Author's Notes: Big thanks to LavenderBrown77, blueforest, Wren, The Enchanted Teakettle, and All-American Vampire, for your reviews! It makes me hugely happy to see new reviews in my inbox, I dance around like an idiot, people make fun of me…it's great!

Never tickle a sleeping dragon. And never become too relaxed around Tom Riddle. Two important lessons for the New Year! Happy 2006, everyone.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

Chapter 9

Allure

With no future Dark Lord to spy on, Honora spent a lot of time reading during the Christmas holidays. Soon she was several weeks ahead in her classes, and even attempted to understand some of the things in Herbology that had always confused her. When Damaris and Kay returned in January, Honora felt refreshed, revitalized, and ready to take on the school, again.

Damaris had learned some cunning beauty charms over the holidays from her Aunt Lucinda, and the girls determined to use them before the ball. 'The prefect's bathroom will be perfect,' said Damaris. 'We can use the tub for the mud bath, and the sauna for the skin-wrap, and then exfoliation, then dip…'

'I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds painful,' said Kay.

'Beauty is pain,' intoned Honora, philosophically.

'Maybe we can get the house-elves to give us manicures and pedicures!' Damaris suggested.

'No!' Kay looked shocked. 'I don't want a house-elf with nail varnish anywhere near me, thank you!' Honora and Damaris laughed. 'But now, girls, the real question is…who will we ask to the ball? It's already January!' Kay said more seriously.

'Do you think Lawrence Carter would say yes if I asked him?' Damaris asked. 'He's so handsome.'

'I think he would!' Kay replied. 'You two would look very nice together.'

Honora did not say anything at first. She wished Damaris had not mentioned Lawrence; now she, Honora, could hardly go asking him. It was disappointing. Honora seemed to be trapping herself into asking Tom Riddle to the dance. The idea was not as intimidating as it would have been four months ago; she and Riddle were on polite terms, acknowledged one another in the halls, settled into the safety of acquaintanceship borne from the same classes, the same ball committee. It made him seem less offensive.

'Lawrence would be a good one for you, Damaris,' Honora said reluctantly. 'He would.'

'Now I just have to work up the nerve!' Damaris giggled. 'How about you two?'

'I thought I would ask John Parrish,' said Kay. 'You know, the Hufflepuff Seeker.'

'Oooh, he's cute,' said Honora. 'I bet he would be honoured to go with a gorgeous Ravenclaw.'

'And what about you, Honora? Who have you set your sights on?' Damaris asked.

'I honestly don't know,' Honora replied. 'I'll, uh, think about it later.'

She avoided thinking about her potential date for several weeks. She knew what she should do, but procrastinated asking Tom Riddle, and when the last Friday in January rolled around, it was time for the final official meeting of the Salvation Ball committee. It was all coming together well. The Hufflepuffs in charge of food had concocted an elegant menu; Honora glanced over it approvingly. Butterfly shrimp, cocktail-sized apple chicken sausages, samosas…shortbread cookies, cherry ices, and strawberry tarts…it made Honora hungry just thinking about it. Red punch would be served, along with the usual butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and plum wine.

The tickets had gone on sale right after the holidays, open to all students fourth-year and above. Nearly everyone had purchased tickets. With the food and beverages supplied by the school, and the Great Hall free, it looked they were going to make a nice profit. A famous wizarding swing-time band, the Floating Strings, had been hired for the dance music, at a much reduced cost since the charity aspect was good for the band's publicity.

Arrangements were made for the silent auction. Quality Quidditch Supplies of London had donated a top-of-the-line Comet 101 broom, expected to be popular with the boys. There was also an exquisite piece of sculpture: a floating model of the solar system made of pure gold, found in an Egyptian tomb and donated by Nestor Nicodemus's father. Other, smaller items included a specially-brewed custom perfume by 'Scentsations of Diagon Alley' and a set of tarot cards that had once belonged to a Divination professor at Hogwarts.

Honora announced the lists for decoration helpers, including the multitude of Quidditch-boy volunteers. She also passed along the news from Dumbledore that anyone helping set up decorations would be awarded five house points each.

'That should get the Slytherins out and helping,' Damaris joked.

