Sorry for the longer than expected absence, but I have now entered this fic for the Long Haul Competition at HPFC. This means you will be guaranteed to get updates every week from now on.

Enjoy

Merope did not like the new changes. Just like before she noticed them erupt before her eyes. After Tom had told her of his success in England, she had recognised the alteration in Tom's schedule. Tom's visits seem to multiply and he did not always speak to her the moment he arrived. As well, the couch, which he had taken to transfiguring into a bed, seemed to remain unaltered.

She was not silly she knew what had happened.

She was not happy about it, but she could not do anything so she merely sat on the sidelines and watched and waited.

Tom would come to his sense again.

One of the best things Bellatrix had noticed about France was that it was not as cold as England. Regardless, on some nights, the chill still threatened to seep into her bones. Tonight was one of those nights as she drew the woollen blankets tight around her slim frame hoping there would be a relief from the cold or that she could sleep.

Only one request was granted.

At the sound of her door opening, she turned and was not surprised to find Tom striding in.

The past few weeks had reflected yet another change. She did not want to admit it, but Riddle was at least proving himself a good companion. If he was not retelling her of the events occurring in England, they were normally in bed together. What had started as a few flings a year ago was intensifying, but, since it would only an alliance for work and a companion in her bed, Bellatrix was not too bothered by the situation.

It worked rather well.

As long as he continued to treat her as he should.

"Good evening, Bellatrix," he greeted oddly curt as he often did to try and mask his emotions. Making his way to the bed, he did not even light any of the lanterns as he sat down on the side without permission.

She did not bother answering. Stretching her arms above her head, she watched as he bent down and undid his shoes in the dim light that was emitting from the hearth.

"What is happening in England?" she inquired as she always did when he appeared. He did not answer. Now free of his shoes and outer robes, he turned and faced her. Seizing her by the jaw, he kissed her expressing the desire that surged through him without words.

'Oh well', Bellatrix thought as she shrugged out of her nightdress and pulled him closer towards her, 'she would ask him later'. Besides, the problem of the cold was rapidly alleviating itself.

Moaning loudly as his hands had free reign over her body, she knew why she was not annoyed at Tom. He was so wonderful with his hands. She was particularly appreciative of his very long fingers when they slipped inside of her. Arching and bucking into his hands, his lips only did a partial job of masking the sounds of pleasure.

When he pulled away for a brief moment to free himself, she did not do anything but tug himself closer and match his movement with her hips.

"Now tell me what is happening in England," Bellatrix insisted once she had recovered enough to speak as she leaned on her forearms and stared into his face. His hands were securely around her waist and he was still breathless so she jumped on her chance to get the information she wanted and needed.

"It is progressing well," Tom replied his voice strangely relaxed as he lay on her pillows and even managed a small smile. "As I said, the support for Dumbledore is fading. The purebloods all knew he was a blood traitor. He is trying to keep a middle ground, but his previous relationship with Grindelwald means that most mudbloods have no reason to trust him-"

"Who would have thought the mudbloods would ever be right about something?" she interrupted with a smirk as she felt him tense underneath her at being cut off. She did love to rile him up. She could not have him being too comfortable. He might think she actually cared.

"Yes..." he said softly as his lips twitched in irritation. She only smirked at his reaction as she idly traced shapes on his skinny chest with her finger. "They won't support him for much long. I know that. It will only take some reminding that he cannot be trusted then he will either be forced out or stubbornly hold his position."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow at his words as one obvious answer slithered into her mind. "Why don't you just kill him?" she questioned as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"It is not so simple," he stated rather like she was a child. "How can I justify killing the Minister? No, everything has to be justified."

"No one needs to know it was you. It can be quite simple. It is only Dumbledore."

Tom's eyebrows rose upwards as he twisted his lips with irritation. "Only Dumbledore? Do you have any sense? His power-" Bellatrix issued a loud tut, though ignored her and continued. "Yes, his power is extreme and profound. He can be defeated, but it is hardly that simple."

She groaned loudly and rolled off him to stare at the ceiling. "Then what is your brilliant plan?"

"To justify the killing. To ensure that every drop of pureblood that is spilt in blamed on him. To make it seem like he is ruining pureblood society. To make him the villain."

She was sceptical as she turned to him again. "How?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head," he said with a smirk and Bellatrix did not at all appreciate being patronised. "I will handle it."

"I would worry a lot less if you weren't such a prick."

Tom chuckled and she turned away in irritation.

"Good night, Bella."

"Fuck off Tom."

The Atrium below was crowded and as bustling as always as hundreds of witches and wizards chatted and rushed to whatever task they had to accomplish For them life was so easy. It was not a matter of choosing what was right over love or choosing how to honour a loved one by continuing his work or seeking vengeance.

In an uncharacteristic occasion, Albus was actually unsure.

Turning to face the other man in the room, his bright blue eyes hidden behind square spectacles swept over the man behind his desk. Despite being older than fifty, Tom Riddle still had all his black hair, his attractive features and charismatic presence that reminded Albus of Gellert.

"Are you sure about this?" Albus inquired as he looked down at the open roll of parchment on his desk. "Are you sure it is correct?"

"Of course," Tom said smoothly as he straightened himself in the purple velvet chair. "It is perfectly accurate. Every name has been double and triple checked. It surprised me immensely but of course so did what happened to poor Lord Grindelwald."

He shook his head sadly and, at the barest mention of Gellert, Albus lowered his eyes rather than expose the bottomless pits of loss at the loss of his friend, his partner and his lover. Albus still remembered him as he was so long ago with bright eyes, an infectious smile and rivers of golden hair. He could still remember the leaps in his stomach at the sight of his impish grin and it had only stopped leaping a few weeks ago.

Gellert had inspired him like no one else. They had encouraged and argued against the other but, in the end, they had been a moderating force and established society the way things should be. They had taken account of blood status and looked after muggleborns, though in a kind and humane way.

But now he was gone.

One moment he was standing by him in the office and the next he was staring down at his friend lying still in a mortuary his now neat grey hair catching in the light, his blue eyes closed and his infectious grin lost forever.

He could not allow it to be the end of story. He could not allow justice to not transpire.

"I assume you are suggesting that it was more than the work of that woman," he said his voice soft as he stared down at his pointed fingers. "That there are more people who are responsible."

"Yes," Tom replied firmly and, even though Albus did not look up, he saw the finger pointing at the parchment. "I would not expect you to believe me without proof, my Lord, but it is all there- all the names and all of the links to this most terrible crime."

Looking up, Albus' eyes were shinning with unshed tears, but he forced himself to smile. "You do not need to worry, Tom. I believe you."

In their long period of rule both Albus and Gellert had picked pupils to mentor and tutor. Tom had stood out to Gellert from the outset, yet Albus had always been unsure. He had assumed there was something unsettling about him and that he could not be trusted. However, the years had made him warm towards the man who had been nothing less than a solid and dedicated worker.

"Thank you, Sir," Tom said with a curt nod. "I understand it is hard. That the political consequences for carrying out justice on these men may be hard, but we must do what is right."

Albus echoed the nod by Tom. "Yes Tom, we must. Send up Mr Mulciber and I will issue the orders."

"Thank you Sir," Tom repeated as he stood to leave.

Albus nodded once more before he turned his back on Tom to finally allow the tears of loss to shed down his crocked nose.

He did not notice the triumphant smile that had slithered onto Tom's face.