Author's Note: Ah yes, so it has come to my attention that our favorite evil villain Voldie (as well as apparently every character) is acting out of character. And I know. : ) As I started writing this yesterday, I thought to myself, "wow, this is ridiculous." I know that Tom Riddle became known as "Lord Voldemort" in his early years of Hogwarts, and that he was feared. I know that he is an awful awful man who kills merely to gain power. I know he had no real friends. And, I'm suprised no one has mentioned this yet, but I know Lily Potter was a muggle-born. (Voldemort doesn't know this yet of course) I've done my research. But for heaven's sakes this is fanfiction. I personally think that the "bad guys" in our world are not born evil, and that somewhere somehow, they have a soft spot. At least, I'd like to believe that. I think everything we do is based on how we grew up, and who we grew up with. This entire plot line is "out of character". I mean, could you imagine Voldemort ever falling in love? Ever? So how do we know how he would react if his 17-year-old heart was ever broken, right? It's not like Rowling wrote a biography on Voldemort. He is simply the villain in her story. I'm taking JK Rowling's wonderful and brilliant plot, and twisting it into something ridiculous. With that being said…

Disclaimer: Please don't kill me…

Chapter 2: Riddle, Reminiscence, and The Attractive Frank Longbottom

Tom Riddle paced around the Slytherin common room, muttering things under his breath – perhaps talking to himself, who knows.

Tom Riddle's POV

I can't believe that girl.

I had always considered Lily Evans the most considerate person ever. I simply could not believe she had just screamed my head off and called me worthless. And dense.

Lord Voldemort is not dense!

What a thoughtless little wench. She should just leave me like everyone else does and go frolic in the grass with Alice Kinley (I made a face) and her disgusting yet attractive lover, Frank Longbottom.

The thought made me shudder.

It had already been a week since her betrayal and I still felt awful. And Lord Voldemort does not admit to such emotions so easily.

Trust me.

I am Lord Voldemort.

Speaking of which, I really wished more people would call me by that name. I had insisted it on my Slytherin lower classmen but even they were starting to call me "Tommie-boy" or the boring "Tom", or worse, "Riddle."

I hated that name. I despised it. For starters it belonged to my father. And I wanted no connection to that-, I shivered, muggle.

Secondly, the name Riddle simply did not match my facial features. Take one look at my handsome face, and you would agree too. My jet-black hair was smooth, shiny, and beautiful, and accompanied my dark eyes perfectly. I grinned and openly admitted to myself, and I'm quite the modest one, that I was the envy of all Hogwarts students.

Every man wished to be me, and every woman wanted me. Every woman – except her.

What could Alice possibly have wanted more?

How could she have left me, Lord Voldemort, for a pathetic, yet attractive, lowlife like Longbottom. It just made no sense. She must've been out of her mind! No one in this world would choose anyone over me. It was just not possible.

I stopped my pacing and my mind jumped to a brilliant revelation. Perhaps Longbottom tricked her into doing it.

He must've.

Now that I think about it, she did seem a bit out of character that one night… that one…fateful…night…

One Week Prior

(3rd Person Narration)

Lord Voldemort skipped to Alice Kinley's bedroom, completely ignoring the snickers of his peers as he passed by, for he was so looking forward to the night of hot lovin' she had promised him. He smiled widely, flung her door open, and yelled, in the deepest manliest voice possible, "I'M HERE HONEY-BUNS! LORD VOLDEMO-…"

His eyes widened as he took the scene in.

She was…

She was….

She was wearing muggle clothing.

"What, in bloody hell, are you wearing!" he spat the words out with disgust.

"Calm down Tommie; it's just a pair of jeans, nothing big." She paused and glanced up at him. "What're you glaring at? It's just a pair of jeans."

Just a what! Lord Voldemort reddened in the face. Not only was she betraying his pureblooded morals, but she even knew the name to that disgusting article of clothing.

It was awful.

He was traumatized.

He had to do something. And quick. Someone might see them together and think that Lord Voldemort had stepped to the evil side and accepted muggle clothing.

Accepted muggle habits.

Accepted muggle genes.

And jeans.

In short - Accepted his father's heritage.

Without thinking twice, he jumped on the small girl, and attempted to rip her pants off.

"What are you doing?" she screamed in protest and hit him with her small fists.

"TAKE IT OFF!" he roared.

Suddenly the dorm room, which was connected to the shower room, opened, and an attractively wet, muscular, tall, dark, and wavy-haired Frank Longbottom stepped in. He was wearing nothing but a towel, much to Voldemort's disgust.

Longbottom was just about to say something to Alice when he realized Voldemort's presence. He froze in fear.

"Get OUT Longbottom, can't you see we're busy?" Voldemort made a face. "And put on a shirt!" He paused. "And pants! What in Merlin's world are you doing withou- …"

Lord Voldemort was not stupid.

If it hadn't been for James Potty-boy, he was sure he'd have been made Head Boy. And with this brilliant mind, he put the pieces together.

"IS THAT A MUGGLE TRADITION?" In his fury, he dug his nails into Alice's shoulders, and she grimaced in pain.

"Wh-..what?…" The attractive, wet, muscular, tall, dark, and wavy-haired man stuttered profusely, and inched towards the exit.

"That towel around your waist! Is that a muggle tradition? What do they call that – a sarong? A kilt, or something?IS THIS WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT?" Voldemort glared at Alice and Frank both. "WHY ARE YOU ALL WEARING SCOTTISH MUGGLE APPARAL?"

Alice let out a sharp whine of pain, and forcefully pushed Voldemort off her. He was so surprised at this that he lost his balance and tumbled onto the floor. "Oh for heaven's SAKES Riddle," she said the last word like a curse, "why are you so dense when it comes to these things! I'm cheating on you with Frank, okay? There."

Voldemort let this sink in. He felt like she had stabbed him with something you use to stab people with. And he could feel his head getting dizzy. The last thing he wanted was to faint in front of muggle-clothed Alice and her naked Scottish lover. He picked himself up, and stumbled through the doorway, humiliated.

After-note: P.S. Scottish pride. :D I go to a Scottish private school. Our mascot wears a kilt to football games : )

P.P.S. I know most Harry Potter fanfiction writers try pretty hard to make their writing sound British (Although I'm not one to judge whether the writing actually does), but I'm pretty sure it would be an awful imitation if I ever attempted this, so I guess everyone is officially American.