Losing (Tom Riddle X Reader)

▕⃝⃤ 08 | The Slytherin

"You okay?" Altair asks as you stand next to him, your face flushed and eyes brimming with tears. "What happened with Dumble—"

"Black, Altair!"

"Don't worry," you sniff, managing a small smile. "We'll talk later."

"But I can't just leave you when you're—"

"Black, Altair!"

"Go, slowpoke!" you giggle, giving him a playful nudge.

He smiles that charming smile at you again before making his way to the stage, visibly tense as he climbs onto the pedestal. The sorting hat is placed atop his head, and the Great Hall falls into a hushed anticipation.

"I don't know why they even bother with the sorting," a girl whispers behind you. "He's a Black for Merlin's sake!"

"Exactly!" another agrees. "It's obvious he's going to be in—"

"Hufflepuff!" The sorting hat announces.

A dead silence descends upon the Great Hall. Every single person, including the professors, gawks with bulging eyes. Waves of whispers ripple through the crowd. Your eyes fix on Altair, his face pale as paper, jaw dropped open, shaking slightly as he stares into empty space. The shock in the room is palpable.

Your gaze drops to Vega Black at the Slytherin table. Her perfectly glossed lips twist into a sadistic glee, eyebrows arched with a mix of surprise and disdain. As you glance back towards Altair, your eyes suddenly meet Tom's.

Tom's expression is unreadable, his dark eyes intense as they lock onto yours. A chill runs down your spine, the weight of his earlier words echoing in your mind. The tension between you is thick, a silent challenge passing between you.

Meanwhile, Altair slowly makes his way to the Hufflepuff table amidst whispers and murmurs filling the hall. He appears dazed from the unexpected sorting, the atmosphere charged with disbelief and speculation. From the Slytherin table, a whistle pierces the air, followed by condescending laughs and jeers. You watch with growing concern as looks of loathing are directed at Altair.

You're torn between wanting to comfort him and the unnerving stare-down with Tom. The Great Hall feels like it's holding its breath, waiting for the next move in this unfolding drama.

Then, suddenly, chaos erupts. A plate flies from the Slytherin table towards Altair. He reacts just in time, dodging it by an inch. Gasps and shouts echo through the hall as the plate crashes against the stone wall, shattering into pieces.

You rush to Altair's side, heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger. "Are you alright?" you ask urgently, checking him over for any signs of injury.

Altair nods, shaken but unharmed. "Yeah, I'm okay," he manages, his voice wavering slightly. "Thanks."

As professors intervene to restore order and address the incident, you shoot a fierce glare towards the Slytherin table, where Vega Black watches with a smug expression. Tom's gaze remains fixed on you, unreadable yet unsettling.

"I'm fine," Altair reassures you as he settles uncomfortably at the Hufflepuff table. "Go on."

"I can't leave you alone—"

"He'll be alright," Cecelia interjects, slipping into a seat next to Altair and wrapping an arm around him comfortingly. "He's one of us now."

You look around to see all the Hufflepuffs smiling warmly at their new family member.

"We'll take care of him," Cecelia winks at you, and Altair gives you a measuring smile.

You nod reluctantly, drawing reassurance from the supportive atmosphere around Altair. As you turn to leave, you catch Tom's gaze one last time, the intensity of it lingering in your mind.