To an Unsolicited Mind [t.r]

2. Gold

July 1945
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Chiara had only been working at the antique shop for a little over two weeks, but nonetheless she gave him a headache. Her presence alone was incessant, making a dull ache pop up behind his eyes when she'd show up for her shift.

Tom was also annoyed at the notion she was actually good at her job, he had been expectant for her to fail, he wanted her to. He had a superiority complex so deeply ingrained in his system that he enjoyed other people screwing up, purely just for his enjoyment. It also further proved his belief that he was better than everyone.

Something that also annoyed him, though he couldn't pin point why, was that everyday she brought two apples. Both a golden yellow, a stark contrast to the dark and gloomy setting of Borgin & Burkes.

Chiara always offered him one, but he declined. She wondered if he ever ate, he wasn't frail but he was on the skinnier side, his height making him appear more lean than he probably was. Or perhaps it was just that his cheeks appeared to cave in more than one usually saw for someone his age.

"Apple?"

Her voice brought him out of his head, he had been staring at an old pensieve someone had brought in the other day. The thin stone dish had delicate cracks running through it, and he'd stayed late the previous night attempting to mend them properly.

"No, thank you."

His tone was polite as usual, but there were undertones of exasperation. Chiara didn't let him deter her ever present good mood and shrugged as she bit into the fruit.

The sound of it seemed to echo around the shop, making the hairs at the back of his neck stand up and he closed his eyes for a moment. Perhaps he was just suffering from sensory overload, or maybe she was just that annoying.

Everything about her seemed to tick off a mark on things that bothered him. For one, she was always in a good mood. Though he supposed her constantly complaining wouldn't be welcomed either. Chiara's wardrobe choices were also questionable.

Today she wore a pale yellow sundress with white flowers, the fabric screamed she didn't belong in such a place like Knockturn Alley. How she managed to get through the winding streets without a scratch peaked his interest, but he shoved away the curiosity.

"Is that dress work appropriate?"

Chiara raised a brow at him before looking down at her attire, "yes, do you think otherwise?" He raised one shoulder in a half shrug and she narrowed her eyes. "Mr. Burke hasn't had a problem with my outfits."

"Mr. Burke is an old man who appreciates a view."

Her cheeks flushed, though not in embarrassment, but in anger. Tom tilted his head to the side, trying not to let his amusement show. Finally, she wasn't so chipper.

His cruelty should be concerning, but Tom was ignorant to the notion something was probably wrong with him.

"I should be allowed to where whatever I like without the worry some old creep is making eyes at me and an arse like you saying my dress is inappropriate. My dress is perfectly fine, it's not my fault you lot can't keep it in your pants." Due to her frustration, her Italian accent became thicker half way through her ramble.

Tom considered her argument for a moment before humming, she had a point, but he wouldn't tell her that. Getting up from his seat, he opened the cabinet and swung his bag over his shoulder. "Where are you going?" Annoyance was still evident in her tone.

Tom's mood had risen due to hers becoming crestfallen, he never could resist twisting someone around like that. It fueled his ego, probably an unhealthy amount. No matter who it was, he was always able to manipulate a situation into his favor.

"My job, shouldn't you be doing yours?" He was about to head out and do some research of his own, currently his fixation was on the artefacts of the Hogwarts founders. There had been whispers some had been found. "If I recall, there's a large stack of fresh paper work on your desk downstairs." He smiled at her, for once it was genuine but it was driven out of him malevolently.

He began to walk towards the door, disregarding the disbelief currently etched onto her features.

"Why are you trying so hard to make me hate you?" Her question caused him to pause, the handle already halfway turned. He nearly scoffed, he wasn't trying hard. Nonetheless, he didn't exactly know what to say. Which was a first.

"I'll be back by lunch," with that he pushed the door open and fell into the bustling streets of merchants and others who were up to no decent business.

She stared at the door long after he left, Chiara could still see the imprint of his silhouette in her mind. He confused her, just as well as infuriated. People usually weren't that hard to read. Sure, most put up a facade, but his was unscathed. What on earth had he gone through to become so alienated?

It simply wasn't normal.

The more she pondered it, not a thing about Tom Riddle was normal. He didn't even seem human, his mannerisms appeared calculated, he never moved without thinking ten steps ahead. She couldn't even go within two feet of him for fear she might get cut.

Her head began to ache as she tried to put herself in his shoes, a life like that seemed exhausting. Perhaps he's been at it so long, he became numb to the energy is required.

Chiara frowned at the thought, that was definitely no way to live.

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Please VOTE & COMMENT if you enjoyed!!!

I myself would like to sucker punch Tom because he really is an asshole

Also please note, this is a short story, so chapters are obviously considerably shorter than I usually write them