A/n: Hope you like it! I like this chapter the most I think :)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: Messing with the Mind, 1999 (Life Six)
Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger
It had been nearly four days since Malfoy messed with her head last. She had a lot of time over the weekend to think things over- and even got lucky when he had to exchange patrol times with a prefect for reasons unknown- but now she had to deal with him again. Tonight they were patrolling together, and she still had absolutely no idea what kind of game he was playing. What exactly was he showing her? Visions? Memories from other people? He wasn't doing anything in the traditional manner, and that kept throwing her in different directions. None of it could be real- right?
Her head hurt, and she gave into the raging headache as she continued to walk towards their meeting point. No matter what tonight brought on she would still be confused, simply because she doubted that stupid git would actually tell her anything. The idea of seeing something else only caused her to worry; those 'visions' made her stomach turn for some reason and it didn't sound too appealing to visit another one again- and definitely not if Malfoy tagged along to taunt her.
Turning the corner she spotted his blond hair, trudging up to meet him. The blond looked like he could use some rest, but other than that he seemed completely unfazed about showing her the things in his head. It bothered her that he could always ignore things so easily.
"Ready?" he asked, leaning away from the stone wall he had been resting against. She huffed and turned to head down the hall in the opposite direction, in no mood to deal with him. Withholding a groan, he followed.
Draco had not slept the last few days. He had been constructing a plan that skittered around the laws he had to abide by. If he told her everything outright, it would earn him a permanent death without question. Nothing ever worked in his favor, after all. Now he was seeing her alone for the first time in over a week, and he would have to use the nights patrol to his advantage; if he didn't, he wasn't sure when they would be alone for such a long amount of time again and it would delay everything. After centuries, he was growing tired of constant delays.
The memory he had shown her was the one memory he held closest to his heart. He loved it, because it was the one night his Penelope had really been his, in every shape and form. It had only happened once, and the next time he saw her she had died. The act itself brought on a lot of grueling events, but at the time it was bliss, and he could never forget that. Of course, Granger had wanted to hop out of the memory before anything good began- but really, would he have shown her that? It was something intimate, and it would mean the world to him if she could remember what really happened on her own. But, that would be a long time in the making. For now, he had to focus on the task at hand.
She was walking in front of him, and he watched the gentle sway of her hips again. This was bad, since the last time it caused a very uncomfortable hard on he had to deal with all by himself. Directing his eyes back up to the back of her head, he followed her with the light of his wand. Thankfully there were no longer Death Eater's running around this place, or he would be very worried about her. Granger might be a great witch, but she was also someone he loved, and he could not allow her in harms way again. Living through the war with the knowledge that she may not survive had nearly been too much for him.
Rounding a corner, they checked another hallway. He had no idea why she hadn't asked yet why he was following her, since patrols were usually done separately, but she said nothing and continued to do her job as though he wasn't there. He assumed that was her mindset, but that would never work; he needed to look into her eyes again.
He waited until they reached a staircase, where he could fake something semi-believable. Whispering a spell, he made one of the steps just below Granger slippery, and knew exactly when to grab a hold of her when she slipped. Startled, she whipped around and glared at him.
That was all he needed though. Placing a hand gently on the back of her head, he held her gaze just long enough to drag her back into his mind again.
Rafe Dax Malfoy (16) and Hannelore Marie (21), 1861
He took her hand gently and led her away from the group in the garden, towards an enclosed alcove where they could speak in private. She was five years his senior, but that did nothing to deter Rafe's confidence.
Rafe Malfoy was a well-known character in England for being exceptionally cocky and extremely popular among the unmarried women. Blond hair and grey eyes, a dashing smile and charming words was all it took to make Rafe the most sought out bachelor in the country.
Hannelore was a completely different story. She was considered rather plain looking, with nothing but a slim figure that lacked curves and dark brown curls that had very little body. The only remarkable thing about Hannelore was her emerald eyes, which sparkled wherever there was light. Very few people took a second look at the woman, something her husband was thankful for. Robert Hollingberry had married the girl three years prior in 1858, when she was only 18. The wedding was preplanned by both families, much to Hanna's displeasure. She had never really wanted to marry, but here she was, with a husband who only wanted an heir.
He led the other woman out towards the alcove, and that was when Hermione really got a good look at the pair. She had been listening to people talk, completely perturbed that Malfoy had brought her into another one of these things again, with yet another couple she did not recognize. The woman was obviously slightly older, although the man seemed to think highly of himself, and carried himself with an arrogant walk that was so like the Draco Malfoy she went to school with that it was creepy.
Why were the two so similar? She watched the man lead the woman to a stone bench and sit beside her, a hand resting a bit high on her leg.
