Author's Note: Some of you might remember the old, old, old version of this story, which bore the same title. It wasn't, however, up to my usual standard, and even though I had so many thoughtful, kind reviews (and some not so thoughtful, kind reviews), I wanted to start over again. This time, it's going to be better, more original, but just as romantic and witty! Sit tight for the ride of your life.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Influence is also drawn from the book Ever After. Text of said book © 1998 by Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All rights reserved.
The quote at the beginning of the chapter is, of course, drawn from the book Ever After.
Prologue – 1966A prince in search of a princess, a domineering stepmother and her two daughters, and a servant girl who sleeps in the ashes by the fireplace…
~
It was morning at the Evans' home, and young Lily Evans had never been up earlier in her five years of life. She had come round before even the servants, and had been dancing about the house since before daybreak, her hair in an awful state, singing at the top of her little lungs. Arabella, her personal nanny, had nearly pulled her by her ears into her bedchambers and whacked her good behind the knees, but one look into the little angel's bright green eyes, and all thoughts of harm had vanished.
Presently, Lily was standing up on a stool with Arabella behind her, pulling a pink sash around her tiny little waist. The little mistress was putting up quite the fight against getting dressed up, and her nurse was growing very tired of redoing the bow because of Lily's squirming. The five-year-old wouldn't stop chattering about how wonderful it would be to have a real mother to take her places and tuck her in with her daddy.
"And sisters, Nanny Bella! Two sisters all for me! Sisters that I can boss around and show what's what!" she exclaimed breathlessly, crossing her freckled arms over her chest and nodding. Her immaculately stacked hair had come loose, and Arabella heaved a defeated sigh, as she had to pull the sash back over Lily's head and re-pin the red curls that were spilling over her shoulders.
Sucking in her cheeks in a disgruntled manner, she stuck a few bobby pins back between her teeth, and pulled Lily's hair back into a twist. "Yes, dearie. It'll be nice having a lady around the house to add a woman's touch 'round the place. But if you don't stay still, yeh'll be meetin' yer maker 'fore yeh be meetin' yer new mummy."
The little mistress pursed her lips together in a stubborn fashion and resisted the urge to pout. Uncrossing her arms remorsefully, she turned her gaze to the floor-length mirror that hung on the wall across from the two of them. She was dressed in a frilly, pink dress with puffy sleeves, and a rounded collar. If she didn't already think she was one, she might be under the impression that she was a princess at that very moment. Her face was clean, and her clothes weren't torn. Lily looked like the very epitome of innocence and femininity, standing there with Arabella struggling with her mass of hair.
"I'm a princess, Nanny Bella! Just look at me!" she shouted cockily, grinning at herself in the mirror, showing off the gap in her teeth.
Even hard-nosed Arabella Figg couldn't suppress a smile at Lily's arrogance. Truth be told, it was one of the child's most adorable features; it was a Peter Pan air that followed her around wherever she went. A shadow that never died no matter how dark it became, no matter how low the lights were dimmed. Yes, just give the little mistress some pixie dust and buy her a happy thought, and she'd be ready to fly of her own accord.
"Yes," she cooed, tough demeanour fading as she stuck a bobby pin into the depths of Lily's orange locks of hair. "Yer father'll be so proud of yeh. Twice the happiness on this fine day, bringin' home a new wife, a new lady for the household. He deserves all this happiness, child, after all these years with just you."
Lily poked out her tongue and Arabella clucked as a strand of hair fell out of place.
The "lady" was Lily's stepmother, Adele DeQuerssey-Evans, whom Lily was supposed to meet for the very first time later that day. She would be bringing along her two daughters, Petunia and Daisy, both of whom the five-year-old was anxious to meet, so that she could corrupt them to her ways in no time flat. She needed some companions that weren't muddy little boys that roamed the streets of Fides with nothing but the ratty clothes on their backs, and dusty old books that were dog-eared in so many places, you had to wonder how they knew what page they were on.
