Okay guys ... I am literally IN LOVE with this chap. I've been sick all day so I had all afternoon to work on it (hence the 10 pages on Word I had once I'd finished). Let me know what you guys think but beware - This chapter has some PG-13 content (which I'm sure most of you have been looking forward to ;) ) But still, just be aware. I hope you guys love this chapter as much as I do! Let the voting and commenting begin!

"Girls your gran will be here any minute!" Ellison called down the hall, hurriedly placing Calla and Ella's coats and shoes beside the entrance to the foyer. They had arrived back at the flat nearly three hours before, but had only just started to pack for the overnight trip to their grandmother's.

"I'm all packed, but Calla can't find her scarf," Ella said, as she entered the kitchen, lugging a floral duffle bag over her shoulder that was her nearly as big as her. "You know, that blue and green plaid one," She added, dumping the bag onto the floor with a huff.

"I'll go help her finish up," Ellison replied, smoothing down Ella's dark, unkempt curls. "Go ahead and put your shoes and coat on love," She added as she exited the kitchen. "Calla, sweetheart, your gran will be here soon. Are you almost finished?" She asked as she entered the girls' bedroom, her eyes falling on Calla, who was bent over a dresser drawer, chunking its contents out one by one in the search for her scarf.

"I can't find my scarf," Calla groaned, closing the, now empty, drawer before moving on to the next.

"What about this one?" Ellison asked, holding up a plain looking, red scarf that had been discarded onto the floor.

"I don't want that one," Calla huffed. "The plaid one's my favorite."

"Okay, okay," Ellison conceded, laying the red scarf on Calla's bed. "We'll find it, don't worry," She said, opening the closet, her eyes scanning the top shelf, which held several baskets packed full of the girls' winter things. Pulling one down, she rummaged through the various jackets, hats, and gloves until her eyes fell on the object she had been searching for. "Found it," She said, holding up the checkered scarf.

"Oh thank you!" Calla exclaimed, promptly wrapping the scarf around her neck before throwing her duffle over her shoulder. The pair walked back down the hall to the kitchen. Ella, who had put her shoes and coat on, was seated at the kitchen table with Mrs. Pennifold.

"Oh, I didn't hear you come in mum," Ellison said, smiling at her mother.

"I just let myself in, I hope that's okay," Mrs. Pennifold replied, returning her daughter's smile. "Ella here was telling me about your trip to Diagon Alley with Tom," She added with a knowing smile.

"Was she now?" Ellison asked, looking from her mum, to Ella, who was sitting propped up on her knees, a huge grin on her face.

"It sounds like the four of you had quite the day," Mrs. Pennifold said casually, though her smile widened ever so slightly.

"I suppose we did," Ellison replied, matching her mother's airy tone.

"Well," Mrs. Pennifold began, standing to her feet. "I'll go on and take Ella out to the car while you get Calla ready." After a quick hug and kiss goodbye, the pair were out the door, leaving Ellison and Calla alone in the kitchen.

"Alright, let's get you ready to go," She said, grabbing Calla's coat from the back of the chair. Slipping her arms through the sleeves, Calla turned around to face her. Crouching down, Ellison went to work buttoning the front.

"Mum..." Calla trailed off.

"Yes?" Ellison replied, continuing with the buttons on her coat.

"Do you like Tom?"

"Of course I do," She answered casually.

"No ... I mean do you like him the way you liked dad?"

"Oh," Ellison said, drawing her eyes up to her daughter's face. "I..." She trailed off, unsure of how to answer. "Tom is a ... good friend."

"He makes you happy, doesn't he?" Calla asked calmly.

"Yes ... I suppose he does," She nodded.

"I can tell ... He makes you happy like dad used to."

"Oh love," Ellison began, a sad smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "You and your sister are all the happiness I need."

"Still," Calla began, "I wouldn't mind it ... if you did like him ... I want you to be happy the way you were with dad."