"How dost married life treat thee," he hissed, squeezing her leg playfully. For a moment Hermione had thought that this man was angry, but as the woman laughed she thought that must not be the case.
"Terrible," she said, picking his hand up to kiss it. "I am not pregnant yet, so he tis not yet satisfied."
The blond man scoffed, and it again reminded Hermione of Malfoy. Glancing behind her she noted that he was near this time, and snatched at his wrist. Stupid git was standing too close. "Get me out of here right now!"
Draco didn't respond and just watched her, waiting for Hermione to pick up on the conversation before them. Obviously, she did, and whipped her head around.
"-different. But thou waited too long," she said, pulling away. "Tis too dangerous now, and I will not anger my husband."
"Thou husband would be so angry with thee if thou never married him," the blond spit bitterly. "That is thou fault, not mine."
The woman stood. "This is not my fault!"
The man in front of her chuckled. "Hanna, thee chose your husband," he said, standing and brushing off his robes, "thou mother did not. Only thou can be blamed for thou unhappy marriage."
She glared. "Thou is wrong Rafe. Thou is so wrong. I waited for thee to choose me, but thou is but a fool. Thou cannot see past the next woman thee escorts, and that tis not someone I wish to be with Rafe. I married because thou can never change."
This boy Rafe blinked, and Hermione watched first the confusion then the pain appear on his face. For whatever reason this girl Hanna's words cut deeply. He opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut again and turned away from her. "Then that is my fault Hanna, and I am sorry." He started to walk away, but the woman caught his arm.
"Where is thee going? We are not yet finished here."
He pulled his arm away, and took her hand instead, kissing the back of her hand gently. "I never knew thou felt like thee did Hanna, and I am sorry. I hope thee finds happiness with thou husband."
Hannelore opened her mouth to respond, but the blond man turned away and rushed off. The woman waited a moment before resuming her place on the bench, placing her head against her hands. Hermione half expected her to cry, but she merely ran her fingers over her face before resting her chin against her fists.
Hermione turned back, her interest gone. Obviously whatever this was had ended, and Malfoy needed to take her away now like last time. "What are you waiting for? We're done here."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," she snapped, just before another figure rushed into the alcove. This man was someone who didn't look anything like the two in the last few visions she had seen. The woman in each vision always had similar features, as did the man to the other men in Malfoy's mind. This one however, was a different story.
He was squirrely first off, like he had seen one too many drinks and had begun to shrivel. His eyes were a bit too close, and his bare arms bore unattractive scars, like someone had just started to hack at him. On top of that he really wasn't anything to look at. He had long greasy looking hair, and unusual brownish-red eyes.
The first thing he did was jerk the woman up. His grip on her was obviously a bit tight, but all she did was firmly press her lips together. "What are you doing in here," he growled, getting in her face.
"I was merely having a conversation," she replied in a tight voice.
"This him," he hissed. "I told you," he said, shaking her, "that Malfoy heir is bad news. I told you to stay away from the little bastard."
"I was talking to a friend," she replied, shaking her head. The next moment his hand connected with the side of her face, and she stumbled. Hermione found herself grinding her teeth, and now touching a ginger spot on the side of her face- in the same place this man just hit Hanna. She glanced back at Malfoy. What was going on?
But Draco would not meet her eyes if she was suddenly feeling pain in her cheek. He suddenly had a very bad feeling in his stomach that he should be ripping her right out of there, but wanted her to see everything. The urge to reach out and hold her now was there, and he found himself watching her back instead of what he brought her to see.
This man was shaking her now, and Hanna was gripping his arms asking him to calm down. When he raised his hand a second time however, he ended up blasted backwards- through the form of Hermione who glared back at Malfoy, feeling very much like a ghost- and into the far stone wall. The form did not show himself- or herself- but a spell found the wand trapped within this man's robes and threw it in Hanna's direction. It landed at her feet and she glanced around wildly before snatching it up.
Hanna backed away, glancing around. She had an idea who had helped her out, but did not care to stay around and make sure she was correct. If she was not right, whoever helped her would have words about her husband and her marriage, and she did not want to hear any of it. He would be angry later, but she could handle him with a wand, easy. Quickly shoving it into her robes, she turned and calmly left the alcove and the man who was still out cold.
Hermione turned and grabbed Malfoy's wrist again. She was done with this. But before she could even yell at him to get her out of there, the scenery was already fading, and she could feel herself being pulled back into her real body.
The problem with returning to her body though, was Malfoy was still firmly holding her so she wouldn't fall. He was still holding the back of her head and her body was bent back a bit, as though he had dipped her. Scrambling from his grip, she slipped on the steps but was just able to save herself from falling down another five feet.
