Author's Notes: As usual, my deep gratitude to my reviewers: Larken27, Firithnovwen, The Enchanted Teakettle, LovinLovegood1, Maelys, Autumn Faery, blueforest, Odessa, Wren, All-American Vampire, Nattle and Sage, Lily, Aarzu, LavenderBrown77, and Phinea.
And, an important explanation for a key part of the story: The Kybalion, to which I keep referring, is an actual text outlining the principles of Hermetic mysticism. The purpose of Hermetic alchemy is to 'transmute' the soul by piercing the illusion of physical reality, and finding God/enlightenment. To do so, Hermetic mystics adhere to a set of tenets best described by the following: 'As Above, So Below,' meaning all things in the universe are connected and one within the mind of God. When enlightenment is achieved, things like matter and even death become irrelevant…hence what I believe the foundation of Flamel's Elixir of Life must be.
Anyway, that's the background…enjoy this chapter as things start to heat up.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.
Chapter 19
Hope at Midnight
Most of the students arrived back at Hogwarts in time for New Years, ringing goodbye to the year 1944. With a small measure of surprise, Honora realised that she had been back in time for nearly a year and a half. And the rest of my life to go, she thought.
Fortunately, the Kybalion arrived by owl the morning of December 29th. Honora quickly took it and went back to her room, so no one had time to ask her what the big package was.
Because so many students were back, an impromptu New Years party was arranged for the Great Hall. Honora, who loved parties, thought it was a splendid idea. Damaris and Lawrence giggled together about New Years kisses, and the house-elves kept the mistletoe floating about the castle. Kay got a perky, tight-lipped expression whenever anyone mentioned John Parrish, and Willow secured herself a date from the Gryffindor side of the fence. Most of the boys and girls were just showing up as themselves, of course; the party was too last-minute to worry about dates.
The night of December 31st, however, when Willow brought out one of her party dresses to show the girls, she kept hinting to Honora about Head Boy-Head Girl fraternisation.
Honora wondered if Tom Riddle would show up with Olive Hornby again. She hoped not. Remembering their sweet little Christmas dinner conversation, Honora made sure to dress to the nines for New Years. Why do I care so much about what Tom thinks, anyway? He's my friend. Honora did not want to dwell too much on it. It's just that I don't want that Olive Hornby upstaging me in any way. It could be all girls at the party, and I would still dress up.
Satisfied with herself, Honora swept her red hair up into glossy movie-star curls (Kay had shown her the look in a Muggle magazine) and put in elegant dangling pearl earrings. Her dress was a lovely ice blue silk that matched the colour of her eyes exactly. She thought with a familiar pang toward her lost gold locket, and remembered her great-great-grandmother, the incomparably beautiful Fleur Delacour. 'Thank you, grandmother Fleur, for that tiny little touch of Veela blood,' Honora said fervently. Then she giggled, a little madly.
She planned to give Tom his gift later that night, in their common room. A shiver of anticipation went through her when she thought of his reaction. For all his popularity and charm and Slytherin followers/Death Eaters who worshipped him, Tom Riddle was a bookworm at heart. He would love his gift…
Honora smacked herself in the forehead with her hand. How could I be such a dolt? She had completely forgotten. In McGonagall's book, in her briefings with the centaurs and Julius Talbot, in 2112, she had read that Tom Riddle was born on December 31st, 1926. Today he turned eighteen. 'A birthday present! Even better!' Honora said out loud. She grabbed her little clutch and headed downstairs to meet up with her friends for the party.
The Great Hall was full of students. The tables were pushed casually to the sides, and loaded with hors d'oeuvres and sweets. Someone had strung little lights and suspended them from the rafters. A warm, dim glow suffused the room from the burning torches and candles. The Ravenclaw girls swept in as a pack, some with boys on their arms. Honora scanned the room, unconsciously looking for Tom Riddle, and she spotted his meticulously groomed black-haired head amongst a company of Slytherins. She was longing to speak with him.
As if sensing her stare, Tom turned and met Honora's eyes across the room. Perhaps she was imagining it in the dim light, but she thought she saw him light up just a little. No, it's my imagination. The Dark Lord does not 'light up' at the sight of me. Regardless, she gave a little wave and a wink.
