I want to apologize beforehand for this chap being so short. We've had friends come in to town so I haven't had much time to sit down and write a proper update. BUT, I made a promise that I would update by Saturday, so here I am sitting down at my computer at 10:41pm ON Saturday. As always I'd love your feedback, so feel free to vote and comment away! Here's hoping to finishing before midnight (UPDATE: I didn't ... finally finishing on Monday lol), and for this chapter to actually be descent. Here we go...

Tom walked through the front door of his flat, a bitter gust of wind blowing leaves into the entryway. Smoothing his ruffled hair back into place, he closed the door behind him.

"Beasley," he called, a loud pop resounding through the flat as Beasley appeared before him. "Take care of this will you," Tom continued, motioning towards the stray leaves that had made their way inside.

"Of course sir," Beasley replied with a low bow. Snapping his fingers, the leaves whirled into the air before disappearing entirely as he snapped his fingers again.

Tom had left Ellison's half an hour ago, and, seeing as it was the first day in nearly a week it hadn't rained, had decided to hoof it back to the flat. Ellison, who had needed to pick up a few ingredients for the store room before heading to Tom's for the day, had set off for Diagon Alley in the other direction. He had wanted desperately to go with her ... to shirk all his responsibilities and spend the morning with her ... sadly though, he couldn't. He would be spending his morning in a meeting instead.

The night before had been an unexpected end to the day. He had brought Lestrange to Ellison's house with honest enough intentions, though if he were completely honest, he had been longing to see her since the moment she had left three days prior. Never in a million years would he have guessed the night would end with Ellison in his arms, let alone in her bed. She had finally let go ... had untethered herself from the uncertainty and guilt holding her back from feeling again, and he intended to capitalize on it while he had the chance.

"Where have you been?" Avery asked, standing to his feet as Tom stepped inside. "The Macmillan kid will be here any minute."

"I had some business to attend to," Tom replied coolly, closing the door behind him.

"Did that business have anything to do with Ellison Knott?" Avery asked brazenly, taking special care to add emphasis to her last name. Tom shot a warning look across the room as he took off his coat, placing it on the back of his desk chair.

"Is it really any of your concern either way?" Tom questioned, turning towards Avery, his tone cold and matter-of-fact.

"If I can speak candidly My Lord," Avery pressed on, though he no longer sounded as sure of himself.

"Do you have a problem Avery?" Tom cut in, uncorking the bottle of Fire Whiskey with an impatient sigh, pouring a glass.

"I'm not sure its such a good idea My Lord ... Allowing her to get so close so quickly," Avery continued slowly. "How can you be so sure you can trust her?"

"You don't trust her?" Tom asked airily, though his patience was growing thinner. Bringing the glass up to his lips, he took a sip of the Fire Whiskey, his eyes trained on Avery.

"As far as I'm concerned, she's a stranger ... a ghost from fifteen years ago" Avery replied, gathering back some of the boldness he had lost. "Someone who's openly disagreed with everything we stand for ... someone whose father is a reputable member of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he paused, glancing at Tom before continuing. "Someone who, when she found out what you'd done ... who you were ... said she despised you. Now, she wants to have sleepovers and play house all of the sudden?"

Tom slammed his glass down, Fire Whiskey sloshing onto the table. Avery's last words had sent him over the edge, and the anger he had been keeping at bay, was now bubbling over.

"I don't know where you've gotten the notion that you can speak so freely, but let's get one thing straight," Tom said through gritted teeth. "What I do in my personal time is not, and has never been any of your business, and I sure as bloody hell don't need you advising me on who to trust ... You would do well to remember your place Avery," he added, his tone venomous now.

Avery glanced at Tom, his resolve dissipating entirely. "I only meant..."

"I know what you meant," Tom interrupted sharply, shooting another warning glare at Avery. Avery glanced away, gritting his teeth in silence.

Suddenly the door creaked open, Lestrange's head craning through the doorway. "Macmillan's here," he spoke, his eyes darting between Tom and Avery, a confused expression flickering across his face momentarily.