The meeting adjourned with everyone clear as to their jobs, and psyched up for Hogwarts' biggest social event in years. And Honora still did not have a date. She noticed Tom Riddle giving an order to the only other Slytherin on the committee, a fifth-year non-prefect girl named April Gaius, and then he gathered his folder to leave. With her heart in her throat, Honora walked up to Tom as casually as she could.

It was wrong that someone so despicable could be so attractive.

'Er, Riddle,' she said. 'So the tickets are almost gone?'

'That's what I said,' Tom replied coolly.

'Good, good…' Honora clenched her fist behind her back. This was not going well. 'So, who asked you to be their date?'

Tom's dark blue eyes looked straight into her, as if he knew exactly what she was after. Dammit. 'Olive Hornby,' he said, his mouth quirking up. 'And you?'

'Oh! Umm…' Honora noticed Jamie Whitcomb, the other sixth-year Ravenclaw prefect with Damaris, walking out the door. She knew for a fact he did not have a date yet. 'Jamie!' she said quickly. 'I'm going with Jamie.'

Tom looked bemused. 'Are you, now?'

'Yes,' Honora said, a little more strongly. 'And thank you again for your help on the committee.' She was eager to end this conversation. 'I'm sure all of our fellow orphans will be glad for it, someday.'

He nodded silently.

'Well, uh, bye!' Honora flashed a falsely confident smile and darted out the door.

She ran down the corridor to catch up with Jamie Whitcomb. 'Jamie!' she said, falling into step with him. 'Say, you don't happen to have a date, do you?'

Jamie turned to her. He was a tall whip of a boy, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He was quiet, and nice, and highly studious. 'No, I don't,' he replied.

'Well…' Honora smiled warmly up at him, 'Would you consider taking me?'

'All right!' Jamie nodded readily. 'That would be good.'

Honora tried not to show her abject relief. One less thing to worry about. 'I'm so glad! We'll have a wonderful time, I'm sure.' In fact, she was sure they would. Jamie was a good kid and he would not be possessive of her. As part of the committee, he would understand Honora's commitment to keep the ball running smoothly.

She also felt overly glad that she had not botched up inviting Tom Riddle too badly; at least she had not dropped books on her own head or done something equally as clumsy. Her self-assurance must be increasing.

To her vast annoyance, Slughorn set an essay due the day before the ball, on the evolution of medical potions. Researching the history of Sleeping Draught and Skele-Gro was really the last thing Honora wanted to do, especially since the Salvation Ball was the only thing the higher forms could talk about. Well, the higher form girls, anyway.

Lawrence Carter had said yes to Damaris's invitation, and John Parrish was going with Kay. The girls were over the moon. Honora really was pleased for them. Of course, she did not get a fluttery heart over Jamie Whitcomb.

At least you have a date, she thought to herself. Poor Ambrosia Kipley had asked three boys, all of whom had turned her down. That's because she's ugly and mean and has no friends, Honora thought. Then she chastised herself for having such a nasty, if honest, thought. All the social pressure must be getting to her.

Two mornings before the great event, Honora was picking at her breakfast in the Great Hall. She had put off finishing her Potions essay, and still had eight more inches of parchment to write. There was all the last minute decision-making and organising for the ball. To top it all, Honora's dress robes had not arrived from the seamstress. She was beginning to feel panicked.

Kay rubbed her back reassuringly. 'Don't worry, they'll get here,' she said. 'I'm sure Gladrags is doing a lot for the ball. They know how important it is. I heard that three extra seamstresses were hired for this week.'

'What if they don't?' Honora said redundantly.

'They will! And you'll get everything else done, too. If you quit worrying, that is, and drink some tea.'

Honora smiled weakly. Tea did help. With a palpitation in her stomach, she heard a fluttering and looked up: the post had arrived. Her eyes frantically searched the owls for any packages. With a yelp of relief, she caught her brown package marked 'Dress Robes: Miss Honora Crowley.'

'See! What did I tell you?' Kay laughed at her.

'Oooh, your robes!' Damaris leaned over Honora's shoulder. 'Well, let's have a look, then.'

'Not here!' Honora said. 'I don't want anyone seeing.'

