A/n: As always I have my facebook page with Banner's and such on it. Check it out! I also hope you enjoy the update! Big thanks to my beta Tessa Cresswell!

Okay readers, I apologize in advance for the lack of past lives in this chapter. It deals a lot more with other things. Have no fear! Lots of past lives later on! And this is the only chapter with only one part, just fyi.

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.

The Game, 1999 (Life Six)

Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger

It was just after the last class of the day when Malfoy was hurrying to get upstairs to his dorm, having already persuaded a house elf to bring him food in his room, that Snape rounded a corner and fixed him with a cold glare.

The action made Draco exceptionally cautious. Snape had proven to be just fine so far in this lifetime, and in a few others, but sometimes the blond got the oddest feeling that the Potion's professor could remember just as much as he did, and that wasn't a good sign. The two hadn't gotten on very well in the past- and considering some of the things Draco had done to his supposed past lives- it wouldn't make his Godfather very forgiving on simple matters if he remembered those things. But let's face it, when the man went after Hermione in the past he had to do something.

"Professor," the blond said, wandering past the older man. Snape still has his cold glare following the boy, a look that was only given to Gryffindor's and other houses during classes and meals; it seemed that Snape was only concerned with keeping up with appearances so long as there were other people around to notice his behavior. Draco was ever cautious of that as he walked past, constantly reminded of the person Snape had been. But Snape had not been punished for any of his misdeeds, yes? As far as the blond was concerned, Snape's past lives were ancestors, not past lives. So few people fell into the category of reincarnation that it was scary, and he was nearly certain that the man was not one of them. He had been entangled in too much for the blond to never have known that he was redoing life over and over again alongside them.

"Mr. Malfoy," the man replied, and Draco could hear the cold tone in his words clearly. It was the normal tone Snape used when they were alone. Raising an eyebrow, he turned as the man spoke again. "Where was your partner this morning?"

He shrugged, watching his professor carefully. "How should I know? Why don't you ask her friends; they talk to her a lot more than I do."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps that is a good point," he drawled, sounding bored, but something about his eyes kept Draco's attention. He seemed too cautious, too careful over just what he was saying. He didn't like it. Snape had never started rubbing him wrong until after the war, when he had enough time to consider the man.

Draco nodded, before turning and taking his leave. Snape was just being odd.

He was pacing the room. It had been an entire day since Granger had collapsed in the corridor, and he had yet to calm down. What had happened? The best he could hope for was that she would wake soon, scream at him, and give him some sort of clue as to what he had done to her. The guilt was going to keep eating away at him until he knew she was alright and he hadn't forever sent her into a coma. He was supposed to be living to be tormented by not having her, not because he was thinking he had killed her.

Or whatever this is.

At length he sat down and ran a hand over his face. The only other lifetime he had ever threatened her health or well-being was the most current one, when he had allowed himself to have an affair with someone who didn't love him, but the compassion. If he had only convinced her then to love him, really love him then he wouldn't be frantically over-thinking everything right now.

Granger, just wake up.

Inside Hermione's Head

1870,(Life Five)

Rafe Dax Malfoy (25) and Hannelore Marie Hollingberry (30)

Hermione was quite afraid of some of the things she had been experiencing. Some of these woman had gone through traumatic things; none had been killed save for the first one, and she still did not fully understand that, but had realized ages ago that she was not seeing the full lives of these women, just snippets.

It did not pass by her though that they all looked relatively the same, and they all seemed strikingly like her in certain aspects. For one thing, they all read. But several of them seemed to not understand the first thing about choosing a husband.

Another thing she noted was that sometimes the last names of people were the same as some of the Hogwarts students she attended classes with. Were these their ancestors? And how had Malfoy constructed something to this degree?

She had given up some time back in the third cycle of this mess about fully understand this. It was truly unsettling to die as one person and wake as another, be it a full grown woman or someone small who grew up through a childhood setting that was so different than what she had ever been accustomed to.

The strangest thing of all though, was that she was beginning to understand. She would fall asleep one night as one person and wake the next in the same body, remembering far more things than had been told to her. Now how had that happened?

One idea stood out, but she refused to acknowledge it. Really, it was positively insane and considering that Malfoy was behind this, she had to assume that there was some sort of hidden trick waiting to spring out at her. But what? He couldn't be fully enjoying this spectacle if he wasn't even present for it. This was not like in class when their eyes would meet and he would propel her someplace inside his mind. There was no blond git to hold onto, to keep her sane and remind her of reality.

She was completely stuck until she discovered a way out, be this his mind or something he forced into her own. Whatever was going on, she would need to kill him for it.

The door to the bedroom swung open, and she whipped her head around at the sound. Inside, Hermione seethed. Just last night he had accused this woman- Hannelore Hollingberry- of cheating and had practically raped her. She was in no mood to deal with the bastard again, but it appeared she had very little say in the matter. The body she was in immediately sprang up, and she had to have an internal battle to resist the urge to try and take control; that hope was useless, for she appeared to be nothing more than a bystander and couldn't even control her body, or the girl's body.

