To an Unsolicited Mind [t.r]

12. Oblivion

March 1946
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Late one evening, candles provided warm lighting as they both worked. Chiara tending to paperwork while Tom filtered through his notes. However as time ticked on, her eyes would drift to the pages of his leather bound journal. She couldn't make out the writing, but of course she saw the familiar sketches of the founders objects.

He flipped the page and a drawing of a snake caught her eye, or what looked like one. "What's that?"

Her voice surprised him and he started before glancing up. Biting his cheek for a moment, he debated telling her. Tom could be as vague as he wanted, though admittedly she'd see through it.

Leaning forward in his seat, Tom turned his journal around and slid it across the table to her. Pulling the worn pages closer, Chiara observed the rough sketch of what appeared to be a skull eating a snake. "It's a bit morbid but, I like it." Her eyes trailed to something scribbled underneath it.

The Dark Mark.

"What is it?" she asked again, handing the journal back to him.

"It's a slight modification to ouroboros, a snake that eats its own tail. Except I added in the skull."

With her inquisitive brow, Tom sighed as he leaned back in his chair. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a cigarette and wet it on his lips. "The ouroboros symbol itself represents infinity," after lighting it he took his first drag and closed his eyes as the nicotine caressed his senses. "And with a skull biting the end, it's essentially well, putting a stopper in death." He tapped the cigarette and the ashes fell softly. Tom watched the action in strange interest. Not knowing why such a simple thing caught his attention.

"Immortality."

Chiara felt her brows furrow, recalling some of the papers that had been pinned to his wall. There was a fire alight in his eyes. She couldn't pin point why, but it troubled her. "Don't you think that's a troublesome thing to focus on? If you're not careful you could fall into the deep end."

Tom didn't spare a second as he shook his head. "It haunts us all. Death. Always there, lurking. I find my research notable and of viable importance. Imagine it," smoke tumbled out of his nose and it made her eyes water. His voice had taken a different tone, a tone that one only achieves when they talk about something they're passionate about. "Having complete control over your life and not having to worry about something so sudden and trivial."

Worrying at her lip, Chiara stood and walked over to a liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine. After she uncorked it, she paused for a moment before pouring a glass. "Death isn't trivial," she muttered.

"Oblivion is terrifying, is it not? Why dabble you're life in the hands of something as flimsy as Fate and chance?" Tom either didn't hear her or simply disregarded the statement.

"You don't think people can find eternity in each other?"

He stared at her, "no."

Chiara bit her cheek before taking a sip of her wine. "Dedicating so much to something impossible... Tom being frightened of death and trying to run from it will wind up killing you in the first place."

"It's not impossible I've-" rubbing at his eyes, he wanted her to understand. He needed her to. "I'm so close, and I'm not the only one. Nicolas Flamel for example with the Elixir of Life. He's immortal, but thing is it's faulty. He still ages and grows weak. I'm on the verge of discovering an alternative that's so much more effective."

Her eyes were widened and had hints of wonder, but also hesitation and disturbance. What did he mean he was close? It hit her then, and it pained her. Tom was much deeper into this than she realized.

Putting out his cigarette, he pinched his nose and attempted to put his frustration at bay. He sometimes forgot people liked to go through life ignorant. Still, he knew Chiara could be different. She was different.

Signing, he met her gaze. If she knew, she'd understand him. "Will you help me?"

Chiara shut her eyes then, the alcohol still warm in her chest though it didn't have as much of an effect as she wished. "Tom you worry me," she admitted. "This obsession of yours isn't healthy-"

"It's not an obsession, not even a hobby. Chiara listen to me. This," he tapped his journal, his eyes ablaze, "this could change everything. You're not thinking clearly."

"I'm not thinking clearly?" She said exasperated as she set down her glass. "You're the one talking about defying nature. The magic one would have to use to even brush such a practice is..." she trailed off as she remembered what that symbol was titled. She looked at him then, really looked at him. "Tell me you didn't."

Tom was oblivious to the expression of shock and disappointment on her face as he stood up from his seat with a start. "Chiara you're not listening to me, I can do it. I've already done it once before but now that I know more-"

"What do you mean you've already done it," the panic that gripped at her heart scared her. He couldn't have. What could've possibly pushed him so far that he felt the inkling, the need, to practice such magic.

What made him so afraid?

He clenched his jaw, he felt hot as his frustration at her- or he supposed at himself, got the better of his character. "Three years ago I successfully, yet albeit it was a bit rough, preformed a dark magic ritual."

"What did you do?" She pressed, stepping away from the counter and taking a step towards him with her arms crossed. How could he be so reckless? Tom stared at her and when she saw annoyance in his gaze her own patience was tested. "Tom what did you-"

"A horcrux! I created a fucking horcrux and I murdered my bastard of a father in order to do it. And I nearly died preforming the ritual but the process in the end bloody well worked. It worked, Chiara. And imagine how much more powerful I'll be with another, especially now that I'm more advanced."

Chiara went pale.

"I know what I'm doing don't you trust me?" Tom had grown frantic, his eyes more wild and he was untamed in that moment. Chiara took a cautious step back from him, her arms raising in defense, "no, not when you're shouting." He was scaring her and she hated it.

She hated him for making her feel that way.

Tom Riddle had destroyed his own soul, tearing it apart, all in fear of losing it all together. He'd never be whole again. Though a small part of herself wondered if she could help fill the void he'd created... even then Chiara knew that would never be enough. She'd never be enough.

More importantly, she hated him for doing that to himself.

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