. She mailed her maman to let know that she'd been dropped from her ballet company due to injury, but would not be returning to France. It wouldn't be until almost a eight months later that Naomi contacted her parents to let them know she had a child. Her mother offered to take the child to an orphange, so that Naomi could go back to dancing, but Naomi refused. She was keeping her daughter. From there she went to work, first waitressing, and then doing clerical work at a bank. She promised herself that no matter what she did, she'd always keep a roof over her child's head, and food on the table, even if she was only nineteen. On December 13th, Naomi was gifted with a bright green eye'd little girl whom she named Miranda. In a hopeless, vain attempt, Naomi sent a picture and announcement of birth to the Jone's residence. She felt that there was no use in hiding Miranda's existence from Barbara since the older woman knew of the affair to begin with. The picture, and announcement, were returned and that was that. Naomi spent the next six years working her tail off at entry level jobs attempting to provide for herself and her child. Under the care of a single, overworked and under paid mother, Miranda grew to be a seemingly healthy, yet verrrry stubborn girl. Because Naomi wasn't trained to do much other than dance, and all the jobs she could find were entry levels, Miranda and Naomi never had much money. "Only the essentials, Randy," is what Naomi constantly told her daughter, which did not sit right with the then seven year old attending primary school with children whom had larger parental incomes. It was then that she, Miranda, first showed signs of magic. Miranda had demanded that her mother take her on the class trip to Cardiff, since all the other students were going. No matter how may times and how many ways Naomi explained the situation to her daughter, the young girl ignored her mother. Eventually Miranda burst into tears, her anger boiling over. Her fury grew and suddenly the kitchen cupboards burst open, and a few dishes fell to the floor, shattering, The event, of course, did not go unnoticed by Naomi who was completely befuddled by what had just occurred. Miranda too was taken aback, but neither had no idea what to make of the occurrence. Confused and scared, Naomi swept up the mess, and put the event behind her. Miranda did not get her way, and that was that. The next few years went off relatively without a hitch. Miranda took notice of the endless hours her mother worked just to never have enough money to be comfortable. Naomi had kept somewhat contact with her parents throughout the years and every so often they'd send money that Naomi refused to take. She'd send it back. They constantly lived month to month, check to check. Miranda grew envious and bitter of the other children around her in new clothes while she wore hand me downs from thrift shops. Things changed however on Miranda's eleventh birthday when the then headmistress of Minerva McGonagall, dressed in muggle clothing, showed up at the Mercier residence. In hand she held Miranda's Hogwarts letter and an explanation for Naomi about the accident that occurred four years prior. Miranda, was a witch. A witch?! was the first reaction that came to Naomi's mind. Witches were things of fairy tales, fantasy stories - not real life. How could Miranda be a witch? They simply did not exist. Professor McGonagall simply smiled at the confused woman and pulled her wand, transforming herself into her animigaus form. Naomi nearly collapsed, barely staving off fainting. Miranda, however, approached the cat, curious as could be. After a few moments in animal form, Minerva rose, making sure that Naomi was alright and turn her attention to Miranda. She explained to the young girl what Miranda was, and what it meant. Professor McGonagall handed Miranda the letter, and - stumbling through a few words, Miranda read it aloud. Everything was like a dream come true for the young girl who had often dreamt of magic and what she could do with it. Naomi took the letter from her daughter, and read it over, still in shock. Once she recovered enough sense, she told Professor McGonagall that she didn't have the money to send Miranda to a fancy private school, and that Miranda would be unable to attend. Fury rose up in the little girl as she felt like her maman was ripping the world out from beneath her. She'd finally been granted a dream, a tangible dream, and her mum was going to take it. The fury boiled over and Miranda screamed. Glass shattered, once again, (this time the glasses that had been in the kitchen) and Professor McGonagall had to use a shield charm to protect all three of them from being injured. She quickly explained that Hogwarts had a special funding programme for muggleborns (after first explaining the terminology, and calming miranda down). Though hesitant and reluctant to let her daughter go, after a few more hours of discussing the situation at hand, Naomi allowed Miranda to leave. She told her neighbors that Miranda had been accepted on a scholarship to a posh boarding school in France, and that her parents were going to look after Miranda while she was there. Off Miranda went, from her first stop in diagon alley, to the platform, to the train ride, to the boat ride, to the view of the castle - she was enraptured. Never in her life had she been this excited; never in her life had she felt like she actually belonged. Outside of Hogwarts, her second-hand clothes and single-bedroom flat had garnered her the label as a poor kid, which she was, but it had also cast her as an outsider, which she'd hated. But within the halls of Hogwarts she felt comfortable, at ease. Right off the back, Miranda was sorted into Slytherin. The hat had barely touched her head, but the few seconds it had, it'd seen in Miranda a thirst to prove herself, and great ambition to accomplish her goals. Miranda climbed down off the sorting stool, and headed for her house, not quite sure what to expect. A few people congratulated her, others simply stared at her, wondering her origins. After all, very few muggleborns made it into Slytherin. Knowing next to nothing except for what the other children had told her on the train, Miranda sat and waited for the sorting ceremony to end. More students joined the table, include one girl with electric blue eyes, a