The Dark Lord's Seer

Shafiq

I was free to escort myself back to my room after the meeting with Tom. Truth be told, I could not have been more eager to get away from him. It seemed as though each interaction we had left me more confused and more tormented.

It was interesting, I considered silently as I made my way down a long hallway, to realise that no one deemed me a serious flight or security risk. Tom himself certainly didn't call for anyone to accompany me, and no one I happened across gave any pause to my walking around unattended. It seemed as though the unspoken consensus was: "she's nothing. A trifle." To be honest, they weren't wrong. Infuriating as it was to admit, there was simply no way I could escape from this hellscape - though that didn't stop me from constantly looking for a way - any way - out.

The corridors I passed through, which I realised were quickly becoming depressingly familiar, were quiet and mostly empty. I bit at my lip as I continued along, walking slowly. I was still exhausted from everything I'd been through in the past 24 hours, and certainly wasn't in any rush to get back to my prison of a bedroom.

My room. I felt my stomach drop at the idea of returning there. A place where there'd be nothing to do other than sleep, daydream about suicide, or mentally nix ideas off the list of hopeless escape plans I tried to concoct. And so I slowed my pace further, silently critiquing how ostentatiously hideous I found the architecture of this place. The entire place, though ornate beyond all measure, was dark and creepy.

Sighing to myself, I rounded the next corner and practically collided directly into someone. Stopping short just in time, I lifted my arms in front of me, a protective reflex. I didn't look up immediately, but instead directly forward. Dark black robes and an all black tunic fitted onto a tall, trim figure.

Dare I discover who? Fuck it.

Better not be someone truly awful, for my sake. The type that would torment me now and beg for Tom's forgiveness later. I hadn't encountered one of them yet, mercifully. But I knew they were here, and I was understandably concerned.

My eyes tracked upwards and I was met with a face I didn't recognise. Handsome. Painfully handsome, if I was being completely honest. He had a pale complexion that contrasted rather strikingly with the blackest eyes I'd ever seen. Dark black hair, just a shade lighter than his eyes, tousled to aggravating perfection, and a stubbled beard that complimented a well defined jawline and high set cheekbones.

I stared at the stranger, and he stared back at me. When I didn't say anything, he cleared his throat, eyes widening ever so slightly in recognition, "You. You're the girl."

The girl? I mean, yes. I knew exactly what he meant. But it still surprised me to hear it said aloud like this.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I have a name."

His eyes remained fixed on mine, "Right. Of course."

A beat of silence, and then, "Remind me?" His voice was unexpectedly warm, and that threw me.

"Y/N."

"... Y/N."

When he repeated it back from his lips, it sounded refined, elegant. We continued to stare at one another.

"Hello, Y/N."

"Hello."

Eyes as black as that, quite unusual. Captivating. But above all else, I continued holding his gaze because I was wary and trying to size up the level of threat he presented me. An unknown stranger in a den of vipers? Not about to let my guard down.

When he didn't say anything else, I scowled at him, "And do you have a name?"

The corners of his thin lips flitted upwards, forming an amused smile, "Forgive me - how rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself. Rashaad. Rashaad Shafiq."

A Shafiq. Well now. That was a name that carried weight.

The Shafiqs: old money. Serious old money and prestige. One of the sacred twenty-eight. A pure-blooded family whose roots were among the most ancient of any extant wizarding family. And though I recognised the family name, I'd never actually met a Shafiq. They were a small dynasty, and one that was notoriously private, even as far as pure-blooded families went.

"I've never seen you here before."

It was all I could think to say, though I felt stupid for saying it. I was hardly in a position to gauge such things. I was, after all, practically never allowed out of my room. And in the limited instances where I was, I was always under Tom's oppressive gaze.

"I suppose that's because I'm almost as new here as you are."

Interesting. He didn't seem dangerous or threatening, at least not in a way that was immediately evident to me. Certainly not like any of the others I'd encountered here.

I cleared my throat, "Right, well. You'll excuse me, Mr. Shafiq. I can't linger, as you can imagine."

His eyes flitted from me to the end of the corridor, the direction in which I was going. The hallway was still completely empty other than the two of us.

"Of course. My apologies. First, for keeping you. Second, for almost knocking into you. I shouldn't have been moving so quickly."

I didn't say anything else back, instead I gave a slight nod. I continued to make my way down the hall now, the sound of my footsteps echoing as I went along. And as I reached the end of the hallway, I hesitated.

I can't explain why I looked back - it wasn't really a conscious decision.

But I did.

And when I turned back, I saw he was exactly as I'd left him, still watching me.

Our eyes locked.

Shafiq. Rashaad Shafiq.

Again, I nodded, and he nodded back.

And then I forced myself to turn the corner and continue back to my room.