Big thanks to my beta Tessa Cresswell!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K Rowling.
Disclaimer: Plot is similar to the book Fallen by Lauren Kate, but I have never read this book (or books?) so I don't know if it will continue to be the same. This has nothing to do with angels and constantly dying, just to let you know. I don't think it will be too similar.
Part 1: My Memories, 1999 (Life Six)
Hermione Jean Granger and Draco Abraxas Malfoy
It was so strange to still feel a tingling in her hand from the touch of Malfoy of all people. The slime she had hated for years made her tingly? That was absolutely absurd.
The linens on her bed were comfortable to sleep on, but kept sparking something in the back of her mind that she just couldn't quite place. Why would she need to place anything of the sort? She had slept on a bed enough times to be familiar with linens, that was nothing new. Still, there was something pulling at the back of her mind that she couldn't place. What could it be?
Her head girl's room was beyond everything she had assumed it to be; large, grand, and equipped with her own personal sitting room and small kitchen. And the best part was that it was hidden, so she didn't have to share with anyone she didn't want to.
In fact, the only student who currently knew where her bedroom was located was Malfoy, because she also knew where his lay. She assumed that had to do with convenience when planning events and for when they patrolled together at night, but she would feel better knowing that the slimy ferret didn't know where she rested her head. It's not like she really wanted to know where he slept either, unless he did something stupid one day and forced her to play a trick on him.
But for now, she was content in her bed, lying still after the busy day. Malfoy had been strange for the entire train ride there, and even had the courtesy to say 'sorry' when he bumped her getting on. It was startling; the trademark scowl was in place when he said it, but there was sincerity there that she had never noticed before. When had that started?
She couldn't help but think it would take a bit longer to change that horrible boy. He bullied everyone he came into contact with not so long ago, but now he would say sorry to her of all people, who he had placed lower then low? It didn't quite add up.
Sighing, she rolled over and cuddled into the pillows, her cat in his own bed against the wall. Unpacking could wait until tomorrow.
Draco twirled the ring between his thumb and pointer finger, a ring too small to ever fit his own, yet he was sure it would fit her hands near-perfectly, even after centuries and a new body. Granger had grown into a near replica of her former self this time, and it was strange to see such an exact copy after centuries of varied girls. She never took on the exact same persona, because no one ever could. Even he had changed each time he returned to this plane of existence, and it had evolved him into who he was today; which could be good or bad.
He doubted anyone would believe that in his first life his hair had been dirty blond. That's what his former self had for hair, and only two of his lives actually had the infamous platinum hair to brag about. One would be surprised how many Malfoy's had darker blond hair, but hey, who would believe that?
Her touch was like fire; he couldn't believe how long he could survive without her. It had been so long, and the touch ignited a spark in him he chose to forget. He missed his childhood, age fifteen and younger, when he never had any memories of his past. He supposed that was only because a child with full knowledge of their past life could cause problems both for himself and others around him. But, it could always be because that's when he had first met Hermione Granger over five centuries ago, as Penelope instead of Hermione. His Penelope; the girl he wanted to spend his life with, but would never be allowed to. His chance was gone the moment Penelope was killed.
Draco shook his head. Thinking on the past would change nothing- history was already in place and it wouldn't be changing. All he could do was go through this life again, and again, until she remembered. That could be centuries still.
When would the torture end?
He wanted desperately to reach out and hold her hand, or brush a piece of stray hair from her cheek. It would be different from how he courted her the first time, since it was rare to court anyone anymore. He would have to ask Granger on a date, and that would never happen. He expected her friends would probably kill him anyways.
Besides, it would do him no good to try. She would never remember until her mind decided to. With a sigh, he leaned further into the sitting chair, willing himself to think of anything else besides her; it was doing him no good anyways.
The last time he had been able to touch her was over three centuries ago. He had touched her sometimes at Hogwarts, when he was playing the git, but it had been so long since he held her that it was nothing but a vague memory, and he feared she would not let him again. Perhaps she would never remember at all.