haughty disposition, and black hair. She took the seat next to Miranda, and Professor McGonagall called for the feast to begin. Food appeared out of nowhere and Miranda's eyes bulged, a tiny wow slipped from her lips, earning a few sniggers from people down the table. "Muggleborns. . ." snorted one a heavy set kid with sandy brown hair. Miranda narrowed her eyes at him and took note of his appearance. His robes looked brand new, freshly pressed. She stared down at the ones she currently wore. They were apart of the financial package from the Hogwarts fund. In an instance she went from feeling like she completely belonged to be wary that the same money rules all order she'd left, she'd just entered an even more concentrated version. This thought only pushed Miranda, strengthening her iron clad will and thirst to be better, stronger, than everyone. Years 1-5 went off mainly without issue. Miranda continued to attend Hogwarts during the school year - all the while her neighbors, grandparents, and anyone who was overtly curious, were told she was at boarding school - and during the holiday she spent the time with her mum. She pushed herself in her studies, becoming top of her class with no issues. Because of her hard studying and all around strong focus, people often preceived Miranda as cold, calculating, and somewhat aloof; calculating, she was. Miranda enjoyed thinking through everything before acting, not because she didn't enjoy being impulsive, but because of her knack for self preservation. Perople didn't often understand her constant studying, and reading, either, which also attributed to the view of Miranda as cold. Her focus off put people from approaching her, but all and all, Miranda wasn't exactly mad that she hadn't gained many friends. She'd grown up poor and secluded, around children whom had money so it'd always been easy for her to blend in, become a wallflower. Being a wallflower meant she wouldn't have to explain her home situation to others. Miranda may have been a Slytherin, but the magic in her veins, and her cleverness, were just about the only things she didn't mind discussing. During the summer, right before her sixth year, things at home changed, quite a bit. For sixteen years it'd just been Miranda and Naomi, and although they often butted heads - Miranda was stubborn, and needed to have her way constantly; Naomi worked hard, and couldn't (as much as she wanted) beckon to her daughter's every wish. But two things drastically changed that summer. For one, Miranda wanted to know about her father. Naomi hadn't ever fully disclosed how Miranda was conceived, she'd only told the witch that he'd run off right before her birth. But Miranda wanted to know more, against her better judgement Naomi told Miranda what had happened, and she'd also granted Miranda with the last adress George had been known to stay at. Miranda took the adress and fought with herself about whether or not to use it. She'd always wanted to know her father, but from what her mother had told her, he had never want to know her. She held onto the adress for a full month before finally deciding to use it. She made the trip from Sheffield to London, and sat outside the quaint side by side flat, waiting. For once she'd done everything on whim, not having had anything planned out, and when she'd finally managed the courage to knock on the door, she was surprised to find an older woman answer the door. The woman eye'd miranda, a slight look of contempt in her eyes as she opened the door. "I knew you'd come one day. . ." were the first words she whispered. Confusion spread across the young witch's face, but slowly dissipated as the older woman explained whom she was and how she knew who Miranda was. Apparently George had been keeping tabs on Miranda and Naomi for years, though neither had knew about it, and Barbara, the woman whom Miranda was speaking to, had done the same. Barbara beckoned to Miranda to come in, and begrudgingly told her that her father had passed away from cancer a year prior, but he'd left her a letter along with a few thousand pounds (fifteen thousand, to be exact). Apparently George had felt guilty for denying a child he'd known was his, but had wanted to please his wife, for he'd been living off Barbara's inheritance. She (Barbar) was a tea company heiress. Miranda took the letter, and the check. She thanked Barbara for her time and left. But before she did so, Barbara explained to her that Miranda had an older brother, who was thirty years old and an investment banker/heir to the tea company. His names was Henry Jones. With that last bit of information, Miranda left. She wasn't quite sure how to feel. She'd never knew her father, so she didn't exactly feel sad, but at the same time she was saddened by the fact that she'd never get to know him. Another part of her was also angry. If he'd kept tabs on her for so long why had he never come to see her. Why had he never been there for her? Angry, confused, hurt, she returned to Naomi and explained everything, showing her the check he'd left for Miranda. Naomi was shocked, especially by the money, but said nothing to sway her daughter's opinion of her father either way. The second thing to happen that summer was the arrival of her mother first real boyfriend, Barry, whom Miranda didn't particularly like. Naomi had never really brought men into Miranda's life before. One of the main thing she didn't find appeasing about Barry was his son, Thaddeus, whom Miranda found to be childish and foolish. He was three years younger than her, and the three felt like twelve to Miranda. Another of the main things Miranda didn't like about her mom's new beau was she could no longer talk of her magical abilities and school. Barry was a muggle, so was Thaddeus, and they did not need to know about magic. Miranda began to feel like a stranger in her own home. What was once a close mother-daughter relationship had become distant. Naomi often enjoyed spending time with Barry, and Miranda was suppose to do the same with Thaddeus. Thaddeus and Miranda however did not get along at all. They often fought, both verbally and physically, which eventually lead to Miranda staying away from home as long as she could; only returning to eat and sleep. She'd gone off and opened a savings account with the money her father had left her and went and purchased a muggle