Nothing Like You and I

Author’s Note:

This is the last chapter and I loved it! Epilogue is on the way. Still wondering if it will be happy or not…not exactly sure just yet!


Draco rounded Lord Voldemort, his hand twitching slightly over the new sensation of realistic feeling. Ron was taller than he was, only by a mere three inches, but his hands were the size of oven mitts. How this slump never became a great Quidditch keeper was beyond him; no Quaffle could’ve passed through these monstrosities that he called hands.

His thick wand fought against the owner; obvious that it knew Ron was not occupying the body.

But, there was a difference between him and Voldemort at this moment. His body, his real body, was deteriorating due to Voldemort’s flagrant use of Dark Magic and thus growing weaker.

Not only that, but his body was still fighting to reject Voldemort’s soul. Draco could feel it, feel his body sing for him to return but he couldn’t. Unlike Voldemort, Ron’s body accepted Draco’s soul, twisted and complied with his will.

Was Weasley a mere coward and his body knew it, or was it more on an understanding? No, it was a compromise. Ron was still there, buried deep inside for safe keeping.

Draco had no intentions of being forever sheathed inside the blood traitor’s body. Even if he died, for real, he would take the bastard Voldemort with him.

“This is a twist of fate, is it not?” Voldemort said, breaking the eerie silence filling Nimue’s Hill. “Only a few years ago I was plotting your death for your father’s incompetence.”

“I’m nothing like my father,” Draco growled, his red hair flailing over his eyes.

Damn Weasley needs to get a bloody hair cut!

“I can see that clearly now,” Voldemort replied, tilting his head to the side, “It’s never too late to choose the revolution over death…”

“And you think you’re the revolution?” he spat, “I highly doubt it.”

“I can give you what you want, boy,” Voldemort flicked his wand back to the bleeding Hermione, “The girl…the world…your life…”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe the shite that comes from your mouth,” Draco growled, holding his head up, “It’s all dribble and I’m not easily swayed…”

“Strong child,” he grinned, “But oh so foolish….CRUCIO!”

“PROTEGO!” Draco shouted as a blinding white light shot out of his wand, casting a large shield in front of him.

He flicked his wand under his left forearm, shouting “Diffindo!”

Voldemort twirled with ease out of the way as the severing spell shot past him. He side stepped and slashed at the air, countering “Conjunctivitis!”

Draco leaned back as a yellow light whizzed past him, nearly blinding him from the sheer brightness of the light. He ducked down, kneeling on one knee, and waved his wand, shooting an uprooting spell at Voldemort’s feet.

Voldemort moved just in time as the ground below him exploded; large vines erupted from the grass and attacked the soles of his feet. Slashing at the vines, Voldemort looked up with narrowed eyes as Draco shot another spell over his forearm.

“Protego!” Voldemort crowed, blocking the curse with ease, “You still know your magic…how strange.”

“I’ve been waiting for a long time to use magic,” Draco said angrily, “And I have a little help.”

His eyes flickered topaz for a moment, causing Voldemort to cackle with laughter, “The Weasley boy? Two wizards against one…unconscionable.”

“Some one once told me that it’s better to accept help than to charge straight into battle,” Draco explained, straightening up as Voldemort dusted himself off.

“And who told you that?” Voldemort asked lazily.

“Albus Dumbledore,” Draco grinned, watching Voldemort’s face contort into complete utter anger.

“Fool of an old man!” he snapped, holding his wand out, “One of his many lies I’m sure.”

“Is it, really?” he replied, eyes flickering slightly to Hermione, who had moved from her spot.

Hermione ripped herself from her painful position and crawled, literally, to Harry. He was lying back against the ground, struggling against his binds as he felt Hermione’s bloodied hand rest on his chest. Their eyes met briefly before she ducked down as curse flew over her.

She gasped for a painful breath and looked up through her hair as Draco and Voldemort rounded on one another. They shot spell after spell and moved gracefully over the edge of the hill. Her eyes widened as Draco’s eyes darted to the blackness below him and back at Voldemort.

“No,” she breathed, moving to her feet as Harry called for her, “Draco! Don’t!”

Voldemort turned his head at her shouts and frowned as she managed to rise to her feet and run. He held his wand out toward her and began shouting the killing curse. However, Draco took this opportunity to drop his wand and rush at Voldemort.

“It ends here!” Draco shouted as his arms wrapped around Voldemort’s waist and threw both of them from the hill.

Hermione collided with them as well, her hands tangled in a mass of limbs. All three careened over the edge but Hermione found herself ripped from the group and tumbled over the edge. Her hands flew around her grasping at the rock above her.

