Snape desperately hoped the wintry months would bring some sort of holiday for him, just a break from the constant running back and forth, endlessly playing the part of loyal servant on both fronts. The dungeon had taken on a new kind of chill as the ground above settled into a frosty state, becoming blanketed with light snows. His fingers and toes were numb frequently, but he paid no mind. In fact, Severus welcomed the sensation.
He had begun to notice his assistant watching him with the ferocity and focus of an animal eyeing prey. It was a little unnerving to say the least. She seemed so hesitant to leave and so eager to help it was beginning to get annoying. Dumbledore constantly reminded him she meant well. In return, Snape constantly reminded the old man to keep his distance from Potter, which always prompted a change of subject.
His mind was constantly absorbed in keeping everything straight between his nightly masquerading, and keeping his students in line by day. Tolerating the constant interruptions from Umbridge on her High Inquisitor business became more difficult with each little interrogation. One evening at dinner he even had the passing thought of Hagrid "accidentally" sitting on her, squishing her like a bug. The presence of such a silly thought was so rare for him, and the image so vivid, that he snorted into his goblet and nearly choked.
Severus felt fortunate that on nights when he started to nod off at his desk, Eleanor would continue her working in the adjacent room without a word. It was strange for him to feel so comfortable with another person so near at hand, but her presence never seemed to be much of a burden. He began to notice nights when she wasn't present – whether she was in the library, in her own study, or running errands- he became much more anxious. When she returned, brewing a salve for Charity Burbage's dry winter skin or a tonic for Bathesheda Babbling's stiff joints, he felt slightly more relaxed until he could feel her eyes boring holes into his skin. He couldn't fathom the reason she stared at him so much.
One evening, she returned from a quick run to the storeroom with her face as white as a sheet. Snape could see she was carrying dozens of tiny green vials.
"Umbridge wants all the Vertiserum from the storerooms."
"Did she mention what for?"
"Not at all," she replied, "but I can't imagine giving it to her will bode well."
"Dilute it," Snape replied, "Heavily. She won't be able to tell the difference."
"Let's hope not," she said as she set all of the little bottles down at her workstation with a loud clatter.
He watched her pull back her long red hair, revealing a little slice of her neck above her jumper. Her ears were pierced unevenly, he observed while counting three on one side and two on the other. He never noticed before. For that matter, he never cared. Severus dipped his quill again and began scratching out corrections all over the roll of parchment in front of him. After a moment, his eyes greedily wandered back to the redhead at work a small distance away.
Her fingers moved swiftly to uncork the little vials, pour everything into a simmering cauldron, and add copious amounts of water and sweet grass. Every so often, she would push a strand of hair back behind her ear. How peculiar it was, he felt, to be so familiar with her yet know little about her. Eleanor was carefully pouring the new mixture into larger bottles, taking great care to avoid letting anything drip down the sides. He studied her face as she worked and tried to remember if he had ever seen her distinctly before leaving Hogwarts.
Ravenclaws and Slytherins typically didn't notice each other. No real house rivalry, dorms far apart, and classes mixed. She would have been fourth year when he was in his final year, he figured. They wouldn't have shared classes. She was on the Quidditch team, he was sure, but he avoided the game frequently due to James and his motley crew. He couldn't think of a time when he had seen her before he had returned to teach.
Yet she seemed so familiar. Perhaps, he thought, it was because he imagined Lily in her, a cruel trick of his imagination trying to resurrect his childhood companion. But when he looked – really looked- he could barely see how he could mistake the two. Lily's lovely face had been bright with few freckles, her jaw was rounded, and her hair was a little more orange. Ella's jaw was narrower, she had more freckles, especially over her cheekbones, and tended to smile a little to one side. He noticed a small scar on her right cheek that glowed white in the low light. And her eyes…
That was the real defining feature between Lily and Ella. Lily had friendly, glittering green eyes like the colour of summer grass. Eleanor's eyes were more forbidding, like the colour of an animal's eyes, clear and watchful but dangerous. They held none of Lily's warmth.
He did not notice he had been staring at Eleanor for so long, making eye contact. She smirked a little when he straightened and shuffled the parchment on his desk.
"Is there something you need, Professor?"
Snape shook his head, unwilling to make any harsh remarks. He was too tired.
"You're sure?"
"Yes," he snapped.
A quiet moment passed again before she asked, "Do you have any plans for the holiday?"
He narrowed his eyes, missing the silence. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
"No family to visit?"
"If I had any, I wouldn't choose to see them," he replied bitterly.
"That bad, huh?" she wrestled a cork onto another bottle. "I've got a few aunts and uncles, and a slew of cousins that I avoid like the plague every year. If I ever go, I get dragged into babysitting ten kids who don't know setting fire to curtains and jumping on tables is a bad thing. Every year we'll find the poor Santa figurine that Aunt Sophia likes so much shoved into some god-awful spot in the house. Last time it was the upstairs toilet, and the time before that Uncle Rhys found it buried up-…"
"Your cauldron," Snape said, eyeing the foam threatening to bubble over the top.
Eleanor hastily hoisted the cauldron up higher over the flame and furiously stirred until the foam went down. He checked the time and rose – it was nearly time for the meeting. He felt her eyes on him as he crossed towards the door.
"Bring the Vertiserum to Umbridge in the morning," he said to her.
She nodded wordlessly. She looked worried, he noted as he closed the door behind himself.
Outside the air was chilly, and small snowflakes were floating onto the frozen ground. He trudged out for the edge of the enchantments of the grounds to disapparate. He hated the snow. It was messy and made his trousers damp as he waded through the small snow banks. It was silent, not a single branch stirred in the night. It was heavy silence under a cloudy sky. He cursed when a snowflake landed in his eye. And he stumbled over something buried in the snow.
