Author's Note: This story has suffered through several re-writes since I started it back in 2006, but I promise you that this is the last one. It is set in the Edwardian Era, but if you're looking for exact and precise detail, you're probably going to be disappointed. I have done some small research into that period, but having not lived over one hundred years ago, I wouldn't confess myself to be any great knowledge on the matter. It is an alternate universe story, but I'm going to keep the characters as canon as possible. Any changes are necessary to the plot, but I will not deviate from the personalities given to the characters by Rowling because if I did, it wouldn't really be fan fiction, would it?

Prologue

The dress was a dull, navy colour, swathed tightly around her waist and ending just beneath her chin. It fastened with large, gold buttons. Long sleeves clung to her slender arms and white lace hung over her pale, fidgeting hands. The skirt was large and heavy, but would have been less restricting had it not been for the many underskirts and petticoats it concealed. She wore no jewellery save for the gold pendant her mother had given her for her last birthday, and her long hair was rolled up into a tight bun.

The dresser stood back to admire her handiwork and her surveying mother clasped her hands together and sighed contentedly. This had been exactly the effect that Catherine Evans had been aiming to achieve; a pretty, well-mannered daughter, the epitome of decorum and dignity. When Mr Chamberly came to dinner he would be sure to fall for her, for what man couldn't? There would be a wedding within a year, and Mrs Evans would finally be able to relax in the knowledge that both of her daughters had made wealthy and suitable matches.

"You look beautiful, my darling," she breathed, smiling ever still as she clasped her daughter's hand tightly. "Simply beautiful."

"I can't but help feel anxious, mother," said her daughter quietly, gazing at Catherine with large, imploring eyes. "I have never experienced a meeting like this before. What if he does not like me?"

"He shall be quite smitten with you, my darling, and rightfully so," Catherine insisted, with another loving smile. "What man would not want a wife as accomplished and beautiful as my wonderful girl?"

The daughter blushed quite endearingly, and Catherine stroked her pretty face.

"I shall go downstairs and see that Russell has set the table correctly. How he does dawdle," she said, her tone now crisp and business-like, turning to the dresser. "I don't want to take any risks this evening. Everything must be perfect, for poor Lily's sake. Come, Mary, and leave my daughter to herself for a few minutes. She will want a moment alone to prepare."

Mrs Evans swept regally from the room, with her ever faithful servant following closely behind her. The smile of servility was immediately dropped from the young girl's face as she turned around to survey what she believed to be her own disgusting reflection in the looking glass. She and her mother viewed matters with two entirely different sets of eyes. If Catherine Evans thought her daughter beautiful in her fashionable garb, her daughter was of the opinion that the whole effect was hideously ugly.

It was too tight, this dress. Her father, who to his credit, did not know much about his daughter's tastes and had merely picked it up on the advice of others, had given it to her just the other day - a gift from Paris. It was the latest design, apparently, and her mother had been delighted when it was found to fit her most perfectly. She exclaimed that this was just the dress her daughter could wear when Mr Chamberly was to come. It gave just the right impression - of a wealthy, innocent girl, with a pleasing figure and a stately manner. It clung to her body like a bandage.

It was like her shroud, she thought morbidly, a manner of thinking which she generally found to be most unattractive and shameful. She would be embarrassed for herself later, but at the present moment she was consumed by misery of the acutest kind. It was not to be helped.

The pendant, an old heirloom, had been passed from generation to generation of youngest daughters for many years. It was an antique, and worth probably more than the dress, in the shape of a swan with intricate patterns, all completely in gold.

But she hated gold jewellery. To her, it looked cheap and tasteless.

Her mother had called her beautiful, and she supposed she could agree with that, to a certain extent. She was tall and slender with a pale complexion, a pretty nose, rosy cheeks, and an attractive, alluring smile. They were all admirable physical qualities, to be sure, but not uncommon in healthy young ladies. Her eyes were what garnered the most attention, for they really were undeniably stunning.

Emerald green, almond shaped, and extremely expressive, most people were wont to tell Lily that her eyes were incomparably beautiful, but she absolutely hated them. She hated them because no matter how much she smiled and laughed and pretended to be jolly, her eyes would always give away her true feelings with an obviousness that her mother was constantly scolding her for. She thought Lily did it deliberately, as a rebellion, but all the practice in the world had not given Lily the power to hide it yet.

Something she loved, almost as much as she hated her eyes, was her hair. Her hair truly did signify the pent-up personality that Lily was in possession of, but she did not realize this, and merely loved it because she dearly loved the colour. Her hair was red; not a carroty red, nor a blondish red, but a dark, fiery red. It was thick, wavy and abundant. When she let it down, it would tumble down past her shoulders and land at her waist, and it really was a thing of beauty to behold.

Long before she reached the age of coming out and doing her hair up, her mother insisted that she prepare herself for womanhood by keeping her hair tied up at all times. For the last two years, at the end of the day, she would let it down and twirl in front of the mirror, feeling free for just a few moments, before she would tie it into her nightcap and hide it once more.

Her mother had called her accomplished, but Lily did not consider herself to be so. She could play the piano perfectly, read French and German most easily, sing beautifully, draw, sew, knit and crochet, and this was all that her parents, and indeed, society, seemed to think she needed as an education. No one knew how she would sneak down to the library in the dead of night and read as many books as she could find, books that her mother had deemed inappropriate for a young lady. No one knew of her interest in politics, in travel, in the lives of the lower classes, or in literature. No one knew how she had befriended the servants. No one knew what she would practice in the dead of night, or how adept she was at it. No one knew how good an actress she really was, if she were able to keep everybody so in the dark about how ill-suited she was to her life.

She smoothed a stray hair and fixed a smile upon her face. There was to be a dinner that night. Her father's business partners would be in attendance, as would some of her mother's acquaintances, her sister, her sister's husband, and his cousin, Mr Edward Chamberly; the man she was to be betrothed to. He had spotted her a month ago at a county ball and enquired as to whom the enchanting redhead was, and when her mother had gotten wind of this fact she had invited him over to their next dinner on the spot. It was widely known that the rich, charming and handsome Chamberly was looking for a wife, and her daughter was just the right age to marry. Lady Catherine had spent the better part of the day giving her daughter instructions.

Agree with everything Mr Chamberly says, remember to curtsey, sit up straight, don't talk too much and don't talk too little - she knew it all by heart now. She had heard it all before, when her sister had been looking for a husband. As opposed to her, Petunia had been most delighted at the prospect of being betrothed and as luck would have it, had managed to marry a man she loved dearly. Somehow, Lily doubted that the same would happen to her.

But, there wasn't time to worry about that now, for her mother was calling her. She walked sedately towards the door, breathing in and out as deeply as her dress would allow her, and going over appropriate dinner conversation in her mind. Before she opened the door, she turned back and looked once more at the girl in the looking glass.

She would go downstairs, have dinner, smile graciously at compliments, behave charmingly, and have a lovely time.

And then she would sign her life away.