"Thank you sweetheart," Ellison replied, wrapping her daughter in a tight embrace. "I love you, you know that don't you?" She whispered against Calla's hair.

"Of course," Calla nodded. Pulling away after a moment, Ellison stood up, blinking away the tears that had begun to brim in her eyes.

"Alright, let's not keep your gran waiting," She said, once Calla had put on her shoes. They walked into the foyer, Ellison waving from the front door as Calla slipped into the backseat of Mrs. Pennifold's car.

~

Ellison stood in her daughters' room, a monstrous pile of clothing laying before her on the foot of Calla's bed. After her mum had left with the girls, she had went to work picking up the clothes Calla had strewn across the room in the search for her scarf. Grabbing a gray knit sweater from the pile, she folded it, placing it neatly in the drawer it had been taken from. Reaching for another, she paused as a knock sounded at the front door.

Exiting the room, she traveled down the hallway, and through the kitchen to the foyer. Opening the door, she smiled as her eyes fell on Tom.

"Hello," He said, shaking the snowflakes that had begun to fall, from his dark hair.

"Come in," She replied, moving aside as he stepped inside.

"So it's just us for the night?" He asked, following behind her as they made their way into the kitchen.

"Mhm," Ellison answered, placing the kettle on the stove. "Tea?" She asked, turning the burner on when he nodded.

"So," Tom began, accepting the teacup from her as she sat across from him at the table. "That man at Florean's this afternoon ... How do you know him?" His tone was light ... nonchalant, but something told her there was more to his question than an attempt to make casual conversation.

"He works with my father," She shrugged. "I've known him ever since I was a child. His daughter, Hannah, went to school with us," She added, taking a sip from her own cup. Tom nodded, making no attempt to press further.

In all the chaos of the evening she hadn't given much thought to the conversation she had had with Mr. Ashby. He had said he had a, 'new lead.' Had he been referring to the Voldemort case? Last she had heard, he had retired a few years back for a cushy desk job ... Surely he wasn't working the case. That's why Tom had clammed up in the store ... It had to be. Was he worried? Trying to get information from her about Mr. Ashby? She shook the thoughts away. Whatever was going on, she wanted to ignore it ... forget about it, even if only for the night.

"I love a good cup of tea as much as the next guy," Tom said, breaking the silence and pulling Ellison out of her thoughts. "But considering it's just us, what'd you say we drink something a little more ... warming." He added, the familiar smirk he always wore, gracing his lips.

"I don't keep anything like that in the house," She shook her head. "So unless you want to go out, I suppose you'll have to make due with tea tonight," She added with a smirk.

"I thought you'd say that," Tom said, his smirk widening. Pulling back the front of his coat, he reaching into the inside pocket, pulling out a flask. Placing it on the table, he grabbed his cup, gulping down the rest of its contents. Unscrewing the flask, he tipped it over the now empty cup, a light brown liquid replacing the tea that had occupied the space before. Shaking her head, she chuckled. Bringing her cup to her lips, she did the same, allowing Tom to pour her a generous serving of Fire Whiskey once all the tea had been drank.

"Have you eaten yet?" Ellison asked, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through her body as she took a drink from the cup.

"I had Beasley fix something up when I got home," Tom replied, ignoring the indignant look on her face.

"You know," She began, taking another sip from her cup. "You really shouldn't rely on him so much."

"That's what he's there for Ellison," He shrugged.

"Well, you could at least not be so nasty to him all the time," She shot back, cocking an eyebrow.

"You never cease to amaze me," Tom chuckled, shaking his head.

"And what amazes you so much?"

"Just how much you care ... Even for a measly house elf," He replied coolly.

"I'm sure you count that as a weakness," She said, her tone a bit harsher than she originally intended.

"I used to," He said, a small smile gracing his lips. "I've come to admire that about you though," He added, taking a gulp from his cup. She smiled but gave no reply, bringing the Fire Whiskey to her lips instead.