As the party went along, she and Tom did not speak, but she kept catching him looking at her. And, to be honest with herself, she kept looking at him too. It was hard not to; Tom Riddle was so attractive, marble skin sculpted into hollow-cheeked perfection. It's just aesthetic appreciation, Honora told herself. Besides, it was more than that: he was now her friend, and Honora wanted to make sure he was happy, that he was having a good time on his birthday. She was not ready to confront the reason why she got that pleasant warmth when she met Tom's eye; why she became so aware of her own body when he watched her; why she tried so hard to look beautiful in his presence.
Finally, at a rare moment when Honora was standing alone, she saw Tom extricate himself from his group of Slytherins and work his way towards her, expression stern, moving with such confident grace that the other students automatically moved out of his way. His eyes did not leave Honora's face as he came closer.
He stood before her, silent and still, and a glimmer of uncertainty swept across his countenance, gone so fast it might have been unreal. Tom opened his mouth to say something. Then he closed it again.
'Rendered speechless, Tom?' Honora grinned at him.
He grinned back, splitting his face into wicked handsomeness. 'Hardly,' he replied, his tone wry.
'Happy birthday.'
'Thank you. I didn't realise you knew.'
'I have my sources.' Honora twirled the rim of her punch glass with her finger. 'So…do you have a date for your birthday?'
Tom glanced down at her, serious once again. 'No. No date,' he said quietly. He shifted back and forth on his feet for a second, then cleared his throat tentatively, hopefully. 'Maybe, uh, you could—'
'Honora!' Ash Wynn bounded up to her at the worst possible moment, trailed by Kay and Damaris. 'You won't believe it, the Gryffindors have swindled Lawrence into a bet about who can race their brooms to the top of the Astronomy tower and back – you have to see this!'
Tom stepped back slightly, removing himself from the conversation. Honora glared at Ash with all of her might. 'And what makes you think that I care?' she said testily, teeth gritted.
'Well, it's crazy!' Ash was going on about the bet, oblivious to Honora's clear look of impatience.
Bad went to worse in a slow-motion sequence. With Honora's attention turned, Olive Hornby swooped in and grasped Tom's arm, pullinghim away with her, along with some of the other Slytherins. Honora gaped and turned back towards Tom, but it was too late. She could only watch as Olive led Tom straight under a dangling bunch of white-berry mistletoe.
'Oho, Tom and Olive!' Avery wolf-whistled. The Slytherins were grinning lecherously; that vile Raoul Lestrange waggled his eyebrows back over at Honora. Olive, for her part, pressed herself closer to Tom, looking up and pursing her lips slightly.
As Honora watched, a hot little pinprick started in her chest and flashed into a raging fire. She wanted to kill Olive Hornby. She thought in that instant that she could have produced a string of curses worthy of Lord Voldemort himself. As for the potential future Voldemort, he merely looked down at Olive, a flicker of exasperation on his face. He raised his head toward Honora. His eyes registered her blatant outrage; she was too upset to try to hide it.
'Come on, Tom, its mistletoe,' Olive simpered. She smiled seductively. To Honora it looked like a grimace.
Tom leaned down and touched Olive's red lips with his own. Olive reached up with a manicured hand and pulled his head close. Honora wanted to scream. I HATE that little harlot! I HATE Slytherins! I HATE Tom Riddle! her mind shrieked. Oh, no. If I hate him, then why do I care so much? The knowledge she had denied to herself slammed into her, a terrible and beautiful realisation that, somewhere along the line, her feelings of sympathetic friendship towards Tom Riddle had turned into something else entirely.
The Slytherins, Avery and Rosier and the rest of the scary crew, hooted and made ribald comments. Tom pulled away from Olive, his face lacking any discernable emotion. The group started walking together out of the Great Hall, back toward their underground Slytherin lair. With each step Tom took, Honora felt stretched away, foiled, disappointed. He was walking away from her, just like that.
'Oh!' Honora huffed under her breath. Ash Wynn, standing next to her, gave her a puzzled look. Damaris and Kay glanced knowingly at each other. Making up her mind, throwing back her shoulders, Honora gathered herself together and walked quickly after the Slytherins.
