A/N: Thanks to Blitz for beta-ing this.

Important notice: This is AU of my main fic: Doubt me, Believe me but it can be read without reading the main fic. This can also be considered to be prequel of the previous chapter.

Prompt scenario: Write a story about a character meeting his/her doppelganger from another universe.
Extra prompt: (Dialogue) "Love is one long sweet dream... and marriage is the alarm clock."

1985, September 1

Corban Yaxley had never believed himself to be special even when the world fawned over his prodigious talents in herbology, alchemy and magizoology. He never believed, even for an instance, that he should be given extra privileges simply for being the heir of a pure-blood family and a seated member on the supposedly prestigious Wizengamot. It was not his lack of self-esteem that led him to this but rather, the self-awareness of what he lacked.

For all his brilliance and talents, he was as feeble as any man. Like a common muggle Joe, he was defenceless and helpless against Cupid's arrows. It was highly unlikely that he would ever spot the exact moment he loved her because, like every man in love, he was in too deep before he realized his affections for her. And, like every other man who loved a woman, he simply could not unlove her at the drop of a hat. It was impossible, and that was why he stood very stiffly behind a pillar on the platform nine and three-quarters of King's Cross station since the dawn of September 1.

Yaxley peeked around the pillar as he waited to spot a beautiful face framed by long, dark-chestnut-coloured, curly, hair. He knew that today would be a special day for her and everyone in her little family of three. Her daughter was finally ready for Hogwarts and Yaxley had hoped to catch a glimpse of the woman he still loved and the girl whom he would protect and care for as if she were his. He was sure anyone who knew his secret desires would think he was creepy and desperate, and lacked self-respect but in all honesty, he could not find it in him to be bothered about their opinions of him. Why should he care about the opinions that belonged to people who did not matter to him? It was ludicrous and tiring if he were to attempt to conform and please them, and Yaxley was anything but conventional.

As the time neared the eleventh hour, the crowd on the platform began thinning and so was Yaxley's hope of catching glimpses of her. Before he could fully register what he was seeing, the corners of his lips had already curled up. Wavy brown hair rested over one shoulder. Perfect red lips smiled and kissed an adorable girl's forehead. As he openly appreciated her beauty, he began noticing a glaring problem. It was just she and her daughter on her daughter's supposedly first day of boarding school! Where was the useless muggleborn? For reasons known only to him, Yaxley was seething and he had even withdrawn his wand. Swiftly, he turned away from the scene and allowed his rage to guide him. How could Tonks not accompany them? Did the man think his wife and daughter would be safe without an escort? Did the muggleborn think them unworthy of his time away from… a mere clergyman's duty?

Yaxley was marching out of King's Cross Station when he was roughly shoved aside. He stopped to glare at the back of a suited and hatted man who was striding swiftly. As his fury mounted, Yaxley began to chase after the rude man-this was a more irritating immediate problem. Tonks could wait. Yaxley was led north-west of the station until they arrived at St Pancras Old Church when the rude man suddenly stopped to sit on a nearby bench. Yaxley maintained a meter away from the empty seat on the bench as he continued glaring at the seemingly unaware man. "You owe me an apology," Yaxley growled at the man who had begun lighting a cigarette.

Without looking at Yaxley, the man took a deep inhale of the cigarette before he blew a trail of smoke gently. "Have a seat," the man invited as he sucked another breath. "I want to show you something but I want to talk first."

"The world doesn't revolve around you," Yaxley sneered. "Give me my apology and then, we can start negotiating."

The stranger sighed heavily and shook his head. He stared at the scene ahead of him and rubbed his face. Summoning the most apathetic voice, the man droned the laziest and most lacklustre one-word apology. Yaxley stared at the lazy and rude man before he shook his head in disbelief. How could there be someone as disgustingly lazy and dispirited as this…weirdo? Slowly, reluctantly, Yaxley descended onto the corner of the empty seat and spied on the rude weirdo from the corner of his eye.

"I saw you looking at her."

Yaxley blinked once and then twice, but he remained silent otherwise. Any more reaction would simply be admitting the truth. Even if he did not care for the opinions of others on his behaviour, it was not as if he was going to give them the satisfaction of catching him in the act. No, he will take his secret to his grave even if he had to lie.

"But that's okay."

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Yaxley sneered. Why the weirdo felt the need to reassure him was puzzling. They were strangers, yet Yaxley had to admit that his reassurance was comforting. It felt as if his unrequited affections was...acceptable.

