Only rated T because I'm paranoid- Voldemort's a pyschopath, and so his thoughts are sort of crazy.

OK, so like the summary said, slight Bellatrix/Voldemort. Yum. :) It starts from the moment Neville cut off Nagini's head, and goes until the moment Voldemort and Harry begin to fight. Every time I read the Deathley Hallows, this scene is just begging to be written from Voldemort's POV…. It' a little psycho and dramatic, but hey- it's Voldemort we're talking about here. His thoughts. In his last hour. I think he has every right to be dramatic, and even more so to be psycho. So. Yeah. :)

Enjoy.

I watched Nagini's head spin through the air as if in slow motion. My mouth opened, and I screamed. It wasn't a scream of horror, fear, or sadness, though any could have applied; it was a scream of rage. The Longbottom child couldn't have known. It was as though Harry Potter wasn't dead after all, as though he was alive in every single person here… They were all out to get me, now.

Before I could even begin to raise my wand to punish Longbottom, a Shield Charm erupted between us. I had no idea who had cast it, and there was no hope of finding out; chaos had overtaken everything. Beasts of all sorts were stampeding, driving every wizard back into the castle. I went with the crowd, firing spells at anyone who came near me. Eventually, I found myself at the doors of the Great Hall. I backed in to it, still firing spells indiscriminately and yelling at my Death Eaters. Everywhere I looked, they were getting beaten down in every way possible; many were even stabbed by house-elves. Those that weren't fighting were fleeing, which ensured that they would never again find peace among wizards. Neither I nor anyone else would have pity on them.

I still fought, however. I fought furiously. There was no way anyone could beat me, Lord Voldemort, fighting with the Elder Wand; and yet nothing I did seemed to have any lasting effect. I snarled angrily, taking on three at once. The old cat woman, the chubby man in his pyjamas, and the tall Auror- all three were powerless to stop me. They wove around me, poking and prodding, trying to find a chink in my armour, but I had none.

My defenses were falling, my followers dying and deserting- but it wasn't over yet. In a split second before casting another spell, I caught sight of Bellatrix Lestrange. She, too, was battling three at once. They were teenagers, admittedly, but my forces had been repeatedly shown not to underestimate them. These particular teenagers had some skill. Pity it was wasted….

I saw a green flash of light erupt from Bellatrix's wand, and it barely missed. Satisfied, and vaguely thinking that Bellatrix's obsession with me at least had some upsides, I again focused on my battle. However, my attention was again diverted as a horrible screech rang out a heartbeat later: "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

I spared a quick glance at what was happening; a stout, red-haired woman was sprinting towards Bellatrix. Bella laughed, and I mentally shook myself; she would be fine, and my fight was infinitely more important anyways.

Bellatrix's fight was quite a spectacle, though. I heard the yells and snarls emanating from the two women, and felt the waves of heat roiling outwards from their battle. I caught intermittent glimpses of Bella, fighting as though in a dance. She was mad and terrifying, but her opponent did not falter. Finally, just as I sent yet another spell towards the Auror I was fighting, I heard a burst of insane laughter, the firing of another spell, and then… silence.

I whirled. As though in slow motion, I watched the curse hit Bellatrix. The grin froze and melted from her face, and she fell backwards. A roar expanded from the watching crowd, and the scream was ripped from my throat without my permission.

I had had many faithful Death Eaters come and go, people such as the young Barty Crouch and the infinitely loyal Severus Snape, but none had I felt anger for. Some, like Severus, I had even given my express permission for them to depart from this world; I had guided them into hell myself. But not Bellatrix Lestrange.

The fury burst from my heart and from my tattered soul, hurling my three opponents through the air. I turned, raised the Elder Wand, and pointed it at Molly Weasley. Murder was written all over my mind; I was the reaper, and it was my time. The world would burn, and Molly Weasley would regret it all.

The Shield Charm expanded from thin air, and I turned, rage still searing through me, to watch Harry Potter appear.

He had been dead. He was alive. And I would kill him again. But this time, I wouldn't just kill him. I would burn his life.

We looked at each other, and we began to circle, the infinite dance of death.

He would burn. I would send him on. And Bella would be there to meet him, loyal until the end, and beyond.