He closed his eyes, a memory of the last time he had gotten to touch her passing through his mind. It had been back in the 1600's, when he had been a young Lord of the historic Malfoy Manor, after his father passed so early. He had been barely seventeen, and she had lived near the set of stores in Diagon Alley that he visited so often. They had spoken occasionally, but that day they had spoken for a while outside of one of the shops.
Omar Julian Malfoy and Annalisa Coralie Williams, 1646
She was sitting at an outdoor table, her dark tresses flowing down her back in pretty waves; an uncommon feature for a woman in this part of Magical London. The women here commonly wore their hair pulled up into difficult up-do's.
He knew she was so sad because people had been taunting the young women over her widowed mother's choice in men. After the death of Annalisa's father, her mother, Lauren, had taken to searching for another man in her life. It was unbecoming in this age of the magical world for the women to have a fortune with no man to help finance it. Many people did not agree with the rule, but none argued.
He was surprised she was outside at all. The mere idea of her mother betrothing a muggle man was beyond embarrassing. The poor girl was probably mortified at the idea of her family's status going from pureblood down to nothing more then half-blood. He wondered if she would follow in her mother's footsteps and marry another magic less man, degrading her magical heritage further.
As he neared her however, he noticed that no tears stained her pale cheeks, and there was no shaking in her shoulders. He also thought about how uncustomary it was for a young woman his age to be without an escort, especially nearing dusk. Nearing the door he nodded his head, fighting down the twinge in his chest as he made to pass her.
"Tis a beautiful twilight Omar," she said, stopping him in the doorway. He arched a delicate eyebrow, inclining his head at her. They had rarely spoken, only at a few formal parties the two had journeyed to, and he had only ever danced with her in this lifetime once, when she was escaping another man that made her uncomfortable.
"Yes, tis," he replied, looking around. It appeared not one member of her family worried about her sitting on that little chair beside the Victorian table, at dusk. Did they simply believe nothing would happen, or was there a hidden escort nearby that he did not see? He hoped it to be the latter for her sake. "But what, pray tell, is thou doing hither alone? Seems dangerous for thou to be out here so late."
She laughed lightly and smiled up at him. His heart caught in his throat but he did not dare show it. "Nary, only enjoying the air tonight. What is thou dost?" Her eyes sparkled lightly.
He gestured with his head. "Heading inside, perhaps where thou should be as well."
Shaking her head, she looked away. He admired her long hair again. "Mother can see me from hither. I do not worry."
Omar frowned. She seemed very calm sitting there as the sky darkened, her arms bare in the cool breeze. He would prefer her inside, away from danger. The last time they met, she had lived to be only thirty-one, but died from disease and not him. He would feel horrible if she died again because he was careless. "Tis late, a lady should be inside keeping warm by her fire."
As if to prove his point, a chilly November air blew past the pair, but she did not shudder. She looked rather stony, in fact. "The cold dost not bother me."
He nodded, stepping away from the shop he had been about to enter and walked closer to her, keeping his distance. The small patio had a covering that did little to protect her, and he decided she would catch a cold soon in the dress she was wearing; it appeared to be for the summer instead of winter. He could not fathom why she had chosen to wear it now. "Dost something bother you, Annalisa?" He hoped it was not too forward to call her by name, for she had used his already. He may have known her for centuries- since the 1400's- but to her they had only spoken so often, and rarely at length. Their dance together had been their longest conversation.
She looked up at him again. "I am to be married. Mother told me just this morning. His name is Gary Williams."
He felt his heart constrict. So she already had a marriage coming? That would never do! He hated to think of seeing her on another man's arm again, having already done so in his second life. This was their third life; separately lived but connected through a curse, and he could not imagine dealing with this forever. Her last husband in her last life- Alexander Potter- had been bad enough. To think; one of the relatives of the very man that had been the cause of her death- well, her former death- in another life. It made so little sense, but he had the chart at home; the one he made sure to collect when his memories resurfaced. It was simple to get; he simply placed the list in the same book each time. He would need to re-reference it again soon.
