Author's Note: To my dear reviewers: Odessa, All-American Vampire, Larken27, blueforest, The Enchanted Teakettle, Wren, Autumn Faery, ChuckTheGingy, LovinLovegood1, NimbusB, GoodQueenA, LavenderBrown77, Aarzu, Phinea, Nosilla, and twighunter: I love you guys! It means so much to me that you continue to review and comment and read my little story here :-)

Here's a nice long chapter for you all, with a few more breaks in it, through several different incidents. It's getting more and more serious…

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

Chapter 20

Moonlit Soul

On New Years Day, Honora slept in and went to a late breakfast determined not to lose traction with Tom. It seemed like every time they got closer, he stepped back and started avoiding her again. This morning, however, they met eyes across the Great Hall and Honora boldly smiled at him.

Tom smiled back, a little shyly, but he was glad to see her.

Definitely.

'Honora, what is going on with you this morning?' Kay peered closely at her when she sat down at the Ravenclaw table. 'You keep smiling.'

'Yeah, you're glowing! What is going on?' Damaris's eyes were wide as if she were attempting to perform Legilimency to discover Honora's secrets.

Honora could not help but giggle. She still felt giddy; her head was going round and round in circles that Tom had kissed her. 'Nothing's going on, I'm just happy…that it's a new year! Yes! Hail to 1945.'

Kay rolled her eyes. 'You're so weird.'

'Hmm. You're happy because it's 1945.' Damaris looked unconvinced.

'Yes!' Honora reached for the pumpkin juice. 'Aren't you, Damaris? After all, this is a rather big year for you…' she attempted to change the subject. It worked.

'Yes, my parents loved Lawrence. Keep July open, girls!'

Kay grinned broadly, and Honora let out a little squeal. Weddings were always exciting, and by now it was clear that Damaris Turpin and Lawrence Carter were perfect for one another. It gave Honora faith in the human race.

Classes began again that week, although Professor Dumbledore was still absent. Honora remembered that 1945 was the year he defeated Grindelwald, so he must be off doing battle or some such. In Arithmancy, Professor Drakkis assigned partnered projects to deconstruct the mathematical basis of Transfiguration spells. To Honora's surprise, Tom Riddle slipped into the seat next her that day.

'Work together?' he asked, although his tone was half-command.

'Yep,' Honora agreed. She felt distracted by the fact he was sitting next to her, and was glad she had remembered to put a touch of lavender water on her wrists that morning.

As it turned out, Honora and Tom worked very well together. Once she got over his physical proximity, which held meaning now that it never had before, Honora decided that working with Tom was one of her favourite things in the world. His insight into Arithmancy was considerable, and Honora found that talking out her theories with Tom made her brain work harder and faster than ever before. It was exhilarating; deconstructing spells, like a mystery puzzle, and then testing and proving their ideas.

Every magical spell had a foundation in Arithmancy; each had an underlying equation that was first invented or discovered by a wizard, and then turned into a charm, transfiguration spell, hex, curse, or anything else. Kay had once said Arithmancy was the equivalent of Muggle mathematics or physics: the nature of the universe explicitly described in numbers.

Tom's sheer magical talent left Honora in awe of him. Of course, she had seen his work in class, and his Legilimency, and duelling with him last year…but now he opened up to her a little more, and it left no doubt that Tom Riddle was possibly the most brilliant wizard ever to pass through Hogwarts. Through her exposure to his thinking, Honora felt her own magical awareness growing by the day. She learned to sense magic, feel its pulse, tap into the emotional state of those around her.

Honora's contribution to the Arithmancy project was in the equations. She found numbers beautiful, and once Tom could show her the component elements of every Transfiguration spell, Honora would play with the equations until they added up. Mainly they worked together in the Head common room, the small table in front of the window piled high with parchment and cast-off Transfigured objects. One day they spent the better part of an hour trying to Summon a large, stubborn cricket that was really a cup; it had escaped and raced around the common room, making weird, annoying little clicking noises. Every time they said 'Accio cricket!' it would zoom onto their table, and just hop off again before they could turn it back into a cup.