She was thinking of Remus, of course, and he was really only one person on the outside. If you wanted to be technical (and that was something Lily never went about being) he was really two beings: Remus Lupin, shy, village urchin that everyone had pity on (except, perhaps, the royals); and the wolf.
Her poor playmate had received the bite roughly three years ago. He had been so young, that he could hardly remember, but he often regaled her with tales that consisted of a rousing fight that he almost won, had it not been for the tricky wolf's cunning and too-long teeth. In any case, three days of the month, he turned into a howling, ravenous beast, and was either hidden away in the Evans' cellar for safekeeping, or bound in a pit in the woods. To Lily's knowledge, he had only escaped once, and he had caused damage only to a chicken pen.
In any case, she needed some new playmates, even though she loved Remus like her brother. Having some girls her age around could be fun, as long as they weren't obsessed with dresses, frills, and ruffles. Lily herself wouldn't even be wearing this princess-like get up if she didn't want to impress her father and her new stepmother.
Stepmother. Her stepmother. A real life lady that wasn't paid to love her like Arabella was. Someone that would love her because she was her daughter. Her stepdaughter, of course, but a daughter nonetheless. Proving that she could be a little lady that day was important. It was her top priority; nothing else was more important.
She just hoped to the heavens that Adele DeQuerssey-Evans liked pink and lace. If not, this whole getting dressed up thing would be wasted, and Lily would be embarrassed in front of her father and her new family.
As the little mistress was lost in thought, Arabella finally managed to pin up her hair in a suitable twist, and was putting the finishing touches on the bow that she was tying at the small of Lily's back. Taking care not to tie it too tight, she smoothed out some imaginary wrinkles on the bodice, and turned Lily around to face her.
The girl's eyes were unfocused, as if she were dreaming while wide-awake. "I hope she likes me," she murmured quietly.
Her nurse laughed brightly and laid her hand on Lily's hair affectionately. "She'll love yeh, dearie. Just try and pretend to be a little angel, will yeh, girl?"
Lily giggled childishly, and nodded eagerly. Arabella tutted and her hands flew to her charge's hair. "And…don't go makin' no sudden movements. That hair took me too long ter get ter stay still."
A scowl on her face, the five-year-old puffed out her chest and stuck out her chin. "Humph, like I would act like a mere commoner and mess up my hair."
Just then, there was a scattering of pebbles at her bedroom window, and she hopped off the stool while her nanny held her breath, eyes on the little mistress's hair. "Oh, do keep still!"
Beyond listening to anything the barmy old nursemaid had to say, she pushed open her windows, and searched the ground for Remus. She soon found him, standing off to the side, beside one of their apple trees, holding that old book in his hands, pebbles all in his hair. He looked more sunburned than usual, but she supposed he had been working for Mrs. Codgins again, and had lost track of his time in the sun.
"I told you, not today!"
Remus gaped up at her, a look of utter and complete shock on his dirty face, "Why, you look like a girl!" he yelled, as if by looking that way she had somehow betrayed him.
The little carrot-top put her hands on her hips and blew a raspberry at him. "That's what I am, you great git!"
Behind her, Arabella sucked in a breath, "Lily Evans! Where did you pick up that language?"
"From daddy, of course." She replied offhandedly, occupied with trading tacky faces with Remus.
Her lycanthropic friend began prancing around, his nose stuck up in the air. "Lily is a girl. A stupid little girl." He taunted her in a singsong voice, smirking as he saw she was taking his bait. She might look, smell, and – well, look like a girl, but she wasn't going to be parading around looking like an idiot in front of the whole country.
"Oh, I'll get you. Boy or girl, I can still whip you!"
With that, Lily turned on her heel, and flew out of her chambers, leaving a trail of bobby pins behind her, and a despairing Arabella to run after her, bending to pick up the fasteners as she chased after her. She had no hope of catching up, however, for the little mistress was already out the front doors by the time Arabella was at the top of the stairs.