In his first life he had been someone else; a reckless boy who fell in love too quickly and carelessly, and paid the price with both their lives; her murder and his suicide. Needless to say, the pair had been interesting in their lifetimes, and that only transferred into the lives they shared now. Personalities rarely change over time, no matter how much you may want to change. He had realized that after entering into his second life.
That settled it; he would need to look at the chart soon. But Annalisa Coralie was still looking at him in wonder, waiting for her response. "Gary Williams is a fine man. Thou should be proud to marry one so respectable."
Her dry laugh was startling. "I am far from proud. My mother is sending me to be married so she canst have time alone with her own husband. I am too young though to marry."
"Yes, you are," he thought, but didn't say. He only nodded, not sure what else to say to the young woman. Reaching over, he pulled a rose from the bush nearby and handed it to her. "This will be how he sees thou; too beautiful to touch and soft, something he shall always work to protect." Extending the flower, she took it with a grateful smile.
"This I doubt Omar. Gary is not a sentimental one; he shall pay me little mind."
"Perhaps, but then he would play the fool for ignoring thou."
She chuckled and stood, finally rubbing her numb shoulders. "We will see. I bid you goodnight Omar."
"And you," he replied, taking her hand and kissing it. The touch sent nerves through him but he ignored them entirely as he released her, making sure she was safely through her door before opening the shop door again and departing the bitter weather, which had cooled quickly in the last few minutes.
He groaned and came out of the memory, rubbing his head. Every single version of her was nearly the same, and each haunted him more and more with each day. It was completely unfair that he was punished for her death, when it had not been his fault. He may have been her lover, but he had not been the one who ended her.
He was punished for not being there to save her. And now he remembered. He had controlled himself for centuries, keeping his feelings crushed and his emotions unreadable, making sure she never found out. If the discovery of their knitted pasts came before she was ready to know the results could be disastrous. There was no denying that at least in one other lifetime she had fallen for him, but he had ignored her. She had absolutely no memories, and he could not have her until she did. It was the only way he could have her.
Grunting he left the chair and walked to his room, his emotions in an uproar again. He wanted to hold her, but Granger would never let him do that. She would sooner hex him.
But the small flash in her eyes earlier gave him a hope that hurt. It hurt to hope that she would remember, because the downfall when she didn't was devastating. But still, that flash in her eye reminded him so much of Penelope, that it was scary.
He just needed to lie down, and everything would be back to its relentless reality in the morning, one where Granger had no idea he could be nice and he walked through the halls as a shell of a human being.
The next day they had potions first like they always seemed to. Draco took a seat next to Blaise, with Granger on the opposite side of the room beside Potter. Potter... he had more than one reason to hate that name.
A few minutes later, Snape walked into the room, his dark cloak billowing behind him. It was surprising that the presumably-dead potions teacher was back, but apparently the spell had bounced off of him incorrectly, coming into contact with something else as well and weakened it, letting their potions master survive. Draco didn't bother worrying about it too much, but he barley understood anyways, and Snape got annoyed when asked.
"Malfoy, Granger, partner up," he said on his way to the front.
Draco felt his stomach drop. That was just lovely wasn't it? Now he was supposed to sit side by side with the girl who haunted his dreams? What was Snape pulling?
"Sir, I would rather not-"
"Ten points from Gryffindor. Classes the Heads share together are expected to be classes the Heads work together." He did not elaborate, and Granger looked too irritated to push further anyways. Draco elbowed the Italian next to him, who reluctantly got up and placed himself beside Potter, both looking immensely displeased.
