[ The only thing keeping Lily Evans from withdrawing into a life of academic solitude, free of the indignities that come when fit blokes make one act utterly stupid, was the need to apologize. Had it not been for that she would have carried on as she had in the days immediately following their exchange - acting like an avoidant (and cowardly) ghost while slipping through the castle with her head down and her book clutched firmly in front of her face.
It was what brought her there that afternoon when every last iota of sense still left in her harried mind told her in no uncertain terms to give it a miss. She could avoid him forever after she said sorry, or her sense of right and wrong would never give her a moment's peace again.
That Remus shows up as well is a surprise, and though she's hidden behind a thick book on the history of wand cores, her eyebrows shoot upward as her mouth goes dry, her heartbeat picking up speed while she desperately wishes it wouldn't.
It takes a moment to lower the book enough so that she can regard him from over the top of it, her cheeks flaming red but blessedly still hidden. For all her conviction that she's done something wrong, unwelcome, and very stupid, words fail her. She's gone so far as to rehearse what it is she means to say to him but all those eloquent heartfelt lines she had hammered out to speak before making a hasty and embarrassed escape evaporate the moment he asks after her weekend.
Her reply comes first in a noise that might be an 'oh' if it didn't have quite so much to it and drag on as it did. A second to long. ]
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It was what brought her there that afternoon when every last iota of sense still left in her harried mind told her in no uncertain terms to give it a miss. She could avoid him forever after she said sorry, or her sense of right and wrong would never give her a moment's peace again.
That Remus shows up as well is a surprise, and though she's hidden behind a thick book on the history of wand cores, her eyebrows shoot upward as her mouth goes dry, her heartbeat picking up speed while she desperately wishes it wouldn't.
It takes a moment to lower the book enough so that she can regard him from over the top of it, her cheeks flaming red but blessedly still hidden. For all her conviction that she's done something wrong, unwelcome, and very stupid, words fail her. She's gone so far as to rehearse what it is she means to say to him but all those eloquent heartfelt lines she had hammered out to speak before making a hasty and embarrassed escape evaporate the moment he asks after her weekend.
Her reply comes first in a noise that might be an 'oh' if it didn't have quite so much to it and drag on as it did. A second to long. ]
I read.