camera. Photography, along with writing became her outlet. At times she really wished she had more friends - to stave off the lonely feeling that currently plagued her. Soon sixth year approached and Miranda returned to Hogwarts, this year, she'd proclaimed, was her year to have a bit of fun. She didn't just want to study all the time, but rather find a bit of excitement. She'd always known she was a beautiful girl, people had often commented on her looks, even going as far as asking her why she'd dressed so plain. So her sixth year she opted for playing with makeup - though still staying on her studies the whole time - and taking to party rounds. Parties, though interesting to the girl who'd always been the perpetual wall flower, were not her favourite things. Yes she loved a good drink, especially a good firewhisky and most hard liquors (right from the moment she'd tasted a vodka tonic she'd loved it), but the loud music, the throwing up, and the often unattractive gits who plagued her with promises of "rocking her world" left a sour taste in her mouth. Not to mention the loud girls who flashed everything from a smile to their titts definitely off put her. Clearly she'd been born an outsider and had been meant to stay that way. She resigned herself to taking up photography, drinking whatever she could get her hands on, studying, and drawing. She'd always been good at art, but had never thought of doing much with it. It was in her sixth year too that she met the girl who would eventually become her best friend. The two bonded over booze and a distaste for the monotony that seemed to be the student population of Hogwarts at the time. Miranda learned about Suzanne's want/need to be a journalist, which gave Miranda the idea of photo journalism as a possible career for herself. The two enjoyed their time together, and Miranda found Suzanne to be on par with her own intellect - a feat many people hadn't been able to accomplish. The next summer, the summer of her seventh year, Miranda's mother announced that she was marrying Barry. Needless to say Miranda's reaction wasn't a happy one. She maintained that Naomi didn't even know Barry, they couldn't tell him her secret, and Naomi was ruining everything. Naomi informed Miranda that she'd already told Barry about Miranda's condition and as much as her daughter didn't like it, they were marrying. Barry apparently hadn't said anything against Miranda's status as a witch, but they were going to wait until Thaddes was older to tell him. At thirty six Naomi became a first time bride, and ironically enough Miranda lost her virginity on her mother's wedding night. Not to her mother's groom, of course, but rather the wedding singer. Barry had sprung for a nice reception, which had included a wedding band. Drunk off her ass, Miranda and the wedding singer (whose name she did not know) went back to his car where Miranda was "deflowered." It was the first time she had sex and hadn't been entirely too much of a fan. He'd finished before her and fell asleep on top of her. She didn't why people seemed to glamourise the idea of sex as being special. The next morning she returned home and spent the rest of the summer looking for a way out of her home. She still had the majority of the money her father had left her, but didn't want to touch into that until after she graduated. She resigned herself into another year with her mother and new step family - though they'd now be moving into Barry's three bedroom flat. Reluctantly Miranda said goodbye to the one bedroom flat she'd called home for years and moved with her mum to Barry's. That year she also thought of seeking out her brother, but didn't. Instead she kept tabs on him. She kept up her photo journalism and drawing. Seventh year flew by faster than any of the other years for Miranda and she once again received all O's and an E (in potions) on her exams. With grades as hers, many told her she should approach the ministry, but Miranda didn't want a stuffy job. Sure she'd spent the last seven years being brighter and clever-er than the rest, but now she wanted her life to be worth more than that. She still wanted the best for herself, but instead of settling, Miranda decided to pursue a job as a photographer for the Daily Prophet, and eventually branch out and open her own art gallery. Not just photos, but her drawings as well. After graduating Miranda spent a few months at home, but was no longer able to stand her step-brother. He was nosey, abrasive and constantly in her things. Instead of killing him, as she'd often wanted to, she took the money her father had left her and purchased a bedsit in Bristol, around the street from Zanna. Naomi was heart broken to see her daughter leave, but knew that Miranda was stubborn; she couldn't stop her. She worked as a photo journalist for a bit with the prophet, but when Zanna applied and they denied her, Miranda agreed to go into business with Miranda, on their own satirical magazine, and quit the prophet. She used some of the money her father left her - managing to turn a good chunk of it into sickles to help as start up money for the magazine. She now splits her time between running the paper with Zanna - they've only just sent out their first issue, and she's mainly the photographer/cartoonist, though she's more than able to write an amazing article - and also words as a bartender/waitress at The Leaky Cauldron. She still holds onto the ambition of opening her own art gallery and speaks to her mom, though not often. Miranda just feels like their lives are in two different directions at the moment, and though she loves her mom dearly, she has her own life to live. She's yet to contact her brother, however, and hopes to find the will to do so soon. In the love department Miranda is a bit cynical. She's had sex a total of two times, once with the wedding singer and then a one night stand. She still hasn't found the enjoyment in sex since both times left her feeling sullen. She's yet to find someone to awaken the sexual passion in her, and she's never had a boyfriend. Frankly she doesn't give a flying fuck. She's learn not to care about a lot of things, though she still prides herself on her cleverness and ability to outwork most. As long as she has a good, hard drink, and her camera or a sketch pad, she's okay. |
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