Write about someone born in February (Arthur, Luna, or Newt)

Extra Prompts: (color) taupe, (dialogue) "If you are going to breathe down my neck, at least have a mint), (word) refreshed

Warning: mentions of torture

1408 words

"My Lord, we have two more," Bellatrix said proudly, her dark eyes flickering with pride.

He nodded. His thin lips stretched into a malicious smile. "Well done." He motioned quickly with his hand. "Bring them in."

Bellatrix returned his smile before stepping outside again. A moment later, she was back, pushing two bound and gagged teenage girls along.

The disappointment must have been clear in his expression—important people like Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagall were out there, and his lieutenant was bringing him back children?—because Bellatrix rushed to push the first girl forward, a nervous laugh bubbling from her lips. "Look, my Lord," she said, pulling the girl roughly by her red hair. "It's the Weasley! Please don't be—"

"Enough!" He moved forward and removed her gag with a quick flick of his wand.

"If you are going to breathe down my neck," she snapped, her freckled face scrunching up, "at least have a mint."

Another movement of his wand, and she was gagged again. Voldemort moved to the next girl, amused by the clear difference. The girl with matted blonde hair and bare feet seemed almost tranquil, like she had been sedated.

"The Lovegood brat," Bellatrix said proudly.

He nodded. Now he understood why Bellatrix was so eager to bring him her new toys. These were not ordinary, unimportant teenagers. After Longbottom's public execution a month before, only Lovegood and Weasley remained to lead that ridiculous underground resistance, Dumbledore's Army. Without those two, the rest would crumble.

The Dark Lord removed the other girl's gag. No angry words came out. Instead, she stared at him with her wide, pale eyes.

"It's okay," she said, her soft voice dreamy and sweet. "I know you just have a Wrackspurt infestation."

He didn't bother to gag her again. She was already so calm and docile that there didn't seem to be a point. The other girl, however, continued struggling against her restraints, steadily murmuring angrily against her gag.

"Take the Weasley girl," he told Bellatrix. "I'm sure you will enjoy breaking her."

"Thank you, my Lord," Bellatrix said with a polite bow of her head. She grabbed Weasley by her arm, squeezing tight enough that her fingernails pierced the skin and streaks of blood striped the young witch's pale skin. "And the other one?" Her dark eyes were alight with sadistic glee, no doubt imagining the many things she could do.

But Voldemort shook his head. He reached out and patted his most faithful follower's cheek. "You're bloodlust is admirable, Bellatrix," he praised, "but you mustn't get greedy. This one is mine."

If the Lovegood girl was afraid she didn't show it. Her head remained high, and she kept her serene expression.

Perhaps she would not be as fun to break as the Weasley girl—the ones who were made of flame and anger were always the hardest and most rewarding to break—but he would enjoy himself nonetheless. Each little rebellion that he crushed meant he was solidifying his power. That made everything worth it.

x

Nearly a week passed before he decided to visit the Lovegood girl in her cell. He wanted to visit sooner, but he knew he needed to be patient. The solitude would break her.

When he stepped into the cell, however, his illuminated wand tip flooding the darkness with light, she didn't look at all bothered. Her eyes found him, and she smiled. "Hello again," she said. "I thought you might visit soon."

She didn't try to escape or attack him. All she did was sit there, rubbing her dirty hands over her tattered white dress and leaving it smudged with taupe dirt stains. Despite her time in the dark, musty prison, she still looked refreshed, like she was enjoying a stay at a nice retreat.

Voldemort didn't understand how she could look so calm. She'd been left in darkness, completely alone for five days.

"Are you not afraid?" he asked.

The Lovegood girl shook her head, her matted curls thumping against her neck. "I like the dark," she said, her bony shoulders shrugging upward. "It isn't as lovely as the light, but it's still rather beautiful, don't you think?"

"I don't find anything beautiful."

Chapped lips forming a sad smile, she leaned back, resting her head against the damp brick wall. "I know. That's why I feel sorry for you," she told him.

"I do not need your pity, Lovegood. I am on the winning side."

"Luna," she said softly.

"Excuse me?"

She smiled wider. "My name is Luna," she clarified. "Or Loony, but that isn't very nice."

He rubbed his temples. This conversation was going nowhere fast. There had to be a way to break her; he would find it.

x

Torture didn't work either. He was never one to get his hands terribly dirty—murder was one thing, but he was never quite sadistic enough to enjoy torturing his victims.

Bellatrix was more than eager. Voldemort stood back and allowed his faithful servant to subject Lovegood to the Cruciatus Curse again and again.

The girl looked so pitiful. Her thin body twisted this way and that, and her screams filled the air.

But she didn't break. Whenever she caught her breath, she just smiled again and said something about forgiveness. Bellatrix lifted her wand to curse her again, but Voldemort intervened.

"My Lord—?"

"Enough. I do not want her mind damaged," he said darkly.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Leave us, Bellatrix."

She looked like she might argue, but he silenced her with a glare. Bellatrix hung her head, her dark curls curtaining her pale face. Muttering under her breath, she stormed off, leaving Voldemort alone with the odd girl.

He approached her. Though she trembled from the aftershocks of the torture, she didn't look afraid of him.

He circled her like a predator observing its prey. Her head was held high, but there was something in those silvery eyes he had never seen before. He'd seen anger, defiance, panic and so many other emotions, but none of those described what he saw in her now.

"You're not breaking."

Lovegood only smiled in answer.

x

It took nearly a month, but he found a solution.

He sat down with her, and he talked.

Emotions were useless to him. He didn't care about friendship or love, and the only desire that fueled him was the desire to achieve greatness and create a world that was his. But others liked emotions. The Lovegood girl had them, and he needed to understand them. That was the only way to find the secret to her mind. Then he could be done with this baffling mystery that became a tiresome obsession.

Once Lovegood was broken, he could do so much more.

x

"Why aren't you afraid?"

The girl smiled at him. "I don't care if you hurt me," she said. "It's only temporary."

Voldemort studied her. How could she mean that? Most people tried to avoid pain. The brat, however, simply accepted it.

He had hoped she would be more compliant, but he wasn't surprised. Only an idiot would spill their dark secrets and hand the enemy the keys to their downfall. But he had still hoped that starvation and isolation would loosen her tongue.

"Very well," he said, raising his wand. "Legilimens."

x

It all made sense when he saw her mind.

She was lonely. She spent years being bullied and afraid.

But there was hope. He watched as she smiled when the Weasley girl sat down beside her.

She wasn't alone anymore; she had friends.

And he had his answer.

x

The Weasley girl was close to breaking. Bones poked against her skin. Taupe and purple bruises painted her body while wounds, old and new, streaked her skin.

The fire was gone from her eyes. She barely even managed a scowl.

Voldemort checked the Lovegood girl's bindings to make sure she was secure. He said a quick spell to keep her eyes open. There was no way he would let her look away.

Bellatrix approached the Weasley girl and smiled nastily as she forced the young witch onto her knees. "At your command," she said proudly.

"Do your worst," he said before turning his back on them.

As he walked away, it wasn't just the Weasley girl screaming. The sweet, docile little Lovegood brat cried out, her sobs loud and echoing as she called out, "Ginny!" over and over.

He smiled to himself. He was one step closer.