Sitting Room

The Headmistress' chambers began with a simple sitting room. It is painted in black and red, with gold trim. The furniture is all charmed to bounce out of the way in case anyone walks into them, which a little spell to beep proximity alerts. Two doors lead out into her bedroom and office.
The sitting room is made up two large sofas with another chair sitting between them. Three table sit scattered about the sofas, with lamps on them. A cupboard full of books is set against the wall nearest the office door. It holds books that switch between three modes: normal, aloud and Braille.
Opposite the couches, behind the chair, there is a portrait of the Headmistress' family, painted when her daughter was first born. Despite the high wall, it is set rather low, making the room look slightly disproportional...

"Do you remember the laughing mice?" He would ask, whenever she seemed depressed. Her response varied through out the years; but it had always been accompanied with a smile. "And how they danced and sang..." she would nod, laughing as he grabbed her hands, twirling her around. "Around and around and around they twirled!"

Suddenly angry, Bathilde slammed the book shut, not caring how it groaned. Her hands shook violently as she carried it to the fireplace. Her husband had read the book to Taryn every night since the day she was born. And it had become a joke between them that when she was three, Taryn had asked her mother the same question the main character had asked his sad friend in the story: 'Do you remember the laughing mice?' From that day on, he'd used it to cheer her up and occasionally she'd used it on him. Now, she never wanted to say or hear those blasted words again.
She ripped off the first page, feeding it into the flames as she lowered herself to kneel beside the heat. Another page and another followed until nearly half the book was scorching and shriveling in the hearth. The tears began some time after that, hissing as they dropped into the hot coals. Her anger began to subside and her hurriedly shoved the last ten or so pages into the fire. She felt cold, even sitting there so close to the fire that it threatened to burn her. Her hands had been burnt during the feeding process, something that she knew would hurt later. But for now... she ignored them.

"Was book bad to Mistress?" Her house elf, Mosy, asked timidly having watched her burnt the book. He was a gentle creature, who hated seeing others upset or troubled. Especially his mistress, since she was normally quiet and smiled at him.

Not sure how to respond to the house elf, Bathilde sighed.
"No, I...I suppose not." she murmured, too tired to care how foolish she'd been.
"Why you burn if it good?"
His wide eyes watched her, wondering for the hundredth time what it was like to not be able to see. He remembered when the old headmaster had asked him to take care of Mistress Mochrie. From that time until that day, he'd never seen her so upset.
"I can't answer that, Mosy."
He almost took that to mean that she didn't want to talk to him; but her voice was so soft that he couldn't believe she wanted to be alone. His mistress was afraid of being alone. He knew that from talking to the big mean mirror.
Carefully, not wanting to startle her, he moved closer to the fire, making distinct footfalls with his awkward feet.
"Itis's going to be all okay, Mistress." he assured her, patting her shoulder.
She nodded slowly but then shook her head.
"No, it's not. Not now at least."
Mosy was frightened now. He'd served a master before who'd said something like that then fired a red light at himself. He didn't want his mistress to think like that. But he couldn't think of anything to say to help her. Maybe getting a professor felt like a good idea; but none of them knew her very well. He swallowed hard, thinking as a sudden revelation that he knew her best in the whole school. So taking his courage by the scruff of the neck, he carefully hugged her.

Bathilde stiffened as thin but warm arms went around her shoulders. She'd never been hugged by a house elf before and at first wasn't sure of how to handle the situation. But then she felt the little pats his hand was giving her back and she gave up trying to understand. She hugged the sensitive little guy back.
"Thank you, Mosy."
He shrugged, the action felt as he pulled back from her.
"My's pleasure." he grinned, noticing her blistered hands as she rose to her feet. "You more happy now, Mistress?" He had wanted to tell her to go to Hospital Wing to see the medi-witch... his mother would have had the courage; but poor Mosy didn't.
"Yes. I do believe I am."
That was all the house elf wanted to hear, as much as he didn't fully believe it. She still looked to sad to be happy.
"Want me bring coconut pie, Mistress?"
She wanted to say no, but couldn't and found herself nodding.
"That would be lovely."
He popped away without another word; loyal to a fault.