Lost | Tom Riddle ✔

Chapter 62

          "I don't care about your reasons Alphard, neither do I want you there, but apparently it won't be good for the reputation of any pure-blood family. So you will be there at 7 sharp. No excuses. No drama." A beautiful black-haired female barked orders. Her flawless light skin glistened in the light as she towered over her brother, who neither bothered to stand up to join her nor did he offer her a seat. In fact, he didn't even look up from his dinner plate. His hand was busy meddling with non-existent food in it with a spoon.

          "Believe me Walburga. Had I given with a choice, I wouldn't have bothered you on your engagement ceremony. And creating a scene on that night is the last thing I will do since it will make everyone realize how I was also there and it is the last thing I want."

          The seventeen-year-old Black beauty narrowed her grey eyes. Her thin lips pursed as she scrutinized her younger brother carefully. "Very well."

           She gave a fleeting glance to all the pure-blood maniacs her brother called his friends. Her lips twitched a little as she gave Avery, Lestrange, Malfoy, and Mulciber a smile. A disgusted glance was thrown at Rosier for she still had a doubt about his sister's sexuality. She didn't even spare a minute to look at Tom. Prejudiced as she was, his academic achievements didn't affect her opinion on the Riddle boy. Despite all those years that he had spent in the castle, nobody knew Tom's blood status. And that made him nobody in the eyes of the girl who valued blood purity above anything. Over everything. Initially, this used to unsettle the Slytherin Prefect, but now he had matured to not give a damn about what anyone thought of his ways.

          It was silent for a few moments after the girl departed from her brother's side. It wasn't a secret that the Black siblings were not exactly the most ideal pair of siblings in the world. Everyone knew how Alphard will not save Walburga even if, in some hypothetical situation, she turned out to be the last human on the planet other than him. In fact,  if that situation ever arose, he was sure they both would kill each other and let the planet be lifeless.

          "Is it just me, or the Green trio is not a trio anymore?" Alphard Black squinted his grey eyes, as he broke the deadly silence that has graced upon them. His dark brows furrowed as he looked at the infamous pureblood female trio of Slytherin house. He patted his black locks to make sure they were in place for the hundredth time that evening.

          Everyone from their little squad turned their heads the direction the philanderer was looking in. Everyone except Tom Riddle and Evan Rosier that is. Tom, because apparently - he was too cool to gossip and Evan, well, because he was being Evan, which meant paying undivided attention to the apple pie in front of him. It amused everyone how much he could eat despite never being overweight.

          Indeed the Green trio wasn't sitting together. More precisely Parkinson and Hornby were not sitting with Flint. They all were looking like they were having bad times. Parkinson was looking livid. Hornby wore her clueless expression instead of sneering. But Flint was looking the worst. Her puffy eyes didn't hide the fact that she had been crying for days. And nights. 

         "Well, they had their fall out," Rosier said as he cut his pie with a knife, and placed its piece in his mouth elegantly.

          Marcus Mulciber, another gourmet of the group, who was sitting next to the male Rosier, rubbed his cheek with the back of his palm to clean the traces of pumpkin juice and licked them off. This was a difference between those two. One followed table manners some of the times, while the other one did that none of the times. Abraxas, who sat across from them scrunched his nose in distaste, but added anyway,