Chapter Text
The sound of the river wasn’t enough to drown out the noises of dirty trainers hitting Elijah’s sides. She was curled up on the riverbank holding her head in between her arms to protect her skull as the teens around her took turns to kick her in the worst possible places. Her ribs had stopped hurting after the third kick, which seemed to have hit right into her spleen. Since then the kicks were simply a rhythm to accompany the steady flow of the river.
The riverbed was hidden from sight by the high grass that bordered the road and the slopey hill to the water. It had been the perfect place to draw some of the bugs gathered to scavenge through the rubbish left by the tourists visiting Spinner’s End. What made the old mill so attractive or interesting to the more wealthy of the British citizens, Elijah didn’t know. What she did know was that they denied the existence of rubbish bins and decided that throwing the used fish and chips parchment and plastic containers in the river would suffice. Since then the river and its banks had slowly become polluted with the trash left by the tourists.
Suddenly the kicks stopped and Eli was dragged to her feet by a tall boy. He looked quite muscular and stubble on his jawline indicated a recently shaved beard. I thought we passed the age of physical bullying a while ago, Eli thought to herself as she forced herself to stare into the dull blue eyes of her opponent. Thoughts of rage, harm but most importantly fear filled her head. The boy was terrified of her. Looking away quickly, she blocked her mind from intruding on the boy’s. Another reason not to make eye contact with anyone.
She fiddled with the holster that held her wand in her right sleeve. I could use it, I have the power, I am 17, they could never find me. The thought brought her a bit of relief, whilst she took in her opponent.
Anton Bates, a nineteen year old delinquent, freshly released from juvie was holding her up. Elijah was by no means a short person, but Anton still towered over her. “What are you doing back, freak.” He spat the words out, like they stung his throat and tongue whilst he spoke them. Eli felt her worn trainers drag through the damp soil of the riverbed. Anton was holding her so it was just her toes dragging through the dirt, barely touching the ground.
Eli kept her mouth shut and simply gave him a shrug. Despite the growing pain in her abdomen she couldn’t help teasing the giant a little. And from her experience not answering annoyed bullies so much more. A growl escaped the boy and suddenly he brought his head forward.
Stars exploded in Elijah’s vision as she felt her nose crack under the force of Anton’s head. Blood flowed down her air track, making her gasp for air. Never breathe through your nose during sports or in a fight Elijah, her father’s words echoed through her head whilst she struggled to maintain her composure in Anton’s iron grip. He dropped her to the ground and she gasped for air. The teens around her laughed, waiting for her to get up for a second beating.
“Get up freak, or have you finally learned your place?” Elijah closed her eyes and stayed down on the ground. Maybe they would finally leave her alone? After what seemed like ten minutes and another final mean kick in her stomach, the group of teens left the polluted riverbed whilst giggling and talking amongst themselves.
Two minutes, was what Eli told herself after the chatter started to quiet down. She slowly got up from the muddy ground and assessed the damage to her clothing, which was mainly dirt from teenage trainers and the wet ground of the riverbed. She gathered her things that had been thrown around, to her surprise her satchel had survived the ambush. Picking up her sketchbook from the river she frowned at the water dripping from the pages mixing with the blood slowly dripping from her nose. The bright red absorbed quickly into the soft cream coloured pages of the leather bound book, documenting Eli’s latest abuse.
She closed the book with a loud slap and made her way up the hill towards the small town of Spinner’s End. Far ahead the old mill loomed over the old workers houses. Placing her feet carefully on the slippery slope, she moved one hand to pinch her nose to try and stop the bleeding. She could easily heal the most definitely broken nose, but Eli decided against it, thinking back to the horrible crooked nose of one of her first foster parents. Dad will do a better job, she thought as little droplets dripped on her dark green wool sweater blending with the already drenched fabric. The thing was probably ruined and she would have to ask Narcissa for a new one.
A shame really, she mumbled to herself whilst crossing the empty road, it really was my favourite sweater.
Eli walked through the narrow streets of the town, ignoring the foul stares she got from long time residents. They had known the Snape family for generations, and therefore kept their distance from the strange dark haired man in robes and his equally strange daughter with the two different eyes.
At least the adults aren’t beating me up every summer holiday, Elijah brain offered the thought whilst she rolled an eye at a young mother rushing her child inside at the sight of the bloodied teenager. Somehow the lack of care from the townspeople for her physical health was more disturbing than their children causing the harm.
“Jesus what happened, poor thing,” a voice next to her said out of the blue. Ten galleons it’s a rich muggle trying to impress a date, Eli thought as she turned around to meet the person that spoke to her.
The woman couldn’t be older than 45, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She genuinely looked worried and Eli shut out the motherly fear that seemed to radiate from the woman’s thoughts when she met her brown eyes. A quick look around showed a girl Eli’s age with the same physical traits as the woman in front of her. Around them moving boxes were all over the ground, some empty and folded up, some still full and ready to be moved into the open worker’s house next to Eli’s own home.
