The Dark Lord's Seer

The Persistence of Memory

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

He stared at me, his voice deadly quiet, "No one calls me that."

"And why not? It's your name, is it not?"

"You would be foolishly misguided to continue this line of questioning."

It was a warning - and hardly a thinly veiled one. But I'd been sufficiently pissed off at hearing what he'd done so casually to my coworkers. The flippancy with which he'd dismissed their lives. And so I pressed forward, completely disregarding my better judgement.

"Tell me, Tom. I simply must know."

An extremely ill-advised reply on my part, it turned out, because less than half a second later his hand met my cheek. It was a hard slap, so hard that my ears rang as the sting reverberated across my face. I gasped in shock as I stared back at him.

He smiled cruelly, "Guess your visions didn't prepare you for that. Perhaps I've made a huge mistake with you. How good a seer could you possibly be?"

Bringing one hand up to my face, I rubbed at my cheek. I hissed back at him, "Go to hell."

"I think not. Now. Stop wasting my time. You and I have serious business to discuss."

I straightened up in disbelief, "Business? Is that your euphemism for whatever this is?"

He clapped his hand on my shoulder, pushing me downwards roughly as he pulled out the chair closest to me at the table. Before I could protest, he forced me down into it and slid into a seated position on the tabletop beside me, hovering over me, "As I tried to tell you at the Ministry, I've shown up to offer you a most generous offer. You will hear me out."

Apparently so. It was looking more and more as though I didn't have a choice. I debated another show of defiance, but when I considered my still-tender cheek, I decided perhaps now was not the time. Instead, I just stared back at him darkly.

He cleared his throat, straightening his tie as he continued, "Your gift. It's rumoured to be unlike anything ever seen in our world."

"Nobody knows about my gift."

"I do. I've got eyes and ears everywhere. Loyal eyes and ears that alerted me to your potential."

Ministry infiltration. Had to be. It was the only possible explanation, especially given the way he'd just waltzed in there and stolen me out from under them.

Tom sighed and nodded at me, "It's true though, right? You really are an unrivalled prophet?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. I'd say nothing. I'd give nothing away.

The two of us stared at one another intently. If it weren't for my rage, I might have cracked and broke his gaze. He was so intimidating sitting like this, lording down over me. And though I hated him, I was equally fascinated by the power he exuded. Thank Merlins for my fury: it carried me through, kept me from averting my eyes.

"Let's be honest with one another, shall we Thomas?" I whispered his name softly, a daring tease. And though that was undeniably reckless, I was proud of myself in this moment - of how my tone was far more confident than how I really felt.

He stared back at me, and I'm certain he wanted to slap me again for my insolence, or else hurt me in some other way. And yet - miraculously - he held back.

I bit at my lip and continued, "You'll demand and coerce my service whether or not I agree to it. I don't need the gift of sight to know that. It's your way, isn't it? Relentless pursuit once you've set your sights on something?"