Voldemort awoke to find that light had not yet begun to seep into the room. He could make out the figure of the girl, Luna, sprawled on the floor on the opposite side of the room, and knew that she slept without fear or anxiety. Thinking over everything Luna had told him about her, he concluded that she was not crazy as everyone thought she was; her ideas about magical creatures that no one believed existed were quite peculiar, but the rest of her personality was perfectly justifiable.

The witches and wizards who called her "Loony" were too close-minded to realize that cutting through the nonsense of lies was the best way to live. Voldemort prided himself on finding the truth in people who lied to him. He was an accomplished Legilimens because the truth was essential for his plan to succeed. She had a sad childhood, with her mother's death, but she still had love from her eccentric father.

Luna stirred, turning over and opening her large eyes. Voldemort knew those eyes held many deep emotions, even though she always seemed to float effortlessly through life. He felt a strange connection to her, as though she could understand why he became the person he was. Telling her everything about his past seemed almost normal to Voldemort, even without the aid of the Veritaserum. Trusting another person was weak, of course, and if he were being honest with himself, he would admit that he never would have told her anything without a potion's help; yet Voldemort could not bring himself to regret discussing his childhood with Luna.

He did know that a person would not put Veritaserum in the water goblet for no reason, and that was why he was determined to figure out who placed him in the dungeon-style room and why they did so. The sunlight was bright enough in the room to allow his investigation to go smoothly. Voldemort rose to his feet and began circling the room, looking for anything on the walls that would indicate an outside presence.

Luna stood and moved to the food in the corner to gather her breakfast items. As she popped grapes into her mouth, she surveyed her surroundings and watched as Voldemort moved slowly around the room. His scrutiny of the walls piqued her curiosity, so she asked, "What are you looking for?"

Voldemort answered her without looking away from the wall, "There must be some reason why we're in here, and I'm trying to find some proof that another person was present recently; how else would we get the food and water every morning?"

Luna pondered his revelations for a moment. Then, deciding his theories made sense, she moved to the wall on her left and searched for any evidence of someone else's recent activity in the walls. They searched for about an hour before Voldemort asked, "What is this?"

Luna traveled the length of the room until she was standing next to him, and she inspected the area to which he was pointing. Protruding from the wall was what seemed to be a camera lens, small enough to be overlooked without detection. Luna had heard of these devices before, when her father had described to her the ways that Muggles remembered events.

"It's a video camera," she replied, the words drifting towards Voldemort as though caught in a light breeze. "They're like the regular cameras, but they take many pictures in quick succession so that the many photos look like they're moving. It's the Muggle way to develop a wizarding photo, but these cameras record sound, as well."

Voldemort's fears had been confirmed; someone was indeed spying on the two of them, listening to the many secrets he had spilled to the seemingly innocent girl. He turned swiftly towards Luna and his hand closed around her throat. Slamming her up against the wall, he looked straight into her eyes as she gasped for breath. Her feet thrashed a few inches above the ground and her fingers clawed into his hand as she struggled for escape, but his long, thin fingers had a hidden strength that many did not expect.

"Who sent you here?" he demanded, glaring at her with such hatred. He despised nothing more than he did a traitor and this little girl had been the worst of all. Had he been able to use his wand, he would have used the Killing Curse without difficulty. Under the current circumstances, however, Voldemort was going to have to get his hands dirty.

"No one sent me here… I came by Portkey… just like you…" Luna replied, fighting for breath. Voldemort did not believe her, so he continued with his questioning.

"What do you and this other person want with me?" his hand squeezed tighter around her throat, and her face became as blue as the irises of her eyes.

"I d-don't… know… what you're… talking… about…" Luna struggled to voice her response, but she had little air left in her lungs. She pleaded with her eyes, willing him to see the truth within them.

Something flickered across Voldemort's expression, an emotion that gave her hope, and she inwardly smiled before sinking into darkness.

Voldemort lowered Luna's unconscious figure to the ground before turning back to the lens. He believed Luna, despite all evidence to the contrary, and wanted to know what she had done to be placed in the dungeon room with him. He could guess as to why he was trapped; many witches and wizards wanted him dead, but few were foolish enough to try to perform the task of killing him.

Something in Luna's eyes had convinced him of the validity of her claims. He had never been able to trust another soul, and to trust her was a huge development in his personality; so big, in fact, that he had a hard time putting faith in her.

He did not like what he had done to her, cutting off her air supply, bringing her so close to death. Had she been a spy, he would have felt justified in his actions. Something about Luna was changing him, slowly, until he could no longer recognize himself.

Luna awoke, hours later, with a sharp ache around her neck. Putting her fingers to her throbbing skin, she winced as she recalled the events that had caused the pain. Voldemort had believed her to be a spy for someone because the two of them had discovered a camera in the wall. Her heart ached for the man who could not trust, could not love, another. Hearing about his tragic past brought light to who the man standing before her had become. She wished to pull him into her arms and hug him until he realized that he was capable of receiving affection. She could not deny that she had felt her heart break when he described the seemingly unlovable child who lived so miserably, and turned to pain for comfort.

Luna, always so honest with herself, knew that she was beginning to develop feelings for Voldemort. Evil though he was, Voldemort was not entirely to blame for his actions. That he did not self-destruct in his childhood was a testament to his vitality.

"Have you ever felt sorry for the families of your victims?" she asked, needing to hear his answer, whatever it may be. "Have you felt sorry for taking someone else's life from them?"

Voldemort was taken aback. Never, in his seventy years of life, had he heard someone question whether he regretted his choices. He himself had never even considered the notion. He looked at Luna, studying the expression on her face. As per usual, she looked to be deep in thought, as though her ideas required constant supervision.

"Never," he replied, "because their deaths had to occur for me to ensure my survival."

Luna blinked once, twice, three times before she replied, "Isn't that a bit ironic? That life had to end for you to live?"

"Irony aside, it was still necessary. Now I must speak to you about an idea that I had while contemplating our current situation." Voldemort slid closer to Luna and whispered in her ear, "I know the camera can record sound, but I don't know how strong it is. If we whisper, hopefully we can avoid the camera picking up our voices.

"The person seems to enter the room when we are asleep, so I say we pretend to sleep tonight, then when the person comes in we attack."

Luna considered this plan. "Sounds good in theory," she replied vaguely, "but maybe we should just observe tonight, then act when we have an idea of what we're up against."

Voldemort did not like his plans to be altered, but he could not argue her logic. "Very well, we shall simply observe tonight."

Luna studied Voldemort for a while longer, and as she did so, her neck ceased to throb in pain. She opened her mouth to speak, but Voldemort spoke first. "About what I had told you," he began, "concerning my childhood, I am not glad that I confessed so much. However, I find it hard to regret telling you, specifically."

Luna knew that was the best form of praise she could expect from this man. She leaned forward, in excruciating slowness, until her lips met his cheek for a swift peck. Jerking her body back to its original position, Luna rose to a standing position and traveled to the food in the corner. Voldemort felt an electric shock where her lips made contact with his skin, and unfamiliar warmth seeped into his face and moved through his limbs. He knew not of this type of magic, was sure that magic could not even be performed within the room, but there was no other word to describe the instant transformation of his body.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he moved in the direction of the food once Luna vacated to her corner of the room. Choosing grapes and carrots, Voldemort went to his respective corner and ate his meal.