"Send him in," Tom replied. Running a hand down his face, he let out a frustrated sigh, before turning back to Avery. "Not a word," he sneered, just as the door opened again, Lestrange reappearing with a lanky blonde headed boy beside him. "Hello Michael," Tom spoke, having regained his usual cool tone. "Please, come in," he motioned for the young man to sit. Michael took an apprehensive step forward as Lestrange breezed past him, taking a seat in his usual spot closest to the fireplace. Taking a seat in the armchair across from Tom's, Michael ran his hands down the front of his pants, wiping them free from the sweat that had began to bead up on his palms. "You look nervous," Tom noted matter-of-factly, uncorking the bottle of Fire Whiskey and pouring Michael a glass before topping off his own.

"If Mr. Bones knew I was here..." Michael began but trailed off, swallowing hard.

"Does Mr. Bones know you're here?" Tom asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No, but-"

"Then what Edgar Bones doesn't know, won't hurt him," Tom continued, sliding Michael's Fire Whiskey towards him across the table. "I understand though," Tom began, taking a sip from his own glass, "If you don't think you'll be up to the task-"

"No!" Michael cut in quickly. "I- I mean," he stammered, shrinking back in his seat as Tom's eyes fell back on him. "I'm up for it. I can do it."

Tom eyed him up and down, narrowing his eyes in thought. The boy was barely eighteen years old. Could he be trusted with something like spying on Edgar Bones, Head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement?

"Don't get me wrong," Tom spoke after a lengthy pause, "I appreciate your ... resolve, but tell me Michael," he paused, taking a sip of his Fire Whiskey, "Why would a young man like yourself ... Junior Assistant to the Head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, risk everything ... your future ... your freedom ... to work with us?"

Michael swallowed hard, running his hands down the front of his pants again. "My mum ... she was killed by a muggle when I was fourteen." He inhaled sharply before continuing. "He grabbed her off the street on her way home from work one night ... blindsided her before she had a chance to draw her wand ... He did horrible ... despicable things before he left her for dead in that ally. The Ministry ... they did nothing ... let the muggle authorities handle it, said it wasn't their problem. I want justice ... for my mum ... and for any other wizard blood that's ever been spilled by a muggle."

Tom's eyes scanned over Michael's face, studying his expression. Eyes averted, he was gritting his teeth, trying desperately now to hold in the anger that had been threatening to unleash itself the last four years. "Drink," Tom said, nodding towards the Fire Whiskey he had slid across the table. Michael glanced up at Tom, then down at the glass in front of him. "It helps," Tom added, nodding towards the glass again. Picking it up, Michael brought it to his lips, his expression morphing into a grimace as he attempted to swallow the burning liquid. "Michael," Tom began, leaning back in his armchair. "I need you to tell me what Bones knows ... what he's planning."

Michael nodded, sitting his glass of Fire Whiskey down on the table. "He has nearly every member of the Investigation Department working around the clock, but he doens't know much ... knows Voldemort has set up shop somewhere in London. Still thinks it could be a copycat of Grindlewald's behind the disappearances though. All in all, he doesn't have much."

"And what about the abduction of Ellison Knott?" Tom asked, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"Her father's been overseeing that investigation personally. Thinks whoever's behind all the other disappearances took her in an attempt to get back at the department."

"And who's heading up the other investigation?"

"Samuel Ashby," Michael replied, "A veteran of the department ... been there nearly twenty years."

Tom nodded, standing to his feet and extending a hand. "Well Mr. Macmillan, this has been quite insightful for a first meeting." Michael stood to his feet as well, grasping Tom's extended hand, giving it a firm shake. "I look forward to many more."

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FINALLY. CHAP 24 IS FINALLY COMPLETE. I know it doesn't have an Tellison scenes but it was a necessary filler to move the story along! Again, let me know what you think! Hope you all like it. (P.S. PEEP AVERY'S FACE CLAIM UP AT THE TOP!)