'What about me?' Ash Wynn poked his head their way. He was taking their dorm-mate, Willow McLeod, to the ball. It had caused some amusement; Honora had dubbed them the 'trees', Ash and Willow.

'You'll see them at the ball,' Honora said stubbornly. She gulped the rest of her tea, scalding her throat slightly. 'Come on, girls.'

They raced back up to Ravenclaw Tower. Honora felt energised by the prospect of new clothes. Most of her garments were so practical; with the exception of a few dresses, she had to work to make herself fashionable. Like any girl, the idea of wearing a beautiful dress was enough to send her spinning.

The three girls burst into their room, startling Willow, who was still getting ready for the day.

'Her robes arrived!' Damaris explained.

'Oh! Let me see!' Willow said.

'Patience, patience!' yelled Honora. Then with a squeal she dived at the package and tore open the paper. A spill of champagne-coloured satin fell out.

'Ahh! Look at it!' Damaris shrieked.

With a flourish, Honora held up the dress. Oohs and ahhs echoed around her. It was an elegant one-shoulder draped sheath with detailed gold and copper beaded accents on the shoulder and hem. The left shoulder held the dress up and then fell down the back.

'Behold the Grecian glory!' Honora announced, with a joyful laugh. 'Men, kneel at our feet and weep for mercy.'

'Oh, we are going to kill!' Damaris giggled loudly. Willow grabbed Kay and began dancing around the room in imitation of a wild waltz. Honora shot bubbles from her wand. It was a merry time, for being eight in the morning.

'I wonder who Tom Riddle is taking to the dance,' sighed Willow, flopping down onto her bed. 'I think he's just…the cat's meow!'

'He's taking Olive Hornby,' Honora said curtly, rolling her eyes. 'Why do you like him so much?'

'Oh, but he's such a catch!' Willow sat up, enthused to discuss her crush. 'Clever, handsome, and there's something about him that's so, I don't know how to describe it…'

'Evil?' muttered Honora.

'Charismatic,' decided Willow. She shrugged. 'Oh, well. He's unattainable, besides.'

Honora busied herself by hanging her beautiful dress on her canopy bed.

Once she had her dress robes, Honora felt motivated to finish Slughorn's blasted essay. She skived off morning Herbology, and wrote hard for an hour and a half about the discovery of powdered moonstone as an ingredient in the Draught of Peace as a treatment for anxiety disorders. The night before the ball, Honora, Damaris, Kay, and several fifth-year girls commandeered the prefect's bathroom for a highly relaxing spa treatment.

Saturday dawned cold and clear, and Honora was up at seven-thirty. She scrubbed her face clean, not wanting to put on any makeup until the ball. She threw on a jumper already ruined by a Potions explosion, and tied her hair in a loose ponytail. Then Honora jumped on Damaris and Kay and made a trumpet-like sound with her hand.

'Rise and shine, ladies! Time to transform this school!' In anticipation of the ball, the house elves would be serving buffet breakfast and lunch in the individual house common rooms. Everyone else would be downstairs.

Honora marched into the Great Hall, pumping with energy. The boys and girls who had volunteered to help had mostly arrived by nine, and started transfiguring the long dining tables into smaller round tables that sat up to ten people, dotting the edges of the hall. The Herbology professor brought in carts of red poppies grown especially for the occasion, which were charmed into garlands and swagged along the sides for flowery effect. Even the reluctant help of the curmudgeonly caretaker, Apollyon Pringle, was enlisted to haul in an old stone fountain from an unused courtyard. The fountain was frosted in white and filled with water, for making wishes.

Honora occupied herself by working on the charms for the ceiling, to turn the stars red and white. It was difficult work, requiring a great deal of sustained concentration. In a room filled with working, laughing, talking students, this was a challenge. House-elves scurried around under her feet, and she kept dodging moving furniture and floating candles, meanwhile keeping a sharp eye on her volunteer workers.

'Danny, those chairs go over there!' 'The torches need to be red and gold, yes I know they're Gryffindor colours but they provide the best lighting!' 'Make sure the food tables are fully ready for the house-elves…' Honora shook her head in frustration, refocusing herself on the ceiling. It was only about halfway done.

