Neville couldn't pinpoint when he began to look forward to her visiting him in the dungeon.
When Voldemort won and he was handed to Bellatrix Lestrange as a gift for her unwavering loyalty, he'd often wished he had died with his friends.
But now three years later he waited for her like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home.
Some days she'd torture him, some she'd bring him food and heal him without saying a single word to him.
The days she was in a really good mood she'd bring down a chessboard and they'd play chess, she always won.
When she brought new gifts home from Voldemort he didn't like it, all her attention went on them until she killed them. She always killed them, but she hadn't killed him yet.
He was special to her, she had told him so.
He wasn't like her other gifts that she let other Death Eaters play with and break, he was for her and her only.