The days after the river outing passed with a strange, almost fragile lightness, like Spinner's End had briefly forgotten the weight it normally placed on the Snape twins' shoulders. The air was still heavy with factory smoke, the nights still sounded of distant shouts and breaking glass, but something had shifted within Elias and Severus themselves—small, subtle, but unmistakable.
Part of it was that Tobias spent most evenings at the pub again, which usually meant a temporary peace within the crooked walls of their home. But the larger part was Lily Evans.
Every afternoon, as long as the sky wasn't actively pouring, she sprinted down the steps of her house the moment she saw the brothers turning onto her street. Severus lit up every time. Elias said little, but he never missed a meeting.
It startled him how quickly she had integrated herself into their routines. She didn't treat Spinner's End like some dangerous curiosity, nor did she pity them. She simply walked beside them as if she belonged there, as if the cracked pavement and sooty air were just another stage on which she intended to shine.
On the fourth day together, they found themselves by the river again—this time on the far bank, where the ground was firmer and the water churned brown with silt. Severus plopped onto a stone, Lily beside him, both leaning over Lily's school notebook while she tried to make sense of Severus's enthusiastic explanations about magical inheritance.
"But how?" she demanded, tapping her pencil. "How does it decide who gets magic and who doesn't? Does it look at your personality? Does it roll dice? Is it random? Because my mum says my sister and I are both special in different ways but only one of us does this—"
She cupped her hands, and a tiny glow of gold shimmered between her palms before sputtering out.
Severus's whole face lit with excitement. "That's accidental magic—your magic is trying to shape itself!"
Lily grinned. "It tingles."
Severus began launching into a ramble about magical cores and emotional resonance, and Lily nodded along, eyes sparkling.
Then she turned to Elias.
"You said magic is inherited," she said. "Does yours run in your family too?"
Elias hesitated. Severus looked at him expectantly.
"My mother has magic," Elias said. "My father doesn't."
"That's not what I meant," Lily said softly. "I meant… does your magic feel like theirs? Or does it feel different?"
Different.
Dangerously so.
Elias considered her for a long moment. Most people he could deflect with a simple silence, but Lily wasn't "most people." She had a way of leaning into the quiet, not running from it.
"It listens," he said eventually. "My magic. It listens even when I don't want it to."
Lily blinked. "What does that mean?"
Elias picked up a small pebble by his shoe. He held it between two fingers, palm down. Lily watched, mouth slightly open, waiting to see whatever demonstration he offered.
He didn't move. Didn't flick his wrist. Didn't whisper.
The pebble rose into the air.
Lily inhaled sharply. Severus leaned so close he nearly toppled off the rock.
The pebble floated outward, suspended like a puppet on a single invisible thread. It hovered in front of Lily's face, turning slowly as if showing its best side. The air around it vibrated faintly.
Lily stared, frozen in wonder.
Then, without warning, the pebble dropped into her lap with a tiny thud.
She jumped, then burst into laughter—bright, delighted, and utterly unreserved.
"That wasn't magic like Sev's," she said breathlessly. "That was—something else."
"Don't tell anyone," Elias said.
Lily's smile faded into seriousness almost instantly. "I wouldn't. Ever."
Elias felt the truth of it settle between them like a small, burning knot.
Later, as they walked back toward the houses, the wan orange of sunset bleeding across the roofs, they passed Mr. Pruitt leaving his front gate. A crooked, heavy-set man with too many opinions and not enough kindness.
His eyes lingered on Lily for a heartbeat.
Then they landed on Elias.
A strange, narrow suspicion entered his gaze. "Strange boy," he muttered, low enough it wasn't quite meant to be heard but loud enough that he wanted someone to hear it anyway.
Elias stopped walking.
Severus stiffened beside him.
Lily sensed the tension instantly and moved instinctively closer to Severus.
Pruitt scowled. "Always watching people like you ain't got proper manners. Somethin' wrong with boys who stare too long at the ground and never smile."
"Go inside," Elias said.
He didn't raise his voice. Didn't glare. Didn't posture.
But the words slid out cold and sharp as glass.
Pruitt blinked. "What?"
"Go inside," Elias repeated.
His tone didn't change, but the air around him seemed to constrict, like a silent warning.
For a fleeting second, Pruitt looked confused… then unsettled. His eyes flicked over Elias's face as though seeing something he couldn't quite name.
He backed up a step.
"I ain't afraid of—"
"Yes," Elias said quietly. "You are."
Pruitt's breath hitched. He turned and hurried to his door, muttering curses that didn't sound nearly as confident as before.
Only when his door slammed shut did Lily exhale.
"What was that?" she whispered.
"Nothing," Elias said.
It was not nothing.
And the way she looked at him told him she knew that.
Back home, Eileen stood at the kitchen sink when they entered. She dried her hands on her apron, lips pressed thin.
"Mr. Pruitt stopped by," she said quietly. "He said one of you boys was rude. Elias?"
Elias felt Severus shift beside him, ready to defend.
"He was watching us," Elias said. "I told him to leave."
Eileen's shoulders sagged in a way that wasn't relief. "Elias," she murmured, "you must keep yourself small. Quiet. Invisible. People talk. People assume. And some kinds of magic… some kinds make people frightened."
Elias lowered his gaze but didn't agree.
His magic wasn't meant to be hidden forever. It sat restless beneath his skin, coiled like something ancient waiting to stretch.
But he didn't say that.
That night, two soft knocks shook the back door.
Severus looked up from his notebook. "Who…?"
Elias already knew.
He opened the door to find Lily Evans standing there, hair damp, cheeks flushed from running in the cold.
"Can I talk to you?" she asked.
Elias stepped outside and closed the door behind him. The alley was quiet; the sky smudged with dusk and chimney smoke.
"I don't understand everything about magic yet," Lily said, hugging her coat to her chest. "But I know when something matters. And today—what you did with the pebble… and with Mr. Pruitt…"
Her voice softened.
"I just want you to know you don't have to hide that from me."
Elias's jaw tightened. "You shouldn't want to know."
"But I do," she insisted, stepping closer. "Because Severus trusts you more than anyone. And because I saw your face when that man spoke to you."
"My face?"
"You looked like you could stop the whole world," she whispered. "Like you were deciding whether you should."
Elias didn't breathe for several seconds.
"And I wasn't afraid," she added, voice steady.
Even when she should have been.
"I just… wanted to understand."
The aura stirred around him—quiet, magnetic, drawn to her like a tide. Lily felt it, acknowledged it… and remained completely herself.
Elias didn't know if anyone had ever resisted him so naturally.
"You shouldn't get close to me," he said, barely audible.
She frowned. "Why not?"
Elias looked away, toward the dim windows of Spinner's End.
"Because nothing good happens to people who do."
Lily studied him. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. Her breath made small clouds that drifted toward him before fading.
Finally she said:
"One day, something good will happen because of you—not in spite of you."
Elias's breath caught.
She stepped back, letting the cold fill the space again.
"Tomorrow, after school?" she asked.
He didn't intend to nod.
But he did.
Her smile—warm, bright, completely sincere—felt like a spell all its own.
When she disappeared around the corner, Severus appeared quietly in the doorway behind him.
"What did she want?" he asked.
Elias didn't turn. "Nothing," he said. "Just… tomorrow."
Severus hummed thoughtfully. Then—curiously gently—he said:
"You like her."
Elias closed his eyes. Rain began to patter lightly on the stones.
"It doesn't matter," he murmured.
But deep inside, where he kept all the truths he wished he didn't feel, a voice whispered back:
It matters more than anything.