They sat in silence until the weirdo huffed and crushed whatever was remaining of his cigarette under his shoe. Without another word, he stood up and walked towards the church. Almost as if he finally noticed Yaxley had not followed him, he stopped in his track to turn and stare at Yaxley. Yaxley rolled his eyes, huffed tiredly before he stood up to catch up to the weirdo. Yaxley knew it was uncharacteristic of him to follow the weirdo, yet it felt safe. It felt… right to follow the weirdo. For whatever reason, his fight or flight instincts seemed to be non-responding. Whoever the weirdo was, he was just a rude weirdo. He was not an enemy and certainly not someone Yaxley's unconscious mind felt threatening.

They rounded the church until they reached the church's cemetery. Carefully, they meandered between the graves until the weirdo leaned his back against the back of a headstone. The weirdo had crossed his arms as he tilted his head to stare at the ground. "You know," the weirdo sighed resignedly. "Sometimes, I wished someone had told me. Love is one long sweet dream… and marriage is the alarm clock. My darling wife looked just like your woman. Beautiful. Exquisite. Perfect. Glorious brown hair, dazzling brown eyes, delicious red lips. Freckles, lots of them. I loved her, you know, even as she died. I miss her so much."

Yaxley stared at the weirdo whom he suddenly felt an emotional connection. This was also a man who had loved a woman so deeply but for whatever reason, he also suffered the pain of… was it heartbreak?

"What's her name?"

"This is her grave. Look at it yourself," the weirdo laughed like a broken man would.

Without another word, Yaxley went around to look at the name engraved on the stone. Suddenly, his heart beat a little harder as he read the name once, twice and a few more times. It was impossible. It had to be a cruel cosmic joke. With an almost parched throat, Yaxley asked carefully as his eyes continued staring at the name of the dead woman, "How did she die?"

"I killed her."

Yaxley's head whipped up and immediately he stumbled back. The face he was staring at was suddenly a face a little too familiar, and eyes that could not possibly be copied by metamorphmagus or even through the use of polyjuice. The pair of blue eyes with red hues was a result of the genetic inheritance unique only to the Yaxleys' bloodline. The weirdo… was him.

"How..? Why?"

"How?" the weirdo echoed. "How and why did I kill her, you mean? I butchered her because she wanted to leave me for another man. I can't have that. I can't let her go. She belongs to me. She's mine. There was nothing I could do, so, I ate her. Now, she will always be a part of me. I will always carry her with me. It is glorious!"

Yaxley stared at the man in horror, and suddenly it dawned on Yaxley that whoever the man was, he was not a harmless man. The smile that he had thought initially to be sad, actually looked more vicious and cold than sad. Yaxley blinked his eyes a few more times as he stared at the face. Was his face capable of looking so gentle and harmless, and yet at the same time, promise a realm of vicious cruelty?

"Of course, Corban Yaxley," the man smiled a little wider. "You've simply chosen to forget who you are. You're trying to be a tragic Romeo but that's not who you are." He dug around his suit jacket and then pulled out a familiar looking thing. "Remember this?" the man mocked as he stroked it tenderly and almost too affectionately.

Yaxley stared at it and felt his insides clench. It was the mask-his Death Eater mask-he had worn during The Hunt Operation but he had locked it away because he had nearly killed her when she chose to stand in his way. After that, he had chosen to quit being a Death Eater. He could not bear the thought of killing her simply because they stood on opposite sides of the same war. He was terrified of the idea of being her murderer, and yet, this…version of him had killed his wife who had almost the same name. Andromeda Syrus.

"Who… what are you? Why…are you here?"

Please do not say you are me. Please say we are different.

"My name isn't important. You just need to know we are one and the same," the man smiled as he crouched to fix the mask on Yaxley's face. "We are killers. All of me… all of you. Don't you ever forget who you are, Corban Yaxley. You are the Lord of Durness, the Harbinger of Destruction, the Jester in the Dark Lord's Court. This is who you are. You're the villain of your own story. Death Eater is your role. You'll never be more than this."

Behind the mask, blue eyes watched the nameless man whose eyes twinkled and whose lips had curled gently into a serene and friendly smile. Slowly, the man began disappearing into wisps of smoke but his departing words whispered chillingly into Yaxley's ears, "Awaken from your childish dreams, Corban Yaxley. Not everyone is meant for happy endings. Be the man you're destined to be."

"In this life, in another life, you'll never be mine," Yaxley whispered behind the mask as his tears flowed easily. "If I am destined to be a killer, if it is written in the stars even in parallel worlds that I will never escape that fate, then do not blame me for killing."

Please review, thanks.