'You blasted insect!' Tom finally shouted at it, fed up.

Honora started laughing, as the cricket rubbed its wings together to create a sweetly irritating note, and leaped off the table again with its greatest effort yet. 'I think it's thwarting us on purpose,' she giggled.

'Has it out for us. I can tell,' Tom added, cracking up himself.

'We could just leave it as a cricket,' suggested Honora. 'Maybe it likes being alive.'

'I'm inclined that way, as long as it finds itself a new home,' Tom said, opening a window to the chill air.

Everyone else was finding the Arithmancy assignment inordinately challenging. Damaris had actually broken down in tears over it; she was working with Kay, who in an uncharacteristic display of frustration had taken an unworkable solution and burned it, right there on their table in the library. The young yet somehow dried out librarian, Madame Pince, had been furious.

January in Scotland was normally cold, dark, and dreary, but for Honora it passed in a gentle haze.She had gotten a little caught up in her Arithmancy project, and with Tom. They discussed their work constantly, during their Head patrols, in the evenings in front of the fire in their common room. At least, they talked when they were not involved in other activities. Honora became accustomed to surprise visits to the castle's many broom closets, and alcoves behind tapestries, where the only reality was darkness and Tom's lips and Tom's body, pressed against her own. It never failed to surprise her how passionate he was. His chilly, serene public bearing belied the tremendous fervour that simmered beneath his skin.

One morning, just after a well-spent Valentine's Day, Honora woke before the sun and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. She was one of the first ones up, which was unusual for her; Honora was not normally a morning person. Today, only a group of early-rising fourth year Hufflepuffs clustered together on the far end of their table. As she sat down at her own Ravenclaw table, the teapot in front of her filled with freshly-brewed black English tea, along with a pitcher of milk and a nice stack of lightly buttered toast, just for her.

How do the house-elves know I prefer toast and tea for breakfast? she wondered. With a flourish, she poured herself a gorgeous cup of tea with a splash of milk, cooling it sufficiently to take an immediate sip. As the caffeine worked its way into her system, she brightened, thinking over both her Arithmancy project and Tom Riddle.

Several more people trickled in to the Great Hall: a sixth-year Gryffindor couple, some little Slytherins, a pair of second-year Ravenclaws. Then, Honora heard footsteps behind her and she turned to see Tom, in his immaculate uniform, and she smiled.

'Good morning,' he said, sitting down at the table next to her.

'Morning!' Honora said. She was surprised; Tom had never sat with her before in the Great Hall. He seemed attached to his table of Slytherins. But this morning, Honora was not complaining.

He conjured a cup of black coffee for himself, and leaned on his elbow to look at her. 'What's the most powerful light magic charm you can think of?'

Honora blinked. It was very early in the morning for this sort of thing. 'Um, I don't know – the Patronus charm is powerful.'

'Right. And it stems from good memories, happy memories, to take a corporeal form. Therefore, it proves that happy thoughts can be solid things, indeed that any thought can be a solid thing. Maybe that means that the world, and magic, stem only from our minds. The more powerful the mind, the more powerful the wizard.'

Taking another sip of tea to fortify herself, Honora struggled to follow his train of thought. 'Tom,' she said. 'It's seven in the morning.'

'Sorry,' he said. 'I couldn't sleep, I've been thinking about this over and over. If the Patronus charm is light magic, solidified happy thought, then perhaps it could be a starting point to find the Hermetic equation.'

'Ohhh,' Honora said, understanding now. 'Yes! You could be right.' The Great Hall was getting louder, as more students sat down, chattering amongst themselves.

Tom grinned at her, oozing charm.

'All right, what do you want?' Honora said.

His grin became broader. 'I think we should Arithmatically deconstruct the Patronus charm.'

'I was afraid you were going to say that.' Honora took a bite of toast. 'Our assignment only calls for those Transfiguration spells, you know.'

'It could be extra credit.'

'As if you need it!' Honora laughed. 'I'll admit, I'm intrigued. Let's do it.'

