Chapter 27 is FINALLY posted! It's not much, but I hope you guys enjoy it! With starting a new job and just life stuff in general, Its been difficult finding the time (and energy) to write! I hope you guys will forgive me and stick with this story, even though updates might be a bit more spaced out for the time being. As always, I love reading your comments and your votes are always appreciated! You guys are the BEST!

Ellison rolled over in bed, a low groan escaping her lips as the light of the morning sun glinted across her face. Squinting her eyes, she raised a hand to block the harsh rays, and flipped on to her back. She lay there for a moment, staring up at the blank ceiling, flashes of the night before racing through her brain. How could she face Lestrange after what had happened? ... How could she face Tom?

After Tom had brought her to his room, she had went to bed almost immediately. Tom had come to bed with her, and to Ellison's relief, they said very little to one another, though faking an illness had probably helped. She had laid there beside Tom, who had been fast asleep, for nearly two hours, replaying what had happened over and over in her head, before sleep finally overtook her.

What would she tell him? Could she tell him? What would he do if she did? Then there was Avery to think about ... He was an entirely separate problem on his own. Had he seen what had happened? Would he go to Tom ... Had he already? Questions flooded every corner of her mind, making it impossible to think straight.

She sat up, shaking the fogginess from her brain. If Avery had gone to Tom, she would've certainly heard about it by now. As for telling him the truth, she wouldn't ... couldn't. After all, nothing had really happened ... He hadn't actually kissed her. Was there really anything to tell?

She threw the blankets aside, her bare feet thudding lightly against the floor as she stood up. Tom must've left only a few minutes before, judging by the freshly steamed bathroom mirror and damp towel hanging over the bathroom door. Breathing a sigh of relief at the fact she wouldn't have to face him right away, she grabbed her dress from the day before off the chair. Slipping the oversized t-shirt Tom had leant her over her head, she slid her arms into the dress and buttoned it up the front. Smoothing down the pale yellow fabric, she grabbed her cardigan before turning for the door.

She walked down the hallway, keeping her ears open for any signs of Tom. He would probably be in his study, as usual. She paused at the mouth of the hallway as a low growl sounded from her stomach. She placed a hand over her middle, realizing for the first time that she hadn't eaten since lunchtime the day before. She made her way through the sitting room, and into the kitchen, stopping abruptly as she rounded the corner through the doorway. Seated at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee, was Lestrange.

At the sound of her footsteps he looked up, his eyes quickly darting back to the cup in front of him as he realized who had entered the kitchen. Ellison drew in a deep breath as she stepped through the doorway, walking past the kitchen table where Lestrange sat, to the cupboard.

"You're here early," he called from behind her, his tone awkward and flat.

"I stayed the night," she replied, grabbing a cup from the cupboard, filling it with coffee from the pot on the counter. "Wasn't feeling well," she added quickly, realizing the insinuation her words had carried.

"Ellison, what about To-" Lestrange began abruptly, finally mustering the nerve to say what had been on his mind.

"He doesn't know," Ellison cut him off, her back still facing him. "And ... he won't,"

"Thank you," he replied quietly.

"I'll have Beasley leave the Essence of Dittany and some bandages in your room," she continued indifferently, turning to face him now. "I'm sure you know what to do by now..." She hadn't meant to sound so cold, but this was how it had to be.

"Lestrange, you're up early," Tom's voice called. Her eyes darted from Lestrange to the doorway, where Tom now stood.

"Couldn't sleep," Lestrange said quickly, taking a long pull from his coffee cup, which held the faintest smell of fire whisky.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Tom asked, turning his attentions to Ellison now, seemingly unperturbed by Lestrange's jerky response.

"Better," she replied, silently wishing to replace the stale coffee in her cup with whatever Lestrange was drinking.

"Good," Tom nodded, "Because I have something to show you."

"What is it?" Ellison asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"You'll have to see for yourself," Tom smirked, turning on his heel, beckoning for her to follow. They made their way out of the kitchen, and to the door of the basement. Opening the door, Tom descended the stairs, Ellison trailing close behind. Her eyes widened in surprise as they reached the base of the stairs and he turned on the light. Before her sat row after row of shelves topped with dozens of various herbs and potion ingredients. The old, rickety table that had sat in the middle of the room, had been replaced with a brand new one. And sitting on top of it was a shiny new cauldron. The room was a potion maker's paradise.

"What is this?" she turned to face Tom, who was leaned against the wall, still wearing a smirk.

"Your new workshop," he replied matter-of-factly.

"What?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"You said the original was lacking, didn't you?"

"Yes, but..." she began, trying to find the words.

"Well I made a few improvements," he continued, pushing himself off the wall. "After all, you are making all these potions and tonics for us."

"Tom this is ... incredible," she breathed, her eyes scanning the room, drinking in every last detail.

"I thought so," he smirked.

"Thank you," she said, turning back around to face him, a pang of guilt jolting through her stomach at the sight of Tom's smiling face. Slipping an arm around her waist, Tom pulled her body against his.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, resting his forehead against hers. She looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. She needed to tell him ... he deserved to know. Tom leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers. No ... There was nothing to tell ... nothing happened. She closed her eyes, her lips pressing firmly against Tom's. Nothing happened...

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