notre dame.

chapter six.

CHAPTER SIX.

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Blythe's eyes snapped open, sitting up on her bed and taking heaving breaths. Her mother's screams from her sleep were still echoing in her ears as she pushed herself up in the bed, resting her back against the fancy headboard and drawing her knees to her chest. She drummed her fingers on her shins, letting her eyes fall closed as she took a few deep breaths, reflecting on what had happened in her dream. Or should she call it nightmare?

Her mother was there, per usual, only this time there was something more demented in her sharp features. It was as if they were melting, revealing another similar face from her childhood. Lucinda had called for help, holding a melting hand in the direction of her daughter, but Blythe could only watch on in fear as her mother dripped away to form her brother instead. Lucinda's screams still echoed, a mixture of sobs and pain while Barty grinned at his sister, tongue darting passed his lips. Disheveled hair and a crazy look in his eyes.
Blythe didn't make it much further than that.

The brunette rest her chin on her knees, eyes darting around for the sight of the small grandfather clock she had in her room. A gift from her father upon her being hired as a Hogwarts professor, she had gladly accepted it at the time, but now it loomed over her in the corner it was hung on. She narrowed her eyes to see what the time was, finding that she had only managed to get a couple hours of sleep. Restless, Blythe climbed off of her bed, grabbing a robe and pulling it on over her nightgown as she crossed the room and walked through the door that let her into her conjoined office. Blythe waved a hand, the candles coming to life and the fireplace suddenly roaring with flame. She held her robe around her body, pushing her dark hair off of her shoulders and behind her ears, focused on making herself a cup of tea to potentially calm her anxieties.

Blythe moved silently, not that there was anyone to bother. Her office and sleeping quarters were in a vastly different area than most professors and the students they all tended to. Where Severus, Minerva, Flitwick, and Sprout, as heads of their respective houses, had an office and sleeping chambers somewhat near where the students they looked after lived in, Blythe happened to fall by the courtyard. She could hear the mixtures of her brother's jumbled words, her mother's pleas for help, but suppressed them to the best of her ability to focus on the warm cup of tea she was making. As the kettle warmed, Blythe sat in one of the chairs by her fireplace, staring at the roaring flames and picking at her fingers, a deep frown on her face. Her brown eyes seemed void of life, lost in thought as she reflected on the symbolism of her dream.
But that could not mean anything, her mother and brother were dead.

A firm knock startled Blythe, causing her to jump and spin to face the door. She stared for a moment, then heard another knock, just as firm, but followed up by a voice this time, "Blythe?"

Severus.

She wondered what he was doing at her door, causing her brows to furrow as she rose to her feet and crossed the room. She held her robe even tighter around her body, only cracking the door open and looking up at Severus. His towering stance and cloak covered any sight that students and other professors might see if they walked by. He must have had duty, checking the halls and ensuring that students were in their rooms and not wandering the halls.

"What are you doing here?" she asked gently, trying to peer around him, but he made sure to block her view, not wanting to risk anyone seeing Blythe in a nightgown and her hair a mess from her restless sleep.

On one hand, Blythe was grateful. Severus had always been one to protect certain aspects about hismelf and the people he considered close to him. When Blythe was first hired at Hogwarts, many students ad their parents had raised questions about her credibility, as well as his own, due to Bary's arrest. It was Severus who shut down the remarks, serving detentions and removing house points with Dumbledore's authorization. The Headmaster could not have his professors under scrutiny, it would make Hogwarts fall under questioning as a whole. Blythe was forever grateful for his behavior, even if it was something that helped root him as a hated professor by many students.