Tom nodded once with emphasis. 'Good.' He stayed sitting at the table, and grabbed a piece of toast. Honora felt her spirits rise by the second; he was sitting with her! And he considered her an equal partner in their project.

Her crowd of Ravenclaw friends entered the Great Hall, talking loudly, Damaris and Willow gossiping away as if they were trying to set a record for the number of words spoken in a single minute. Ash and Lawrence were embroiled in a discussion about Quidditch tactics. The group filled in the seats around Honora and Tom, and for a moment Honora felt her muscles tense. These were not Tom's usual company; how would he react? And how would her friends react to the Slytherin Head Boy sitting at their table?

She needn't have worried. Tom politely greeted the Ravenclaws, who chirped brightly in return. Damaris gave Honora a significant look, but Honora ignored it, just as she was trying to ignore the fact that Tom's left hand had found its way to her knee under the table. She reached her own hand down and grasped his, letting him play with her fingers. None of her friends were the wiser.

Willow, across the table, had broken off her gossip session with Damaris, and now stared at Tom with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. 'Hi, Tom,' she said.

Tom tilted his head at her. 'Er, hi,' he said.

His word sent Willow into a fit of giggles. Honora rolled her eyes.

'So, Riddle,' Lawrence said, leaning across Damaris for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. 'What do you think about this new 'Wronski feint' business, from Poland's Seeker?'

Tom regarded Lawrence for a moment, and then spoke. 'It's a brilliant move, though difficult to execute.'

'Have you tried?' Ash broke in. 'I tried the other day, not that I really knew what I was doing, and nearly killed myself!' He shook his head in chagrin.

'I have attempted it during practise,' Tom said. Honora suspected that whatever the Wronski feint was, Tom had already mastered it. 'Doubt there's a Seeker in a thousand that could do it right away, though.'

This seemed to make Ash feel better, and Honora looked at Tom with a keen eye. He had neatly downplayed his own flying skills, while making Ash feel that he was not alone in finding the move difficult. Who knew he could actually be nice? she pondered. He was probably only doing it for her benefit, but still, it was something. She smiled serenely as his thumb caressed the palm of her hand in a circular motion, out of sight.

As if by unspoken, mutual understanding, Tom and Honora stayed together, sitting side-by-side at the Ravenclaw table, all during their free period that morning. Tom brought out his books; Honora re-copied her Divination notes. All was conducted in a comfortable routine of silence. The spaces around them had emptied of students; Honora's Ravenclaw friends were all taking History of Magic, which she had avoided on her class schedule.

After an hour or so, a whisper of feathery wings above their heads distracted Honora's attention from her notes. She watched as a beautiful black and white eagle owl descended, heading straight for them. Tom looked up.

'Strixa!' he said, reaching out for the bird, who landed gracefully on his arm after releasing a large package from her talons. 'Don't you know you're supposed to make deliveries with the rest of the owls?'

'Who's this?' Honora said, reaching a hand out to pet Strixa.

'She's my owl,' Tom explained. 'She was a gift from the Flamels. It's in exchange for correspondence with them.'

Honora smiled at the thought of Tom Riddle dutifully writing letters from school to the very elderly wizard couple. 'Strixa,' she said the name once. 'She's beautiful.' This earned her a contented hoot from the owl, who took off once more.

'She's a French owl,' said Tom. 'Feels herself above grubbing with the common owls to deliver the post.' He took the delivered package in his hands, unwrapping the brown paper and taking the lid off of the box inside. 'Excellent!'

'What is it?' Honora asked, peering over his shoulder.

'Croissants,' Tom said.

'Croissants?'

'From Perenelle. Mrs. Flamel. She sends them to me,' Tom said, sounding a little defensive for a moment, before the joy of freshly baked pastries overtook his face once more. 'They're like heaven. I spent all summer eating them. And look, she's included some pain au chocolat, as well.' Tom rummaged through the box, setting aside the carefully-wrapped pastries. 'And…' he took out three pairs of what appeared to be hand-knitted socks, a warm black woollen scarf with fringe on the ends, and some Chocolate Frogs.

