Disclaimer: Don't own any characters or story, J.K does! But when I invent a time machine, I will steal Harry Potter and then I will own the series! MWAHAHAHA:)

This is my first fanfic, I am planning to write more on this because I've always wondered what Voldemort was thinking.

This is Voldermort's P.O.V in the chapter 'The Forest Again' in the 7th book; page 562 onwards (Aus verrsion!)

Praying, sitting. He felt many eyes on him. One…Two…Three… He was counting slowly in his head. The Potter boy must come. But yet, he felt, ashamed of himself. Him, thee Dark Lord… Scared, frightened! He sat, the fire was flickering beneath is eyelids. His eyes were closed, hands rested in front of him his long white fingers clasped over the precious elder wand.

For anyone that saw him they would see 'He Who Must Not Be Named' calm in stature, peaceful, composed. But underneath his cool physique was the complete opposite. Conflicted emotions raged within him: anger, sadness, happiness, confusion… Fighting to take control, to consume him. He couldn't realise what he was feeling or why. He was going to finally defeated the one that had won over him so many times.

As a baby, a boy of eleven and twelve, he had survived. At the age of only fourteen, he had survived being tortured and escaped. Escaped from the graveyard, that had been so carefully planned for months. Escaped from the Department of Mysteries and smashed the Prophecy. Survived the night of the Trance. Survived two battles of Hogwarts, at least the old man had fallen in the first battle. He survived in Malfoy's Manor, and when him and his filthy Mudblood and blood traitor companions went to the ministry…

The sound of footsteps broke him from his trance. He opened his eyes quickly and felt his Death Eaters tense and the air became thicker. Looking around he saw no emerald green eyes, in the sea of black. He felt his heart become heavier. Yaxely and Dolohov approached him.

"No sign of him my Lord," whispered Dolohov. He heard his voice quaver, dripping with fear.

He felt his emotions rage within him. He felt the emotion that he hated, the emotion he tried to suppress. The feeling of helplessness. It swallowed him up, constricted his throat. He continued to stare at the fire. The boy hadn't come. What would he do? But he didn't let any of his emotions appear on his face. He had mastered that in the orphanage. Emotions showed that you were weak, they made you weaker, more vulnerable. He opened his mouth to speak and felt everyone around him tense up.

"I thought he would come… I expected him to come." Everyone said nothing, frightened of what he would do to them if they did speak. This was comforting, he was feared and respected by the men, women and creatures around him. The silence was deafening. He did not want to admit defeat, but he, the Dark Lord would find him… Even if it meant admitting what was troubling him.

"It seems I was… mistaken." No-one dared to even breath, this was reassuring.

Suddenly out of nowhere the boy stepped into the clearing.

"You weren't."

The voice was loud, and the words were shouted. But the volume didn't mask the fear in his voice, and his voice broke. This brought great ease to Tom. The boy was frightened of death.

The Dark Lord looked up and examined the boy that stood in front of him. His eyes were full of fear and sweat was dripping from his forehead. There was a strange shape underneath his robes. Voldemort's eyes scanned his hands. To his surprise there was no wand in his hand. The boy would no put up a fight, this was a relief. Yet only a few seconds had passed.

All hell broke lose. His Death Eaters all reacted differently. There was gasps, laughter, cries…

"HARRY! NO!" The giant yelled. But he didn't care, thankfully one of his Death Eaters silenced him.

The boy's eyes were darting, he was sweating and his hands balled up in tight fists. Emotions again splashed through him. Fear… It hit him in the chest. The man in front of him was a Horcrux. A Horcrux he hadn't meant to make, but Potter was. At least Nagini was safe. As long as his serpent lived, so would he.

Fear… it was what stopped him raising his wand and taking the boy's life away. Fear of… dying. Fear for losing yet another Horcrux. Voldemort toyed with his wand, to make himself appear in control but he felt frozen with fear. Did Harry have to die? But the Prophecy suddenly came into his mind.

'Neither can live while the other survives.'

The emotion was toying with him, the Dark Lord raised his wand. Potter's face filled with fear. But none could fathom what he, himself was feeling. All the while his Death Eaters were still there, but no-one else mattered. Only the boy in front of him. He could practically hear Potter's heart-beating frantically. Beside him Bellatrix was watching him with admiration, her chest rising and falling; as she was panting with anticipation. He pointed his wand at his enemies chest.

The Dark Lord had said these words so often, so quickly; usually with out a second thought, but this time it would take courage. He had to get it over and done with. Voldemort felt all eyes on him, including the bright green ones, which he met. Voldemort tilted his head to the side. Would it work? Would he finally kill the boy? He observed the boy.

Potter's eyes were filled with fear, yet had a slight far away look about them. His lips were parted slightly. Voldemort glanced at Nagini. She looked so beautiful sliding in her magical protection. She filled him with… hope? He had felt emotions tonight that he had never felt before.

"Avada Kedavra."

There was a flash of green light and Voldemort saw the boy fall. But something happened that had never happened before. Everything was going out of focus. He was falling? Collapsing? He saw Bellatrix's worried face and then there was just darkness.