Spotting him dashing off into their vegetable patch, she scampered right after him, red tresses floating behind her like a banner as she leapt over squashes and carrots. Remus' laughter only made her want to run faster, only after pausing to gather up a mud ball to hurl at the back of his head. It struck with dead accuracy, and she smirked in satisfaction as the hunt continued.
Arabella tore out of the house, nearly colliding with the head servant, Mundungus Fletcher. "It's Lily, Muddy! She's ruining everything for herself!"
Mundungus sighed, and turned his eyes to the vegetable patch, where the two best friends could be seen racing each other, smashing precious harvest along the way. He ran a withered hand through his wiry, greying hair and sighed. "We'll never catch her, Bella. She's like her mother, like the wind."
The nurse gave her friend a hard look, "We can at least try! Mr. Evans'll be here any second with 'is wife. There's no time ter waste!"
Mundungus heaved yet another sigh, and cupped his hands to his mouth, knowing very well that it would do no good to argue with Arabella Figg. Just as he was about to shout at the little girl to get back inside and get cleaned up, he heard the roaring of an engine, and he panicked.
"For goodness sakes, Lily! Quickly, it's your father! He's here!"
If she heard him, she didn't give any indication of even wanting to give up the game of tag she and mud-splattered Remus had started. When Arabella joined in the shouts, however, and she heard a car coming up the drive, she gulped, and gave her friend a good shot at the side of her head. Drawing a quick breath as Remus threw the mud at her, she retaliated by kicking up some more muck in his face, and took off towards the front of the house, holding back tears.
The car was magnificent, a black limousine. The front door opened, and out came the man of the house, Lily's father, a tall, robust man in his late thirties with thick auburn hair and a beard that made him look like a woodsman out to chop wood for the winter fire. Lily's heart warmed, and her tears stopped immediately as she caught sight of him.
"Daddy!"
Mundungus approached Mr. Evans and bowed. "Welcome back, sir. I see you have brought us a lady for the house."
Harold Evans grinned widely, "Ah, I've brought you an entire household for the house, Muddy. But I do seem to be missing a daughter."
The chauffer came to the other side of the limousine and opened the back door. Everyone held his or her breath as a tall, immaculately dressed woman stepped out of the car. Two young girls followed her, identical looks of disinterest and uneasiness on their faces.
The woman was elegant. That was the only world little Lily could find for her. She looked like one of the ladies straight out of the palace of Fides, with glossy black hair, and high, angular cheekbones. She surveyed the yard with indifference, but a flicker of distaste was obvious on her features as she laid her narrow eyes on the house that Lily and her father loved so dearly. She masked it however, but that didn't mean no one had seen.
"It's lovely, Harold, really. So quaint." She looped her arm through his, and gestured for her daughters to follow her. "Now, where is the main house?"
"Daddy!" Lily took the liberty of interrupting, her excitement apparent in her voice as she ran to her father, throwing her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around him.
Laughing, her father lifted her into the air and gave her a peck on her brow. After setting her down, he drew back to look at her, and shook his head, grinning. "Dear heavens, look at you. Just as I remember. I'll bet Remus is hanging around, then?"
Lily beamed innocently, and drew her finger across her throat as she had often seen the rougher bands in Fides doing when discussing death, or giving someone the business. "Nope, I killed him, honest!"
Sure enough, Remus came limping around the house, dried mud caking his skin, head hung low, book clutched between his chest and his arms.
Harold chucked Lily on the cheek, "I see."
He leaned over, and turned her around to face Adele DeQuerssey-Evans, her new stepmother. "I was hoping to present a little lady…but I should have known that you could never be anything but yourself. Lily, this is Adele DeQuerssey-Evans, and her daughters, Petunia and Daisy."
Lily gulped and nodded at them. "Good morning."