Honora stared unabashedly at Perenelle Flamel's display of maternal affection for Tom. 'Croissants?' she repeated herself again.

Tom smiled. 'She's convinced that Hogwarts doesn't feed us properly,' he said. 'Here, try one. You'll see what I mean.'

After one bite of Mrs. Flamel's croissant, Honora could see exactly why Tom was so happy to receive them. It was buttery, light, flaky perfection, and her face lifted with delight. 'Merlin's beard,' she said, 'these are wonderful.'

Tom nodded at her, eating his own croissant.

'What was it like, at the Flamels?' Honora could scarcely contain her curiosity about these people who, for whatever reason, liked Tom Riddle enough to send him care packages.

An odd expression crossed his face before he replied. 'It was…nice,' he said. 'I was busy, all the time. We were working on Nicolas's coded papers, of course, and I was learning the more practical applications of alchemy, like conjuring gold. But it was more than that – I suppose you could say it was peaceful. In the countryside, no one else around, Perenelle demanding that we take breaks every afternoon at five o'clock for coffee and food…You should meet the two of them. I can't believe that after six hundred years, they haven't tired of each other. They're so obviously –' he broke off, shaking his head.

In love, Honora's mind finished the thought for him. 'They sound nice,' she said, attempting to defuse the concept that was clearly awkward for him. 'And what an opportunity, I mean, the world's greatest alchemist, learning so much from him…it's great.'

Tom turned to look at her, smiling once more. 'It would be even greater if we could get to work on this Patronus charm,' he said with eagerness.

Honora nodded, accepting the change of subject away from surrogate parents. Feeling livelier after her snack of heavenly croissant, she put her head back down to her papers and her brain whirred into motion once more.

By late February, Tom had fully uncovered the Transfiguration spell components and Honora had nearly finished the equations, putting them at least two weeks ahead of the rest of the class. Additionally, they had deconstructed the structure of the Patronus charm, to reveal an interesting mathematical pattern to happiness: the number 1.618, the golden ratio of phi. Tom had been very excited about it, as it dovetailed with his alchemical theories. The only points left in their project were the write-up and report.

The final night of work, Honora kicked off her shoes and made herself comfortable on the black velvet sofa in the Head common room; the clock dinged six o'clock as Honora's quill scratched along. Tom was off somewhere, probably lecturing the Slytherin prefects. Honora yawned. It had been nearly four hours of work, and she wanted to finish the project tonight…but she could not fight the drowsiness that overtook her. She let her head fall back on a pillow and the fading daylight blurred to grey as she fell asleep.

It was dark when she awoke from her nap. Faint moonlight streamed in through the windows, but it was not quite enough. She saw dark walls, dark furniture, dark eyes watching her…with a small fright, Honora's eyes fluttered open fully.

There, sitting in the armchair, was Tom Riddle. He was relaxed, gazing at her with blue-black eyes, his position suggesting he had been there for a long while. His pale, handsome features were just barely illuminated with the moonlight from outside. She sensed he had been staring at her for some time, and his face was unguarded with the habit of watching her sleep. Although it was dark, and the moon through the window could have been playing tricks on her, Honora still felt the warmth, the tenderness in his eyes…And the realisation came unbidden, flooding into her consciousness like a tidal wave: He loves me.

There was no direct evidence, but in that strange state of awareness, between sleep and awakening, Honora knew it with deep certainty. Tom is in love with me. She did not know if he had admitted it to himself, but it was there, written for her to see. In that moment, her faith solidified into more than simple benefit of the doubt. She wanted to believe in him, and so she did.

'I didn't mean to startle you,' Tom whispered. He stood up from his seated position. 'I'll go.'

'Tom…' Honora reached out her hand, beckoning.

Turning back to her, Tom sank down onto his knees in front of the sofa. His head tilted as he regarded Honora, whose gaze sparkled up at him in hopes of so much more.

