A/n: Thanks for all the amazing support! Keep it up! Also, there is a banner for this and another story on my facebook page. Go to my profile and find the link! Add me, I write on there as much as possible. Anyways, enjoy :)

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: The Pain of Memory, 1999 (Life Six)

Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger

His mind was spinning. She wanted to talk? After the strange encounter between the two just the other day, he worried about what she could want to know? Was she curious if he had placed a curse on her or something? Then again, it was the bookworm, so she could be thinking anything.

They had been walking for barely a minute when she spoke again. "What did you do to me Malfoy? Throw some dark spell on me or something?"

He inwardly groaned. His assumptions had been correct, and now the girl would likely pester him. "I didn't do anything to you," he replied, looking away from her pretty head, less then a foot in front of him. The bouncy curls were tempting.

She scoffed. "Oh don't play dumb Malfoy- I know you did something!"

The blond sighed. She had always been pesky in this life, but now it was truly irritating. He could recall just why he had hated the bushy-haired girl in his younger years, but couldn't force the same hate into his thoughts as before. Knowing what they had been through diminished everything that his father Lucius had taught to him. Instead of hating the Gryffindor for being pesky, he found it adorable.

He took a moment to study her in the light of his lit wand as she walked. Her hips swayed slightly as she walked, and she placed each foot properly in front of the other with ease. Her slender legs were being ruined by the school skirt, which she seemed to wear too big. He frowned, deciding that she would probably change to a sleeker look in a few years, after she had left this school. It would be later than normal for his Penelope, but then again, she was always a little different each time they came back to life. Since he had never really gotten the chance to personally observe her at close range in this life, he would take any chance he could get.

If only she could remember…

"Malfoy," she snapped, turning around. He stopped in front of her, expression blank. "Do you plan to answer me or are you going to be silent and brooding all night?"

He had completely forgotten she even asked- well, demanded- something. "Granger," he said in a tired tone, "I didn't do anything to you, so you can stop fishing around for an answer. I don't know what happened to you that day in potions, but it was quite comical to see you land on your arse like that."

She frowned. "Stop being a fool Malfoy, this game is getting old. I know you did something; I went and tried to research it for Merlin's sake!"

"You what," he asked, eyebrows raising skywards, suddenly perplexed.

She rolled her eyes, as though she were speaking to a child. They had stopped walking by now, and in the dim light of the corridor she pulled a book out from her ever obese book bag. She tossed the heavy volume at him, which he caught easily with one hand, before inspecting the title.

"Reincarnation Facts and Resources" he read, feeling his heart beat faster. Merlin, how the bloody hell did she get this so right so fast? She's grown so much smarter though with each lifetime; I should've expected this!

He kept his expression as neutral as possible, flipping the book open to read a random article. Past Regression - Jenny Cockell- The True story of a Woman Who has Lived Before. Mother of yesterday's Children.Raising an eyebrow at the terrible sounding story, he began to read.

Jenny Cockell was just an ordinary Northamptonshire housewife. She was also a mother of two children, But there was nothing ordinary about her. Over the next few years, she not only believed that she had lived before, as an Irish woman called Mary Sutton who was born in 1897, but she 'found' her children still living in Ireland.

Her story starts just before her fourth birthday. She began to remember-

He had a very strong urge to throw the book at her. What a load of rubbish! If she only knew how terribly wrong this 'Jenny Cockell' person was, but he couldn't just tell her that. Then she would ask questions, and he would say something and ruin everything. No, he would just lie and save everyone the trouble.

"I thought you read things with factual evidence," he drawled, shutting the book and handing it to her. "I have no idea what you are hinting at, but you may want to see the nurse Granger; you seem off."

She glared. So to read things like this she had to be going mental? Well, she had to admit it was fairly unusual for her, but still, it didn't mean something was wrong! "Shut up Malfoy," she finally said, shoving her book back into her bag. "The only reason I have this stupid book in the first place is because of you. You-" She cut herself off. Telling Malfoy she saw some woman in his head walking down the aisle in a wedding dress would probably really make him question her sanity. No, it probably wasn't a good idea to bring that up yet.

Well, not until I can pin it on him, so he can't try and weasel his way out.

Unless of course, there never was anything to see to begin with…

She stopped thinking. It came from his head- his eyes- so it wasn't like she could make it up. He had to at least know what was going on, but making him acknowledge this would be far harder. She doubted Malfoy would just instantly admit to something strange like that, so it would be up to her to figure out what he had done first, and then call him out. She smiled to herself; now she had a plan.

Malfoy was looking on at her strangely, eyebrow raised. She smiled sweetly at him. "Never mind, I'm just letting my thoughts run away," she said, ignoring the confused look on his face as she turned and walked on. Why couldn't she leave him a bit confused? He had her mind reeling.