She caught one edge and whimpered as her fingers began slipping. Closing her eyes, tears began streaking from the corners and down her face. She saw the billowing of robes below her and knew they were gone. Draco was gone. Ron was gone. Voldemort was gone.

Grunting as she tried to pull herself up, Hermione screamed when the rock broke and she fell. A hand shot out, bloodied and bruised. She looked up and gasped at the face of a bloody Draco. His hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her upward onto a ledge.

Falling to her stomach, Hermione looked ahead and noticed a bruised Ron lying on his side. His eyes were closed but he was breathing. She brought her eyes to Draco and tried to scramble away but paused when he leaned back against the cliff, breathing hard.

“Hermione,” he smiled, his cobalt eyes locking onto hers. “It’s good to be back…”

“D-Draco?” Hermione cried, watching as he nodded and closed his eyes. Hermione shuffled to him and grasped onto his shoulders, “Oh gods!”

“Hermione?” a voice from above shouted.

Hermione looked up as several lit wands were pointed down at her, Lucius Malfoy stood holding onto Remus.

“He’s here…” she called, “Draco and Ron…he’s…”

“Voldemort?” Remus called, looking around.

“Dead,” Draco whispered against Hermione’s ear, “Torn from my body when we hit the ground…he won’t bother us any more…Nimue has made sure of that…”

Hermione could hear the faint sound of screams from below. The billowing robes she saw wasn’t actual robes but the spirit of Voldemort, being dragged into the eternal pit of Nimue’s Hill. They were safe. All of them.




Remus stood against the threshold of one room in St. Mungos. His hands were tucked lightly behind him as his light brown eyes settled on the scene in front of him. Hermione Granger lay sprawled over the cot containing Draco Malfoy.

His body was battered, bruised and broken; skin a light tinge of blue but he looked as if he were going to make her. Remus’ eyes wandered from Draco’s swollen and gnarled face and rested on the large mass of curls that belonged to Hermione. Her face was buried into Draco’s side, hand resting over his.

As much as it pained to witness this, Remus had realized the end of their relationship far before the discovery of Draco, or Lord Voldemort. He knew something was holding her back from truly loving him, and while he loved her more than she did him, even he hadn’t put his entire heart into it.

He remembered when they brought Draco’s body in. Hermione refused any medical treatment, instead she hollered for people to help save Draco. Her tears flowed non-stop as every witch and wizard in the establishment rushed to keep Draco alive. When he gasped for a breath, Hermione broke down at the edge of the cot. Only when Ginny Potter stunned her was she able to receive the treatment she needed.

She cried over his unconscious body for hours, even after Lucius and Narcissa arrived. Narcissa joined Hermione and praised Merlin for Draco’s survival. Not once did Remus approach Hermione. He couldn’t do anything but silently accept the inevitable.

Closing his eyes, Remus brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinched. No tears sprouted from the corners of his eyes like they had when Dora left him. Nor did he really feel heart broken, not like a normal wizard would. Maybe this was fate cushioning the blow for him, but he accepted it.

There was a minor crash in the halls that snapped Remus from his daze. He looked around and gasped, “Teddy.”

Moving from the door, Remus bounded through the corridors looking for his little boy. Worry began to rack his mind as he came to a halt just outside another ward.

“Teddy!” Remus shouted, nearly rushing across the hall toward his son.

“Dad!” Teddy chirped happily, waving at him.

Remus slid to his knees and grasped onto his shoulders, giving him a light shake, “Don’t ever wander off by yourself. Do you hear me?”

Teddy’s face fell and his eyes fell to the ground. His hair changed from the vibrant teal into a muddy brown. Remus sighed and pulled Teddy into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“I was having a sword fight,” Teddy said, his voice muffled into Remus’ chest.

Remus pulled away from Teddy and stood, finally noticing a young woman standing behind his son with a meek smile on her face. She was stood barely reaching his shoulder and looked to be of Asian descent. Her hair was cropped short just above her shoulders and she wore dark colored robes that looked expensive but modest. She looked young, but not as young as Hermione was, but she held a small air of confidence and she looked familiar.

“Terribly sorry,” she said awkwardly, “I figured that he was one of the children in the wards…”

“Oh,” Remus looked away and down at Teddy, “It’s…it’s quite alright.”

“Pandora,” she introduced, extending her hand, “Pandora Lee.”

“American?” Remus noticed from her accent, shaking her hand a little.

“Yes,” she laughed, shrugging a little, “A friend of mine just had a baby and I told her I would…wait a minute…”

Remus stiffened as she looked over him and laughed, “You’re Remus Lupin, aren’t you?”

