She'd been so worried when they announced that the twenty-fifth Hunger Games would select its tributes by vote.
Not for herself, of course. There was no need to be concerned for herself; she was everyone's friend! Everyone loved her, of course, sunny beautiful friendly beloved Lily Evans, daughter of the administrators who kept everything running smoothly. No one would vote for her to be a tribute, obviously. She had been worried for her best friend, though! She had despaired for weeks, in fact, over Severus, who was scorned by all and sundry no matter how hard she tried to explain to them that he was just shy, and strange, and he really didn't mean to come across so very sharp and hurtful and he'd warm up to them if they gave him a chance, really. For all that everyone loved her, they had never really been very willing to listen about Severus. So - why not? Who else? (And that had been the hardest question, really, up until now. She had been so sure that she could convince everyone to pick someone else, anyone else, if only she could have settled upon a target to denounce. As it was, she had simply gone around pleading in vain that they choose - someone else - not him, not her dearest friend, not her can't say favorite it makes them feel unloved Severus - )
She had at no point even considered that she needed to plead not me, not me, anyone but me.
At first she had thought: What, no, I must have misheard.
Surely Mom and Dad will ... ?
But Mom and Dad had been frozen, horror-struck, useless, as everyone turned to watch her climb the seemingly infinite steps to the stage.
None of them had even looked surprised.
"So," she said, once the stage had receded into the distance in the train's window, to the people she had never expected to need to talk to. Her voice sounded like a strange hollow echo. "I suppose now we have to choose outfits to perform in before we die horribly?"