It was something I had hoped would never happen. Something I had been forced to do because of the current economic problems. Something which I knew I would regret. There I was, my short, messy hair spread out over the leaf litter, small twigs and scrapsof said leaves resting in said hair. Above me, pinning me to the floor, looming over me with his shadow cast across my frame, was a snatcher. The lead snatcher. The one every knew.
Scabior.
His name sent tingles down my spine, and when I said the name, it rolled off my tongue like butter melting on a crumpet. Smooth, delicious. I savoured it every time.
His cool, cobalt blue eyes drew me in almost unwillingly until I lost myself, full of a floating feeling like I was supported by water, drifting freely but not too far. His wild, unruly brown hair, of which contained a single, lone scarlet streak blowing gently in the wind that filtered through the forest. He was studying me. Studying me like a predator studying prey.
No, I hadn't been snatched. Rather, it was the total opposite. What with the Dark Lord taking over and needing people to find the scum that called themselves wizards and witches, he had employed people to hunt them down, in exchange for money. Lots of money. This was a test. A test to see if I was fit enough to become a snatcher, to become one of them. But I was afraid. I was afraid that I had failed. When he had paced in front of those of us trying out, I hadn't listened to a word, just watched him as he moved, making note that it was very feline, very sly, very cunning. His voice had soothed me despite the fact I wasn't listening to the words, and I had had to resist the urge to leap at him and place my lips over his own. How I wanted to feel them moving against my own passionately, sensing the love he held for me. I had known him at Hogwarts, being just a year younger than him, and admired him from a distance, seeking his love even then, wishing that he would turn his devilishly handsome self to look at me just long enough to see me, truly see me. And now I had a chance to get closer.
So here I was, back against the ground, his boot-laden foot pressing me firmly down, my heart thumping so loud I was certain that they could all hear it as it fought like a woodpecker to escape my chest. Even then, I was loosing myself in his features repeatedly. It wasn't until one of the others cleared their throat loudly and clearly that we remembered where we were.
He jolted back to reality, and I noticed he played with that pink scarf around his neck (no doubt a trophy from a chase) as he removed his foot from my stomach, but didn't help me up. No, it was another wanna-be snatcher who held out his hand and pulled me to my feet as Scabior turned his back to me, wild hair drawn into a loose ponytail to keep it from his face when in pursuit. It swayed as he moved and walked forwards, pacing then turning sharply to gaze at me, the hem of his long leather jacket swirling. Everyone was watching him expectantly, awaiting his decision as his orbs filled with thought, making the final judgement while I cleaned my clothes of the dirt and grime that had clung to me as I ran, ducking under branches and leaping over fallen logs in chase of the snatcher who was acting as a blood traitor.
"Well," His voice almost made me swoon, and I had to stand very still, my slender fingers clenching and unclenching as I waited for him to continue, respect shining in my own eyes. "It seems like we have a few new recruits."
