A/N: You may recognize this, at least, I'm assuming you will. I decided to rewrite one of my old one shots as a writing exercise and to see the change in my writing over a few years. This was the result. For those of you who have read it before, I hope you see an improvement. For those who haven't, I hope you enjoy it. I'm keeping the original up to look back on. Thank you!

Haunted

She walked quickly, doing her best not to look at any of the groups making their way through the foyer. If she looked at the groups of those being brought in, on the ridiculous excuse of stealing magic, she wouldn't be able to hold herself together. It was the luck of her birth and blood that kept her in her position, but it was her intelligence that kept her alive. She couldn't let herself be seen as a sympathizer. Nothing good happened to those who helped. Even if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she had heard the rumors. Those who helped were sentenced to death, or worse. The dementors were not on as tight a leash as they used to be.

She was nearly across the room, getting closer to the elevators that would take her back to her small office. Murmurs of the crowd swept over her. She could hear the slight tones of excitement of a small few, but no one would outwardly express their distaste. Not here.

Awareness settled over her and she realized that she could feel someone watching her. Goosebumps rose on her arms, her throat tightened and for a second she prayed it was just a loose dementor that brought the sudden fear and cold that set in her. She moved to the side of the room, further away from the crowd, but the feeling remained. The weight of the stare was familiar. She desperately hoped she was wrong. She took a deep breath and turned.

She recognized him instantly and froze. For a moment she felt like a child again, afraid to move and catch his attention. It didn't work. It never worked. He pushed off the wall he had been leaning on and strode over towards her. She stood still, willing herself to relax. She was not a child anymore.

He was not as tall as she remembered, though that could be because it had been years since she had seen him. She should have known that he had been released from Azkaban, but the war distracted her, and she had not thought of him in years. She had been so focused on surviving the new regime, she had given no thought to the possibility of his escape. She should have known.

"Miss me, pet?"

She clenched her jaw at the endearment. She had not heard his voice in years, not since her fifth year when he was sent to Azkaban and she was finally free. It was rougher than she remembered. His hair was longer too, nearly as long as hers. That damned strip of red was still in it. She would have thought the magic holding the colour would have faded, that he wouldn't have bothered putting it back in. Of course he did. He had put it in himself, showcasing it off to her, as if she should be proud. It had been a symbol, she remembered him saying, that she was his. She had never wanted him.

"No," she said finally. His eyes narrowed for a moment, seeming darker now that they were rimmed in kohl. She wondered what his mother would have said about that. "You escaped, I take it."

"Released," he grinned at her. "Good be'aviour, and all."

"Of course," she replied dryly. He stepped forwards, closer to her and she had to keep herself from bolting, or stepping back in fear. She still felt like she was prey in front of him.

"Now look hows pretty you got," he said. He reached up and tugged a strand of her hair, pulling it towards him and smelling it. "Beautiful," he muttered. He kept eye contact with her and she waited, unsure of what he was going to do. He was likely more volatile after Azkaban. "Been waitin' for me, 'ave you?" His fingers moved, twisting the strand of hair around his fingers, bringing his hand closer to her head. "Not runnin' around with that muggle boy?" He yanked her hair slightly at the mention of Sam and she winced at the pull.

She had had enough of being afraid of him when she was fifteen and he was nineteen. After he had been imprisoned, she told herself she wouldn't be afraid anymore. If only her body would listen. A minute in his presence and she felt like running. He would follow though. He always followed. Anger burnt in her.

"Stop," she demanded. He looked a little surprised at her outburst and she pushed him back, out of her space. "Sam was never a muggle, you know that. We were just friends." The past tense was purposeful. They were still friends, but Sam was muggleborn and he had all the luck in the world when his father moved them to the United States far before any of this began.

"Good," he said. "'ate ta 'ave to kill 'im." He grabbed her hand and pulled it up to his mouth. She felt her eyes widen as he turned it so that her palm faced his cheek. He leaned forward, watching her carefully as he kissed the inside of her wrist. She stopped breathing, ignoring the sudden heat that flared in her cheeks. It was an intimate act, one that clearly showcased his interest. It was something that should be done by an intended. Not him. No matter what their parents had teased about when they were young, it wasn't supposed to be him. Her trust in men had faltered because of him, because of his actions when she was so young. Too young to be forced to deal with his interest.

"Let go," she said. She pulled her hand out of his grip. "I have to get to work." She needed to get away, to breathe. She never expected to look for refuge in her office. She hated working here, surrounded by people who hated others on ridiculous notions of blood.

"Now, now, we're just havin' a conversation. Catchin' up. I missed you, pet." The hand that had been touching her hair reached to stroke her cheek instead. She flinched back.

"There's nothing to catch up on except that you're not in prison where you belong," she snapped. "We're not friends, Scabior," she used his last name to push the point across. "We weren't lovers. I was a child and we were nothing more than acquaintances because of our families until you began stalking me in school."

He moved forward suddenly, faster than she expected. He pinned her against the wall with his body. One hand on the wrist of the hand that reached for her wand while his other arm pressed against her throat. Volatile, she reminded herself, and she just pushed him too far.

"That ain't no way ta talk ta me like that, luv." His voice was hard. "Yous best be on your best be'aviour. I'm a Snatcher now, and of all them people I'm gonna snatch, 'ventually one of thems gonna be your friend." His tone was a little lighter, as if the threat was simple teasing between them. "Wouldn't want me ta just send thems to Greyback, would ya?"

She shuddered at the thought of anyone being subjected to that beast. Of course he would use that against her. She did have friends who were muggleborn and on the run. Even if they weren't, she expected that if he found any of the halfbloods she knew, he would threaten them with the werewolf just to get a reaction from her.

"'hats wot I thought." He ducked his head down so that he could meet her eyes. "Smile for me, pretty. You watch. I'll be the best Snatcher, leader soon. I'll buys us a house. It'll be jus' you an' me, luv. 'Till the end of time."

She closed her eyes, trying to swallow the lump in her throat and not cry. He would. He was very talented in hunting and tracking, especially tracking magic. He had found her often enough when she tried to hide from him. She couldn't run or hide. He was always going to find her. Even Azkaban hadn't stopped him. He hadn't been this unstable in school.

"'member, pet," he said lightly. "You're mine." The words felt like shackles around her. He pressed his lips against hers, kissing for the first time in years. She stayed still, fear flooding back into her like all those years ago. His lips moved against her slowly, until she finally began to respond to it and he pulled back.

The weight on her throat, the weight of him on her, finally ebbed. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes flew to his in panic. He winked at her. He kissed her cheek before stepping back.

"Got work ta do. Not ta worry, luv. I'll be back for ya." He blew her a kiss before shoving his hands into his pockets and walking away, whistling.

She didn't move, just watched him until he was finally out of eyesight. She took a deep breath, only to choke on a sob. Her hand covered her mouth tightly, trying to stop it. She had been so close, so close to forgetting him and all the scars he left on her in his wake. She should have left, should have fled to the United States with Sam. But he would find her. He would always find her. She pushed down the hysteria she felt crawling up her. She couldn't be here. She turned, away from the direction of her office and headed for the floo. She had to leave.

[Fin]