Finally she surrendered to him just a little bit, which was all he’d wanted – to actually be of some use to her. It wasn’t as if she had anyone else, not really; and, however independent he knew she was, he still never wanted her to feel alone.

So, ignoring the towel in his grasp and the Butterbeer stains, he folded his arms around her, rested his chin gently upon the crown of her head, as if the tension might seep out of her by osmosis if he held on long enough. “Anytime,” he murmured, and squeezed her a little tighter just to prove it. It was no hardship for him, to have her as a friend – if anything, he ought to have done a great deal more work to earn a friendship like it.

“You remember something you said, once, about me being a charm to ward off disaster?” Elias added absently, out of some vague desire to make easy conversation or make her laugh again until things had properly recovered. Irene had been joking back then, and they’d been teasing each other about disasters – he didn’t really remember all of it, just the gist, but... “Maybe I could be, for once,” he said, with a joking smile she couldn’t see, but the sincerity plain in his tone. “I can stay here for a while, if you like –” he suggested (because she wasn’t sleeping, she wasn’t even managing a trip to the High Street without the fear creeping in, she obviously couldn’t relax; and he thought perhaps she shouldn’t be left alone to her thoughts for a while). “Keep you company?”

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