That night Malfoy found himself thinking about Granger as he stripped off his clothes, ready to try and sleep. His trousers were far too tight, and he figured he would need to relieve himself before he could sleep.

The rest of their rounds had been silent, for she had apparently given up on getting him to answer. Instead, he had walked a few paces behind her so he could simply admire the girl Penelope had evolved into over the last few centuries. She was a bit taller now, no more then 5'6, but her curves had not suffered. She still had nice hips and great legs, and after spending years at school with her he was not the only male who noticed she had a generous chest beneath the heavy school robes she always wore; probably a bit bigger then Penelope's original body, but not by too much.

He threw his head back against the pillows and groaned. He had gone from thinking about Granger's body compared to Penelope's, to the only night he ever spent with her; how great she felt, how she squealed or laughed or moaned, and what she did or did not like. Standing, he headed to his bathroom for a nice, cold shower and some relief.

Having already stripped to his boxers, he turned the shower on full blast, charming it so the water would actually be cold (Hogwarts was charmed so the water never got cold unless desired) and removed the last article of clothing, his hard member jumping out to annoy him. Stepping in, he let the icy water pelt his body for many minutes.

At length, he reached for his still hard manhood when it refused to soften. Pumping his hand, he leaned his head back on the shower's tile, working to bring on the orgasm he desperately needed. It had been a long time since he had fantasized about his Penelope- or Penelope's reincarnation- but tonight he couldn't help himself. For some reason the sexual longing had been built from nothing, and the need to have her after so long had resurfaced. He hated that animal need, the need that could sometimes overpower the love in times when she was truly seductive, but it was human and sometimes he had to give into it.

He could remember the feel of her dainty, inexperienced hands on him, her jerky movements as she learned to move with him; her bright green eyes sparkling up at him in the dim light, first filled with pain, then wonder, then lust- everything that had brought them together, and broke them apart.

His balls tightened and he pumped harder, hoping the memories would just cease. He longed for thoughts of her that were not plagued with pain and guilt, but that would likely never come. He exhaled as the release came, but didn't register what his hand was doing now. He simply wanted to sleep, and hopefully forget about wanting her so badly; wanting her would only ever cause him more pain.

Returning to his bed a few minutes later, he fell back unhappily against the covers, wishing he could sleep without dreams. The potion for that lay just a few feet away but he refused to take any; the potion could become addicting quickly, and the withdrawals from that were devastating. No, it would be far less painful to just have eternal pain then physical pain too.

Closing his eyes, he waited for the memories to come of his first life. But they never did, and instead he saw a different part of his past beneath closed eyes.

Omar Julian Malfoy and Annalisa Coralie Williams, 1642

Omar didn't want to be in that room. His mother Adare was arguing with everyone over every little thing for his younger sister's arranged marriage. He found it terribly ironic that she spent so much time searching for a man for her middle child, yet had not ever set him up with anyone. Saying he was jealous would be a lie, however. He could care less about having someone who picked whom he would marry, because he longed for the beautiful relic that was his best friend Annalisa.

His younger sisters, Emma and Shadow, were currently busying themselves upstairs with just what Emma should wear that night when she met with her future husband- whom she would not marry for another ten years, when she was nineteen. Omar was currently occupying a chair in the busy ballroom in the grand Manor. The place had been around for nearly two centuries, and it would be a few years still before he realized that he had slept in the same bedroom as a child in both his past lives as well.

Adare Malfoy was a beautiful woman who broke the family's tradition of blond hair. Her deep burgundy locks threw off many people who met her as 'Mrs. Malfoy', but had been passed down to Shadow, the youngest child. No one suspected that Shadow would die only seven years later by falling from a window at seventeen. Adare was rushing around in her fine robes, telling decorators where to place things.

Lucifer Malfoy sat upon a fine sofa near his only son, watching his wife rush to and fro to prepare for the event. Whenever something fell he would magically pick it back up with his wand, for fear his wife would collapse if something were amiss. She had been planning an event like this for two years, since Lucifer secretly banned her from arranging their son. He thought it best the heir to the Malfoy line chose his own life, although that fact remained unknown to the boy himself.

"Omar," he said at length to his son, "canst thou go and see where thou sisters are?"

He rolled his eyes, platinum blond hair sticking out in the room. Omar had inherited his hair from his grandfather Alastair, and remained the only family member of the five with the trademark Malfoy blond hair. His father and sister Emma both had a much darker mop on their heads. "They are upstairs, as expected."

His father turned and gave the boy a pointed look. "Thou seem to be in a bad mood boy. What troubles thee?"

Omar did not reply. He was simply upset that Annalisa could not attend the stupid party tonight, because her eldest brother Briar was bringing his bride to meet everyone. This put a damper on the already dreary day, and made the blond truly want to crawl under his covers and sleep through the drab party. But, his parents would have a fit and thus he was stuck in the lame space until whenever the party ended and young Emma left her groom-to-be-but-not-for-another-ten-years for her quarters.

