Nothing Like You and I

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Author’s Note
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We are getting to the deep action part of this story! Be prepared because this thing will become one massive rollercoaster ride! I’m still debating on whether I want it to have a happy ending or not *shrugs* we will see. Just so you know, it’s difficult for me to write David’s part because I keep typing “Draco” and have to re-read everything to make sure it says David and not Draco. Boo I know. I highly recommend you listen to the song during your reading – well during the good part and I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You all are awesome, that’s why!


Song:
Say My Name Before You Die
Requiem for a Dream
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2Ma4BvMUwU


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Say My Name Before You Die
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She spent the entire day with him, with David. It felt as if she were cheating. Not only on Remus but the memory of Draco. They laughed, shared stories, and had a good time. David was nothing like Draco aside from looks. He knew nothing of the magical world, and she had tried to ease that topic into the conversation. He hadn’t heard of Gringotts, thought she made a joke when she mentioned dragons and flying on brooms, and thought she had play money when she pulled out a galleon for him to inspect. It was heart wrenching, but whenever she looked into his eyes she saw him. She saw Draco.

He was different from Draco in every way. He didn’t say anything crass, rude, or even remotely patronizing to her. He held doors open, helped her into her coat and paid for their meal. Their conversation never strayed into unfamiliar territory but she soon began feeling uneasy whenever he grazed his hand across hers. It wasn’t that she was committed to Remus, which was partially why, but it was the fact that this man was not Draco. It irked her how similar he looked yet how different he was.

He began showing more of a need to touch her, despite her obvious talks of being in a relationship. While he claimed they were friends, she had to note that they had just met. He would hold his arm out for her at first but soon he’d wrap his arm around her waist, to which she’d pull away. David always apologized for his actions but never seemed to take the fact that she was beginning to feel uncomfortable around him to heart. He’d wind up doing the same.

Three days she spent with him, trying to decipher if he truly was Draco or a facsimile of him. In two days she had discovered that he was nothing like Draco. He was a completely different person to begin with and she didn’t like it. Upon his request, Hermione allowed him to visit her at the flat she shared with Remus the last day before Teddy returned. She received an owl from Remus stating that he was stuck in Romania for a few more days and, for once, really was anxious to see him return. David knocked lightly on her door, to which she opened and smiled as he held up a bag of Chinese take away.

“I passed the Wong King take away restaurant on the way here,” he said smiling as Hermione unloaded the small boxes, “Figured you’d be hungry.”

“Thank you, David, that was really kind of you,” Hermione replied with a faux smile, offering him a seat across from her.

“It’s no problem really,” David replied, sitting beside her instead.

She shrugged the uncomfortable moment from her subconscious and began dishing the food onto several plates. They ate in relative silence, with David asking questions about who she lived with and what Remus’ occupation was. She lied and said he worked at the London Zoo, which was the first thing she could think of. Considering that he worked with magical creatures could imply that he worked with others, right?

“How long have you been with him?” David asked, slurping some noodles into his mouth.

“About five or six months,” Hermione replied, spearing a piece of orange chicken onto her fork, “But we’ve known each other for a long time.”

“Ah,” David nodded, “Isn’t he a bit old?”

“Excuse me?” Hermione quirked an eyebrow, lowering her fork to the table.

David was quick to intercept the conversation before it went spiraling downward, “I didn’t mean it to be rude or shallow or anything. He just looks older from the photographs and there’s nothing wrong with dating older men.”

Hermione had to remind herself that the photographs on the wall, at one point, moved but she had to put a stasis charm on them before he came. Currently a photo of Remus holding three year old Teddy in his arms made him look as if he had smiled awkwardly with one corner of his mouth drooping a little too much. Yes, Remus was twice her age and while they had received some raised eyebrows from their respected friends, they made one another happy. It wasn’t as if they planned on marrying, Hermione knew Remus would never marry again after the death of Tonks. They had one another and it was clear that they cared for each other. There was nothing wrong with that.

“He’s almost twice my age,” Hermione simply said, chewing on her food slowly, “But we get along fantastically and he has a son.”

