I have decided to write a collection of Voldemort short stories/poems/things. Here is the first one: it's kind of mushy. But the rest is different.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

Love's Last Curse

I walk through her house

She lives here

She with James Potter:

That arrogant Gryffindor

Insane worshipper of the Phoenix

Unworthy of my Lily.

He with his glasses

His spiteful smirk.

His clever wandwork.

But why should I recite poetry to her, she who cannot hear me? She thinks I hate her. She thinks that I am cruel and evil. She does not understand true glory.

She likes that bigheaded bastard Potter.

She cannot see past the spell he entwines about her. She refuses to see that I, Lord Voldemort, greatest wizard of all time, do love her.

She is the only thing that could be a heart in me.

And so now I walk.

I never get bothered by hypocritcal situations, never worry about good and evil. Philosophy is for the weak, the strong need only use brains and power, not twisted words.

But now I wonder how she sees me.

I go to kill her son, a threat to me. That is as it should be. I will not allow myself to die.

Except for her sake.

But she is a Gryffindor. And so I wonder if she does not still posses that age-old thinking that killing a loved one would cause her to hate the killer.

I think. Would I hate the one who would kill her?

Yes, I would. She is mine, and mine alone to kill.

Aha- see that fool James Potter flying down the stairs. I raise m wand. I kill the stinking idiot who has stolen my Lily's heart and soul.

I go up the stairs, and find my sweet Lily standing by that bed, her son held tight. The living reminder of her scorn of me.

I plead with her, beg her to save herself. She refuses.

I have no choice: I kill her.

She falls to the ground, and I walk close, and touch her eyelids. She in death does not recoil.

I kiss her lips, the only time that I ever shall.

I step back.

I kill the boy.

PAIN! PAIN! I HATE THE PAIN!

Why is there pain? Why is my body gone? Why am I mist, less that spirit, not a ghost? Why is that cursed baby crying? Is this my love's cold revenge on me? Why do I hurt? Why do I shriek, cry, yell?

Why cannot I live?

I flee this house, my Lily's house. I send it down in shards about me. I howl with inhuman despair.

Why have you cursed me for loving you?