To an Unsolicited Mind [t.r]

5. Red

October 1945
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Dark, thundering clouds had accumulated over London as the temperature continued to decline. Chiara didn't seem to mind, her wardrobe choices grew warmer but still held a bright character. Tom would also catch her jumping into rain puddles outside, he'd shake his head at her childish antics, not that she cared.

"You should try it, I think it'd bring you some joy," she chimed one afternoon. She was curious what he did as a kid, more so what little things he did to find amusement. No matter who they were, Chiara assumed everyone jumped into a rain puddle just for hell of it. At least once.

"I would prefer not to get my shoes wet," his words were nearly drowned out as thunder rattled the windows. "You have a wand for a reason," the tone of her voice was care free though he had the inkling of being talked to like a child. Something he didn't appreciate.

"I would rather not partake in something so pointless."

"Since when is smiling pointless?"

He looked at her for a long moment over the top of his book, he didn't understand her. Chiara was too optimistic for her own good, and if she continued to work in a hell hole such as Borgin & Burkes, it was only a matter of time before her beliefs shattered.

Merlin help her when that happens.

The storms seemed to have found themselves a home over the city, they hadn't shifted in over a week, and only seemed to grow more dense. Every once in awhile late at night, a sliver of moonlight would peak through and cling to cobblestones like silver.

The light left just as quickly as it came, casting the streets back in darkness once again, hiding all the sinful actions that took place.

Halloween was nearing, the pagan holiday being a favorite to families with young children. A consequence of that meant Diagon Alley was more busy than usual, and there'd be a slight increase of strays on the streets of Knockturn Alley. Kids would venture down to see if they were really afraid of the dark, or just what resides within.

One afternoon, Tom couldn't help himself and waited in an alley that he knew Chiara would pass by. He kept his eyes on his watch and just on time, he heard the click of her shoes approach, just about to turn the corner. Right before she did so, Tom stepped out.

"Morning."

"Dio Mio!" Her hand flew to her chest, a weak attempt to calm her breathing as she registered who had emerged from the abyss of the alley. "Don't do that, you scared the living shit out of me." Chiara shoved his arm and he bowed his head in a faux apology, though his lips quirked up a bit.

The work day had been expectantly busy, the shop had been getting more attention due to Halloween being mere days away. Tom nor Chiara had to put much effort in if they wanted to sell an artefact, seeing as people were more willing to buy at such a time.

Nonetheless, talking to so many incompetent people was draining and Tom found himself itching for a cigarette. A habit he had been trying to quit, though halfheartedly.

Lunch reared his head and he shrugged on his heavy wool coat, the fabric fitting snugly across his broad shoulders. The moment he stepped outside, the bitter wind nipped at the exposed skin of his neck and face. Rain had already started to drench his hair and he pushed back the wet curls in annoyance. Turning up his collar, he went around back and stepped into a protective enclave that covered the alley.

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a cigarette and wet it on his lips before lighting it. Immediately a calmness from the nicotine poured into him as he inhaled, making his mind go fuzzy in a brief moment of euphoria.

His few minutes of peace shattered when he felt a presence beside him. Looking over his shoulder, Chiara was huddling herself the best she could into her coat, desperate for warmth. The fabric was bright red, nearly blinding compared to the dull atmosphere around them.

She also had a thick wool scarf wrapped around her neck, which she had been nuzzling her nose into until she lifted her head to speak. "You smoke?"

He hated questions like that, but he refrained himself from rolling his eyes.

"No," the cigarette bobbed up and down as the word passed his lips.

She eyed the burning stick in amusement, not taking any offense by his tone. If he wanted to act like a five year old, than so be it. Despite her best interest, her eyes latched onto his lips and how they would envelope the cigarette as he took a slow, lungful drag. His chest would expand, hold, and then Chiara would watch in a strange fascination as the smoke tumbled from his nose in swirls.

It burned her eyes and she had to blink away the tears that built along her waterline. Nonetheless, she was curious.

"Can I have a go?"

He raised a brow at her and gave a smoky exhale before reluctantly pulling the cigarette away from his lips and passing it to her. He was expecting either two things to happen. One; she'd surprise him by actually knowing what to do. Two; she'd make a fool of herself. Tom was hoping for the latter.

Their cold fingers touched for the briefest of moments, and once the stick was in her hold she tapped it to get rid of the ash that built up at the end. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she raised the tip to her lips and felt it was still wet from his own mouth. Chiara made brief eye contact with him before she inhaled.

She regretted it immediately.

An acidic burn tore down her throat and invaded her lungs, almost feeling as if she breathed in sand that burned hot at her insides. Pulling the cigarette away, she raised a fist to cover her mouth as she violently coughed, smoke puffing from her mouth at awkward intervals. A complete dichotomy to Tom's elegant plumes.

"That's dreadful," her voice sounded croaky and Tom couldn't help himself as a laugh escaped his lips. She held the bud away from her as if it would bite her and she blinked at him aghast. "And you smoke this nonsense willingly?" Was this some sort of penance? she thought.

"It's always dreadful the first go around, try again." Chiara shook her head but stopped midway through, debating. If he could do it so easily, so could she.

Reluctantly, she brought the cigarette to her lips again and Tom watched as they closed around the tip. Something about the sight was tantalizing, but he drew back from the thought quickly with the slight shake of his head.

"Breathe in slower, feel your lungs expand."

She did as told, the smoke still burned though it wasn't nearly as painful. Probably because she knew what to expect this time. The nicotine swirled around and settled over her nerves like a gentle caress, also warming her up a bit against the cold wind.

Exhaling, she pulled it away from her mouth and watched as the white fog danced between them for a moment before dissipating. "See? Not so bad," Tom chided as he took the bud and had one last drag before throwing it on the ground, extinguishing the burning tobacco with the toe of his shoe.

"Not so bad," she murmured in agreement.

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