“He’s not yours is he?” David asked, looking at a violet haired Teddy, “I would never let my child color his hair magenta.”

“It’s violet,” Hermione corrected, placing her fork beside her plate, “And no he’s not my son. Remus had a wife before she passed a few years back.”

“Oh, so you’re the rebound,” David said, ignoring Hermione’s twitching lip.

She was tempted to smash him over the head with a plate. Even her Draco wasn’t that insensitive. He had accompanied her to Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin’s memorial and expresses regret that he didn’t get to properly meet her. This…this man was obviously lacking any compassion when it came to death. He had blatantly asked about Draco and how he reminded her of him and how he died. She lied again and told him Draco died in a car accident, to which David shrugged and had the gall to tell her that Draco was probably a very bad driver. She almost got up and left from their second tea date but some how she was propelled to stay, if only to look at the face of a man she loved one last time.

Hermione said nothing and went back to eating her meal in silence.

After their meal, Hermione showed David around the small flat and was prepared to give him the swift boot until they came upon her small library. She had, of course, removed all magical books from the shelves making it look a little sparse but sparse was different in Hermione’s mind compared to others. There were still walls of books stacked on top of one another.

“I like this one,” David said, holding up Gone with the Wind, “I think it portrays an accurate stance as to how populations suffer during times of war. It can be applied to many different eras: Civil War, American Revolution, World War I and II. Impressive piece of literature.”

“It’s fiction,” Hermione shrugged, “But I do agree with you on that.”

“Hm,” David nodded, flipping through the pages, “I used to have this in hardcover but…I lost it in the move.”

“Ok,” Hermione looked away, “Well, this is the library um the living room is this way…”

Hermione spun to walk out but stopped when she felt David’s fingers wrap around her wrist lightly. Turning to look at him, she felt dread climbing up her spine as he approached.

“I quite like it here, if you don’t mind,” he said in a hushed breath, leaning over Hermione.

“I think Remus is coming back soon and…” Hermione whispered, trying to pull from him.

“You said he was out of town for a few more days,” David noted, making Hermione want to kick her self for that piece of information she had to toss out.

David smirked and leaned in, brushing his lips against Hermione’s. She cringed when she felt his soft lips press against hers and struggled. There was an electric spark when their lips met, but it wasn’t that spark she felt when she first kissed Draco, let alone when she kissed Remus. It was as if that spark was tearing into her very soul, pulling at the strings of her heart. She felt uncomfortable. Bringing her free hand to his chest, Hermione pushed. He may look like Draco, but he was most definitely not Draco. David stared at her with penetrating eyes, towering over her like a creature from the black lagoon.

“I thought…you wanted this,” he whispered, drawing her closer to his body, “You stared at my lips all throughout tea the other day. “

He licked her ear, sending shivers of the wrong kind down her spine.

“Let go of me,” Hermione ordered, frowning at him, “I don’t want this.”

He sneered and pulled her in, lowering his mouth over hers. It was rough and passionless, almost as if he were trying to dominate her. Hermione struggled but found she was pressed too close to his chest to move. His lips bruised her own with the sheer force he inflicted on her. With a sigh, Hermione relaxed, feeling his hand snake up to her chin to hold her face still as his tongue swept over her lips.

Her fist clenched and she moved, punching him in the side of the face. David howled and stumbled toward the shelves. Her eyes looked over him and she noticed that the button of his cuff had come undone. Staring her right in the face was a pitch black Dark Mark, squirming over his left forearm as if it were trying to break free. Hermione bolted at the moment, hearing his footsteps pound after her. She let out a scream as his hand wrapped into her hair and pulled her back. Stumbling over her feet, Hermione fell against his chest and struggled when he wrapped an arm around her.

“Stop fighting this, Hermione,” David breathed against her neck, his teeth clenched, “You know you want this. You’ve always wanted this.”

His hands traced over her stomach, ripping her blouse with ease. Hermione cried out through a clenched jaw as his hand pressed against her bra, tearing it away.

“No!” Hermione shouted, raising her foot and stomping on top of his.