"Come on," She said, standing to her feet. Leading the way, they made there way down the hall to the sitting room. Opening the vinyl player, she turned it on. Placing the needle on the edge of the record, a soft melody began to play.

"What's this?" Tom asked, eyeing a canvas hanging on the wall.

"Oh, that's nothing," She shook her head, a red blush creeping up her cheeks.

"It looks awfully familiar," He said, running his fingertips over the oil paint. A beach landscape lay against a backdrop of dark, jagged cliffs, the light blue hues of the water seemingly animated against the gray rocks.

"I would imagine so," She replied sheepishly. "It's the beach you took me to that one time during Easter holiday."

"Did you make this?" He asked, turning to face her. Saying nothing, she simply nodded. "I didn't know you paint," He continued, placing his cup on the end table beside the sofa.

"I don't ... Well I didn't. Not until..." She trailed off, her cheeks flushing further. Why did she always bring Amos into their conversations ... even when she tried her best to keep him out of things, she seemed to always find a way to mention him.

"Well, it's beautiful," He said, taking the cup from her hands, sitting it down beside his. Placing a hand around her waist, he grabbed her now empty hand and placed it on his shoulder, cupping her other hand in his.

"What are you doing?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he made no mention of her previous comment about Amos.

"What, you don't like to dance?" He asked, smirking down at her.

"I do," She began, eyeing him in mock suspicion. "I just didn't think you were-"

"The dancing type?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Exactly," She chuckled, laying her head on his chest as he pulled her closer against him. They stood in silence, swaying in unison to the music.

"You know, I still remember that day," Tom said after a moment. "Do you?"

"Of course," She breathed, the combination of Fire Whiskey and the earthy scent of Tom's cologne making her head swim.

"Do you remember that night?" He asked, his thumb drawing circles on the back of her hand.

"I do," She replied, a wave of butterflies coursing through her at his question. Thoughts of that night flooded her mind. The way her parent's garden had been lit up with hundreds of twinkling lights. The way he had kissed her goodnight at her bedroom door. The way he had pressed his body against hers as they lay down on her bed. She drew in a deep breath, trying to fight through the haze that had encompassed her mind.

"So do I," Tom whispered. Bringing his hand to her chin, he tilted her face up to look at him, his eyes boring holes into hers. Leaning down, he pressed his lips lightly against hers, pulling away just enough to where their lips were no longer touching. Lifting her hand from his shoulder, she brought it up to the nape of his neck. Intertwining her fingers in his hair, she brought his lips to hers once again. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pressed his body against hers. Backing up towards the sofa, he sat down, pulling her down with him, her legs on either side of his lap as they continued to kiss. After a moment, she pulled away. Meeting his gaze, she nodded, agreeing to the question he had silently asked. Gently, he pushed her off, grabbing her hand as he stood up. Silently, he led her up the staircase to her room, closing the door behind them.

Slipping a hand around her waist from behind, he pulled her against him as he brushed her hair to the side. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips pressed against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to her collarbone. Reaching up, he grasped the zipper of her dress. Sliding it down, he slipped the sleeves off her shoulders and down her arms, the dress falling to the floor in a heap. Grabbing her arm gently, he turned her around, scanning her body, his eyes lingering on the satin slip she now wore.

Brushing a stray curl from her face, his hand rested against her cheek. Pulling her against him, his lips pressed against hers in a passionate kiss. Reaching up, she unbuttoned his shirt with shaky fingers, her breath hitching in her throat as he pulled away to slip out of the fabric. Walking her backwards, he pushed her gently onto the bed, unbuckling his pants and stepping out of them before lying down beside her.

Their lips connected instantly, their tongues intertwining with one another as he climbed on top of her, propping himself up on his elbow, his other hand slipping underneath her chemise, pulling it up as his hand trailed up her thigh. She drew in a sharp breath, the haze within her mind thickening with his every touch. Pulling away, he looked down at her, his eyes searching hers intently.

"I love you," He said simply, as though the words had been the most effortless thing he'd ever said.

"I love you too," She breathed.

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