The Dark Lord's Seer

Superior Red

** TW: The following chapter contains graphic descriptions of physical abuse. DO NOT READ if you are not prepared to encounter such content. **

Our walk back was something for the books. Tom, striding into the hall confidently, practically oozing with smug satisfaction while I trailed behind, staring daggers into his back.

As we began passing his assembled followers, I straightened my spine and forced myself to walk tall, all the while attempting to hide my shattered wrist at my side. Impossible to ignore the blistering heat I felt radiating off of it, the thousand stabbing pains I felt shoot their way up my arm and down into my fingertips.

I tried to pretend I was unbothered, oblivious to the attention our reentry drew. Though in truth it was impossible not to notice the furtive glances and covert whispers. After what felt like a hellish eternity, we finally reached the table.

I braved a glance at Ra, now seated at the end of our table, arms crossed and staring down. He didn't look up, but when we drew closer I saw the corners of his mouth draw themselves into a tight, thin line. He looked completely miserable, tormented. As we passed behind him, I felt him tapping politely at the corners of my mind. I let him in with no resistance, willing my thoughts to be as clear as I could make them:

You're being too obvious. You have to act like you don't care. Please.

Apparently, that worked, at least a bit, because he straightened up in his seat and uncrossed his arms, sighing. I knew he was still in my mind - I could sense him lingering at the periphery. I rushed to add more before he dipped back out again:

You can stay here if you want, in my mind with me. That way we can be together. Please Ra? And know that I'm fine. Really.

I felt a vague sensation of sadness wash over me.

He could do that, influence me into feeling emotions. A Legilimens skill he'd demonstrated during our sessions together, purely for the purpose of showing me how it felt in case Tom made the attempt. But I recognised it for what it was in the present moment: his way of expressing to me how sad he was, the only way he could. A wave of fresh sorrow, this time my own, rippled through me as I realised how angry and helpless Ra must feel over Tom's treatment of me.

I know. Just pretend it's not real. That's what I do.

Tom pulled out my chair for me and steered me back into it, his hand squeezing my shoulder tightly as he pushed me close to the table. I felt him circle around behind me and take his seat at my left side. Slipping his hand beneath the table, he took my left hand, my good hand, and gripped it tightly.

Clearing his throat and speaking quite loudly, Tom nodded at the wine bottle in front of us, "Be an angel and fill our glasses, hmm?"

I hesitated, my eyes darting from Tom's to the bottle, and then around the table. Rashaad was staring at the two of us with a now perfectly neutral expression, though I've no doubt it must have taken him Herculean effort to do so. Beside him sat Bellatrix, then Rodolphus, and Rabastan, all in a line. I watched their faces twist in amusement as they leaned forward in their seats anticipatorily.

Ra was still in my head, thank goodness. Otherwise I might have broken down over what I knew was about to happen. But at least with Ra in my mind, I wasn't alone. I took a deep breath and lifted my right hand slowly upwards to the bottle.

Tom didn't say anything - not yet. No, he wouldn't. He'd wait. My hand about halfway to the bottle, I paused, staring at my outstretched arm. My wrist, now swollen and a rather unnerving blackish-purple colour, on display for everyone at our table to see.

"Go on, don't be shy. I'm thirsty."

I sighed and continued to reach forward, my hand drooping down like a dead weight. Beneath the table, I felt him squeeze my other hand. The message was clear: This is what you get, you fucking bitch. Now suffer.

I narrowed my eyes and attempted to grip the bottle. As my fingers tried to tighten around it, my wrist screamed out at me in pain. I gasped and released, letting my hand hover there.

Tom leaned over and cooed mockingly in my ear, "Something wrong?"

I was keenly aware how completely focused on me everyone at the table was. How all of them, save for Ra, of course, were deeply enjoying this humiliating display. I'd become the evening's entertainment. Sadists, the lot of them.

"Of course not," I muttered back, calm as I could manage. "Just a moment."

I could do this. I could ignore the pain, and with a miracle, lift the bottle into the air and fill both glasses.

I decided to make the attempt. Might as well get it over with, since he wasn't going to let this go. I gripped the bottle with all the strength I could manage. My eyes began watering from the excruciating pain as I shakily tried lifting it into the air. No use - I couldn't do it.

My poor bones felt as though I'd lit them aflame.

And Tom's hateful voice, again in my ear, "Don't spill it. If you do, I'll be very upset. That's an expensive vintage - Superior Red."

Fucking prick.

I nodded, and exhaled through my teeth. Slowly, painfully slowly, I tried again to raise it. That's when my wrist gave out entirely. It was inevitable, simply a physical impossibility. Tom knew this, of course, he'd been waiting for it. I watched in horror as the bottle slipped from of my hand and fell to the table, a quick-running river of dark red flowing out the bottle and onto the table.

"Tsk, tsk," he murmured in my ear, "You're such a fucking embarrassment."

Around us, everyone began laughing hysterically. My mind went straight for Ra:

You better laugh, or I'll never forgive you. You laugh like this is the funniest fucking thing you've ever seen, do you understand me?

I shut my eyes to try and banish the unbearable pain that action had caused me. Though it gave me some strength when I registered the sound of Rashaad's voice, laughing along with the rest of them. Good. As long as his cover was intact, and he wasn't arousing suspicion, I could find a small sense of relief.

From beneath the table, Tom squeezed my hand again, "Here."

I forced myself to open my eyes and saw he had his wand out. He winked at me and turned it towards the spill, effortlessly disposing of the mess.

I sighed with relief, though it was cut short when I felt him lean back towards me, "Now try again."

Another wave of the wand, and a fresh bottle appeared before us.

He made me repeat this ordeal four more times.