His father took the silence as a bad sign. It was to no one's surprise that his son and Lauren's daughter Annalisa fancied one another, but that her mother did not want the girl to become involved with a Malfoy; they were notorious for being deeply involved in the dark arts, and the two women were not. His son would have to fight for her, but Lucifer feared his son would never realize this- and who would, at such a young age?

Instead of pestering Omar, Lucifer remained quiet. His son could brood all he wanted, but the girl would be around again tomorrow.

The party was nearing an end when Omar finally decided he would join his sisters upstairs. Emma's bride was but a year her elder, yet he could not help but hate the boy. This was his younger sister the git was engaged to, and he would have a very hard time living if he messed up. But, it was not time to think about something so far away; he left the ballroom to find the staircase upstairs. Someone clearing their throat stopped him in his tracks. Glancing around, he spotted her.

Annalisa stepped out into the dim light, smiling at him. For a girl of twelve, she was a bit on the short side. He was short as well, but he still had two inches on her. She walked up to him, cloak and dress a deep burgundy color that jumped off the light.

"I thought thou had another event for the night," Omar said, raising an eyebrow at her.

She smiled up at him. "Mother thought it twas a nice idea to stop and see thee's family." She gestured around her. "My brother's came also."

He expected as much. It was unusual enough for a group to stop by a party so late and they would never have allowed her to come alone. If they had stopped by though, they only intended to stay for a bit, so he only got a short bit of time with her.

He offered her his arm, and she took it gratefully, smiling at him as he led her into his father's study nearby, where the doors could be left open but offer the children some privacy to talk. "How was meeting thou brothers bride," he asked as they walked.

Annalisa frowned and rolled her eyes. "A bore. She is nothing but a stuck up girl," she replied, brushing a stray hair from her face.

Omar chuckled. "They all are darling."

Surprised by his comment, she looked up at him. "Yes, they are," she replied with a smile.

He awoke the next morning feeling just as tired as when he went to sleep. Dreaming of his life as a child was not nearly as painful as when he got older, and she was always taken away, but painful nonetheless. Sitting up he found he had a raging headache that could only be blamed on the dreams. When too powerful of a memory came back, his head would explode.

He wondered why that particular memory had decided to show itself last night. After his thoughts of Penelope, he had expected everything to be centered around her, but low and behold, he thought of Annalisa from his third lifetime. He wasn't quite sure why, but his mind was so over packed that he chose rarely to question things anymore.

With a yawn, he stood from bed and headed for his bathroom, thankful this morning he did not have any classes with her.

Hermione was frustrated. She had spent many hours the previous night reading through too many books in the library that brought her to a dead end. She was no closer to discovering what had happened in potions then she was before. Now half-awake, she sat at the Gryffindor table, only half listening to what the people around her were saying.

She kept glancing over at the Slytherin table, specifically to the blond mystery of a boy that sat at the table beside his friend Blaise. Maybe it would've been a smart idea to ask Malfoy just what had happened, but she still believed facts would help her. Seeing as every book she picked up made no sense at all, she had one final idea; she was going to have to look into his eyes again and see what happened.

But she wouldn't be able to do that until after lunch. They had no classes together, and she doubted that trying something in the hallway would be a good idea. No, she would have to wait till potions- which was after lunch today- to try again, and possibly startle Snape again.

On top of all of that, she was beginning to form a headache that got worse anytime she looked at the memory she had from Malfoy's head. It was puzzling really about why it hurt, but it did. She blamed it on the git, but wasn't sure quite yet how he had managed that one.

She set her head down on the table, searching for sleep. It was way too much work.

Blaise had been trying to catch Malfoy's attention for the past few minutes. Pansy and Daphne had been observing the pair, noting that Malfoy seemed to be completely gone and oblivious to everything around him. Each of them had tried to talk to him, and none had gotten a response. He had been playing with some eggs, and now the three would occasionally glance at him to make sure the blond was even awake.

Draco on the other hand was as far off as possible. He was reliving different snippets of memory, all that related to the younger years of each of his lifetimes. Only now did he realize how unhappy he got as he got older, and the memories returned. He seemed to have a decent life until then.

Someone probed him with a fork, and the blond finally looked up to see Blaise giving him an odd look. "You okay?"

He blinked once, then nodded to the Italian, "Fine."

And so breakfast passed.

Part 2: Conversing, 1487 (Life one) age 17

Lowell Belmont Malfoy and Penelope Elliana

The blond rolled his eyes and reached over to clasp her hand tightly. "Of course I do, Penelope. I dost know what today is."

The girl's head snapped around and met his eyes. "Thou know?"