Her cheek still burned a bit, and her hand reached up to touch the sensitive skin. Merlin, it felt like someone really had hit her. But, nothing had happened to her- not really. She had been pulled into some sort of vision Malfoy had, but other then that nothing happened. The male- Rafe, or was that the other one?- had hit her, and yet she felt it? That made no sense, but it did make her think. What the hell was Malfoy doing to her? She whipped her head around to look at him, but he was staring at her in awe.
"What," she asked at length, the pain in her cheek diminishing. His eyes were practically bulging from his head. He extended a hand to touch her cheek but she smacked it away. "What's wrong with you," she tried again, watching him. He looked both awestruck and horrified.
"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, closing his eyes. He wanted to hit himself, but she was probably already lost enough. "I'm so sorry," he said again, eyes scrunching up. Hermione didn't quite know what to make of that, and moved to poke him with her wand when he spun away. Surprised, her hand remained suspended in the air.
"What are you going on about Malfoy," she asked slowly, uncertain if he was apologizing for bringing her into the vision or for what she saw.
He just shook his head, remaining facing away. "I'm sorry for only being able to remind you of the bad," he said tightly, before climbing the stairs and leaving her in the dark.
She whispered the spell and her own wand lit up once he disappeared. Not only were their patrols not done, but he had left her with more questions then answers now, and that was annoying. What was his problem anyways? He was the one toying with her mind, after all. So why did he shy away when a girl got hit in one of them?
Why did it feel like the man hit me?
Part 2: Remorse and Reminders, 1999 (Life Six)
Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger
Draco rushed to his room, slamming the portrait when he finally got there. He thought his heart was going to jump out of his throat, and perhaps his brain would follow. What the fuck had that been? One moment Hermione's prior self Hannelore is being hit by her alleged husband, Robert Hollingberry, and the next moment there's a blistering mark on both women's cheeks? How did a mark that was made on Hanna end up on Hermione, her reincarnated self?
He flopped onto his bed. It made no sense. Merlin, he had shown her other things, so why did this one reflect on her? Why did it have to be a bruising hit that replicated on Hermione's cheek, instead of a kiss or something? How did that even happen?
The blond took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Of course something like this would be what clicked into her mind first, but he was uncertain why exactly. It would make sense, if only because it is a reminder of her first death that started this- but that wouldn't be a reasonable explanation as to why she only remembers that. This is my punishment to remember since I let her die, so perhaps she will never be able to remember the good things on her own. Perhaps this is a trick, and it'll never be over-
He stopped thinking. No, that couldn't be the answer. He couldn't be stuck this way forever- he refused to believe that. If Granger was able to remember anything- even a slap- then that was better than nothing. It was something to build on, something to remember himself. Strong things that she had hated in her past lives seemed to affect her most in this life. Considering he had only slept with her once in one life, that explained why she did not remember that and it did not bring on a reaction- and possibly because I removed her from that memory before anything really started. But as for the wedding, he had no real reason to understand why it didn't really bring on any memories, because those two marriages of hers he had attended seemed to make her blissfully happy. They should bring on memories or something, right?
But was the red mark a memory, or a telltale sign of lives already over? Never mind this bullocks, my head hurts. Ignoring all the other questions he couldn't even put into questions that made sense, he stood and stripped down, ready to shower.
Perhaps it will clear my mind a bit.
The next morning Hermione was practically falling asleep at the breakfast table. The people around her were gazing on with critical looks, but she was so lost in a haze of almost no sleep that she didn't even notice. In fact, she had been trying to ignore the scarce rumors circulating about her and Malfoy since their long staring contest in class a few days back. She had been up the entire night after all, thinking.
What had Malfoy been showing her- and why, if only for a moment, had it seemed nearly real? She didn't understand, nor did she want to understand why her cheek stung the exact moment that man- whom she had concluded sometime in the night was not Rafe but the woman's husband, whatever his name may be- had hit Hanna. It had caused a headache in seconds, and the short vision had kept her awake until nearly dawn.
Why did Malfoy have to do this to her? And why did the things he showed her have to seem so intriguing? If it made sense, if she could tell you exactly what he was doing and how he was going it, she wouldn't give it a second thought. But, she didn't know and that bothered her severely. It would be quite rewarding to understand Malfoy's little game and understand how to play back.
Now if only I could figure this out… Her thoughts trailed off again as she snuggled into the folds of her arms, desperately wishing for sleep to take her. Now if only Ron did not say something every three minutes, then perhaps she would be able to catch a few Z's, but no- he had to make sure every rumor about her and Malfoy was utter gossip and nothing more.
Someone poked her in the side, and she glanced up to see Harry. "Ready for Transfiguration?"
Oh bollocks. "My book is upstairs," she grumbled, closing her eyes again, "so apparently I'm not."
Harry's eyes grew wide. "You forgot a textbook," he asked in utter disbelief.
