With Difference

Lord, we know what we are, but not what we may be.*

- - -

It had been days, perhaps even weeks, since Luna had been captured. She was taken to an overlarge house- Malfoy Manor?- where she was locked in a damp, ancient-looking prison.

The stone bricks formed a pattern that could not truly be admired through the sliver of light entering the room from a crevice where the ceiling, and wall did not quite meet. Luna, though, had tried.

She was not chained, though her company, several skeletons which were likely very old, was. There restraints jingled in a sad melody that only one so unique as Luna could fully appreciate. Had she been any other, Luna would have been horrified of their ghastly appearance. As herself, however, she was only troubled that her companions had suffered from the fate which was assured to meet her also.

Where the floor was uneven, what could most politely be termed soup gathered in stinking puddles. It was raining outside. Drops of fresh water found their way in through the small crevice to collect with the decay.

Currently, Luna was lying on the floor, her protuberant eyes misted over with exhaustion. Tangled in her hair was a wreath of dandelions; the same she wore before being abducted. The blossoms were long withered, but the knowledge of their existence did help to keep Luna from giving up just yet. Her lips parted in an otherworldly smile, as if she was seeing something beyond her dark prison.

The door opened, but Luna did not seem to notice. A tall, thin figure walked into the room to stare down at the small girl. At her visitor's arrival, Luna's lips began moving at a feverish pace, whispering long forgotten words.

"Are you enjoying your stay?" the high, cold voice that Luna knew had come from the tall figure- Voldemort- asked. The question was sarcastic- biting-, but Luna didn't seem to notice.

Without changing expression, a whisper escaped past her lips. "It is certainly very damp; I would that I were something more of a fish."

Voldemort was taken aback by this response. Anger he understood, despair he had seen, but this- she sounded as if she were unperturbed. "Do you know why you are here?" It was a simple question, one that even this odd creature could not mistake.

"I expect I have done something wrong," Luna replied politely. She frowned somewhat. "Though I can't quite recall what it was."

"I grow weary of your nonsense, little one," Voldemort said. His blood was boiling. How could a person be so naïve? He drew a wand from within his robes. Not his wand, for he wouldn't deign to use such a powerful weapon against something so pathetic as a small girl. He pointed the wand at Luna, and roared "Crucio."

Luna's eyes snapped shut, and her lips parted. Her limbs ever so slightly trembled, but she did not provide the response that he hoped for. There were no screams, no cries, no spasms of pain. Indeed one would have merely thought she was having an unpleasant dream.

Voldemort let his wand lower. Her eyes remained closed, though her lips began miming unintelligible phrases again. "Where is the Order of the Phoenix?"

Luna's eyes opened as suddenly as they had closed. She looked at the figure in front of her as if not fully seeing him- as if seeing through him. "Charms, spells, and phoenix tears, cannot erase our fears," she faintly sang.

"Do you know what I have done to those far more powerful than you could ever be?" he asked. "You have no idea the power which I have at my command." If she would not give him the answers he wanted, Voldemort decided, he would take them. He raised his wand again. "Legilimens."

Though Voldemort was inside a building of some sorts, there was a thick fog encircling him. It seemed to choke him. He could barely detect his surroundings. He squinted. A hall. Doors on either side. Rows of doors. He reached toward his left, feeling for a handle. It was locked. He followed the wall forward, groping for an unseen entrance. But every door he tried was locked.

Voldemort, frustrated, lowered his wand. He looked toward Luna. She was sitting now, her legs crossed Indian-style, making her look even more childlike. Several of the withered dandelions had been removed from her hair, and she was examining them as if they were something extraordinary.

She looked up at Voldemort, and offered him a flower. "There's rue for you," she said merrily, "And here's some for me." When Voldemort would not accept her gift, Luna let the dead flowers fall to the cold, stone floor, her eyes downcast. "O, we must wear our rue with a difference.**"

"I am the most powerful wizard that has ever been," Voldemort seethed. Really he should not be letting so small a thing get him so excited. "I regret nothing."

Luna smiled knowingly. "You surely must regret something," she chimed. "Father says it is what makes us human." Father-? Human-? She couldn't know, could she? No, he was being irrational. She had just used those awful words by chance, he assured himself.

"Don't you know, silly girl," he asked, voice becoming even colder. "I am not human. I will not die."

Luna smiled. "Everything must die," she whispered, picking up her flowers. Voldemort watched her slowly pluck the petals off, her eyes unblinking as each fluttered to the ground. "There's nothing frightening about death- it is just like sleeping. Mum told me. She says it's very exciting behind the veil." Luna paused. "It would be awfully lonely to live forever."

Voldemort stared down at the girl, the folds of skin where his eyebrows should have been knitted together. People were normally mad after he had finished with them- not before.

"But," Luna added suddenly. "I know why you want to live forever," she said knowledgeably. Voldemort waited, scolding himself for listening to her so attentively. "You don't want to face them: you think they might not forgi-"

"Enough!" Voldemort barked. "Let's see how willing you are in another week." He walked to the door, and reached for the handle. It was locked. Damn. "Alohomora." He left, Luna humming contentedly to herself.

- - -

*Hamlet IV.v.42-3

**Hamlet IV.v.181-3