"I am most sorry," the man says, stepping forwards to play with her hair. Hermione felt the body stiffen, and knew it was only the reaction to what this charming husband of hers was capable of doing. This woman needed to run away! Even the Malfoy look alike she had been cheating with was better than this!

And now that she thought about it, all the blond men in these 'lifetimes' she had encountered had lots of blond hair… and were all named Malfoy…

The man was still talking but she wasn't listening anymore; her head was spinning.

They are all Malfoy's and each girl I live inside of has some sort of deep feelings for those men… they look like me, only varied… and they are all from different periods in time. What the fuck?! Are these supposed to be my past selves or something, because I'm certain I would never be stupid enough to feel something like that for Malfoy!

And that's when she began to feel the familiar sensation of being pulled from these strange visions.

Draco was staring down at his hands, trying to figure out what to do, when Hermione cracked her eyes open. She had a splitting headache, her body hurt and her eyelids felt remarkably heavy. She reached a hand up to her throbbing head and groaned slightly, not taking in any of her surroundings as she caught the blonds attention.

His breath caught as he snapped his head up. She was certainly awake, but had obviously not yet seen him. He stood cautiously, ignoring the dominate urge to jump on the bed and kiss her in relief, and slowly walked towards her. The creaking floorboards snapped her eyes open and she shoved into a sitting position, not at all thinking about the rush it would send to her thumping head. She fumbled around on the mattress for her wand, as she spotted Malfoy across the room, who had paused in his steps and was now staring at her with the strangest of expressions.

When she realized her wand was nowhere near her, she stopped searching and glared. "Where am I?"

"My rooms," he said simply, watching her eyes widen. "Don't get the wrong idea Granger, you collapsed in the corridors and I decided to not leave you there for unforgiving students to find."

"Then why didn't you take me to the hospital wing," she said, rubbing her head. She was in Malfoy's room wandless; something was up and she would be damned before she calmed down and let him get away without answering anything.

"Convenience of location," he lied. They may have been closer to his rooms then hers, but the hospital wing had still been closer than that; he just couldn't chance letting anything get out. The situation was messed up enough.

"I'm sure if you bothered to move me up here then you could've moved me there!" He stepped closer when she said this, watching her grip her head in pain as thoughts continued to swirl. She was arguing with Malfoy while random thoughts of all those other blond Malfoy's danced in her head. No wonder her head hurt!

"Are you alright Granger," he asked, fighting down the concern in his voice. Why was she looking at him so strangely?

Hermione paused. That look in his eyes, the look that had flashed just across them when he spoke, was the same look she remembered seconds before he kissed her and the world went black. She shoved herself back into the pillows some and he stopped walking closer entirely. "What did you do to me?!"

The blonds eyebrows rose up. "Nothing!"

She scrambled off the bed, her head spinning as she moved too fast and the headache sky-rocketed, but that didn't stop her from moving until she hit a solid wall. "You kissed me, and now I've got these strange images in my head. What did you do? Curse me?"

He blinked, confused. Visions in her head? "What do you mean," he asked slowly.

"You know what I mean," she snapped, images replaying again and again as she spoke, her heavy migraine was increasing at a scary speed. "Why did you do it? What are you gaining by sending me through those images!? Are they, what, things you read about and created or something?"

Draco paled, which was a horrifying thing considering how pale and blond he already was. "What did you see," he breathed.

"What did I see," she seethed, ignoring her splitting headache. "What did I see! Oh, nothing Malfoy, except a lot of blond men with your name who all seemed to love this girl I kept embodying. Would you explain why I was watching through someone else's eyes, or is that only for you to know? It's also very convenient that those women resemble me! Did you put all of them in awful situations to spite me for being a Mudblood or something? Really, that last set of lifetimes was truly gruesome. Poor- oh what was her name? Hannah or something?"

By now, there was no color to speak of on the blond. "Hannelore," he said quietly, dropping himself onto the bed so he could rest his head against one hand. "Was that the name?"

"Yes," she snapped, thrown by the sudden stunned look on his face, and his odd behavior that had none of the arrogant cockiness that Malfoy was usually associated with. "So are you going to explain? Or will you save me the bloody problem of caring and give me my wand so I can get out of here?" As she spoke, an image of that first life blond- Lowell- flashed through her mind, sitting in the same position that Malfoy was now. She shook her head, gently reaching up to rub the throbbing part of her body. Why was the headache so terrible?