'Tom!' she called.
He halted and turned at the sound of her voice. 'Yes?' His eyes were a void.
Honora slowed her walk and moved towards him. 'Well, since it's your birthday and all, I, um…I got you a gift. It's in our common room.' She gestured with her hand. 'If you want, I, uh…'
Tom raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. 'You didn't have to get me a gift.'
'Oh, but I did. I think you'll really like it. Please, won't you come?' Honora looked into his face, hoping he did not see too much in her eyes.
'All right,' he said. He gave a wave to the Slytherins for them to continue without him.
'To-om,' Olive protested. 'I have a gift for you.'
'Later, Hornby. I have business to attend to.' Tom's tone was dismissive and left no room for argument.
Honora couldn't keep a little smirk of satisfaction off her face.
In the Head common room, the fire roared merrily in its grand fireplace, lighting the room with a dim orange glow, sending shadows fluttering behind the furniture. Outside the tall windows, heavy snowflakes were falling steadily. Honora walked across the room, and reached far back into the paper cabinet to pull out the gift-wrapped book. 'Here,' she said, presenting it to Tom. 'I thought you could use it. I meant to give it for Christmas, but it was a bit hard to find and seeing as it's your birthday today, anyway…' Honora trailed off.
Tom sat down on the sofa as he carefully unwrapped the package. Honora sat next to him, perched cautiously on the edge. The ancient book had corners of engraved silver and symbols were painted all over the aging leather cover. The words Kybalion of Hermes Trismegistus was stamped on the front.
Tom exhaled sharply in surprise when he realised what it was. 'Honora, I – where did you find this?'
'It was difficult, I'll admit.'
'This is – amazing. It's exactly what I needed.' Tom turned to her. For the second time that evening, a genuine smile of pleasure transformed his face. He looked lighter, happier, younger even. 'Thank you.'
'You're welcome.' Honora smiled back at him, feeling flooded with gladness. 'I hope it helps.'
Something that looked like embarrassment crossed Tom's features. 'I didn't get you anything, for Christmas, or–'
'That's all right. I already have everything I could possibly need,' Honora reassured him. Everything except… she wouldn't let herself finish the thought.
Unable to restrain himself, Tom opened the cover of the book. Honora watched his handsome face in fascination as he started drinking in the details. His dark eyes glowed with some inner light. He scanned rapidly, murmuring to himself, seeming to forget that Honora was there. With a flick of her own wand, she summoned one of her Charms books from the study table. They sat in silence, each caught up in their own reading. It was nearly midnight when Tom got up and started pacing in front of the fire. Honora glanced up at him with fondness. She knew better than to interrupt him; he was clearly on some train of thought.
He leaned on the mantle with his left arm, staring into the flames. 'Trismegistus must have done it,' he said quietly.
Honora put her book aside and went to stand next to him. The heat from the fire seared into her bare legs. 'You're on to something.'
'I don't know. If I could just get around this Arithmancy bit…it's never been discovered before, you see. Or if it has, it's ancient magic and has been lost to us. The equation to unify all things, matter and magic. There is a reason why magic works. That is the key. I think Hermes Trisgmegistus discovered this equation, and hid the steps to it in his secret chamber. If I can de-code his papers, find the chamber, and discover the equation… and control it! It would make the Philosopher's Stone obsolete, even things like wands and spells…the possibilities…' Tom sounded lost in the idea, drawn in like a moth to a flame. Pulling himself back, he looked down at Honora, her red hair backlit by the fire. 'You believe it's possible, don't you?'
His enthusiasm made her happier than she had anticipated; Tom Riddle was now intent on finding the knowledge that led to that white light she had seen briefly experienced at the centre of the universe, that perfect love. 'Yes, I believe it's possible,' she replied earnestly. 'Trismegistus must have discovered the equation; obviously Flamel is partway there with the Elixir of Life. And now with you on track…it could revolutionise everything.'
'Will you help me, Honora?' Tom gazed at her. 'You're the only one who can.'
Honora stared back at him. Suddenly she wondered whether he was talking about Hermetic texts anymore. 'Yes, Tom,' she whispered. 'I'll help you, now and always.'
