She slept poorly. By the time she woke up, she probably hadn't had more than a few hours. Just pieced together fragments, snippets of sleep interrupted by feverish dreams and cold, Death Eater-induced terror in equal measure.
Now she lay in bed, trying to determine her best course of action. She could be a brave little Gryffindor and face the music. So people would laugh at her. It had happened before, it would happen again. Nothing she could do about it.
And anyway, he had seemed pretty drunk. Maybe he wouldn't remember that their plan had succeeded. Maybe there hadn't even been a plan. He could have taken it upon himself to try to humiliate her, spur of the moment. They did operate autonomously, from time to time.
He had said something about thinking about it all night, though. That didn't sound spontaneous. Maybe the close quarters were getting to him.
Lily didn't have any illusions about her looks. She was a five, maybe. Her face wasn't bad, but her hair was pretty garish, as any number of people had pointed out. And she wasn't exactly slim.
The doctor claimed she was a healthy weight. Just a "little extra padding," her mother called it. So her legs weren't exactly slim and graceful. Elephant thighs, Potter called them. Which didn't even make sense. Elephants weren't known for particularly thick thighs.
Which did beg the question, why would he want her now?
He wouldn't, obviously. But alcohol lowered standards, everyone knew that. Perhaps he'd just been a bit desperate, and she'd been nearby. Hopefully he wouldn't remember any of it.
Despite her rationalization, Lily decided to stay in bed all day. So she wasn't a brave little Gryffindor. She was a sensible one, and wasn't that better anyway? There was nothing in the school charter that said Gryffindors were required to run full tilt into sure annihilation. She would lay low, wait for the whole thing to blow over, and then act as though nothing had happened. Easy as pie.
Her stomach rumbled. Pie. She rolled over and buried her head under her pillow. Food had always been a problem for her. She just liked it too much. That was why she'd never managed to have her sister's figure. Petunia could skip meals at will. Lily was much more likely to add extras in.
Her stomach grumbled again. She launched herself out of bed, dragged on baggy sweat pants, and slunk toward the door. She hadn't heard him yet. And there had been biscuits in the kitchen. She was sure of it. She'd just slip out, grab the biscuits, and retreat to her bedroom. By Monday he'd have forgotten the whole thing. She could probably live off a packet of biscuits for one little weekend.
She cracked the door open, surveyed the room, and tiptoed out into the little kitchen. She had just opened the cupboard door when she heard a voice.
"Do you always treat getting a biscuit like a daylight robbery of Gringotts?"
Lily froze. "I didn't want to wake you," she said, in a soft voice.
"That's very considerate of you," he said. But something in his tone told her he didn't really mean it. "Much more considerate than shoving me into walls and knocking me over."
She spun to face him. "You're the one who broke into my room-" she began. When he laughed, she looked down to realize she had been shaking a finger at him. She lowered it, gripping the pack of biscuits more tightly.
"I believe I knocked," he corrected, inclining his head.
"That's one way to put it," she muttered, clinging to the cookies.
"Is there another?" he asked, tone perfectly polite.
"Tried to break down my door with your bare hands?" she suggested, starting to slowly back away.
A smile turned up, just slightly, at the corners of his mouth. She flushed and looked away.
"You think very highly of your effect on me," he said.
Her eyes flicked to his. "Not particularly, no," she said, taking another step in retreat. "I have no idea what you have planned. I'm sure it's horrible, but I wouldn't expect anything less from you."
He made a sound she couldn't interpret, and she glanced at his face again, still easing toward the door.
"I assure you," he said. "It wasn't planned."
"I'm sure that's very comforting." She was almost there. And she'd had the sense to leave it open! Just a quick dash and she could be home free. With the biscuits.
"Perhaps not," he said, inclining his head. It was almost a bow, and seemed even more so as he followed it up with what sounded like a sincere apology. "It was unacceptable behavior. I do apologize."
She blinked at him, on the brink of deliverance. Her elbow was practically through the door. "I'm sorry?" she said.
"You've nothing to be sorry for," he responded, though he knew perfectly well she hadn't been apologizing. "I was completely out of line. It won't happen again."
He gave another short bow and excused himself. She was still standing in her doorway, staring blankly ahead, when he walked out the door.