December 1945
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Frost coated the windows while snow had packed onto the streets. Usually there was better maintenance to clear the pathway, but most didn't bother with that in Knockturn Alley.

The door creaked open and Chiara stifled a laugh as someone bumped into the skull. She was going to move it to a more reasonable spot, but Tom had insisted to keep it hanging at an odd angle.

"Well hello there, darling."

Chiara looked up once she realized the voice was talking to her. She was met with a boy around her age, maybe a year older, with platinum blonde hair and rosy cheeks. "Hello," she smiled warmly and sat up a bit straighter, he was rather handsome. "How may I help you?"

Her interest in him deflated slightly when he looked her up and down as if she was a piece of meat. "I've many things in mind," he smirked. The boy went to rest his elbow on the counter, resulting in an artefact falling over.

"Shit-"

Before he could reach it, another set of hands flew out and caught the object.

Tom narrowed his eyes at the customer and Chiara raised a brow, it was clear they knew each other. Before she could ask, another boy walked in with dark skin and golden eyes that complimented his complexion. Already Chiara could tell he was more reserved in nature, just by the way he carried himself.

"Zabini," Tom nodded at him before resting the artefact back down onto the counter carefully. "Malfoy, you lot go wait outside. I'll be out in a minute." The two nodded and weaved their way back out as Tom circled the counter and brought out his wool coat.

She watched him for a moment before deciding to ask, "who are they? School friends?"

He tugged the coat over his shoulders and fixed the collar, mulling over her question as he also put on his gloves. "You could say that."

Saying they were his 'followers' would be stupid.

He could feel her eyes on him as he walked out the shop, he was going to ignore it until he opened the door and the cold wind bit at his cheeks. Turning, he debated for a second if he should ask. However the smile she held indicated she had read his mind.

"Yes, you can borrow my scarf."

Chiara dug in her bag for a moment before she found the woven black cloth. Hopping down from her chair, she crossed the store and gave it to him. Tom looked at it for a moment before wrapping it around his neck. "Thank you," he muttered, not sparing Chiara another glance as he left out the door.

The wind was bitter so he took to burying his nose in the wool, only to be greeted by the floral scent of her perfume. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was definitely prominent.

He walked across the street and found Abraxas and Colin huddled underneath an enclave, a weak attempt at trying to block out the wind and snow. "What news?" Colin asked as he rubbed his hands together slightly before shoving them in his pockets.

Tom looked around them for a moment, analyzing if there were any ears bleeding before turning his attention back to the two. "I believe I've found someone who currently owns one of the founders objects."

When Tom walked back into the shop, Chiara was whistling a bit louder than needed and was avoiding looking at him. All in all, she was acting too casual. As he shrugged off his jacket, Tom narrowed his eyes and saw she was shivering a bit and the ends of her sleeves were a tad damp. "Eavesdropping? I thought higher of you."

Chiara threw away her act quickly, not seeing a point. Turning to look at him, she smiled at the sight of her scarf wrapped around his neck. "Really? I'm flattered."

Tom scoffed as he tugged her scarf off and plopped it down on the counter. The floral scent still lingered however and he knew a good shower would fix it. Nonetheless, he wasn't too worried considering he didn't say anything of importance. At the sound of a thud, Tom looked up at saw she had stubbed her toe. She was jumping up and down as swears left her lips.

He smiled, and besides, Chiara didn't really pose much of a threat.

The next day Chiara tossed him an apple as per usual, leaning against the counter for a few minutes as she watched him read. This would typically bother him, but over time he grew used to it.

"What exactly are the founders objects?"

He raised a brow but continued to read, only closing the pages once he was done with the chapter. Though excitement had already decided to build up in him, Tom always jumped at the opportunity to share knowledge with others. Seeing as it so rarely happened.

"It's legend that the four founders of Hogwarts possessed certain objects, all of different magical worth. Slytherin a locket, Ravenclaw a diadem, Hufflepuff a cup, and Gryffindor a sword."

Chiara conjured herself a chair before she sat down, leaning forward on the counter in interest. Tom watched as her eyes lit up with curiosity, her attention slowly focused on him. He liked it when she looked like that. He liked it when she looked at him like that.

"The locket was a creation of Salazar Slytherin, when he created it, he enchanted it so that only a parslemouth like himself could open it. Rumors and other studies suggest it was golden in color, heavy, and with a glittering green serpentine 'S' embezzled in stone."

She hummed, it wasn't hard to visualize the piece of jewelry due to Tom's vivid description. "Where is it now?" She asked, and he shrugged. Chiara smiled as she rested her chin in the palm of her hand, "you're going to try to find it aren't you?"

"No, I'm not trying to find it," he bit into the apple, looking at her pointedly. "I will find it."

His ambition never ceased to amaze her, but she had to give him some credit. Tom was the type of man who if he wanted something, he'd bend the heavens to acquire it. "What about the other three, are they lost as well?"

"All but Gryffindor's sword. The sword of Gryffindor was made a thousand years ago by goblins, the magical world's most skilled metalworkers, and is therefore enchanted. Fashioned from pure silver, it's inset with rubies. The sword was made to Godric Gryffindor's specifications by Ragnuk the First, the finest of the goblin silversmiths, and therefore King; though in goblin culture, the ruler does not work less than the others, but more skillfully."

He finished the apple and tossed the core into the bin beneath the counter. After that he drew out a roll of parchment and a quill, beginning to sketch out how he visualized each object. "Currently, the sword resides at Hogwarts. Where specifically, I've no idea. Most likely in the headmasters office I would presume."

