Finally an update! This one gave me more troubles than all of the others, so I hope that future gaps will not be as long. I hope to get chapters out about once a week.

The Ministry had been in an uproar for days since the assassination of Avery. As Senior Undersecretary, Tom had stood dutifully beside both leaders, without any twitch of guilt on his features, as the tales from the night before had been rolled out.

The loss of Avery and the attempted arrest of Bellatrix Lestrange had rocked the Ministry's to its foundations. It should have been a secret, but, somehow, everyone knew that Rodolphus Lestrange had made the allegations against his wife about her involvement.

It was never known for sure that it was related to Bellatrix: Only that she had been treasonous. However, naturally, almost all had linked the two.

Most, anyway.

There were some who were convinced that Bellatrix was innocent and Rodolphus' accusations were only produced from a desire to blight his wife's name and possibly end his marriage.

Throughout it all, Tom had kept the correct front. He had listened to the gossip that spread through the Ministry, but he had only participated enough to avoid scrutiny.

It was easier to remain uninvolved when everyone thought he hated Lestrange so there was not one twitch of blame laid at his feet.

It was just how he preferred it to be.

Sitting behind his neatly ordered desk, he looked up at the man he had sent for only a few minutes ago: Lucius Malfoy who he suspected had been eagerly awaiting this meeting.

As was human nature, everyone needed a motive for their actions and allegiances. Malfoy had been sympathetic to their cause from the outset, but inciting actions required something else. The solution was obvious: Power.

Malfoy longed for power and influence in the Ministry so that was what Tom would promise. His first reward would be today.

"Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy," Tom greeted curtly as he sat at the edge of his seat with a straight back. "Take a seat."

Lucius Malfoy was someone who always possessed a certain elegant ease. He looked impeccably groomed from his straight blonde hair tied in a single silk black ribbon to the expensive business robes he proudly wore. His appearance did not impact Tom in the slightest, but he knew it would influence the opinion of others.

It was why it was wise to have him on side.

"Thank you," Malfoy said softly as he settled behind the desk, his grey eyes boring into Tom's dark eyes. He had the look of someone who wanted something and was not accustomed to being denied it. Tom was quite content to cut straight to that matter.

"I feel I ought to congratulate you, Mr Malfoy. It has been decided that a promotion is in order due to your dedication to your current position and your clear abilities." Both men knew the other too well to know he was being sincere. It was just the motions they had to go through so they could reach the conclusion they both desired. "With the tragic death of the Ministry's most esteemed treasurer, Mr Avery, it has been suggested that you should be offered the position."

"That would be quite an honour," Malfoy replied swiftly not even allowing a moment's pause to exist. There were no surprises. He knew it was coming. "I would be most honoured to accept the position."

Neither man smiled, but both had a peculiar gleam in their cold eyes. "Good. I will be pleased to work closely with you."

They did not need to mention they had already been working together anyway.

The Ministry was full of foreign ears. No one knew who could be listening. For now, all they had were their fronts to present.

It was several days after the chaos that was Bellatrix's escape, when Tom finally had time to disappear to France. The location had always been a carefully guarded secret. He knew his efforts and ambitions would create several enemies and he had no desire for them to cause any harm to his mother.

When he was still only in his twenties, he had created the safe house for his mother to ensure she was away from anyone who could do her harm. If anyone ever inquired, he would merely pretend the two had been in conflict and were no longer in contact.

It was a wise ruse. No one had ever questioned the matter and no one ever would.

If something ever happened to him, it was always the place he knew he could flee to.

This time it was where Bellatrix could hide.

His previous words were truthful: She had better not disrespect his mother. His mother was the only one he cared about. If his mother was mistreated, Bellatrix would find no sympathy from him.

As he took the floo to the home, he half expected she would have ignored his words. Stepping out of the green flames emitting from the fireplace, he also assumed he would find his mother in her usual seat.

She was not there. Instead he heard her voice drifting from the other room.

Automatically his feet took him in that direction. Despite his warning to Bellatrix, he half expected to hear the sound of warring factions. However, in its place, he could have sworn the emotions in the two woman's voices were filled with merriment.

"And here is this one," He heard the voice of his mother say as the sound of shuffling papers reached his ears. "I believe it was taken in 1930."

A gale of laughter was the only reaction. "Really? No, you have to be lying. How can that be him?"

"It is." Merope's voice was tenser and Tom could not help, but wait in the hallway. He wanted to know if Bellatrix had followed through with their bargain.

"Oh! What is that one under there?" Bella questioned excitedly.

"Don't look at that!"

There was a noise of shuffling papers followed by an even louder burst of laughter from Bellatrix.

Tom was never someone to wait too long for information and he was sure he had waited long enough now. Stepping out of the hallway, he entered the kitchen.

Bellatrix and his mother were seated around the table. Bellatrix had his back to him and was doubled over in hysterical laughter with something clutched in her hand while Merope watched cautiously. A heavy book was in front of her and her hands were outstretched as if she thought to grab something.

There were other objects on the table too: Photos of him from childhood. His heart sunk and anger settled over him. What were they doing before Bellatrix?

Merope was the first to notice his appearance as he glared at the photos spread over the small dining table.