Hermione sat down and placed herself as far from Draco as possible. He tried to not acknowledge that he enjoyed her closeness, but it couldn't be helped. If this was supposed to be another lame attempt at the house unity Hogwarts had been trying for years to accomplish, then he would ignore that fact and use it to his advantage to be closer to her. She may not like this arrangement, but he did. But no one knew that.
Snape lectured for several minutes in his usual drawl, glaring down Gryffindor's and praising Slytherin's, before waving his wand, which copied a spell and its instructions onto the board and the students began working. Thankfully for Hermione, it wasn't a partner assignment.
He waited until after she had gotten her ingredients to get his own. It was disorienting being so close to her again; it had been too long and his emotions were flying all over. Keeping his face impassive, he continued to work once his ingredients were gathered, trying not to glance at her but failing. Eventually she caught his eye.
"What are you looking at Malfoy," she said in that ever-present bossy tone of hers. He rolled his eyes and continued working.
"Not much," he replied, letting nothing show as he spoke. No matter that it bothered him to be so rude to her.
She scoffed. "Great comeback," she said, turning back to her own work. They were quiet for a while again, with Draco still glancing up at the girl he had known for so long.
Her eyes caught his again and the questioning look in them sent another powerful wave through his mind.
Omar Julian Malfoy and Annalisa Coralie Williams, 1647
He watched her through half open eyes as she walked down the aisle, his mask of indifference ever in place. His family had been invited to the marriage of Annalisa and Gary, much to his displeasure. This was the absolute last place he wanted to be, but could not decline the invitation no matter what he told his younger sister, Emma.
She looked so beautiful in her white wedding dress, but so very sad as well. The smile was plastered to her face and did not reach her eyes, which were darting quickly around the full room, searching out a particular face. They came to land on his own, and the questioning gaze there did not need to be answered. She believed that he wanted her to marry someone respectable, being her friend, but lately they had hit a rough patch as the wedding drew closer. She could not figure out what had him in such an awful mood. The intensity of the gaze was powerful, and drew several looks from guests, who could not fathom why she was looking at that particular man- other than the obvious reasons- instead of her groom-to-be.
The woman he was escorting for the night turned and gave him a pointed look. Her name was Vivienne, and they had met only a few months ago when their arranged marriage was announced. His grandfather knew he needed to have a wife at his side in order to be properly looked upon by the older investors in Britain. It would do no good for them to be unable to make deals; the family business would burn. So Vivienne's father Arthur had met with Omar's grandfather and arranged this against his will. He was nearly eighteen, but the woman he was marrying was only fifteen. She had dull green eyes and dark black hair like a forest. She had also apparently been in Slytherin, and would continue the rest of her schooling after their wedding.
He was not happy with the way things were going, but the look of defeat in Annalisa's eyes nearly broke his heart. It was the same look she had given him when she was still Penelope, and had discovered her betrothal to Henry Krum.
She turned her gaze back and continued walking towards her future husband-
The memory cut off suddenly as he heard Granger topple over in her stool beside him. He did not have the reflex's to catch her just then, and stared at the panicky girl on the floor in front of him, now drawing looks from everyone in the classroom.
"Miss Granger, ten points from Gryffindor for- and just where do you think you are going," he called, as the girl got up and scurried out of the classroom, horrified.
Everyone was silent for a moment, before the Wonder Duo stood to follow her. "Sit down," Snape barked, "or everyone in this classroom will receive a detention."
Grumbling, the two boys sat down, looking rather miffed and the room broke into quiet chatter about what Draco could've done to Hermione. The blond was currently receiving death glares from her two best friends.
He was too preoccupied to notice though, for there were too many thoughts rushing through his mind. His memory had cut off the moment Granger started falling, which was peculiar since he did not even turn his head and notice until she was on the ground. Several thoughts about why that was raced through his head but he shook them away. There was no way any of them could be possible.
