A/N: Here I am again, but this time, with my first ever Voldemort story! I'm sorry, I couldn't help but make him slightly schizophrenic, hence the "we"s...

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, obviously. You know me, my name is not Jo. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

We open our eyes with a sharp intake of breath. We do not sleep. We meditate. We think. We would not have gotten as far as we have without thinking. Did you think that it was easy, getting as far as we have? No. It required years of thinking, of planning and strategies. We have the most conniving mind in a century. A millenium. More than possibly in all of history. We are Voldemort, and there is nothing that we can't out think. There is nothing that we fear.

When we open our eyes, we do not forget what was on our mind when we were meditating. We were thinking about Potter. How could one boy create so much trouble for us? We are told it is because he feels love, which we do not understand. How could the smartest being in the world not conquer something as simple as love? It couldn't be that difficult to understand. And yet somehow we still can't comprehend what made that silly girl give up her life for the boy. He wasn't even that old then, she couldn't have been that attatched to him. It is a crazy notion, in our opinion, this love.

There are others around us who feel love. Lucius feels love, for his wife, for his young boy. He thinks he can hide it from us, that we don't see his weakness, but it is there, blatantly written on his face when Draco enters the room, or in his eyes when Narcissa squeezes his hand under the table.

We can deal with admiration. We need admiration, in fact. Admiration is not the same as love. Bellatrix feels admiration. She thinks it's love, but creatures like us cannot feel it. Bellatrix has never felt love, any more than we have.

She enters the room just as the thought crosses our mind, as if she is called to us. She kneels at our feet, our most devoted servant, and looks at us as if awaiting orders.

"Have you done it?" we ask, and she nods.

"Yes, my Lord."

We nod in reply, and she watches our face as if she is expecting more, as if she is expecting us to tell her how well she did. It is only a half hope, though, as she knows we do not hand out compliments. But somewhere, inside her, she is hoping that we love her, too, because she is human, and humans hope for the silliest things. She is hoping that someday we will show some sign of affection towards her. But affection is weakness, which we will not admit. It is different from admiration, too. We are very attatched to her, though. She is our most devoted servant, after all.

We are greatly perplexed by the whole business of love, and we would ask someone what the fuss is about, but we are expected to know all. People wouldn't adore us as much if we admitted to that. And so we shall try to understand that look that Lucius has, and the desire in Bellatrix. It isn't necessary to know now anyway. Potter can 't use it as a weapon, so we will not worry about it anymore. Love is love, and it is obviously none of our business. And by forgetting about it, we overcome the only weakness we have.

Soon we will go after Potter, and when we do, love will not matter.

A/N: And that's all folks! Sorry that it's another short one...Reviews = Love! And who doesn't like love? Other than Voldemort, I mean.