"Tom!" she greeted with enthusiasm and relief. For a moment he feared she would try to embrace him in front of Bellatrix, but, wisely, she remained seated. "How are you?"

"Fine," he said tensely as he drew further into the room stopping between his mother's and Bellatrix's seats. He noted the other woman had stopped laughing, but he was unwilling to look at her. "What are you doing?"

His mother at least had the sense to appear ashamed when she responded, "Mrs Lestrange found me adding photos to some photo albums. I had not realised she was awake, but, once she saw them, she insisted on looking."

The explanation did not please him and he may have made that point clear if Bellatrix had not chosen the moment to interrupt.

"But they are such adorable photos, Tom," she said gleefully as he turned to glare at her grin filled face. She flipped over the photo in her hand to reveal a picture of him at about the age of four or five without any clothing at all. "Look how big you have grown."

He did not miss the double meaning not did it improve his mood. He would have thought his mother would not have taken any notice, but she was looking back and forth between him and Bellatrix with a strange look in her eye. Did she know something?

"Enough!" he snapped not appreciating the mockery. Snatching the photo from Bellatrix's hand, he turned to his mother. "Come. Let us talk in the sitting room."

Without a glance at either witch, he strode angrily to the room he had originally entered knowing his mother would follow. He was right as, when he turned around before the hearth, Merope was close behind.

"Close the door," he orders briskly not hiding the anger that was flowing freely in his voice. "How has Bellatrix been behaving? Has she been treating you with respect?"

"I suppose," Merope replied with hesitation as she stood before him with her head down as if she was the child being scolded. He might feel guilty for his actions later, but now he was too angry to care. "I have no reason to complain."

It was not an answer that mattered. His mother had not had an easy life. While he was not aware of the details, he knew his mother had been abused by her father and uncle so her views on appropriate treatment were lax.

"Are you sure?" he forcefully questioned again.

"I am fine," she repeated refusing to look at him.

Sighing audibly he supposed that was as good as could be expected. "Inform me straight away if she is not."

Finally his mother looked up, but it was only to smile slightly. "Thank you."

It was always strange to find a way to respond when his mother said that. It made him feel more awkward than anything else.

It was better to not linger on the feeling.

"I need to talk to Bellatrix." Briskly he turned and left her to return to the kitchen.

Bellatrix had changed places. Instead of sitting down she was leaning against the bench staring out at the night sky and toying with the rim on a glass.

"Bellatrix," he said with disapproval as he approached her. "My mother informs me she has no reason to complain about your conduct. I half expected I would be here to throw you out."

Like a cat that had got the canary, she smirked as she turned to face him, leaning leisurely and cockily back on the bench. "Come on Tom why do you not trust me?"

"For many reasons." His tone was tense while she was playful. He knew the warning signs enough to keep a few feet of distance between them. "I want your word you will continue to treat her with respect."

Without a care she just waved him away. "Fine, fine. What is happening at the Ministry?"

That was at least a conversation Tom felt more comfortable with. "Chaos mostly," he said a little more calmly. "Malfoy was appointed as treasurer and they are still on the hunt for you."

Laughing she settled against the bench. "And the support behind Dumbledore and Grindelwald is falling?"

"It seems that way."

"Finally."

He murmured his assent thoughtlessly. Carelessly he turned his back on her as he moved to leave. "I will see you in the morning."

"Are you staying the night?" From Tom's ears he thought she seemed hopeful, but when he turned to look at Bellatrix, her expression had not changed. A part of him was pleased by her tone, though quickly he tried to quash that part of him.

"Yes, I plan to transfigure the couch."He ensured his expression was cold to keep his real thoughts hidden. "I want to test if you really are acting like I asked."

"Tom..." Bella trailed off but he did not bother replying. With a twist of his heel he left her alone.

Tom had been true to his word.

Without fuss and without assistance from anyone, he had transfigured the lounge in the sitting room into a comfortable double bed. With the house only consisting of two rooms it was his only option, but, since it was only one night, he was not complaining.

Settling into the transfigured bed not long after midnight, he was more thankful than ever that he was such a light sleeper.

He had closed the door before and the only light was flickering from the hearth for her refused to sleep in total darkness. With his eyes closed, he was slowly drifting off when the tell tale slight creaking of a door opening reached his ears.

Within a moment, he was sitting bolt upright and facing the figure of Bellatrix.

Shutting the door carefully behind her she walked quietly to the side of his transfigured bed.

"What are you doing?" he snapped with anger and more than a little bit of sleep in his voice. He had not forgotten the comments from his mother, her mockery over the photos and, now, the intrusion of his privacy.

"I think you know why, Tom." She tried to smile coyly as her hand reached for the covers he had pulled tight to his neck, but, before she had a chance, his wand was pointed directly at her face.

"Get out," he ordered coldly, his voice like the bite of a deadly viper.

She did not stop.

"Tom," she pleaded as she reached again.

This time he acted.

Grabbing her arm almost hold enough to break it, he pushed her away from him.

"Enough acting the whore. Get out."

Her face flushed pink in the dwindling light from the flames; he did not care if it was from anger of humiliation. He thought she might even argue, though she wisely took the point and turned and left. The force of the door slamming was enough to make the plaster above flicker dust onto the carpet.