Snape could feel his own hands growing clammy with fear. Turning around very carefully, he did some of the quickest thinking of his life. This was not a time to be proud. More was at stake than merely his own life, and he would be of no use to Dumbledore if Voldemort were to kill him now. Survival and secrecy were more important than anything else. Instinctively, Snape began rearranging his mind ... shuffling through his own thoughts and memories ... trying to find something useful ... He had it! And the pain in his left arm lessened slightly, although Snape took care to keep some of the burning there. He wanted his master to think he was guilty. It was the only way.
Voldemort was standing up now, pointing his wand at Snape, and frowning. "Why did you ask about the Potters, Snape?" he asked. Even as he was speaking, Snape could feel the slight sensation of coldness as Voldemort crept through his mind.
"I thought - I - er - I wanted to -" Snape stammered. He was trying to feign terror, but at the same time was genuinely afraid of whatever punishment Voldemort might choose to mete out. He was not sure he could face another bout of the Cruciatus Curse. Would he be able to concentrate on occlumency when his whole mind and body were consumed with pain? He doubted it, and it was this uncertainty that shook his voice and twisted his face into an expression of apprehension.
"You thought what, exactly? You have no reason to think about the Potters. You should be concentrating on the Longbottoms." With each sentence Voldemort uttered, Snape could feel the pressure of his Legilimency increase. "Perhaps you have been in contact with them. Perhaps you wish to change sides."
Throwing himself to the ground and reaching one hand out toward Lord Voldemort, Snape cried, "No, master! I swear -- I serve only you!" Snape looked up quickly, gauging Voldemort's reaction, and softly added, "If only I --"
The pressure on his mind suddenly surged, although it was still nothing, a whisper, compared to his father's attacks. It seemed to Snape that Voldemort simply intended to continue searching his mind until it snapped. It would be preferable to bring this crisis to a conclusion as soon as possible. He could feel himself beginning to crumble as he said, "I -- I wish -- master -- I wish -- I know -- the prophecy --"
Voldemort screamed a howl of rage, wordless and terrifying. Snape knew what was coming next and flung his whole being into keeping control of his occlumental artifice. "CRUCIO!"
For Snape it was a nightmare of pain. He desperately wanted to curl up into a ball, for it was animal instinct that now controlled his body. The entire focus of his mind had to be upon Occlumency. Voldemort must not break through. This torture could not last forever. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He had to hold on. Voldemort stepped closer to him. An anguished wail burst from his mouth as the pain became a thousand knives stabbing him at once. He had to concentrate. Prostrate on the ground, his hands scrabbled at the pine needles, trying to find a place to hide. A mantra began to drift through his mind -- not long now, it would be over soon. He held onto the words, trying to believe them. Bile rose in his throat, and he tried to retch. Not long. His body arched and contracted again and again. Over soon. Teeth clenched against the agony, unable to swallow, eyes wide, Snape endured another wave of pain. Not long. And another. Fire. Over soon. Ice. Not --
"Stand up!" barked Voldemort. His punishment of Snape had clearly not dispelled his anger.
The ordeal was over. Shakily, Snape got up, making feeble attempts to brush the pine needles from his robes and hair as he did so. Had his attempt at Occlumency worked? Lord Voldemort had spared his life, so far, which meant he still had a chance. He tried to pull his thoughts into order. The torture was finished but this did not mean that the rest of this meeting would be easy. He needed to know what his master thought. Legilimency was out of the question -- he was certainly not proficient enough to try accessing the Dark Lord's mind. He tried to find the right words. "Master -- truly -- I would never betray you -- truly."
"Yes, you're too much of a coward for that, aren't you, Snape?" Voldemort's voice seemed to shake with emotion. Hatred? Scorn? Snape could not tell. But his words struck hope in Snape's heart. He had been tested, and he had survived.
He bowed his head. "My lord."
"Confess, Snape, and let me see if you have learnt to tell the truth." Voldemort turned his back on Snape and walked to the edge of the clearing, staring into the darkness of the forest.
Snape knew, having arranged his thoughts so precisely, that Lord Voldemort did not need to ask these questions. He had the answers already. However, "I -- I made contact with Rookwood, master. He helped me gain access to the Ministry of Magic's records of births, and seemed interested in knowing why I was searching for children. When I suggested that it would be wise for him to refrain from interfering, he remarked that he was only curious because of something that he had heard, something about children, and Regulus Black. Naturally I was curious -- although I can see now how wrong I was to pry -- and so I met Black and ... encouraged him to tell me what he knew."
Voldemort did not respond. He seemed mired in thought. Was he checking to make sure that Snape's words matched his thoughts? Was he deciding whether or not Snape's life should be preserved? Snape desired nothing more than to sit down, and was just on the point of moving back to the empty chairs when Voldemort, still gazing into the lifeless shadows beyond the glade, spoke.
"Black is no longer an issue. I have been assured that ... None of my followers must know of it. None." His voice was so low that Snape could barely hear it.
This was not how Snape had envisaged their conversation proceeding. "Master?"
Ignoring him, Voldemort continued to murmur -- apparently thinking aloud. "But I still need the Ministry, of course. Rookwood will be silenced, yes ... He can be subdued. And my spy must know ... from the Potters ... and ... "
"Master?" asked Snape again.
"Perhaps this is better," said Voldemort in a louder voice, returning to the middle of the glade. "You are still useful, Snape. This is what I want you to do ... "