His thoughts still on her, he forgot to finish his potion and didn't notice the other students had moved their cauldron's to the back of the room until the bell signaled for the next class. Surprised, he nearly toppled from his own chair just like she had. With a click of his wand, both the cauldron's occupying the desk in front of him moved to their spots in the back to await the next class. He quickly discarded the scraps leftover from his potion and left the class, grateful that there was no one outside to be a bother to him.
He didn't even take note of Snape's surprised expression as he watched the entire thing, completely unsure why his godson was helping the girl with her things. The only thing he did not touch was her bag, which he had propped up on the tabletop probably in hopes that she would return for it before next class.
Part 2: Confusion, 1999, (Life Six)
Hermione Jean Granger and Draco Abraxas Malfoy
She hadn't meant to intrude on his thoughts, not one bit. But for some reason she had held his gaze too long, or something, and had been swept into this obscure memory from the... who knows when that memory was from!
It had something to do with a wedding, and a woman she begrudgingly admitted looked similar to her, but had nothing to do with her, because no Malfoy would be caught at the wedding of a Mudblood.
The entire thing had been told to her as though someone was narrating his thoughts. How pretty the girl looked, what his wife-to-be was called, some girl named Penelope... it all sounded rather strange really, and made absolutely no sense.
What she couldn't understand was why she saw the memory too, and had a feeling of absolute dread as the woman in white walked closer and closer to the altar. Why would that be though? She had no connection to the memory, and the feeling of everything was so old Malfoy would have to have been a vampire to even have a memory like that.
Hermione found the girl's bathroom near the potions class and burst in, very thankful this did not happen to be Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She needed time to think on her own, and not be interrupted by the highly annoying ghost.
That memory... vision... whatever that Malfoy had in the middle of potions, he seemed to think he was having alone. The look of confusion on her face when she toppled over and broke the connection between them. His mind must've trailed off, considering he bothered to glance down at her at all. She had almost expected him to kick her rather rudely like he had done in their earlier years at the school. Instead- she would almost say he looked concerned- but it was Malfoy, so she would go with annoyed.
Leaning against a sink, she took several deep breaths. Whatever it had been seemed so real it was scary, and she did not want to experience it again. All that would take though was avoiding Malfoy, which would be easy if she wasn't 'partnered' with him in the classes they shared!
Perhaps it was just Snape's way of getting back at me for being... well, me. But he would never punish Malfoy of all people like that. He would sooner put me with Goyle...
She shook her head and turned on the faucet, enjoying the cool splash of water on her features, and was again thankful that she rarely wore make-up unlike most of the girls at this school. Turning off the water she leaned heavily against the sink and stared at her reflection.
The woman in Draco's mind had almost the exact same features as her. It was bothering her, and the more she stared the more she could find similar. Same eye shape and distance, same small ears, same full lips, different noses though... and our eyes are different colors-
Hermione stopped there and shoved away, frustrated with herself. Malfoy had probably intentionally done that to mess with her, and that's all there was. And she was buying into whatever strange vision she saw. If it had lasted longer she presumed the bride would strip down and dance, if the blond's reputation had anything to do with it. Yes, that's all there was to that little mess, and she need not worry anymore.
Satisfied with her calculated conclusion to the situation, she stepped out of the bathroom, ready to return and collect her bag. The bell had gone off a minute or so ago, and she would need to hurry to be on time to her Herbology class that thankfully did not have Slytherin's.
There would also be the issue with explaining her departure to her friends...
Dinner came around, and he was staring again. The scene from potions had died down, and everyone either assumed that Draco had used magic to push her or the girl had fallen over herself when he winked at her- a rumor that only Pansy and mentally ill girls like her believed.
It was expected. Whatever had happened was not normal and he could not yet draw a conclusion. Perhaps he should put it in his notes, for reference when this lifetime failed him as well.
She looked better, but was tightly crammed between her moronic friends. At least the panic that had been evident in her face after falling on the floor earlier was gone. He could at least sleep tonight knowing he hadn't scared her to death.
