To an Unsolicited Mind [t.r]

13. Awakening

April 1946
__________

  Chiara hadn't come in for work in the past week and she wasn't answering any of the owls he'd sent. Tom debated swinging by her flat, but took easy note that at the moment he probably wasn't wanted. He understood, what he revealed was a lot to process, especially so suddenly. Tom was trying not to blame himself, but it dawned on him he probably scared her off.

There had been a moment two days ago, well around three in the morning and he had a bit too much fire whiskey. Her floral scent was still imbedded into his sheets and he couldn't stand it anymore... he broke.

Tom didn't know when but his wand was in his hand and in a moment of pure rage he clenched his fist and white raw magic burst from him, throwing everything in his apartment back and into the walls. Falling to his knees, he'd rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands as he'd attempted to slow his breath. The next morning he got a telling off from his land lord for the amount of wall damage, even though with a simple flick of his wand all was repaired.

She'd come around eventually, she had to.

Tom was unlocking the shop, eating an apple, though it wasn't as good as the ones Chiara usually brought. He nearly wanted to laugh, seeing as golden apples symbolized immortality. Shoving the door open with his shoulder, it squealed loudly on its hinges as he weaved his way between displays.

He had picked up the daily prophet off a stand in Diagon Alley and threw it on the counter, not knowing whether or not he had any interest of reading it yet.

He'd gone about his duties, though admittedly boredom kept seeping back in. Chiara was his usual source of entertainment. However, despite everything, there was slight excitement still in his chest due to a meeting he had planned next week. The collector who currently had Hufflepuff's cup in their possession finally agreed to a sit down. Tom was so close.

Looking towards the door, there was the ever present inkling of wanting to tell Chiara, knowing she'd share his enthusiasm if only they hadn't had their ridiculous argument.

Walking by the counter, the moving image of a child crying caught his attention. Reading the article title, it was another list of the dead due to Grindelwald. His interest wasn't peaked, such a story was normal considering a war was raging all around Europe. Magic and Muggle alike.

The recent attack however was a country side village that had been hit a few days prior.

His eyes skimmed over the names apathetically till one made him halt.

Tom's muscles became rigid and stiff, his eyes glazing over as the letters poured into his mind, trying to process.

Dipping his head, Tom clenched his jaw, he was shaking. His fists suddenly slammed down and he swept an arm across the counter, knocking whatever objects resided to the floor with a clang.

With a wave of his hand the newspaper caught fire and he turned, wanting to scream but he paused when he caught his reflection in a mirror.

Crimson eyes stared back at him.

____________________________________

Please VOTE & COMMENT if you enjoyed!!!