Just beneath the surface

CHAPTER 7

Ignoring Ella's obvious refusal to eat the pumpkin soup, Snape handed her a piece of parchment with a rough, hand scrawled method written on it. Ella's eyes widened immediately.

"Veritaserum."

"Indeed, a tricky potion—one requiring your absolute concentration and patience." Snape began.

"When can we start?" 

Snape felt a wave of near sadness plague him. Ella. Lovely, kind, talented Ella. She was fantastic. And she shared the passion for potions so rarely found within students now a days.
And it broke Professor Snape a little to know there was something chipping away at her perfect little heart.

"Tomorrow. I have a few ingredients I need to collect first. But we need more healing solutions for the hospital wing. So eat the soup and let's begin."

It was painful watching Ella eat. As though every mouthful was agonising and  an insult to her. Snape didn't make it any more unpleasant for her than it undoubtedly was, and instead focused his attention on setting up cauldrons and beginning to brew.
He handed her a hot mug of tea once she had finished the soup, which she took gratefully, but it didn't seem right for Ella to be drinking tea with not even a whisper of cake to be seen.

Colour had returned to Ella's cheeks now that she had eaten, and it made Snape wonder when the last time was that she had eaten a decent meal—she had looked sick for a while, and it was concerning that just a little soup caused her to look miles better than she had in days.

It seemed the food had also dragged the old Ella out from wherever it was she had been hiding. For she spoke animatedly and the compulsive need to comment on almost everything had returned.

"Did you know, the muggle vQueen owns all of the swans in the United Kingdom? No one can eat them."

Snape smiled, of course she knew that—he had too actually, but it was nice to hear her ramble about irrelevant topics again.

"I read a muggle story this week—about a beast and a girl who wandered into his castle and fell in love with him," Ella was talking again. It relieved Snape more than he knew he needed it. "And because she'd loved him, it broke the curse and he wasn't a beast at all. He was a prince. How amazing would that be."

Snape observed Ella talking at a million miles an hour as she once had done. In fact, she was far more animated than usual, but her face had lost its colour in payment, and as the hours crept into evening, Ella became quiet again, seemingly using the last reserve of energy the soup had lent her to focus on completing the healing solutions.
Snape wondered over the girl, wondered at how her eyes had become far away as the hours passed by and how her movements were slower than usual. Ella had always been busy and quick in everything she did—not that it ever caused her to become clumsy—but now it was looking to be a great deal of effort for her to chop ingredients and add them to cauldrons.
But as long as Ella still trusted Snape, and she was still attending these sessions, he was wary as to question her and push her further away, snapping that delicate olive branch that grow between them in her years at Hogwarts.

Snape was well absorbed in his thoughts when Ella suddenly sat bolt upright in the chair, eyes flaring briefly with panic before settling to that warm chestnut colour they usually were.

"Miss White?" Snape asked gently.

"Sorry sir, I need to leave, I'm...tired and the fumes from the potion are giving me a headache." Ella began, shoving the books she had brought back into her back and standing hurriedly from the table.

And that was the second time Snape knew Ella was lying to him. The girl had never—not once in all her years at this school—been affected by fumes from potions, let alone enough to complain about headaches.
And the way she had sat bolt upright did not indicate a girl that was tired.
Professor Snape was too stunned to speak for a moment, and he watched Ella pack her things in such a rush he wondered what on Earth was troubling her.