A/N: Hey people! Sooo… this is one of my several attempts to write something for the three Harry Potter fanfic challenges I plan to take on now. :D This one, which should be followed by more in the coming weeks probably, is for the Word Count Game challenge (courtesy of Cheeky Slytherin Lass). Basically, based on the statement "Write x amount of words if…", you see which of the criteria you fit and add up the corresponding amount of words, pick the appropriate number of prompts, and write. It's confusing… go search for it, lol! It's in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.
So for this one, the criteria I filled out were:
a. I wrote a fanfiction in the last week that was under 500 words ("Alone"), and
b. I'm a Whovian :D
So I get 225-250 words and two prompts. *Puts on aviator goggles* Here goes!
Snow
Prompts: snowflakes, Cruciatus curse
"Crucio!"
Seamus screamed, the sound echoing through the frosty air, arching his back in pain as a wave of agony attacked him. The pain was indescribable, tearing at his insides like a white-hot iron, seeking to slowly break down his defenses and destroy his will to fight.
He felt Amycus' hot, sour breath on his ear and gave an involuntary shudder. "Learned your lesson yet, have ya?" Amycus sneered. Seamus glared at him, hatred burning in his eyes.
Alecto regarded Seamus coolly. "Nah, I don't think so, Amycus," she drawled, a malevolent smirk spreading across her face. "Better do it again. Pinch to grow an inch, don't the phrase go?" She raised her wand and Seamus grit his teeth against the inevitable pain that awaited him.
"Crucio," Alecto said lightly, as if commenting on the weather. Seamus gave an involuntary roar of pain and collapsed to the ground, scrabbling with bloodied fingers at the frozen turf. He felt unconsciousness threatening to envelope him as he fought to breathe, to think, to do anything—but there was nothing but his agony…
When at last the spell ended, he was lying on his back, staring up at the thick grey clouds above him. Something soft and cold was falling on his face…
Snowflakes, simple and pure, were drifting down from the sky, creating a fine powder on the ground. His mind wandered foggily to past winters—the shouts and yelps of ecstatic students as they pelted each other with snowballs; the girls skating with their enchanted shoes on the Black Lake…
And then the pain came back, followed by crushing blackness.