“Er..yes?” he suddenly began feeling a little self conscious, wearing his usual tattered robes with a bit of dirt smudged under his right eye.

“I thought your expose on Wulfric the Great was amazing,” Pandora said happily, “Of course, everything you advocate for is just amazing…”

Remus and Pandora blushed at the same time. “You pay attention to British politics?”

“Only when they’re from you,” she said, face turning brighter, “Not that I don’t listen to other politics. I was at the convention for the Ethical Treatment of Half-Breeds.”

“Wait,” Remus held a finger out, “Pandora Lee? The Pandora Lee? Dueling Champion of the States, First Class Order of Merlin and ETHB ambassador?”

She nodded, “Quite a long title but it works when I want to impress people.”

“I’m impressed,” Remus joked, extending his hand to shake hers, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Pandora smiled and shook his hand, “Nice to meet you too, Remus.”





“Mmm,” Draco moaned as he tilted his head to the side.

Hermione shot up from her light slumber, ignoring the pain that jolted through her from her hasty movement. She met the cobalt eyes of Draco and nearly burst into uncontrollable tears. Bringing her hand to his forehead, she brushed the locks from his eyes and smiled.

“Draco,” she whispered happily, “Oh gods…I’ve…”

“Granger?” Draco frowned, “What the bloody hell are you doing here….” He looked around and grunted, “Where am I?”

Hermione froze as Draco slowly pushed himself from the cot, groaning from the small stings of pain. “You look old…what happened?”

“Draco?” Narcissa’s shrill voice echoed through the empty room as she and Lucius just entered, carrying a set of new hospital robes for their son.

“Mother,” Draco nodded, eyeing Hermione for a second. “What is going on?”

Narcissa paused at the bed and looked down at Hermione, who was still staring at him. She kneeled down and brought her hand to Draco’s chest, feeling his heart and sighed.

“W-What is the last thing you remember?” she asked cautiously, watching from the corner of her eye as Lucius fetched a medi-wizard.

“I…don’t quite know,” he frowned, “Something about grass and The Dark Lord…we were fighting him and I just tackled Granger out of the way when everything went black.”

Narcissa looked down at Hermione, whose lips were parted and looked as if she were about to faint. Lucius entered the room with the medi-wizard and brought his hands to Hermione’s shoulders, helping her to her feet.

“Let’s go, love,” he said lightly, pulling the stunned witch from the scene.

“What…the…fuck…is going on?” Draco snapped, sneering at the medi-wizard for no reason.

“You’ve been in a coma, of sorts, for the past five years,” the medi-wizard explained, “A lot has changed.”

“Why was Granger in the room?” he asked, looking past his mother and into the hall where he could pick out the edge of Lucius’ cloak.

“She…” Naricssa looked to the medi-wizard and sighed, “Found you…saved you when you fell off of Nimue’s hill…she brought you here.”

“Why?” Draco asked, “She hates me.”

“Oh, Draco,” his mother said with a small sob, “You’ve missed so much!”






“He doesn’t remember,” Hermione whispered as she and Lucius made it out into the hall, tearing forming at the edge of her eyes.

“It’s for the best,” Lucius replied, brushing her hair from her face.

Hermione frowned and looked at him, “How is it for the best? Doesn’t he have a right to remember?”

“He does have a right and it is his decision,” Lucius replied, “What do you think he would do if he heard that he was possessed by Lord Voldemort? Especially now that he has to cope with losing the past five years.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Hermione whispered, “I can…I can show him my memories….he’ll remember.”

Lucius brought his hands to her shoulders, lovingly, “He’ll remember a time where he hardly existed. A faded five years?”

Hermione whimpered and began crying, feeling Lucius tug her to his chest, “I just got him back…I can’t lose him again.”

“Give him time, Hermione,” Lucius soothed, “When he’s ready he’ll seek you out.”

“Why do I have to wait? Why can’t I just go to him?” she sobbed, clutching onto his robes, “I love him.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he whispered, “He has a second chance at life. Wallowing in the past will not make things better.”

She knew he was right, even if every fiber of her wanted to hit him over his smug head. What she had with Draco was a farce, not real in the sense that it would have made no difference. He was here, in the flesh, and she wanted things to return to normal now but how could they ever be normal?

Why she didn’t stick with her idea of giving him her memories was beyond her. Maybe Lucius had a point. Draco missed out on five long living years and for her to want to take him back to the way things were was not only selfish but wrong.

She had him for five years and the world did not. He deserved time to be with his family and those who cared. She loved him and she would let him go. She would let him experience what he missed out. Fate had brought him back to her and by Merlin, she was letting him go.