His ankles screamed in protest as his pant legs, soaked from melted snow, began to cling to his skin and freeze. He drew his cloak more closely around himself, wishing he had taken a scarf, and continued on. He was nearly to the crumbling stone gate when he felt...odd. The same sensation he usual got when he found Eleanor staring at him from across the room, or when Dumbledore watched him in the Great Hall. It sent a chill down his spine – or perhaps that was his damp shoes- and made him stop in his tracks.
Turning around, he glanced at the path he had just taken. There it was, instantly frozen with eyes glued upon him and ears perked. A red fox, covered in snowflakes. His heart pounded. Snape could never tell the difference between a real fox and Eleanor's alternate form from a distance. This fox stood still as death, arched in a pose that he likened to something spotting prey at a distance. He walked a few feet more and turned around to see the fox warily following him, head lowered. As he stopped, so did the animal beneath a bare tree. There was no moon out because of the clouds, but the snow was so white it seemed to cast its own light.
It had to be her, he thought to himself as he continued slowly. No animal would follow him so closely. Knowing she was following him at first made the skin on the back of his neck and arms sting with nervous anticipation, but after reassuring himself it was Eleanor, he felt an overwhelming sense of calm. He stopped just outside the stone wall and turned round to face the animal, who was sitting a few yards away. It looked like a snow dusted statue.
Snape stared at the creature for another minute more, seeing if it would venture closer, but it remained still and watchful. With one last look at the fox, he disapparated.
After seeing him go, Eleanor ventured off for a night run through the snowy grounds. Chilly air filled her lungs with a strange vitality that encouraged her to round the lake and skirt between the trees of the wood. It was invigorating to feel the crunch of new snow under her paws. A quick run after seeing Snape off usually lifted her spirits a little and eased the worry from her chest. She never really understood why it bothered her so much to see him go Merlin knows where, but every time she saw him slip out of the room in the evening and make for the edges of Hogwarts grounds, a little knot grew in her stomach.
Eleanor slowed as she reached the castle and glanced both ways carefully, making sure no one was in sight before slipping behind the stone staircase and changing back. She wasn't dressed for the cold and shivered violently as she pushed the great oak door open. Her hair was damp and clung to her cheeks, which burned from the sting of the cold. As soon as she was inside someone grabbed her by the shoulder sharply and turned her around.
"What're you doin' outside this time of night?" Filch glared at her.
"It isn't important," she said giving him an equally sour look.
"The Headmaster wants to see you," he grumbled, releasing her shoulder.
She didn't notice she was shaking until she had put some distance between herself and the caretaker. The password this visit was "peppermint snails" - hardly sounded appetizing. She knocked softly on the door until she heard the man summon her in. His office was dimly lit, yet brighter than her post in the dungeons. His table of gadgets whirred and spun hypnotically as he came to greet her.
"Come in, my dear," he gestured to a pair of chairs deeper in his office, "There are some things I have to ask of you. Mint?"
"No, thank you, sir."
Eleanor lowered herself into her seat stiffly, siphoning the remaining water from her hair and clothes. Fawkes was nowhere to be seen, and the office was quiet. The bowl of peppermints glittered and shivered softly, the hard shells rustling against the porcelain. The smell of them was pleasant, but the sight of the oozing, wet slugs peeking out from their candy shells was unsettling. Dumbledore sank into the well-worn armchair across from her and rubbed his eyes warily, sweets forgotten.
"I'm sure you've come to notice Severus's outings," he began. "He has been quite busy."
"With the Order?"
"And Voldemort."
Eleanor felt sick hearing the name.
"We are still rotating members to guard the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore reminded her, "and Hagrid seems to have made some headway with our larger friends in the north. But I fear something is about to change."
"Sir?"
Dumbledore's eyes glittered over his glasses as he spoke, twiddling his long fingers. "I fear Voldemort's recruiting will shift to some of his remaining faithful who have been locked away all these years."
"In Azkaban? But it's so well guarded, so remote…"
"Severus had told me there had been talk of seeing them freed."
"I don't understand, Headmaster. Why are you telling me this alone?"
"I must ask something of you," he began. "If I am displaced, I ask that you keep an eye on Severus. You are with him most. Cornelius's little bird within our walls is bound to have me sent away sooner or later. In that time, I shall be searching for something until the time is right for me to return.
"Severus does not welcome help. You will need to be persistent. Although, I have heard you have gotten your way before," he smiled.
"I don't understand," Eleanor said with a frown.
"You will. Another thing I must ask of you is to put some time into researching Muggle methods of resuscitation and first aid, and learning more about the healing arts as your father once did."
"What?"
Dumbledore produced a book and pressed it into her hands. "It will be a handy skill. Things will not remain so calm for long."
"But I'm nothing like my father. He tried teaching me medicinal magic and I was pretty awful at it. Plus, I can't really stomach gore," she said making a face. "I just-... I can't."
"Things can change when circumstances arise."
"Sir, I'm really not sure-…"
Dumbledore gave her a steely look, "I have confidence in you. Be vigilant, as I am sure you are. "
"Professor Snape doesn't like anyone to pry into his affairs-…"
"There is only so much a man can take, even one as driven as Severus. I only ask you look out for him. You're bound by Vow to keep his secret, and you and I are the only ones within this castle that know what he is doing."
She nodded, but her mind was muddled from the conversation. Her fingers gripped the book cover tightly as Dumbledore showed her to the door. They exchanged parting words and Eleanor found herself alone in the dark hall, confused as ever. This was hardly the graduate study program she recognized from Dumbledore's invitation years ago. But then again, it had been curious enough in other regards. The stairs appeared and she left to ponder everything over tea and a cherry scone.