A shout tore from his throat and she ripped herself from his grasp. Her eyes locked onto the door of her bedroom where she hid her wand and made a mad dash for it. David rounded on her and brought his arms out, wrapping it around her waist and pulled her back. She felt him release her and fell onto the hard wood floor hard. David stormed over her, grasping her by the hair and pulled her to her knees.

“You filthy little bitch,” he crooned into her ear, pulling her hair tighter.

“Get off of me!” Hermione shouted, feeling his hand wrap around her mouth to silence her.

She opened her mouth and bit down, drawing a heavy amount of blood. Pushing back against David, Hermione ran toward the door. She skidded over the rug and nearly fell against the couch but saw the door so close to her. She slammed herself into the door and tried to open it. The locks were undone but the door wasn’t opening.

There was an odd feeling filling the air. Evil. Pure evil. Spinning around, Hermione planted herself against the door as the shutters around her began fluttering. Lights above her flickered on and off, and a creepy fog grew from the floor boards reeking of death. Her eyes widened as David rounded the corner. His hair billowed in invisible winds, eyes a piercing red and skin gaunt and pale. His eyes looked sunken in and lips were almost nonexistent with their color blending in with his skin. His shirt was unbuttoned and pale sparking skin shone under the flashing lights.

“Now now,” he cooed, “Come back here, Hermione. Let’s have some fun…”

“Oh gods,” Hermione breathed, running to the window where she tried to lift it.

She screamed loudly as David grasped onto her throat and threw her with super human strength across the room. Her body slammed into the wall, knocking down all the portraits. Glass shattered around her as she was cut across her forearms. He threw her, without touching her, against the other wall. Slamming into a bookshelf, Hermione slumped to the ground and groaned. She could taste the blood in her mouth, her teeth having torn at her inner cheek. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth and down a small cut on her forehead.

Trying to crawl away, she let out another cry and felt David rip hair from her as he threw her over the sofa, effectively knocking it down. She grunted with a breath, rolling onto her side as she heard David march toward her. His footsteps echoed across the room like pounding sounds – causing her to clench her eyes closed to keep her from passing out. Hermione darted as fast as she could to her bedroom and threw the door open. Crashing onto the bed, Hermione pulled her wand from the pillow and spun around. The room grew dark and she could hardly see. Her vision blurred as she shouted lumos over and over. Nothing.

There was a gust of wind in the room, icy to the feel and reeking of malevolence. The door to her bedroom flew open, ripping from its hinges and barely scraping past her. The sheets of her bed billowed upward, almost cascading across her body. Hermione spun around when she heard a cackle behind her, right in her ear. Goose bumps traveled up her spine and across her skin as she blindly made her way to the door. She heard the sound of voices whispering behind her, words she couldn’t make out, but their tones were dark and ominous.

“I knew there was something special about you,” David said, his voice dark and mechanical, “Ever since I saw you all those years ago…”

Hermione’s throat became dry as she fell, having tripped over the edge of her bed. She held her breath and clenched onto her wand despite the pain in her probably broken wrist. Sweat began beading across her forehead, mixing with the cuts and scrapes as they traveled down her face in streams of diluted blood and salt. She heard footsteps and took a breath. With one large leap, Hermione tackled the figure over, listening to him crash into Remus’ night stand and ran out of the room, or tried to. The doors around her slammed shut and the wooden floor boards began to rattle.

“Here witchy witchy witch,” his voice echoed in a disembodied fashion.

She let out a cry as her foot slipped and fell into shards of glass. Portraits around her exploded, showering her with ripped photographs, splinters and glass. Covering her face, Hermione wince when she tried to move. The room began flickering with an odd emerald-teal color, casting horrific shadows over the walls. Her eyes widened when she noticed the elongated shadow across from her and knew exactly who she was now dealing with.

She rose and tried to run, ignoring the stabbing pains of glass in the bottom of her heel. As she made it to the opening and closing front door, tormenting her with the chance of escape, Hermione felt her head being yanked back. She stilled when the tip of a wand pressed against her throat, her own wand falling from her fingers.

“Who am I, Hermione?” David breathed, chuckling quietly. “I’ll give you one good guess before I kill you.”








“Voldemort.”