Well hi! This is a fic that's been bouncing around in my head for over a year now, and I've decided that it's time to set it free! So, without further ado, have a prologue! Enjoy!

The musicians in the corner played a waltz, polite in tone, melodious but not ostentatious; merely a soothing, rich backdrop to match those present at the ball. Security wizards were stationed at the main gates, searching those attempting to enter the Manor with a flick of their wands; the Dementors would sniff out a true threat in an instant. Inside the regal Manor the elite of the Wizarding World danced, chatted amongst themselves and nibbled at the foods presented by the various waitstaff. Leaning against the wall, a young woman surveyed the scene from the shadows. No one worried about the beautiful witch attempting to blend in like a wallflower; she was not a threat, but one of them. Some walked past, some acknowledged her, but none stopped to speak to her, and that was the way she liked it. Once upon a time, she may have joined them in their elegant celebrations, but that was a different time. Back then, she was just a little girl, blindly following her parents' opinions and never thinking for herself. Back then, she had had people to stand beside her- friends, confidantes... brothers. The woman bit her lip, shaking her head minutely at the thought. They were gone now, and it would do no good to dwell on such things. Despite years of putting up a mask to prevent any undesired emotion from getting through, the thought of them always broke that resolve. Feeling tears approaching, the woman quickly stepped away from the wall, her gloved hands smoothing down the lavender fabric of the skirt of her dress, and quickly but calmly left the ballroom for the ladies' room, her heeled shoes making no sound against the marble floor.

Reaching the ladies room, she ensured it was empty before locking the door. Slowly approaching the mirror, her hands came to rest on the counter separating her from her reflection. Despite the edges of her eyes being slightly red due to the approach of tears, she was lovely. The light purple dress was embroidered with flowers around the bust with a corset tie up at the back, and the skirt flared out delicately, stopping halfway down her calves. The colour complimented her fair skin and dark features nicely, particularly her dark eyes which had been decorated in silver by the hand of some well-renowned cosmetic witch. Her lips were a dull yet flattering rose colour, and she watched as her reflection tried to smile. Inhaling deeply, she began to pace, her gloved hands clenched into fists as she attempted to compose herself. She was a talented, beautiful witch in one of the most prominent families in Wizarding society, pureblooded to the last blood cell and proud of it. She was on top of the world, wasn't she? Why didn't that knowledge make her feel any better?

'Because this is not what you had expected it to be,' the little voice in her head remarked. 'You are afraid, you are a pawn, and you are alone.' She shook her head, trying to dispose of the blasphemous thoughts, but deep down, she knew that her subconscious was right.

Growing up, she had always been a supporter of Voldemort and his aspirations to rid the Wizarding World of mudbloods and blood-traitors. She thought that a pure world would be the best world, and had, from the young age of eleven told everyone as much. When Harry Potter had been defeated at the end of her final year at Hogwarts, she had celebrated with the rest of the Dark forces. However, from the Final Battle on, the new world order was not what she had anticipated. As their side had all the power, Death Eaters were trying to undermine one another and as a result, things had gotten messy. Everything was cloak and dagger; no one knew who they could trust, and while anyone looking in to a society function such as this would have thought it normal and relaxed, it was anything but. She could feel the tension in the air. These past few gatherings of the elite had been particularly hard for her, as she no longer had her two best friends by her side. She clutched her heart as the tears finally fell. It hurt so badly to think of them, and she hadn't even known what had happened after they had disappeared. She didn't even know if they were truly gone! This thought suddenly hit the woman like a Disarming Spell- what if they were alive? This had never occurred to her before.

Suddenly, it was as if her mind was moving a mile a minute. All the injustices that she had witnessed, both before the war and after, were they truly all that different? The way she saw things now, she had two options: to live here in a miserable life of luxury, fearing treachery around every corner; or, to escape from this life and do her best to ascertain the fates of her closest friends or die trying. It would be brutal, if not impossible, but at this point she really didn't see that she had anything to lose. This was it, then; the decision had been made.

Wiping her eyes carefully to avoid any smudged make-up, the woman patted down the elegant brown curls piled atop her head and gave her reflection a determined look. This would be the last time that Pansy Parkinson, elite pureblooded beauty of Wizarding society, showed her face. From now on, she was not a Parkinson, not a supporter of Voldemort, but Pansy, a girl who would use every last bit of her Slytherin cunning to get what she wanted. And what she wanted was her life back.

And so it begins! Thanks for reading, reviews are much appreciated, and I'll be aiming to get the next chapter up by Wednesday!