Disclaimer: I do not own any of the places or characters that you recognise; I just have the honour of using them to bring my story to life :)

A/N: This story has been on-going for many a year now. I've grown and changed as a writer, reader and person since I first published it. This is my second draft of the first few chapters of this story, and the continuation until the end (you heard right, I have finally finished!). I am aware that there are certain geographical issues in the story in terms of where things are in relation to one another (if you've ever been to Oxford, or live there, don't judge me); I'm putting it down to poetic licence. As with all fanfiction, I am aware that there are inaccuracies to time, story and characterisation, but I've tried my best to accommodate my story whilst still trying to maintain the cannon of HDM.

But without further ado, I give you…

Chapter One

Cat Amongst the Pigeons? (Stephen Friar, writing for the Oxfordshire Mail)

Despite attempts to keep our feline friends out of the Botanical Gardens, it seems one furry felon has escaped the keen watch of the gardeners to sneak into the gardens on several occasions. Dead sparrows have been found among the arbour display and said cat seems to be putting the birds in quite an uproar. If you do see where the cat is coming into the gardens, please tell a member of the Botanical Garden staff, who would like to offer a new home for our friend, or at the very least, begin to charge it admission.

The light from the setting sun hit the hornbeam trees outside the Botanic Garden, creating a kaleidoscope of shadows on the floor and turning their leaves a translucent green. Within the sheltered walls, the grounds of the garden were emptying, people moving towards the three exits to go home, visit loved ones, or warm up as the dusk moved in.

Shrouded from passers-by, Will reclined against the crumbling red brick of the wall behind him. He had discovered a gap in one of the shrubbery boarders in the garden, and quickly claimed it as his hiding spot. Despite the knotted roots, he'd managed to make a comfortable area to focus on the important things. Underneath the shrubs, dusk had well and truly settled and he sighed in frustration that yet another day came to an end, bringing no epiphany about how to travel across the worlds in order to enter Lyra's Oxford. He had chosen the Botanic Garden as an anchor point as he knew it existed in Lyra's world too. Or at least, he hoped it did. He couldn't shake the frustrated feeling that his exploits would be a lot easier if he'd actually been to the darned place before.

His dæmon, Kirjava, lay next to him on the compacted earth, her tail flicking against the lower branches of a nearby plant. She attempted to keep watch for trespasses, but Will's frustrations drew her steady gaze towards him. She padded over and butted his hand with her head.

'Don't worry; we'll get there sooner or later.' She purred.

Will opened his eyes groggily, 'I'd rather it was sooner,' he mumbled, stretching his legs out in front of him and taking up the majority of the nest-like space between the bushes. He had taken what the angel Xaphania had said to heart; he had committed it to his memory as though it held an important lifeline between his and Lyra's world. Determination surged through him once again as he sat still in the twilight. He would travel between the worlds as the angels could. All he needed was a bit more time, a bit more determination, and a bit more energy. Though Xaphania had warned Will that it would take a lifetime to learn, he'd always seemed to have luck with these sorts of things. Since his return, he'd devoted hours to his travels, or rather, lack of travels. He stretched his arms above his head as Kirjava pawed the earth next to him. He pulled his backpack out from behind him, where he had been using it as a cushion between his back and the stone wall. He opened it, looking for some kind of food as his stomach rumbled on cue. He hadn't eaten anything since lunch and the day was certainly drawing to a close.

It was late summer, and the evenings were getting shorter, not so that people would notice, but Will had started to feel as though his time were drawing to a close. Kirjava stood up and sauntered over to the wall of green that hid them from the path. She stuck her head out and jumped through the small branches with a fluid motion.

'Time to go,' he mumbled, though whether to himself or to Kirjava, he wasn't sure. He levered himself up, stiff from sitting on the hard ground for so long. From outside the safety of their den, Kirjava mewed three times, the signal that the coast was clear. Whilst no-one would bat an eyelid at a cat emerging from the bushes, they might be more than a little surprised to see a seventeen year old prising himself from the plants.

Though he spent most of his spare time in the gardens, he had not skimped on his school work. He concentrated, worked hard, and had gained some of the highest grades his school had seen the previous year. He had to admit; life had become easier on him since Mary Malone had moved in with him and his mother. He no longer had to skip school to take care of his mother, and Mary could work on her thesis at home quite easily. They had moved into a cosy terraced house a couple of years ago, and Will made sure his mother was comfortable. She had been improving greatly in recent years, free from the worry of the past, and no longer haunted by strange men.

Yes, life should be a lot easier. Yet, he couldn't help the sinking feeling in his heart when he came to the bench in the gardens every summer, how the attentions of other girls at school reminded him of tiny facets of Lyra's personality; the way one turned her head, the twinkle of another girl's eye. He sighed. He still had it bad.

In the short space of a few years, he had grown to be quite handsome, his features more defined, and any apprehension that the other students had once had, had now turned into a sense of mystery instead. What, with his better attendance at school and his missing finger, the other students had become accustomed to him, and whispered about his strange past behind his back. Not that he minded. Let them talk. As long as he could do as he pleased, he didn't mind an enquiring look at his hand or the way that girls watched him as he walked by.

Will and Kirjava strolled through the gardens, a warm breeze making the very tops of the trees dance. The smell of late blooming flowers filled the air as they passed the fountain and headed towards the Danby Gateway.

'Bit late for a stroll there, son,' said an older care-taker as Will passed, 'make sure you don't go and get yourself locked in.'

Will smiled and nodded, picking up Kirjava and stepping out into the street outside.

'Was he walking with that cat?' a hushed voice asked as he turned down the road towards home. Will and Kirjava laughed to each other. The usual traffic hummed past, and the patrons of a crowded put spilled out onto the pavement as Will passed. Any boy his age would be thinking about his eighteenth birthday, and yet Will could only see it as another year with no luck.

