Work Text:
When Tom stepped into the Great Hall, he saw the divide immediately.
The green, glared at by 3/4 of the school, sat primly, precisely, and careful to not let a smudge of fear onto their faces. They sat neatly, in clear hierarchy.
The red, on the other side of the hall, were rowdy, with broad actions and bright crumpled robes. Every few seconds, one or another would jump up and run to some other place at the table.
The blue, with a book next to almost every plate, were either oblivious or, on the other side of the spectrum, engrossed in an argument. Self-centered, but also completely sure in their opinions.
And finally, the yellow. Bright and friendly, but unassuming. Not too loud and not too quiet. Not bragging, but not still either. Talking quietly, leaning over to wave and smile, passing over a plate or a book. Friendly. Weak. Available.
When Tom went up to the Hat, his face was blank, but he was still thinking about it. What would one need to think to be that friendly and carefree?
The hat hovered over his head for just a second, maybe almost too fast - and he was being gently nudged towards the smiling, friendly faces. They clapped - but not too much. No one else in the hall did - who cared about some little lost Muggleborn Hufflepuffs?
At the head table, Dumbledore breathed out a sigh of relief, and turned his attention to watching the rest of the sorting.