Adele smiled coolly at her, eyes betraying nothing as she surveyed the filthy child before her. "Hello, Lily. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. It was always, "Lily this," and, "Lily that," and, "Lily would say this," when I was around your dear father." The woman paused, her eyes flickering to wrecked twist that the child's hair had once been swept up in to the sash that was half untied around her waist.
"I did, however, suspect that I was meeting a little boy for a moment."
Harold stepped forward, his hand on Lily's shoulder. "Yes, well. That's what you get for living with a man your whole life, not a real lady to lead you down the right path. There are some things only a woman can teach her."
Adele looked to be suppressing a sneer. "I'll do what I can. Petunia, Daisy," her daughters came one step closer, and curtsied. "Say hello to your new stepsister."
Lily gulped again as they stared back at her, wearing the same sort of mask that their mother wore. They looked cold, and callous. Not the sort of people Lily wanted to be around at all. Trying to give them a warm smile, she was afraid she only managed slightly strained cringe. She mentally reminded herself that this was her new family, she should be happy!
But looking into the eyes of her stepsisters, dressed in the same sort of dress as her (though infinitely cleaner), eyes as cold as their mother's, she could only feel one emotion. That was fear. Fear that nothing would ever be the same. That nothing would ever be fun again.
Lily turned the book over in her hands, glaring at the perfect cover. "The Hobbit?"
This book was one of many presents that she had received from her father after one of his trips. They were usually toys or trinkets from whatever part of the world he had been visiting, but this time, it was a book. A thick book to boot, and one that Lily couldn't imagine ever reading all on her own.
"Oh, you'll like it Lily, darling. It's about a grand adventure with wizards, and dwarves, and dragons!" he growled ferociously, and attacked her stomach with a series of tickles. She shrieked in the way that only five-year-old redheads can, and flipped back on her back, clutching at her stomach, trying to force her father's hands away.
"Stop! Stop!" she yelped, very unladylike. Adele would have not approved, she was very sure of that.
After a few more pleas from his daughter, Harold drew away and ruffled her hair. "All right, all right. Anyway, I thought we'd put it on the shelf for a rainy day, or perhaps for a bedtime story, eh? What do you think of that?"
Lily plopped back onto her big pillows, and put her hands behind her head. "Read some."
Her father arched an eyebrow, "What, no please?"
"Fine. Read some, no please."
Harold coughed, and plucked the book out of her hands. "I'll pound some manners into the thick skull of yours one day, just you wait." He cast a look at his daughter, who looked like she highly doubted it. "Well, I should get started now. Maybe if we read fast enough, we'll be finished by the time I have to leave for London."
Lily shot up. "You're leaving again? Not another business trip, daddy!"
Her father smiled gently, "Yes, another business trip. I have very important things to contend with. Besides, it's how we keep food on the table, darling."
His daughter scowled, "I don't care anyhow. You'll only be gone one week."
"Is that so?" Mr. Evans chuckled. The little mistress nodded firmly at his query, and crossed her arms over her chest as if to prove it. "Why, then?"
The five-year-old pouted, "Because I said so."
"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that. But how about this, I'll be gone for…two weeks. How does that sound?"
She shook her red curls wildly, "Nope. One."
Her father chuckled, amused at her arguing. "Two."
"One!" she insisted.
They shared a mischievous look, and instantly, the put a fist out in front of them, "Rock, paper, scissors!"
Lily drew paper, Harold drew rock, and she giggled with glee. "I win! I win! I'm wonderful at that game! Just ask Remus. I always win."
Grin growing wider, her father placed The Hobbit on her beside table, and pulled back her comforter. "Fine, you win this time. One week, no longer."
She nodded, satisfied, and scrambled into bed. The master of the house shared a few butterfly kisses with his daughter. She grinned sleepily, and turned her head towards him as he went towards the light switch by the door. "Daddy, are there really such things as dragons, and dwarves, and wizards?"