Chiara watched as he sketched delicate lines in ink, forming objects with such intricate detail, though most of it came from imagination or references he saw in books.

"And the other two?"

"Ravenclaw's diadem was said to enhance the wisdom of its wearer, which is Ravenclaw House's most treasured attribute. It had a blue sapphire shaped like an oval. The diadem was later stolen by her daughter, Helena, a fact Rowena kept a secret from the other founders 'till her death bed. It's been lost for centuries, but rumors suggest it currently resides in Albania."

Finishing the sketches, he turned the paper around and watched as she leaned closer, her eyes dancing over the lines. Instead of continuing, he paused for a moment, simply just to observe her. Chiara's brow was slightly furrowed, lips tugged up a bit on one side, chin rested in palm while her other hand moved carefully across the parchment.

He cleared his throat, "And Hufflepuff's cup was created by Helga Hufflepuff. It's a small golden cup with two finely-wrought handles with a badger engraved on the side with a few jewels, the badger being the symbol of Hufflepuff House."

Her finger traced the outline of the drawings, careful not to mess up the ink, "and which founders object do you think you've found?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, albeit the notion came across more playful than he had intended. "That need not concern you."

"Just curious," she shrugged and backed away. The moment she did, only then did Tom realize the floral scent that surrounded him. Had it always been there and he was only just noticing? Or had she suddenly decided to use a more fragrant perfume? He thought it would be too strange to ask so he kept the inquiry to himself.

Later that night, Chiara asked him if he wanted to grab a quick dinner. Neither had realized how late the hour had become, both engrossed in their work. Tom was about to decline, but his stomach made sounds of protest.

They locked the shop up behind them, snow already beginning to melt into their coats. Tom turned after digging in his pocket for a moment and pulled something out, though it was too dark for Chiara to see. After a moment however, there was the sound of a spark and his face suddenly became illuminated in an orange glow.

Smoke warmed her face for a moment before he started to walk, Chiara falling into step next him. He gave a long drag, the smoke falling from his mouth looked more punctuated due to the cold air. "Here," he muttered as he passed the cigarette to her.

Chiara didn't want to develop a smoking habit, but she took hold of it anyway and placed the tip between her lips. The nicotine calmed her, she didn't even realize her heart had been beating a bit quicker than usual.

When they got to Diagon Alley, the light from street lamps fell on them and Chiara handed him back the cigarette. She watched as snow fell in his dark curls the way ash from the bud fell onto the ground, softly and soundlessly.

Seeing the bright white flakes of snow caught in his nearly back hair and eyelashes was quite the sight. Though she'd never admit this out loud, he looked oddly boyish with his nose and cheeks flushed red due to the cold.

Later on in the week, Abraxas came into the shop again, this time more cautious of the hazardous skull. Tom raised a brow at his presence, he hadn't been expecting to see him for awhile. "Anything of importance?"

Abraxas shrugged, his pale cheeks red as he tugged off his gloves. "That depends on you really," he then turned and spotted Chiara arranging new artefacts they had gotten delivered on a large shelf off to the side. "Afternoon, darling."

"Afternoon," she greeted, giving him a warm smile despite not liking him very much. He walked over, brushing the stray blonde curls from his eyes. "What did you say your name was again?"

Chiara stood up from her crouched down position and turned, only to find Abraxas standing less than a foot in front of her. She leaned back and kept that smile plastered to her lips, "I didn't."

"Leave the poor girl alone, Malfoy." Tom sighed indifferently as he bit into the apple she had given him earlier. Abraxas raised his hands in mock surrender as he backed away, though he still sent her a smirk for good measure.

"Anyway, I was out shopping so I thought why not just tell you in person. As I'm sure you already know, you've been invited to my family's hosting of the Yule Ball."

Tom hummed, he hated those parties but they still provided him great opportunities to fix alliances and other assets. He nodded once after a moment, "I'll be in attendance."

Abraxas turned to look over his shoulder, greeted by the sight of Chiara watching the two of them cautiously. He winked at her, "you're invited too, love."

Tom's lips quirked up as he watched her immediately start to wring her hands, a nervous tick of hers. Chiara's eyes widened a bit and she shook her head, "oh no, I'm okay-"

"Nonsense." Abraxas slapped his hand down on the counter and when he lifted it, she saw he had left a reasonably large sack of galleons. She gaped at him as he began to walk out the shop, but he stopped at her shoulder and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"To buy a dress."

After he left, Chiara had grown more awkward in her movements and her cheeks were flushed. Tom couldn't help the smirk threatening to take over his features as he watched her.

She could feel his gaze on her back, only making her cheeks heat up more and she huffed before raising an eyebrow at him. A silent gesture that screamed 'what the fuck do you want?'

His lips tugged up at one side and she cursed the dimple that appeared in his cheek.

"Have you ever been to one of these things before?" She asked after a moment, seeing as all he was doing was stare at her for his own amusement.

"A dance? Yes, haven't you?" His voice was a soft baritone, though a tease was hidden somewhere underneath.

"Of course I've been to a dance, but this is different. This is a ball filled with some of the richest families in the wizarding world. I can already see them staring down their noses at me." She made a funny impression of an aristocrat sticking up their chin and Tom shook his head at her childishness.

"You'll be fine, as long as you can waltz."

She huffed as she went back to organizing the shelf, "It can't be that hard."

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