First: I am so, so sorry that I haven't updated in so long! Senioritis is kicking in, so I'm going to try to get back into this story. Thank you for not losing complete faith in me, and I promsie I'll try to make it up to you somehow!

Second of all: I went back and did some minor editing on the past chapters, so now they suck a little less. XP

Third of all: I do not happen to own A Great and Terrible Beauty. Just Lea and Bono. Thank you.

Fourth of all: I'm shutting up now and getting to the story. Enjoy, guys!

(Recap: I felt a grin grow on my face as I thought of the magic I wished to try. I concentrated, and...

"Bloody..." I heard Felicity say in surprise.)

I grinned. My side of the room was now decked out in many of the same posters and pictures that I had at my house. My dresser now contained my makeup from home, just as I'd left it, and there were a pair of jeans, a pair of worn blue Converse, and a Coldplay concert tee sitting on my bed.

"What the hell is all of that?" asked Felicity. I was surprised she'd managed to speak, to be honest. I realized about point three seconds after I wished for it how shocking my 2005 things must be to a Victorian girl.

"Oh, you know," I said lightly. "Just things from home."

Felicity walked over to a poster of Sam and Dean Winchester from Supernatural. "Why is this photograph so vivid? It almost looks real."

"That's what one hundred years of technological advanced gets you," I said with a grin.

"Who are these men? Are they your brothers?"

I laughed. "No way," I said. "They're characters in a TV show I like." She gave me a weird look, and then I remembered that the television wouldn't be invented for another...forty, fifty years?

"Never mind," I said. "They're hot, aren't they?"

She gave me another weird look. "You're going to need to work on your speech," she said. "They do not appear to be sweating."

I sighed. "Attractive," I said. "Like you want to make out with them," I added.

"Make out?"

I shook my head. "Never mind. But they are attractive, aren't they?"

Felicity grinned. "They dress very strangely, but yes, I suppose I can see why one would find them attractive."

I laughed. "These are my 2005 clothes," I said, pointing at the items on the bed. "And these," I said, walking over to my dresser and picking up a tube of mascara, "are my makeups and things from 2005."

"What could one possibly do with that?" she asked questioningly.

I glanced at the clock. "I'll have to show you later," I said. "Don't we have class?"

"Oh, blast!"

The days passed. I visited the realms in my dreams--not every night--and went to my classes and pretened that I was Liberty Bell. My French improved (so did my English), I learned how to waltz without making a complete ass of myself, and I eventually got used to the amount of clothing that the Victorians wore. The things I had magicked up--my clothes, posters, and makeup--stayed, to my surprise, but I had to hide them. "You don't want to have to explain to Brigid why you have giant pictures of men on your walls," Felicity had warned me. "Or why the photographs look so real. She'll cry witch and claim you nearly gave her a heart attack."

My life as someone else started to make a little more sense, and everything fell into a sort of routine. There were two pressing questions that wouldn't stop revolving around my head, however: Where did Liberty Bell, whoever she is, go? And why is Bono here with me?

The realms provided no answers--whenever I could get into them, that is--and looking for Bono was out of the question most of the time. I learned quickly from gossip overheard at meals what happened to girls who were caught with rich, white, upper-class men that they were found with. Considering how much damage that caused, I didn't want to risk getting caught with a guy who was living with the gypsies in the woods. I hadn't found anything more of Liberty's besides her diary, and that didn't provide any answers.

So I decided to check in the library. That's what they do in books, isn't it? I reasoned. Besides, it's a nice, quiet activity in which a young lady can engage without attracting much attention, right?

The library was a menacing room. I'd spent a lot of time in libraries at home, but they were always warm and welcoming, with kind old librarians and candy jars and craft days for kids. Besides, there were computers that I could use to search for anything I needed at home and computers wouldn't be invented for another...seventy years, right?

I walked slowly past the shelves, wondering where the hell to start.

"Looking for something?" asked a voice from behind me. I spun around to see a pretty girl with dark hair and violet eyes behind me. Her skin was astonishingly pale...but that was normal for this day and age, right?

"Y-yeah," I stuttered. "Do you have any old newspapers? Or journals?" I asked, hoping that there was something somewhere that could help me.

She smiled. "Yes, right this way," she said. "Follow me." She turned and led me through a winding maze of bookshelves. Funny, I don't remember the library being this big. Or this windy. I glanced around at my surroundings again. Or this dark.

The girl turned a corner ahead of me. "Don't get lost," she said. There was a strange tone to her voice--was it laughter? Was she just leading me on? Probably, I thought. Girls apparently weren't any nicer a hundred years ago than they are now. I mean, in 2005.

I turned the corner she turned, but there was no one there--just a long, dark corridor. "Hello?" I called. "Miss?" This was so cliche. I couldn't believe it. How had this happened? Wasn't this the sort of thing that only happened in crappy mystery novels? This couldn't be happening. But then again, by that logic, I can't be in 1895, I realized. "Oh, shit," I said.