Harold smiled mysteriously at her. "Perhaps. Just keep waiting, darling. Maybe you'll find out."
With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving it barely open, so that light would slither in from the hallway. Lily had never liked the dark.
"Wizards…" she sighed dreamily. "I wonder…"
Adele lifted the lid of the cedar chest after dusting it off with her handkerchief. She studied the engraving on the trunk in silence, a small itch of jealously creeping up her spine, before turning her eyes to the contents inside. Dresses of Parisian silk, eggshell-thin bone china, and smooth bolts of Belgian linen greeted her.
Sucking in a breath, she moved forward to get a closer look. Her fingers happened upon a pair of silver satin slippers covered with a thousand tiny crystal beads. Whoever had worn them must have had the feet of fairies, she was sure. They were so dainty and delicate. After setting them aside, she moved on to a beautiful beaded pair of…robes? Aha.
She pulled the witches robes out of the chest, and clucked to herself. So this was Lily's dowry. These robes must have belonged to her mother, meaning that Lilith Moreau-Evans had been a witch to her husband's wizard. That could only mean one thing…
She saw something out of the corner of her eye and jumped away from the robes, letting them float to the ground, as if the material were made of feathers.
"Harold!"
He said nothing; he just let his eyes linger on the dress as if lost in the past. Deeply disturbed, and slightly hurt, Adele knelt down and folded the robes back to their original state, and set them softly in the chest, followed by the slippers. "I apologise for going through things I should not have been going through, dear."
Harold looked startled and made his way towards her, taking her hand. "Don't think that. You are part of this household now. Touch anything you want to touch."
Adele lifted an eyebrow shrewdly. "Anything? Anything and everything, now that I have you to myself, finally?"
She kissed his cheek, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her new husband was so strong, so brave, so handsome…the perfect Gryffindor that he was. Yet, he was so unambitious. So opposite her Slytherin character.
I can change that, she thought with a smirk.
"Careful, Mrs. Evans. You sure you know what you're doing?"
Adele nuzzled his neck, "I think at my age, I know exactly what I'm doing." She placed a kiss on his cheek. "Oh, darling, I can't wait until we are introduced to the court of Fides. If I hear correctly, the king has a son around Petunia's age? Can you imagine?"
Harold laughed heartily, "Good Circe, woman. You only just got here!"
Adele smirked larger, "I move fast."
Her husband kissed her forehead, "Obviously. I must say, Lily was impressed with you from the get go. I'd swear she thought you were the Queen of Fides by the way she was looking at you all through dinner."
So those were the eyes I felt boring into my skull, she thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at what horrible table manners the child had shown off.
"Now, now, I rather think she's the princess of the house." It hadn't escaped her eye that the servants seemed to cater to the every whim of the patchy little scamp.
"Can you blame me?" Harold inquired, giving her his infamous puppy-dog-look.
She would, but she could not. Not yet, anyway. She would have to wait until she had full run of the house, until the servants respected her, and until she had Lily under her spell. Only then could this house be hers, and that was all she wanted, except for maybe Harold.
"Really, darling. She's a little…a little boy!"
Harold fell back onto the bed, and laid his hand on the spot beside him, "And I can't wait to see her with a wand."
Lily couldn't remember crying in her entire life. That didn't mean she hadn't, it just mean that she couldn't really remember doing it.
Trying very hard to keep a straight face, she watched as her father tossed the chauffer the keys to the black limousine, and turned face the household. He had left a billion times for various reasons, yet Lily always had such trouble bidding him goodbye. Sighing as she saw how bored Petunia and Daisy looked, she couldn't help but think about how much fun they would have once they got warmed up to the country, and running around outdoors.
Her father pulled on his jacket over his sweater. It was rather chilly that day, and he was even wearing the hat that Lily had given him for Christmas two years ago (though Arabella had bought it for her, she hadn't even known it was Christmas, being three), and the mittens she had sewn for him the year before.