Then he leaned over and his lips were upon hers, so suddenly that she let out a little moan of surprise and want. Honora put her hands around his head, running her fingers through his black hair, so silky soft. She tried to sit up partway, tried to get closer to him. Tom's arm went around her slender waist, pulling her into him.

His tongue swirled in her mouth, opening her up, unlocking her secrets. She was on the edge of the precipice before and now she was falling, falling, into his lap on the floor, her fingers clutching the silk rug, his fingers moulding her body into his.

His lips left her mouth and moved down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Honora's heartbeat was fast and light; her entire body trembled under him. She noticed his own hands were shaking as he unbuttoned her school blouse.

Tom pushed her gently back, cradling her and then his hands were moving all over her, up and down until she was overwhelmed. Honora knew this was the end, she had no choice, she had made her decision. No going back. All she wanted now was Tom, Tom Riddle forever.

Honora woke up in his arms, wrapped in a conjured blanket on the Persian carpet. Tom was curled around her, his arms holding her tight as if she might disappear if he let go. Honora could feel his deep, soft breathing on her neck, his face burrowed in her hair.

Her lips curved into a smile. The whole thing was so unexpected, yet wonderful, yet…Honora was not sure what to think. Had she completely strayed from her purpose? Was Tom Riddle merely distracting her with kisses so he could continue on his path to becoming Lord Voldemort?

Her heart, in its innocent faith, scoffed at the idea. He had been even more reluctant, at first, than she. Honora thought she was a wrench in Tom Riddle's plans and, for whatever reason, he was accepting it anyway. Besides, the look in his eyes last night told her everything she needed to know. It was the same look he got, Honora reflected, as when he was reading something or figuring something out, that blue light inside shadowed eyes that glowed with purity and passion. Now he loves me as much as he loves books. The thought made Honora want to giggle.

The light outside indicated it was mid-morning, anyway; twisting her head toward the clock, Honora saw it was a quarter to nine. And her waistband from her skirt was pinching her. Gently she unclasped Tom's hands from around her, hoping not to wake him up…but a sudden intake of his breath said he too had awoken.

She turned in his now-loose grip and looked at him. 'Good morning,' she said.

'Mmm.' Tom blinked several times. 'What time is it?'

'Quarter to nine. We're going to be late for Potions, definitely.'

'And you're a little out of sorts,' Tom teased, looking down the blanket at her askew skirt and complete lack of school blouse.

'Yes, well, whose fault is that?' Honora teased back, pushing a stray lock of Tom's hair off his forehead.

She squealed as his arms tightened around her again, pulling her into a bear hug. Tom nuzzled his face in her neck, tickling her slightly until she protested.

'Oh, all right, Slughorn can miss us,' she relented.

Tom pulled back, looking innocently shocked. 'Did I just hear our Head Girl advocate missing an essential class like Potions?' He shook his head. 'Tsk, tsk, Honora. Not setting a very good example.'

'Hey!' she laughed, unable to come up with a good retort.

'Right then, off we go, big day ahead!' With a burst of energy, Tom helped (or pulled) her up off the floor and tossed her her white blouse. He buttoned his own shirt quickly and grabbed his books off the table. 'Come on, Crowley, we'll be late!'

Honora swept in front of him to the portrait hole. 'Oh, by the way – I've almost finished the equations for Arithmancy. We're ahead of everyone,' she tossed over her shoulder to him.

'That's because we are the best.'

'True.'

They were only five minutes late for Potions, and Slughorn barely noticed the tardy transgressions of favoured students such as Tom and Honora. Kay archly raised an eyebrow at Honora, who looked back at her with virtuous blankness. Even now, she wanted her relationship with Tom to stay secret, so that no one dared interfere. All that morning, Honora made a good effort in class, but inside she relished the night's impressions of Tom on her skin, and on her soul.

A/N: Please review! And I know a lot of you have been wondering about how far Honora is going to trust Tom, how sincere he really is with her, etc...and the answer is, I'm not going to tell you! At least not until the end of this story. Sorry. :-) Just take faith that several incidents are upcoming, which will force BOTH of them to choose what they want. After all, it's all about choices in the end...