'Do you think Mary will have left some food for us to warm up when we get back?' asked Kirjava quietly. Will shrugged. They didn't usually talk in public. They'd tried when they first got back, but it had simply drawn worried glances and even some unwanted questions.

Will turned the corner onto a busier street and started to climb up a humped bridge over the river. 'I was almost there this time, Kirjava. I could feel it.'

'Almost' she replied, after a pause.

'Right, one, two and three'

'Or is it left one, two, and three…'

The muddled thoughts danced circles around Lyra's head as she sat in the carriage, transporting her to yet another ball. The older girls from St. Sophia's were expected to attend most social gatherings in order to inaugurate themselves into society and unfortunately, this included Lyra. She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, trying to adjust her shoes so that the toes that had gone to sleep could revive themselves before she was expected to dance the night away.

The girls had just been taught a new dance, which they had hardly had time to learn, before being whisked off to perform it perfectly in front of a nearly packed room. Lyra was desperately trying to remember it. The carriage clattered along the streets, swaying with the horse's hoof beats. It was crowded with ball gowns, as Lyra was sharing one of the school carriages with three of the other girls from St. Sophia's. There would usually only be three of the ladies and a chaperone, but as it happened, this ball was acting as the coming out of several of the younger girls and so the carriage was blissfully free of the bitter gaze of one of the chaperones.

Balls of this type, the girls were told, were there 'Purposefully to let well educated ladies meet well educated gentlemen, and make well educated couples', but Lyra felt a sense of restraint. Shouldn't people grow into their relationships, rather than be forced upon one another. If someone liked someone else, it shouldn't matter if the woman was in a ball gown of silk or a dress of plain cotton. However, not many 'society people' agreed with Lyra.

She absentmindedly stroked Pantalaimon, who had draped himself across her lap, and gazed out of the window. Beside her, a girl named Mary folded the pleats in her pink satin gown, her daemon, a chaffinch, happily chirping on her shoulder. Though she was Lyra's room-mate, and closest friend amongst the harpies of St. Sophia's (as Lyra liked to call them), she adored balls, gowns, and the idea of romance. Sometimes, Lyra felt a lot older than her friend, despite the fact that Mary was at least three years her senior.

Lyra looked at the paler version of herself in the black carriage window. Her hair, which had grown quite long, was swept into a loose knot on the top of her head and held in place with a jewelled clip, which matched the choker around her slender neck. She was wrapped in a dark blue dress which had white, lace petticoats underneath the skirt that could only be seen when she walked, or danced. The bodice of the dress hugged her demurely, and the chiffon shawl woven about her arms gave her more comfort.

Lyra often found herself zoning out, and staring at something that no one else could see while the other girls happily chatted around her: whom they were hoping to see, whom they were hoping to dance with. Lyra very rarely had the stomach for such talk.

She could not talk about who was most handsome, or who she would like to kiss the most, or who she would like to marry, for the answer was always far too complicated. She could not talk about Will in front of the rest of the girls, or anybody for that matter except, perhaps, Dame Hannah. She had initially found it difficult to talk to other young men, comparing them to Will in every way. It wasn't until Dame Hannah reminded her that she had sworn to move on that she had put aside her sullen attitude. It wasn't the fault of these young men that they weren't Will, couldn't possibly be the same as him. She sighed. She resolved to try to enjoy herself, and to attempt to shut the door to the past. It would not do to dwell somewhere that no longer existed.

Shortly after she had come back to her Oxford, from Will's world, she realised that life would never be the same again. It all seemed to be in black and white, and odourless, where everyone was happy in comparison to her, where nothing had changed since the fall. She'd had no idea that a loss of innocence would feel so much like losing a part of herself.

'Lyra, are you quite all right?' Mary asked in a hushed tone next to her.

Lyra nodded, feeling trapped in this life of balls and bachelors. It seemed as though marrying was the only way out, and yet she couldn't bring herself to feel any kind of romance. The image of Will was still childlike in her head, and though she tried to picture how his face looked now, she often found her mind came up blank. Perhaps it was a sign to move on, after all.

She was aware that Mary was still watching her and she turned to give the other girl a rather pinched smile as the carriage came to a stop.

The girls of St Sophia's disembarked, and Lyra waited until the other members were out of the carriage. The other two girls were already preening themselves, and sending disdainful glances in Lyra's direction. Mary moved to check her hair as Pan curled his way around Lyra's shoulders, the jewels from her choker glistening in between his fur. The night was warm, yet Lyra felt goose bumps rising on her arms and shoulders. Pan nuzzled her neck and she smiled at him.

'Thanks, Pan,' she murmured.

Their moment was interrupted as she turned towards the door. 'Another chance to dance the night away with prince charming, hmm, Lyra?' one of the girls said, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Lyra.

'I'd rather stay at school,' Lyra grumbled, but she followed the milling party guests into the building all the same.

The girl scoffed, 'What, with a tower of dusty old books around you? No you wouldn't!' She tittered, leaving Lyra and Mary behind and heading into the party.

'I can't stand that God-awful girl with her so high and mighty attitude. Who does she think she is? Stupid…' Lyra began, feeling annoyance lash out of her.

'Lyra, please don't make a scene,' begged Mary, who had her eyes fixed on the crowd.

Lyra sighed. 'I'm sorry, Mary.' She linked arms with her only friend, 'just make sure you keep me away from her. And I'm going to need punch…lots of punch…'

A/N: Many thanks for reading (or re-reading) chapter one. I'm intending to get this story up to date as soon as possible, and then start posting new content on a weekly basis. To those of you returning after many a year, thank you, and to those new readers, as always, please review!