"Don't look so glum, you lot." He told the line of servants. "I'll be back soon." He turned to his wife. "Soon, I promise."
Adele stepped forward, and pecked him on the cheek. "Stay safe, darling."
Lily poked the ground with her shoe as Harold gave Petunia and Daisy separate pecks on the cheek, and gave them both a small tap on the nose. They looked rather uncomfortable as he did so, and seemed to relax when they were back at their mother's side. Finally, her father stooped down in front of her and shared a butterfly kiss with her.
"I'm counting on you to get these city girls used to the country, all right?"
Nodding mutely, she let him give her a kiss in the nose, and watched sadly as he climbed into the limousine. The chauffer clambered into the driver's seat, and shut the door behind him. Her father rolled down the window as the car took off down the long driveway.
Adele took her daughters' hands, and began leading them back into the house, "Let's get inside, it looks like it's going to rain soon."
Lily had different plans, however. "No, we can't! He always waves at the gate, it's a tradition!"
Her stepmother seemed to consider this for the briefest of moments, before turning up her nose and going back into the house. Lily glared at the three of them before grabbing Arabella's hand and pulling her forward. The sleek automobile approached the gate, and as it turned to leave, Lily waited for her father's hand to poke out of the window.
But it didn't happen.
Instead, the car came to a screeching halt, and the chauffer nearly jumped out and yanked the back door open. Lily's eyebrows knitted together, and she stayed frozen with the line of servants as Carter (the driver) pulled her father out of the car, and laid him on the ground, a look of shock plastered on his face.
Lily rushed forward, the servants behind her. Mundungus rushed inside to fetch Adele and her daughters. Pushing up her long sleeves, and wiping her eyes with her exposed wrists, she rushed forward, rounding the corner and collapsing at her father's side. In the back of her mind, she heard to front door open again, and heard her stepmother's cries, and heavy footsteps.
Sobs racked her throat as she looked down at her father's pale face, and listened to his ragged, fading breath. What on earth was going on? He was so strong…so healthy! How had he taken ill like this, without any warning? He had shown no symptoms of a cold, or of the flu. Hadn't he been tickling her a few nights ago? Laughing as he played football with her in the front yard the day before?
Please daddy, she thought desperately, grabbing his arm and shaking it. Don't leave me! Don't die. I love you too much. Please…no…please don't go…
Adele knelt down beside her, and put her hands on Harold's face. "Harold, please, you can't leave me here! Not here, not without you!" she moved her hands to his jacket, and clutched at it, tears trickling down her cheeks. Some of them landed on his face.
"Please, darling, no! Do not leave me here! Someone, get him up! Ring the hospital, you morons!"
Someone rose to do just that, but Lily was afraid it was too late. In the moments that followed Adele's throaty command, Harold stared helplessly up into his new wife's face…then reached out for Lily. As his fingers brushed her cheek, he looked like he wanted to say something. But it was too late. His mitten-clad hand grasped at her hair for a few seconds, then fell limply to his breathless side. His mouth went slack.
Scared out of her mind, Lily shook her father, and looked up at Adele for comfort, tears leaving silver trails down her cheeks. Adele just stared down at her husband's lifeless face, her eyes holding an array of emotions. Hatred, fear, sorrow, shock. Lily was sure, even though she was very young, that the same look was mirrored on her own face.
Filled with such pain, such sorrow, she looked back down at her father's face. This was far worse than a one-week business trip, she knew. Much, much worse. She buried her face in his shirt, staining it with her innocent tears, while her stepmother stood, and stepped back, a look of utter disbelief on her face.
"No…do not leave me. No…not here…"
But it was over. He had left her there; he had left them all there. In a matter of moments, the person that she loved more than anything, the one that meant the most to her had been taken away. He was gone like a brief breath of wind.
Her father was dead.
And she, Lily Nicole Evans, was an orphan.