Not Me
Written by Chibikan
Summary: Inspired by the song Not Me sung by Heather Headley, Adam Pascal, and Sherie Rene Scott, a love story of epic proportions unfolds. In Not Me, love is proved to indeed be the greatest power when Voldemort meets a young muggle woman, while in the guise of a young man in the small market of the small Little Hangleton. Can he win the love of this young girl, will his heart be changed by the endeavor, or is their failure Written in the Stars.
Author's WARNING: MAJOR AU! There will be a lot that does not agree with CANON! There will be much OOCness (imagine a lovesick Voldemort if you will)! If this does NOT sit well with any of you, please, hit the back button near the left hand corner of your browser. Any flames concerning the AU nature or the OCCness of this fic will be ignored for you have been warned.
Original Character introduction:
Lucinda Duthridge: A young adult female caring for her sickly mother in the small town of Little Hangleton. Known through the town for her beautiful voice, and captures the heart of even the Dark Lord Voldemort with said voice. Appearance: Long golden blonde hair, bright glimmering blue eyes, likes to wear peasant frocks (much like Briar Rose from Disney's Sleeping Beauty)
And now, on with the show……
Prologue:
Little Hangleton wasn't a pleasant town, not in the least. It was often visited by rains and storms, making the landscape very dreary indeed. Many of the people were cold, probably from only getting a glimpse or two of sunshine a year.
One inhabitant was particularly cold, in fact one could quickly, easily and accurately draw the conclusion that he was evil, maybe even demon possessed. This man resided in the largest home in the town. It was one of those big, creepy, houses that one only sees in a horror movie. In fact, one could probably expect Freddy or Jason to answer to answer this door. The man himself was just as fearsome with a ash-white snake-like face and wicked red eyes. Cloaked in a massive set of black robes, this man sat in a comfortable looking forest-colored arm chair.
Voldemort at the moment, had a blistering headache. He'd just returned from the Department of Mysteries feeling weaker than an overcooked noodle. Tonight had NOT gone well. Yes, the animagus Sirius Black was dead, he could consider that a partial victory, but it wasn't enough. He had come for a prophecy, and to kill Harry Potter and had succeeded at neither. What was he doing wrong? What was he missing? What wasn't he getting?
Just as he was starting to contemplate it, a sound reached his very sensitive ear. What was that? He sat up straighter, straining to here. It was coming from outside. He got to his feet and hurried to his balcony. He saw the faint signs of sunlight, he'd no idea how late or rather early it was. He heard the sound again, calling his attention to the east. He could hear it better now, it was singing. The silvery voice of a young maiden. He had to find out who it was. Why, it had to be a muggle naturally, but for a muggle to have such a voice, why to him it was extraordinary. Grabbing his long billowing cloak from the coat stand he donned it and hurried out of the manor, down the walk and through the gate.
The sweet sound grew closer as he entered the village. No one seemed to be out. Of course they were probably still asleep. But one was not. He knew it. Finally he found the source. In the town square at a water pump was a beautiful young woman. The colors of the morning sunrise gleamed off her golden hair. A shawl was wrapped around her shoulders to keep the cool morning air off her.
From under his cloak the muggle-hating dark lord felt an awkward smile form on his face. He was lost in her beauty. Staying in the shadow of a building, he watched as she finished her business of filling a pail with cold water and then left, disappearing into the door of a nearby cottage. What was this stirring feeling in his gut. His heart was pounding, and he had to release a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. His stomach felt weird and he felt a giddiness burning inside him that he hadn't felt since he was a teenager. What was this feeling?
AN: Yes, I told you mass OCCness, mass AU-ness. Consider me a strong advocate for "love in odd places" stories. Tell me what you'd like to see in this, I do take requests within reason.