AN: And this is the final chapter! I can't believe I've been doing this for over a year, and all the hard work I put in came out and gave me positive reviews. I'm thrilled I received such a wonderful response from everyone who reviewed and read it. I really hope you have enjoyed reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I don't know what the next fanfiction I will write will be, but I hope I get something out soon. And I don't know what will happen, but whatever comes of it will be because all of you compelled me and helped me find something I loved. Thank you so much, and if you have anything else, any comments at all, please give a final review. And by all means, any questions on my opinion on Bellatrix and/or her thinking process, message me. And please tell me what you thought about this chapter.

Thank you with all my heart,


May 2nd, 1997 -

Bellatrix gasped for air. Whatever gasping for air was in her new world. She found herself laying on the floor of a cool, white room that seemed to have no boundaries. Wherever she looked, it wasn't as if the room went on forever, but rather that she hadn't yet discovered where it ended.

Am I… dead?

She pushed herself up and took a good look at her surroundings. The room was completely empty except for the long hallways that seemed to sprawl at each end of the room.

But if I'm not dead… Where am I?

As she was walking down one of the hallways, things started to look more familiar. Thin poles came down from the ceiling like the bars of Azkaban. Outlines of the Black family tree tapestry seemed to crawl along the walls. The cackling fireplace of Malfoy Manor added pale smoke to the air. Except… it was all completely white, Bellatrix noticed.

I'm not dead… I can't be dead.

Out of nowhere, the white room reflected a bright green light.

Molly Weasley… Bellatrix remembered. So I must be dead.

Bellatrix stared into the white, processing this for what seemed like a very long time, or at least until she heard staggering sounds gasping for air.

She spun around to see a small, raw, bloody figure laying on the ground. The red blood ruined the room's perfect whiteness.

Bellatrix walked towards the creature slowly, afraid of what the world of the dead had brought her. As she walked towards it, she noticed it was becoming larger; it was healing. It lifted its head to face towards the sound of Bellatrix's footsteps. The green eyes opened.

"My Lord…" She mumbled.

A wand. That was her first instinct. To bring out her wand. To help her master regain his true strength; then they would be together forever.

No sooner than she had thought it, a wand appeared on the floor.

Bellatrix picked it up and rolled it in her hand. It was not the wand she used throughout her life. It was a plain one. Straight, narrow, smooth, and made out of a light brown wood.

Bellatrix stood motionless for a moment, watching the figure grow as the pieces of Lord Voldemort's broken soul floated around and slowly patched themselves back together.

Bellatrix took a few more steps closer. She raised her wand, thinking of a spell that would be best to use to help revive her master.

Then she paused.

What would healing him do? It wouldn't make him love me.

She stared at the bloody figure silently begging for her help.

It will just ruin everything I have in this world. Just like it did the first time.

"Evanesco." She whispered without thinking, and pointed her wand towards her old master.

The Vanishing Spell. The spell she instinctively thought to use, and it seemed to be doing its job. Little pieces of Lord Voldemort's soul were ripping themselves apart, smaller and smaller until they seemed to mold into the walls, the floors, or even just disappear.

His hatred and my love will be a part of everything now, won't it?

The process of growing was far slower than the process of pulling apart. Quickly, but still in the same flowing matter as before. Tom Riddle had realized this, and his breath became even more staggering.

Maybe this is alright. One person shouldn't be able to have all this love and all this hate all to themselves.

As his body grew smaller, his breath became slower. And slower. Bellatrix stood emotionlessly and watched the figure slowly disappear.

The last bit of Voldemort to disappear were his eyes. Piercing Bellatrix's heart, casting a shadow of dark green around the room. Constantly there to remind her of her life and her mad love for someone who was incapable of loving anything but power.

The eyes disappeared. Bellatrix set the wand down on the floor. She turned around and walked into the other end of the white. Into the unknown.

Finally moving on.