The next morning dawned grey and swollen with rain clouds, the kind that pressed low over Spinner's End and made the river look like a sheet of tarnished metal. Elias woke before Severus, as he usually did, slipping from the bed quietly so his brother wouldn't stir. Severus slept curled toward the wall, clutching the threadbare blanket in a fist. His bruises were darker now—ugly smears of purple along his forearms, a split of dried blood at his lip.
Elias paused, watching him breathe.
Soft. Uneven.
Still carrying last night somewhere in his ribs.
Something hot simmered under Elias's sternum. Not anger this time. Something closer to resolve. A steady, unwavering thing that had grown roots in him long before he understood the word for it.
He would not let this keep happening.
He wouldn't let Tobias hurt him.
He wouldn't let the world hurt him.
Not while Elias had breath.
He padded to the kitchen, careful not to wake Eileen. The kettle sputtered reluctantly to life under his wandless coaxing—little tricks Eileen had taught them when Tobias wasn't home. The room smelled faintly of tea leaves and damp plaster.
Severus entered minutes later, arms held stiffly, a half-swallowed wince on his face.
"You didn't wake me," he muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"You needed rest."
"That's not—" Severus stopped when the kettle whistled. "Never mind."
Elias set a chipped mug in front of him. Severus eyed the steaming tea as though unsure whether to thank him or pretend he didn't need it.
"You're quiet," Elias said.
Severus's fingers tightened around the mug. "Don't tell Mum about the bruise on my side."
"I already saw it when you slept."
Severus flushed with discomfort. "It's not that bad."
"It shouldn't have happened at all," Elias replied, tone mild but hard beneath it.
His brother looked down. Shame colored his cheeks—not at what Tobias had done, but at being protected again. At needing it.
Elias softened his voice. "He won't do it again. Not like last night."
Severus looked up sharply. "What did you do?"
Elias hesitated. The memory of Tobias frozen in place flickered behind his eyelids—unnatural stillness, mind folded under Elias's will like a sheet of paper. His mother's fear. His father's confusion.
And Lily Evans's face under the streetlamp, green eyes bright with something he still hadn't identified.
"Nothing permanent," Elias said.
Severus stared at him for a long time. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Good."
There was a knock at the back door.
Both boys jolted. Eileen rarely had visitors. Tobias never knocked.
Elias crossed the room with steady steps and pulled the door open.
A flash of coppery hair greeted him.
Lily Evans stood on the uneven stoop, coat buttoned wrong again, her expression earnest and determined. "Severus said you two come to the river sometimes. I thought—since it's Saturday—we could go today."
Her gaze flicked to Elias.
A quick spark of something he felt more than saw.
Recognition.
Curiosity.
A strange, gentle resilience.
Behind him, Severus nearly tripped over his chair in surprise. "L-Lily? What are you doing at my house?"
"I just said," she replied. "You promised to show me the place where you found hagstones. And that bit of chalky rock that looked like a dragon tooth."
Severus reddened, pleased despite himself. "Oh. Right."
Lily's eyes returned to Elias. "You can come too, if you want."
Elias blinked.
He had expected her to ignore him.
To treat him as Severus's shadow—older, stranger, unapproachable.
But she met his gaze levelly, unflinching.
The aura tugged at her again—he felt it, subtle as breath—but she resisted it naturally, the way she had the night before. She wasn't pushed or pulled by him. She simply was.
That was…new.
Severus leaned forward anxiously. "Lily, it's fine if he doesn't—"
"I'll come," Elias interrupted.
Two surprised faces turned toward him.
He swallowed. "You asked. It would be rude to refuse."
Lily's smile bloomed gradually, like sunlight breaking through the heavy clouds outside. "Good."
✦
The path to the river wound behind the factory and down a cut of earth where the grass grew in stubborn tufts. The air smelled faintly of smoke and river muck. Severus hurried ahead, eager to show Lily the places only he and Elias knew.
