slytherin boys react

tom riddle: facing death with them

something is wrong. you don't realize it at first, lying on the cold stone altar, your body numb from the magic swirling around you after he performs the ritual.

it rips through you, a brutal wave that leaves you gasping for air. your vision blurs as your body begins to convulse, your pulse slowing unnaturally as if life itself is draining from you. something is wrong, terribly wrong.

"tom," you gasp, your voice barely a whisper, but it echoes in the chamber like a cry for help. you expect him to be indifferent, to stand back and watch, cold and calculating, as he always does. but he doesn't.

you see the realization dawn in his eyes, dark, fathomless pools that for the first time show a crack in his facade. his lips part, but no words come out at first. his wand is still in his hand, trembling, something you have never seen before. he never trembles. his grip tightens, and you wait for him to turn his back, to leave you there, as you're certain he will. but he doesn't move.

the pain intensifies, your body shaking violently, and you can feel your life slipping away, fading like sand through your fingers. "tom..." you whisper again, this time barely audible.

he kneels beside you then, his hands hovering over you, his face twisted into something unfamiliar, something almost like fear. "this wasn't supposed to happen," he mutters, more to himself than to you. his eyes are frantic now, scanning over you as if searching for a solution, a way to fix the ritual. but there is no fixing this.

you feel your heartbeat slowing, the edges of your vision darkening as if the world is pulling you under. cold. so cold. and he's still there, hovering, not leaving.

for a moment, there's only silence, the kind of silence that makes your soul ache. his gaze locks onto yours, and for the briefest second, you see something raw in his eyes. his expression, twisted with anger, regret, and something you can't quite place, makes your chest tighten.

"i'm not going to lose you." his voice is low, almost trembling. you blink, barely holding onto consciousness, certain you're imagining it. he doesn't care. he doesn't feel remorse, or regret, or loss. not for anyone.

but then you feel the cold press of his wand against your chest. you try to speak, to protest, but the words won't come. he's going to leave you here. or worse, finish you off before the agony can take you. but he doesn't cast a killing curse, doesn't end it swiftly as you expect.

instead, he whispers something under his breath, words you don't understand, dark, ancient magic. and then the pain changes. it's no longer sharp or excruciating. it's final.

you feel a shift, a crackle of something electric in the air as the magic around you responds, and you realize too late what he's doing. your eyes fly open, meeting his.

"no..." you choke out, your heart pounding sluggishly in your chest, struggling to hold onto the last threads of life. "no, tom-"

but he isn't listening. he's made a decision. and for once, it isn't to save himself.

in a heartbeat, the room fills with a suffocating pressure, the magic turning inward, consuming not just you, but him. you feel the sudden pull of it. and you understand.

he's tying himself to you, using the same ritual to bind his life to yours, knowing that you're already on the verge of death. knowing that this will end both of you.

your body screams against the magic, but you no longer have the strength to stop it. "why?" you manage to whisper, your voice so faint it barely reaches him.

his expression remains hard, but there's something in his eyes, something fragile, broken even. "because i cannot live without you."

his words are quiet, and before you can process them, the magic overtakes you both. he doesn't save himself like you've always believed he would. instead, he, who has wanted to conquer death, chooses to die with you.