Her hair was pulled into a messy bun with a few stray pieces attacking her neck. The blond nearly jumped from his seat when Weasley pushed a piece behind her ear, but refrained. Blaise was already giving him strange looks. The fact that he kept looking at her though was thoroughly annoying Draco. Didn't Weasley have a relationship with that Lavender whore or something?
He watched them for another few minutes, his thoughts working. Had she possibly seen what he had been thinking of? It was the only thing he could think of to make her look up at him with such a confused, scared expression. It's not like she'd ever looked at him like that before.
Because in this lifetime she has never had a reason to be afraid of me.
He sipped the liquid in this goblet. Alcoholic again, and he could tell Zabini noticed the smell when he reached for more food, because he gave the blond an interested look. It was doing him no good though, and he finally set it down. Zabini and Greengrass looked up at him, being the two closest to him.
"I'm going to my room," he said sharply, not waiting to hear any responses. A new headache was forming and the noise of the Great Hall would do nothing but make it worse. He just wanted to retire to his private space and think, perhaps even take a few notes on what happened today so he could remember later. That little book was a complete blessing; it was directly next to the scrap of paper he kept with who they became each time, and when.
It was strange however to document your own death. Climbing the stairs, he frowned and thought further on that note. He had died enough times to know it could be either painful or painless, but it all depended on the time of death. For example, his one-time suicide had been painless because it happened so quickly.
He reached his rooms and mumbled the password, his headache increasing. Entering, he quickly located the book that hid his list, as well as the journal all Malfoy's kept because it was written by an ancestor (mostly) but no one ever read. He was thankful no one took interest in it; else it might be thrown out one day since to anyone besides him it hardly made sense.
Instead of going for the notebook first, he reached for the book at its side and removed it, opening it to the same page as always. Pulling out a slip of worn paper, he unfolded it and set the book aside. Six sets of names and dates jumped out at him;
1. First Lifetime
Lowell Belmont Malfoy and Penelope Elliana _
Birth of Penelope: April _ 1470
Death of Penelope: November 26, 1489. Murdered.
Engaged but never married.
Birth of Lowell: January 17, 1470
Death of Lowell: November 27, 1489. Suicide.
Never married.
2. Second Lifetime
Dreu Antoine Malfoy and Harmony Joan _
Birth of Harmony: October 20, 1519
Death of Harmony: August 9, 1550 Natural Causes
Married Alexander Potter.
Birth of Dreu: May 25, 1523
Death of Dreu: April 20, 1559 Natural Causes
Married Anastasia Laura
3. Third Lifetime
Omar Julian Malfoy and Annalisa Coralie _
Birth of Annalisa: _ 1630
Death of Annalisa: September 19, 1667 Malaria
Married Gary Williams
Birth of Omar: August 22, 1629
Death of Omar: April 3, 1673 Cholera
Married Vivienne Clara
4. Fourth Lifetime
Damian P`ere Malfoy and Rivkah Tabitha _
Birth of Rivkah: December 12, 1730
Death of Rivkah: February 22, 1770 Yellow Fever
Married Dennis Clayworth
Birth of Damian: July 30, 1733
Death of Damian: May 1, 1775 Natural Causes
Married Gemma Elizabeth
5. Fifth Lifetime
Rafe Dax Malfoy and Hannelore Marie _
Birth of Hannelore: March 14, 1840
Death of Hannelore: April _ 1903 Natural Causes
Married Robert Hollingberry
Birth of Rafe: September 25, 1845
Death of Rafe: June 28, 1910 Natural Causes
Never married.
6. Sixth Lifetime
Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger
Birth of Hermione: September 19, 1979
Death of Hermione: _
Birth of Draco: June 5, 1980
Death of Draco: _
There were empty lines for everything he didn't know, and everything that had yet to happen. He wondered how many more lifetimes would pass before this game ended.
With a sigh, he stood again and walked back to grab the notebook, prepared to document the strange occurrences that day. And he still had so much to think about.