Elias walked a few paces behind them.
He watched Severus chatter—awkward at first, then animated—and Lily listening with unguarded enthusiasm. She laughed easily, her voice bright enough to soften even the dullest corners of Spinner's End.
Elias did not join the conversation.
He didn't need to.
His presence was a quiet anchor behind them, steadying Severus in a way he'd never say aloud.
At the riverbank, Severus crouched and began sifting through the pebbles, searching for hagstones. Lily knelt beside him, sleeves pushed up, red hair glowing like a spark against the grey world.
Elias stood above them, hands in his pockets, watching the water churn.
"You're doing it wrong," Lily called up to him.
He blinked. "Doing what wrong?"
"Standing there like someone dropped you there by accident. You can help, you know."
Severus snorted a laugh. "He doesn't look for rocks. He just…stands places. Being weird."
"I'm not weird," Elias said automatically.
"You're a bit weird," Severus replied.
Lily giggled. "A good weird."
Elias's chest did an unfamiliar thing—tightened, then loosened, as though something warm had curled behind his ribs.
He crouched beside them. His hands brushed over the stones, cold and slick with riverwater.
"Look for ones with holes," Severus instructed with the seriousness of a scholar. "Naturally formed."
"Preferably not cracked," Lily added.
Elias found one within seconds.
He held it out silently.
Lily's eyes widened. "That's perfect. You're good at this."
"I'm good at most things," Elias said before realizing how arrogant that sounded.
But Lily just smiled. "Then you'll have plenty to teach us."
Severus glanced sharply at him, some mix of pride and jealousy flickering across his face. Elias lowered his gaze. He would have to be careful—always careful—never to overshadow Severus more than the world already did.
Lily held the hagstone up to the light. "My mum says these keep bad dreams away. And bad magic."
Elias's voice was quiet. "Nothing keeps bad magic away."
Lily paused. Studied him. "Maybe not. But they help. Sometimes that's enough."
Her simplicity disarmed him.
She wasn't naive.
She wasn't sheltered.
She simply believed the world could hold small mercies.
Elias didn't know what to do with that.
They collected stones until Severus's pockets sagged and Lily's fingers turned blue from the cold. Then the three of them sat together on the bank, legs stretched toward the water, stones scattered between them like pieces of an unsolved puzzle.
A gull screamed overhead. The river lapped at the shore.
Lily brushed a curl from her eyes. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I think the three of us are going to have quite the adventures at Hogwarts."
Severus practically glowed. "You really think so?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't we?"
Her gaze slid toward Elias.
"What about you?" she asked softly. "Do you think we'll stay friends?"
Severus held his breath.
Elias considered the question.
Friendship was not a word he used lightly. It implied trust. Vulnerability. A willingness to let someone else inside the walls he'd been taught to build.
But Lily Evans had stepped over those walls without even noticing they existed.
She had resisted his aura.
She had seen him, and not flinched.
And Severus wanted this—wanted her.
"Yes," Elias said, surprising even himself. "We'll stay friends."
Lily beamed.
Severus exhaled, a relieved, genuine sound.
Elias let his eyes drift to the water.
A strange peace settled in his chest.
Not safety—he doubted he would ever feel truly safe.
Not joy—he didn't know that feeling.
But something gentler.
Something that felt like the beginning of a promise.
A soft breeze tugged at their hair.
Lily stood first, brushing dirt from her coat. "Come on. I want to see the iron bridge before the rain starts."
Severus scrambled up after her, eager to lead.
Elias rose last.
Watched them walk ahead.
Felt the fragile, precious shape of something forming between them.
He suspected, faintly, that this moment—this day—was the start of something larger than any of them understood.
And without knowing why, Elias made himself another vow:
Whatever comes, I will not let this break.
Not Lily.
Not Severus.
Not us.
Even if the world tried.
Even if he had to become something terrible to protect them.