To an Unsolicited Mind [t.r]

10. Renewal

January 1946
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"Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern."

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  Reluctantly, Tom agreed to go to a New Years party Chiara invited him to. She argued it was only fair considering he failed to inform her it was also his nineteenth birthday.

A cigarette hung from his lips as he adjusted his watch, observing himself in the mirror with scrutiny.

Tom despised his birthday. Not because the celebration of it was useless and a waste of time, though that did sound viable.

He hated it because it was a yearly reminder he was one step closer to death, and one step further from his goal of achieving immortality. Nineteen may seem too young to have such worries, but in hindsight human life was a mere flicker of a flame. There one moment, gone the next.

Perhaps it was the universe's own sick way of telling him he wasn't good enough to reach such admirations, or that he was being reckless. Nonetheless, his ambition was unmatched.

He had turned his back on Mother Nature long ago.

Sketches of the founders objects caught his eye in the mirror and he turned, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked up to the chaotic looking wall.

A devilish smirk tugged at his lips as he eyed one piece of parchment in particular.

Perhaps he was a step closer to his goal after all.

Later that evening, Tom entered a pub located in the middle of muggle London, shaking the snow from his head in the process. Disgust pooled in his chest as he looked around the crowded bar. Drunkards were laughing and singing, dancing between tables as their alcohol sloshed to the floor.

Muggles.

His disdain melted when he caught sight of a familiar face. Chiara was in the back corner with her three flat mates and two wizards Tom didn't recognize. Deciding to simply watch her for a moment, the greenish lighting from the low hanging lamp made her eyes appear almost a completely different color.

Her cheeks were tinged red as she laughed, evidence she already had a drink or so in her system. Tom thought the sight was fascinating, how her grin showed off all her teeth, revealing dimples as well and her eyes began to water.

As if sensing him, Chiara shifted her gaze and immediately perked up. "Tom," she yelled over the crowd, waving her arm for him to join.

Running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, he set off and did his best to avoid being touched by the rest of the occupants. Part of him wished it was just him and Chiara, alone and in his flat again. But his rationality shoved the thought away.

Midnight was just about to rear its head, everyone watching the clock on the mantle with glossed over, intoxicated eyes.

Tom as well as Chiara were bit tipsy. He didn't want to get too drunk to the point where he couldn't remember the events of the night the next morning, but he also wasn't in the mood to be completely sober either.

Just as there were ten seconds left on the clock, Chiara looped an arm around his neck and placed her other hand on his cheek. Tugging him down to her height. As if on instinct, his arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her body to his.

"Happy birthday, Tom."

The second her lips brushed his, deafening cheers rang out all around them as the clock struck twelve. Whether it was the alcohol, or simply her, Tom threw caution in the wind and dug one of his hands in her hair, deepening the kiss in the action.

He parted her mouth open with his tongue, tracing the inside of her cheek and he felt her sigh through her nose.

Everything was warm.

Eventually pulling back, Tom tugged on her bottom lip lightly with his teeth. He couldn't look away from her swollen lips as she formed the next words.

"And Happy New Year."

Work continued up again at a more normal pace, though he'd also been preoccupied with the lead on one of the founders objects.

Chiara had also been in a better mood as of late, if that was even possible considering she was usually chipper. She was simply content with the notion they were more comfortable around each other. Note, they still hadn't strictly addressed that they'd slept together. Both equated what they did with one another to a heated moment of lust, no strings attached.

The tension was there, however. Constantly Tom kept her on her toes.

Stolen glances, standing much too close, and when they would accidentally brush past one another, one of them would find an excuse to prolong the contact. She wasn't sure if he did it to tease her, since the action was small, but when talking to her about the simplest things he'd place a hand on her back and lightly rub a circle with his thumb.

One night, after hours, as Tom watched Chiara blow a strand of hair out of her eyes as she did paperwork by candle light, he found himself wanting to kiss her again.

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