Her words hung in the air, taking on significance by the following silence. Then, slowly, Tom reached his hand toward her face. Honora's heart stood still in her chest as he took a stray lock of her hair between his fingers, caressing it. Gently, so gently, he let his hand graze down her jaw line, finally tipping her chin up.
She heard his breath catch in his throat.
Tom's head dipped toward hers, his eyes shining midnight blue as he moved closer. She could see his dark lashes on half-closed lids, a slight flush working across his white cheeks. Honora parted her lips ever so slightly; otherwise she was frozen in place.
Then she felt the sudden hot pressure of his lips on hers, velvety wetness tasting of cherries and mint and darkness.
A wave of heat rose up from somewhere deep in her core, creating a pressing urge to get closer to him. She moved her mouth in response to his, kissing him back, and Tom groaned softly. His hands flew around her waist and pulled her tight against him; Honora was reminded of how strong he really was.
Tom deepened the kiss, his tongue gently prying her lips apart, working its way inside. She allowed him, and suffered another deep shiver as he explored her mouth in delightful eddies. It felt like they were glued together, fit together in the most natural way possible. She responded to him in equal passion, creating waves of trembling sensation that flowed through her until she felt she was going to drown.
Finally he pulled away, pressing his forehead gently against hers as if for support. They were both breathing heavily, Honora clutching on to Tom, letting him hold her up. She lifted her eyes to his.
Tom Riddle had an unfathomable look on his face, some kind of high, pure emotion that Honora did not recognise. He stepped slightly back from her. Waiting for him to do something, she just looked at him, knowing her face was flushed and her lips red and her eyes wide.
'I should go,' Tom said quickly. He grabbed the large book and his outer robes that had been set aside. Honora just stood in front of the fireplace, feeling too weak to move.On seeming impulse, Tom stepped over and kissed her once more, with ferocity, but only for a moment before he tore himself away. 'I'll go,' he repeated himself. He had almost reached the door when the room was filled with the sound of the clock, dinging twelve midnight. It was 1945.
At the portrait door, Tom turned to look back at Honora.
'Happy New Year, Tom Riddle,' her voice softly carried across the room.
'Happy New Year,' he replied, just as softly. Then he was gone.
Honora sank to her knees on the silk Persian rug, giddiness washing over her. She clutched her stomach with one hand, and with the other brushed her fingers cross her own lips. He kissed me, he kissed me, he likes me, he likes me! her heart sang out.
The fact that Tom Marvolo Riddle was also Lord Voldemort was pushed out of the equation until Honora could barely connect the two figures. Things had gone so far, so out of her control, and now she was not sure if she even cared. She felt like she was on the edge of vast precipice. If she fell, she would follow Tom Riddle and stand beside him in unconditional love, whatever he did, whatever he became, even if that meant standing with Lord Voldemort. She repressed that dreadful thought, reassuring herself that Tom seemed to genuinely trust her now, an exchange that demanded she trust him.
In a daze, she walked back to Ravenclaw, past the empty common room, up to her Head Girl room where she collapsed onto her bed. The whole way, she saw nothing but Tom's face, swimming in front of her mind. Honora never wanted to sleep, so that beautiful night would never be over. Eventually sleep caught up with her, however, and she fell into a dreamless slumber, still in her blue dress.
A/N: Yay, they kissed! Finally, I know. And for any other physics geeks out there, the Hermetic equation to which Tom and Honora are referring is my idea of a magical Unified Field Equation: a single equation that mathematically describes all the forces in the universe. I decided that if spells have a basis in Arithmancy, it would be very cool if they could take a cue from physics and have a potential equation describe all of magic like that. Take the effects from Einstein's theory of relativity (the atomic bomb, nuclear power, etc. etc.) and times it by about a hundred. That's what kind of power and knowledge the Unified Field Equation represents, which is a good explanation for why Tom Riddle might become obsessed with the magical version of it.
For those who are conspiracy-minded, there is a persistent rumour that Einstein discovered the real equation. However, it is a fact that several days before his death he burned a huge quantity of his papers and work, saying that 'humanity was not ready for the knowledge.' Sets one to wonder!