He nodded solemnly. "Isaac told me earlier on when I saw him." Isaac was her older brother and only sibling.

Penelope's face crumbled a little bit. "I dost not want thou to know. Now thee will be worrying about me, when thou should not."

He frowned deeply. "Of course I should worry Penelope! Thou tis my best fere, after all."

She nodded solemnly. "I dost not think it would hurt so."

The blond watched her stray tears beginning to spill over, the ones that had been trapped in her tear ducts from the moment he mentioned it. Of course it would hurt her; who would not be hurt by it? Clasping her hand with the other, he brought both over towards him and kissed the knuckles. "Of course it hurts so, sucré. It would hurt anyone."

"I know," she sighed. "But I thought I would be okay. Now, I am not so certain. It hurts so much, Lowell." Her tears continued to come.

He reached out and traced a finger along her shoulder blade; such an intimate act that had not bothered her in a long time. Lowell knew how to be sweet to her, caring, compassionate when she needed him to be. Easing over she rested her head against his chest and softly cried.

The action caught him off guard. They rarely went so far as to touch this much, and the only other time had been the night her mother died. At the time he had been fully prepared for the contact, because such an awful thing had occurred. Now however, he had not realized that the woman's birthday would bring on this onslaught of emotions as well. He wrapped two comforting arms around her nonetheless.

He had no idea how long they sat there like that, but at some point he noticed the girl had fallen asleep. Needing to return to his own home, he picked up Penelope- surprised to find her so very light- and placed her on the large bed nearby. Pulling the covers up her body so that she was covered, he could only imagine what would be thought of him if anyone ever heard he had been up here at this hour, tucking someone who was not his wife or family, into bed.

Discarding the thought, Lowell turned and headed to the window, ready to make the dangerous trek back down the wall. Passing by the window, he spotted a ring. Golden, far too small to ever fit his fingers but dainty enough to fit hers. It was such a simple piece, that he hoped she would not mind its disappearance. Pocketing the ring, he climbed over the windowsill. She didn't need to know he had taken it.

That was one of Lowell's best memories of her. She was so beautiful, so sweet, and now she was gone for the month for her brother's wedding. He found it lonely without his best friend, but this gave him time to reflect on where they stood. They were old enough now that he could court her on his own, and they could become married. He only worried that was not what she wanted.

His only other real friend, Gavin Zabini, was currently wandering around his home's grounds with Lowell; Gavin had his own bride, whom would be his wife in just a few months time. The two had been walking in silence for a while, each focused on their own problems. At length Gavin broke the silence.

"Hast thou thought anything of thou father's ball in a few weeks? I am certain he expects thee to have someone to bring with."

The blond pushed his hair back. "Nay, I have been ignoring the entire topic as much as I can. I truly do not wish to go."

Gavin nodded. He understood the place that Lowell was currently in; he wanted someone he wasn't certain wanted him in return. It was a difficult situation to be in, but he had done little to get himself out. When would the blond realize that and actually take action? If he waited too long, he could lose her. "But thee must."

"I know," he grumbled. The other boy could not help but chuckle at this. His thick Italian accent had decreased since he moved to England, but returning there every summer did little to help it. Sometimes Lowell wondered how he understood his friend at all. "But I canst not ask Penelope; she is gone at prior."

"Yes," Gavin replied, wondering whom he could throw his friends way in order to make him feel better. "Perhaps take Sarah's friend, Anna?"

Lowell rolled his eyes. "Nay, I would never take her. She cannot hold any conversation."

The Italian chuckled. "Very true."

Draco reflected on this memory. It fit a bit into his current life, where Blaise was his only real friend. The blond nearly chuckled at the irony that he was best friends with his old best friend's ancestor. After all, not everyone chose to live life again. And for some, there never was a choice to begin with.

He was wondering when he would ever get Granger, or if he would have to wait again until the next life. That thought hurt, but he knew it was possible. After all, it had been going on for a little over five centuries; it could go on for five more.

Sitting in potions he found himself again at Granger's side. She kept glancing over at him, and although he ignored her the best he could, he still found the action strange. She was yelling at him just yesterday and acting bipolar, so what had changed?

At length, Snape turned them over to work in partners, and he found himself catching glimpses of Granger looking at him. It took a moment for him to realize what was going on. She must be trying to look into my eyes again.

That was a very strange idea. The bookworm was so curious she was willing to experience something again that she hadn't understood? Well, she had bothered to dive into a library full of myths on the entire topic of reincarnation and visions in order to figure this puzzle out, so perhaps it wasn't too strange that she was trying to catch his eye. He may not have meant to show her anything, but hell, if she was curious he would give her something to really think about.

Turning his head, he allowed her to look into his eyes and threw her into one of the strongest memories he had.

A/n: Let me know what you thought!