The Prophecy
Rating: PG (Crucio used)
Author: Liniya
Summary: Severus Snape returns to his Lord with news of the prophecy… and his incompetence.
A/N: If Severus seems a bit out of character… well, I don't play/write him often enough to get a good feel on him. However, even the bravest person trembles at the sight of Voldemort, and a furious Voldemort…
Also, this ficlet was written at three in the morning… which may have some effect on the crappyness of the ficlet.
---
"Master!" Severus Snape fell to his knees at the sight of his Master.
"What news, Snape?" Voldemort hissed. He was no longer the handsome boy whom all the teachers at Hogwarts loved; time and terrible deeds had hollowed his cheeks. His features seemed burned – quite waxy and distorted. The dark eyes were surrounded, not by the usual white but a blood red. One thing, however, had not changed: Lord Voldemort was as pale as ever. "Speak!"
"Dumbledore met with the great-great-granddaughter of the Seer Cassandra. With great sorrow I inform you that though she made a prophecy, the barman caught me before I could hear its entire contents." Severus was shaking now; his thin, dark clothed frame trembled visibly in the feeble light.
"Did not manage to hear all of the prophecy, Snape?" Voldemort asked softly, his eyes colder than ever. "Whom did the prophecy concern?"
"You." Now his voice was also shaking. It was not often that Severus Snape lost his cool, but when he did… "And the one with power to vanquish you."
"And you failed to hear all of it?" Voldemort's voice went as cold as his eyes. He did not tolerate failure.
"The barman…" Severus attempted weakly, quailing under his Master's gaze.
"Silence!" He commanded. "What did you hear?" Voldemort seemed to be restraining himself with difficulty. Anger was evident in his pale features and his voice.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies." Severus repeated, keeping his eyes focused on the hem of Voldemort's robes.
"Look at me, Snape."
Severus did as he was told. He saw, rather than felt, his Master invade his mind, searching, confirming.
"You have done well to bring me this."
He blinked. Was his Master not going to punish him for his blunder?
"But I am most displeased that you failed to hear the rest." Voldemort raised his wand. "Maybe this will teach you. Crucio!"
Severus fell on his side, his body withering in pain. He distinctly heard Voldemort's laugh, but in his agony, he could not tell whether it had simply been his overworked imagination. Whether seconds, minutes, or hours passed, he did not know. All he was aware of was the excruciating pain racking his body. After what seemed like forever, the curse lifted, leaving Severus still twitching uncontrollably on the ground.
"Send in Macnair." Voldemort said from somewhere above him.
Still shaking due to the prolonged influence of the Cruciatus Curse, Severus slowly picked himself off the ground and blowing, backed slowly away and out the door.
---
A/N: I intend this to be one shot, but who knows? Maybe another plot bunny will bite me when I reread HBP for the third time.