“Nothing really, it’s fine, I’m just going home,” Eli tried to rush past the woman, who was now blocking her way home. A knot in Eli’s stomach tightened, throat slowly closing and vision spinning. Trapped. “Jane, get a wet towel from inside please. Why don’t you sit down for a second dear, you look quite pale. I’ll call the police for you,” the woman said, putting a hand on her shoulder. That was the final straw.
Her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest as Eli tried to steady her breath. Flashes of foster homes flooded Eli’s head, a fist hitting the side of her head, a hand almost pulling her arm out of her socket. Eli gagged from the memories and pulled herself loose from the woman, as her daughter ‘Jane’ returned to the street with a damp towel in her hand.
Ducking underneath the woman’s arm, Eli stumbled backwards trying not to vomit on the street. “No police…” Eli could barely talk, her throat seemingly closing with every single syllable leaving her mouth. She gasped quietly for air.
Her backwards stumbling was stopped when she tripped into someone’s body. She quickly turned around ready to take a beating if necessary. White dress shirt, black trousers, the smell of aconite that Eli was slicing with him that morning. Her father. His face twitched slightly at the sight of Eli’s broken nose and the fresh bruise that was forming on her cheekbone. Black eyes flickered with rage. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder and directed her behind him, as he faced the woman and ‘Jane’.
“I will take care of Elijah from here,” he said quietly, but firm. He was using his professor's voice. “Inside,” he sneered, making the woman and her daughter flinch. Eli smirked in relief, she recognised the tone. He was furious. She stumbled dizzily towards the front door of her house and tripped inside, the world spinning faster and faster. The pain in her stomach was getting overwhelming, but she managed to keep from vomiting in the hallway. At least her throat was no longer closing. The satchel fell to the ground along with the sketchbook, which flipped open to the half finished sketch of a dragonfly, now ruined by droplets of blood and smears of mud. The dark walls filled with books loomed over Elijah as she tried to get up again.
“Sofa, now.” Severus Snape was not a man of many words, at least not when he was focused on keeping his rage inside. Eli obliged, happily sagging into the soft fabric of the living room sofa. The bleeding from her nose had finally stopped, a dull ache coming from the broken bone. Her father sat down next to her and waved his wand over his daughter casting a diagnosing spell.
They sat in silence, as Severus examined the results. “At least you protected your head or I would have needed to carry you home,” the older man muttered. Eli took a deep breath to keep her vision from spinning and immediately regretted the action when a sharp pain shot through her abdomen. “Your ribs are bruised, try not to inhale or exhale forcefully.”
Her father examined her nose carefully and Eli closed her eyes avoiding the man’s gaze. She heard the muttered healing spell, Brackium Emendo, and felt the warm feeling of her broken nose fixing itself.
She produced her own wand and thought of the words scourgify aiming at the dried blood underneath her nose and sweater. Most of the red disappeared leaving only a few stains on the damp fabric of her sweater. Getting up she averted her eyes from her father, she didn't want to look at him. “Sit still while I apply a healing balm to your ribs please. It should feel a little cold, but not freezing.”
Elijah pulled her sweater over her head and lifted her shirt to show her already bruising ribs. Her father’s fingers felt soft and careful whilst he assessed the skin and how much balm he would require. After a few seconds he got up and disappeared upstairs where he kept all his draughts and balms.
Eli carefully touched the quickly reddening skin of her ribs and hissed in pain. That was going to hurt for a while. Severus returned with a small jar filled with a purple paste. As he got closer a pungent smell hit her nose and she scrunched her face. “That smells awful,” she said, turning her face away from the jar. Her father simply raised an eyebrow before dipping his wand in the paste and carefully applying it to Elijah’s ribs.
He worked diligently, covering every part of her left rib cage, before motioning her to turn around so he could work on the right. Elijah obliged and turned, before she spotted the headline of the Daily Prophet, which was lying folded on the coffee table.
SIRIUS BLACK SIGHTED. AZKABAN SECURITY ENQUIRY: MINISTER UNDER PRESSURE
Eli looked at her father, who’s eyes seemed to darken even further with anger and he applied the paste a little rougher than he had meant to. Eli winced, but ignored the feeling. She understood her father well. Eli had no respect for the man that bullied her father senselessly, especially knowing the Black family history and the family’s own prejudice towards Sirius. Being bullied was no reason to bully others. Not to mention the massacre that happened on that terrible Halloween night. “He’ll go after Harry first,” Eli concluded and Severus nodded slightly. “Dumbledore won’t do anything will he?” Severus shook his head and Eli cursed under her breath, forgetting her painful ribs. “Great, that’ll add to the stress of the upcoming year.” Severus applied the last of the paste to a particularly painful spot and Elijah dropped her shirt back in relief. The balm was already working, taking away most of the pain.
She got up and nodded a silent thanks to her father who returned the gesture. After picking up the satchel, Eli disappeared up the stairs towards her room and dropped down onto her bed. It seemed that there was never a dull moment, when you went to school with Harry Potter.