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"Lastrange was supposed to've been back by now," a stocky man with light brown hair spoke. Tom glanced side ways at the man seated to his left.

"I'm sure Lastrange can manage just fine without you attached to his hip Avery," Tom replied dismissively. A series of snickers arose from the room, causing the scowl on Avery's face to widen. The attentions of the group shifted as the door to the office swung open, revealing Lastrange with a petite woman by his side.

Tom gazed at the woman, his eyes traveling down the length of her frame, drinking in every last one of her features. Her hair, shorter than the last time he had saw her, still fell in loose curls. Her face seemed thinner. Her cheekbones, still peppered with tiny freckles, were more prominent than he remembered. Her frame was slender, though motherhood had widened her hips ever so slightly. Her eyes were the same piercing shade of green he remembered, bringing on memories of a time when those eyes had looked at him differently than they were now. Now, they were glaring at him, the glimmering green he remembered, darker ... colder.

Tom shook away the memories as the heavy, wooden door shut with a bang. Tearing his eyes away from the woman, he looked to Lastrange.

"Here she is my Lord," Lastrange spoke, stepping aside and gesturing towards the young woman.

"I see that," Tom replied, his eyes falling back on their guest. The young woman stared back at him, un-phased by Tom's scrutinizing gaze. "Ellison Pennifold," Tom spoke matter-of-factly.

"It's Ellison Knott now," she interjected. Tom smirked ... Time certainly hadn't dulled her ability to produce a snarky remark. 

"My apologies," Tom began coolly. "Seeing as though your husband's dead, I just assumed you'd be going by-"

"Well I'm not," she interrupted again, her tone icier now.

"Very well," Tom replied, his smirk widening, causing her jaw to clench in annoyance. "Well Ellison ... Knott," he added with sarcastic emphasis, "I'm sure you're wondering why it is you're here." She stared back at him, saying nothing. "I think you spoke with a mutual friend of ours earlier today," Tom continued casually. Ellison's jaw clenched, but once again she gave no reply. "And I think he might've told you something he not ought to have," Tom pressed on, eyeing her intently for any sign of fear. If she was afraid, she certainly wasn't showing it. "You see, not everyone, it seems, can perform a competent memory charm," he paused, glaring in Avery's direction. "So Neil Lament seems to have remembered quite a bit more than I intended him to."

"Like that you're Voldemort?" Ellison cut in, the last word dripping with disdain.

"Precisely," Tom replied with a smirk.

"So what," Ellison began, her tone cold and sarcastic. "Are you going to let Fenrir Grayback loose on me as well?"

"Afraid not," Tom chucked, "However, I will be needing to wipe your memory."

"And what about Neil?" Ellison asked, ignoring the firm grip Lastrange had placed around her arm in an effort to escort her out.

"I wouldn't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to," Tom replied coolly.

"Tell me," Ellison argued, pulling her arm out of Lastrange's grasp. Tom considered her for a moment, the corners of his mouth curving, once again, into their familiar smirk.

"I'm afraid it's a bit too late for him. He'll be ... dealt with." Disbelief flickered across Ellison's features at his words, Lastrange's reaffirmed grip around her arm going unnoticed as she stood there frozen.

"Don't kill him," she finally spoke, seeming to snap out of the momentary shock she had been in. She fought against Lastrange, trying to free herself from his grip again, but he held on tighter this time, jerking her back towards the door. "Don't kill him, please!" She repeated, pleading this time.

Tom watched her as she continued to fight against Lastrange. She had always cared for others so much ... Too much. A pang of jealously coursed through Tom. She had cared for him in that way once.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as a jet of red light shot through the air, hitting Ellison square in the chest. Tom watched as her body went taut, a horrifying scream escaping her lips as she fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Tom turned around, his eyes falling on a smirking Avery, whose wand was drawn and pointed at Ellison.

"Stop," Tom said sharply, drawing his own wand reflexively. Avery looked back at him, and dropped his wand immediately. Tom turned back around, his eyes falling back on Ellison's, now limp, body. "What the bloody hell?" Tom turned his attention back to Avery.

"She was putting up a fight," Avery began matter-of-factly, "now she's not."

"Of course she's not you prat," Tom began through gritted teeth, "She's unconscious ... Lastrange," Tom said, turning back around, "Take her upstairs-"

"My Lord..." Lastrange began.

"Take her upstairs."

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Here's another chap for you loves! Hope you like it! I'd love to hear your comments!