She scoffed and raised her head up a bit, looking at him again. "Well yes. As unlikely as it may seem, I do actually forget my books for class sometimes," she remarked sarcastically.
The raven-haired boy rose up his hands in surrender, "I didn't mean anything by it."
She smiled lightly and stood, ignoring the tiredness in her body. "I'll just go get it before class," she said, heading off.
"I'll come with," Ron called, getting up to follow her. She paused at the end of the table to wait for him, although she didn't really want to. She had wanted a few minutes alone before she went to class and had to deal with Malfoy, but apparently that plan was out. He reached her and they began to walk.
The first bit of the walk was quiet, until Ron opened his mouth. "Are you sure nothing is going on between you and Malfoy?"
Hermione frowned, having heard that sentence four times from him that morning and multiple times by classmates the last few days. It was becoming tiresome. "I think I would have to actually like the ferret for something to be going on," she huffed.
"Are you sure? You two seemed-"
"Ronald," she snapped, turning to him and placing her hands on her hips, "if you bring this up one more time I swear I will hex you so you will be stuck with a curly pink pig tail for a week like Hagrid did to Harry's cousin Dudley once," she threatened.
That seemed to shut him up. "Alright, alright," he relented, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was quiet again until they reached her door. "You couldn't come up with something more creative than a pig's tail?"
Hermione, who had been ready to open her door, turned and smirked. "It's actually quite original and creative Ronald," she said, pulling out her wand. "You see, you begin with a tail, and each time you ask me about Malfoy and myself being together, another part of you automatically becomes part pig."
He paled. "You never mentioned that."
Grinning, she shoved her portrait door open. "I didn't think I would need to."
And from across the hall, a pair of silver-grey eyes watched the duo through nothing but slits. Concealed at the top of a short staircase, he had gone unnoticed, but now, he wished he were just a bit closer, so at least he could hex the Ginger. Turning, he stomped back up the way he had come.
After all, there were reasons why Granger had never once married a Weasley in her past lives.
By lunch, Hermione had come up with the best course of action to take against her Malfoy problem; she was going to take notes. After all, what do bookworms do best? So that lunch period found the Gryffindor in her favorite spot in the library, taking notes on everything she had seen, noted, noticed, felt and observed in the three visions she had seen from Malfoy.
So far, she had five scrolls of parchment on everything she could come up with, and she still had no idea what she should think of everything. Tapping her fingers against the wood of the desk, she wondered when Malfoy would strike again. So far he had gone after her in only two places, but who was to say he wouldn't try elsewhere? That sent her thoughts spiraling; he could get her in class or even the Great Hall! It seemed so long as they made eye contact for a few seconds he could drag her into any vision he pleased, and that could be good or bad. Good, because she could only learn more by going into his visions, or asking him questions- and the questions part wasn't productive, so that really didn't do her any good to begin with. But it was bad because he could chose when to send her into those things, and she didn't seem to have any choice in the matter.
Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she decided to go find the librarian. This place had far-fetched ideas when it came to this topic, but maybe there would be a book that told her how to keep herself out of visions? It's unlikely, but really, how else am I going to know?
Malfoy was headed to his rooms before dinner that night when he rounded a corner and nearly barreled into the ginger Gryffindor coming down the hall. "Watch it Weasley," he sneered, straightening his impeccable robes that Ron had never touched.
Ron scoffed. "Get over yourself Ferret, nothing can make you look more revolting." He made to walk past the blond but stopped at his side instead. "Stay away from Hermione."
The blond raised an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"
"Only if it needs to be," the redhead replied, leaning into Malfoy's space. "I saw the way you looked at her in class and trust me, she's not interested. She doesn't need a prick like you chasing after her."
"And I'm sure she wants you chasing her," the blond countered, "with your other girlfriend always looming in the background. Really Weasel, you need to either drop that girl or continue dating her, because your repeated break ups really get on my nerves. I hate finding your girl toy in the hallways and having to listen to her. Do you know how many girls I have sacrificed to her horrible voice just so I can be on my way?"
Ron growled. "Don't talk about Lavender like that."
"Is that her name? That's truly unfortunate to be named after a flower."
The redhead reached for his wand, but Malfoy just clicked his tongue. "Hexing Head Boy? That should get you a decent amount of detentions." He touched the tip of his own wand but didn't even bother to draw it. The redhead stopped his movements, if only because Snape had him in detention for the rest of the week as it was. He didn't need anything more to take up his night.
"Now here's my warning," Draco continued, leaning closer to him. "You stay away from Granger."
A/n: Oh dear, we're threatening each other. I bet Ron's poor head is exploding! Review? :) And sorry for the late update! Work caught up with me and I didn't get to this in time yesterday to post… my bad!