Suddenly an arm cinched her about the waist, and pulled her backwards. 'Watch yourself, there!'

With a gasp of shock, Honora watched, wide-eyed, as a huge, heavy table swung through the air at her, so close to her head she could feel a breeze as it whizzed past. Turning to her rescuer, she found herself nose to nose with Tom Riddle, who quickly dropped his arm from around her. The thought of 'Maybe he's not so bad' floated, unbidden, through Honora's mind.

'Pay more attention,' Riddle said, holding his spine stiffly straight, and clasping his hands behind his back in a gesture that was oddly self-conscious.

'Right, thanks,' said Honora. To break the tension, she looked toward John Parrish, the culprit. 'For Merlin's sake, John! Learn your Levitation charms before you kill somebody.'

'Sorry, Honora!' John called.

She waved a hand, signifying it was alright. 'I'm in your debt,' she turned to Riddle, wishing it had been someone else to pull her out of the way.

'I'll have to make sure you repay me some time,' Riddle said, deadpan.

'We'll see,' Honora said with a smirk.

The hours flew by, Honora skipped lunch and before she knew it, the room was coming together beautifully. The Floating Strings arrived, and they set up their instruments behind a red and gold screen appropriated from Gryffindor House. The buffet table was set up and awaited the appearance of food from the kitchens. The items up for silent auction were in their display cases. The ball started at eight o'clock.

At six, Honora swallowed a dose of Invigoration Draught and looked around the Great Hall one last time. Satisfied, she turned to go back to Ravenclaw Tower and get ready.

On her way out, she saw Riddle giving stern directions to Court Aiken, who would be taking tickets at the door. Honora stopped for a moment.

'Looks like we're ready, then,' she said to Riddle.

'It appears so,' he agreed.

Honora smiled up at him. 'Don't be surprised if you don't recognise me in two hours,' she said, thinking of her new dress.

'Oh, I'm sure I'll recognise you,' Riddle replied. A hint of a smile flared in the shady depths of his eyes.

'See you soon, then,' Honora turned away with a coy little wave over her shoulder.

She smiled as she walked away, pleased that she and Tom Riddle were becoming on such friendly terms. She was almost becoming accustomed to him. A hundred small, innocuous interactions had created an expectation of normality that a hidden part of her knew was dangerous. With every polite greeting, every nod of the head, her guard lowered itself a bit more. It was happening in spite of herself; her inner knowledge of Riddle's black soul did not match up with his outer behaviour, lulling her into complacency and near-admiration of him.

His smooth confidence, cool and unflappable; his obvious intellectual brilliance; his striking good looks; all combined to create an exquisite masquerade. Riddle was undoubtedly attractive, until Honora forcibly reminded herself that he was Lord Voldemort in disguise. Whoever said the Devil was beautiful must have known Tom Riddle, she thought to herself with an inner twist of fascinated dread.

Picking up her pace, she dashed toward Ravenclaw and arrived in the common room. Wolfing down a ham and cheese sandwich, then showering and drying her hair with her wand, it was seven by the time Honora walked into her dormitory.

'You better catch up!' Willow said, applying several coats of mascara to her eyelashes.

'She's been busy, haven't you, Honora?' Kay said. Kay was already dressed in lovely light blue robes of diaphanous chiffon.

'Oh my goodness, yes,' Honora collapsed onto her bed, still in her bathrobe. Then she shot back up. 'But thank heavens for Invigoration Draught.' She got out a box and began applying her own makeup. She powdered her face, lined her eyes with kohl, added mascara, and continued to tweak until she was satisfied.

Damaris flicked one of her curlers at Honora, disturbing her concentration.

'Hey!' she protested.

'Watch this,' Damaris said. She disappeared behind her bed curtains and then reappeared, wearing a stunning dress of peach crepe.

'Ooh, la la!' Honora said, impressed. With a sigh, she realised that whatever chance she had once had with Lawrence Carter was likely to go out the window tonight.

'Damaris, you look like a perfect peach,' Kay giggled.

'Kee-hee!' Damaris popped her foot up and posed with her hands.

Honora kept up with her beautification routine, calmed by its ritual. Everything was coming together, and soon her triumphant ball would commence.