Author's Note:
I probably should have mentioned this much earlier, but these chapters do contain spoilers, especially for Chapter 71 of the manga. I sincerely apologize if I have accidentally spoiled the manga or anime for anyone who has read, or is reading, this story and/or its predecessor.
It was remarkably easy for Eleanora to slip in and explore all of the other houses. A woman under forty wandering around the school was a rarity at best, and every other boy practically fell head-over-heels in trying to please her. It didn't matter that she rivaled Medusa—everyone still wanted to show her around and tell her everything and fill her up with lots of garbage about the school's history and tradition. She could get used to so much masculine attention.
There was one boy who she rather liked—at least, she was pretty sure that he was a boy—was from the Red house. He was an excellent tour guide, not only because he knew practically everything about the school, but also because he, like the young Master, had gotten messily involved with Maurice Cole. He even knew where his personal bathroom was, and at that moment, Eleanora "conveniently" needed to use the restroom.
She ducked inside and immediately started rifling through the drawers. Nothing…Nothing…Nothing…Wait. There was some sort of a strange contraption, hidden underneath a false bottom on the lowest drawer—a curling iron.
She couldn't help but grin. Jackpot.
Every drawer had a false bottom, actually. They were made so cleverly that unless one knew that they existed, one couldn't find them. She only found the one on the bottom drawer because it hadn't been replaced carefully enough.
She quickly took a mental note of everything clandestine and carefully replaced the drawers. Then she flushed the toilet and washed her hands, to make it seem as if she really had just been using the necessary. And then she left the bathroom to continue interviewing her adorable little tour guide.
Sometimes it really sucked to be an adult. If she had only been a few years younger, she would have definitely pursued something with the little munchkin. But then she passed the butler in the hall, still decked out in full professor regalia, and decided that being an adult did have the occasional perk.
Sebastian, meanwhile, was wondering who that little kid was—the one who was hanging around his wife, practically drooling on her like a lovesick puppy. He hoped that Eleanora hadn't stumbled across a Drocell Junior. Trying to teach a bunch of brats with half-rotted brains the alphabet was hard enough—he really didn't need any more aggravation.
Ciel was also feeling irritated. On the one hand, having Eleanora do all the work for him was convenient. On the other hand, Eleanora had a terrible habit of being wildly unpredictable at the worst of times. He couldn't concentrate on the lesson—he kept on remembering all of the stories that Eleanora had told him of when she had been at school. At the time, he had thought that they were incredibly amusing. Now they just filled him with dread. Suppose she got the urge to block up the toilets? Or make posters featuring fake rules? Or counterfeit dismissal letters and mail them to the staff?
But he needn't have worried. Eleanora was well aware that she was no longer eleven, and continued exploring the school without any incident. That evening, she stopped by the staff rooms and entered the room marked MICHAELIS. Ciel had said that he would be there, talking to the butler.
She had arrived too early; he was with another student. He glanced up at her when she entered but continued teaching the student about math. Or Latin. Eleanora could never really tell the difference between the two; they were both long and hard and really, really boring.
The student left quickly after the appearance of a strange woman, and soon they were sitting there in the sitting room, all alone. He rose up and began making some tea, still in silence.
"…Well?" Sebastian finally said.
"Well, what?"
"Well, I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"Neither was I; I thought that you would rather die than play teacher."
"I confess that there are other parts I would rather play."
"Like doctor?"
He paused in his tea-making and looked over at her.
"I do beg your pardon?"
Eleanora smiled and sat down on one of the chairs, crossing her legs as she did—the most unladylike thing a woman could ever do.
"I said, would you rather play doctor?"
Sebastian raised his eyebrows and went back to the tea.
"That depends," he said, "on who would play my nurse."
He finished making refreshments and turned around; Eleanora was standing RIGHT BEHIND HIM.
His demonic instincts immediately went into hyper drive, but he masked it well.
"Yes, Eleanora?"
"I hate foreplay," she mused, leaning against him, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. "It's so boring and distracts from what's really going on. Will there be any other students coming this evening, professor?"
"Just one; I'll be giving her private lessons later in the evening."
He sauntered away from her and locked the door to his chambers, which made him conveniently stand right in front of the threshold to his bedroom.
Eleanora's eyes lit up.
"…The young Master won't be happy with us…"
"He'll be fine; he's interviewing the other students in his class for information."
"So he won't be back here for a few hours?"
"He might not come here at all; it's almost lights-out…"
"How convenient…It would almost be a crime not to make use of all this free time…"
"The lesson would really only last an hour or two—three at most; maybe four if the pupil refuses to learn a thing or two…"
Eleanora stared at him and he stared back.
"You can leave on the robe, the spectacles, and that cross-thing on your neck," she said.
"Deal," he said.
Whether she lunged at him or he lunged at her is presently unknown; it doesn't matter anyway, as they both ended up on the same bed in the end.