"Granger…" he said quietly, trailing off. He didn't know what to say. She knew the name of one of her past lives, in fact she could remember that it had been far from pleasant. Never had he been faced with this dilemma, nor had he ever allowed himself to consider how he would go about explaining this to her if she ever did remember. How could he? If he considered how life would be once she did remember, then it would hurt him more every single time he lost her to another. Faced with the idea of trying to explain it all to her now, he found himself at a loss of words, and he knew she was standing there, glaring, expecting some sort of crude laugh and a lot of gloating about how he tricked her. Well that sort of answer wasn't going to come, and he knew it was not likely that she would just up and believe that they were her memories too, and she would understand things that he never had. Like, for instance, what led to her impending death in their first lives.

When he finally looked back up at her, she had a slightly uncertain expression on her face, like the one he was wearing as well. She wasn't sure what to think now that he was hesitating, and he couldn't decide what to say that wouldn't make her temper worse. Stuck in a bubble of indecision, both teens remained silent, hoping the other would speak first.

At length, it was Hermione that took the initiative. "Why are you looking at me like that," she breathed, the headache still pounding.

He shook his head, looking away. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't understand anything," she replied, throwing her arms up. "You haven't explained what you did to me, or why. I don't understand any of this and won't until you tell me."

He closed his eyes slowly. "What do you remember," Draco asked quietly, not sure what kind of answer he wanted. The dominate part of him wanted her to remember so he could stop this game, but the part of him that loved her knew remembering was a burden, and wished she did not know anything; still, he knew deep down which side he wanted to listen to.

She frowned, wondering how that could possibly matter at this rate. "A lot, I suppose. You gave me a massive headache Malfoy, be glad I remember anything."

"I'm just glad you're awake" he muttered.

"Beg pardon?"

He glanced up for half a moment before closing his eyes and looking down again. "You collapsed yesterday and I was worried you may have severely injured your head."

"Yesterday," she hissed. "Harry and Ron will be outraged! How will I explain this to them? Not to mention my classes… you better have a good explanation for this Malfoy or I will hex you to the point where you can't have kids!"

Draco looked up wearily again. "I will ask again then Granger; what do you remember?"

"A lot of blond men like you," she replied, before spewing out a lot of things that really appalled him. She mentioned their names in the past, the way they acted, the husbands she had endured, and the way she died- but not the details leading up to it. In fact, she barely skimmed over that topic, and only mumbled it at the end. Had this been a different topic, he may have been cocky and pressed her to say that louder.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "It's not a joke if that's what you're thinking Granger," he said quietly. "It's as far from a joke as one can imagine."

"Then tell me what it was before I leave," she hissed. In reality, she wouldn't leave without her wand, but he didn't press it so she did not feel obligated to rephrase what she had said.

There was a long silence between them before Malfoy stood and began to wander aimlessly around the room, avoiding her eyes. "Do you believe in reincarnation Granger," he asked, rubbing his head. How was he supposed to go about this? The fact that he was going to embark on stories like this was stressful, and the notion was there to call her Hermione but he assumed that would only weird her out more.

She looked at him, daring the blond to look at her. "No," she said slowly, even as images of a dirty haired blond boy with dark grey eyes named Lowell flashed through her mind; the one she had felt the closest to out of everyone. He was so remarkably similar to Draco it was scary, and even now their eyes practically matched as Malfoy seemed to have an inward battle with himself.

"You should then Granger," he said, turning to stare out his window, "because you'll never learn from your mistakes if you can't look at yourself for guidance."

There was a small gap in time in which she said nothing. "Excuse me?"

He sighed. "Those women were you Granger; why do you think you saw through their eyes? They are the five lifetimes- excluding this one- that you have lived with me."

She narrowed her eyes, inching closer to him but stopping short of him. Half of her wanted to run while the other half only wanted to slap some sense into him. "Are you crazy?"

He chuckled darkly. "People aren't supposed to be reincarnated Granger, it does things to you. Reincarnation is a path few souls chose to take after death, simply because life had a funny way of never being as good the second time around."

"You're making this up," she spat, glancing around wildly. There were too many things in her head, too many visions up take in along with Malfoy's words. He was trying to severely fuck up her mind; she was sure of it.

He glanced over his shoulder, catching her eyes. "Am I?"

Instinctively, she reached out and gave him a rough shove, making the blond stumble on his feet. He turned to face her, and the expression on his faced stunned her; the blond looked completely, utterly sad. "Quit playing games Malfoy," she yelled, deciding to ignore the look on his features, "this isn't funny!"

"No," he agreed, "it's not."

She shook her head. "Give me my wand; stop playing these bloody games. I am leaving right now!"

She expected a fight; she expected him to elaborate on his lie and truly mess with her mind, but instead he only reached into his pocket and held out her wand. She was hesitant to take it, thrown by his bizarre behavior.

When he didn't speak again, she took that as a sign. Turning quickly, she hurried out of his room, not shutting the door. She wanted him to stop her and tell her something else, or at least press the matter, but he did nothing and allowed her to walk out of his dorm without another word.

The scary thing she realized, as she wandered away, was that his lack of denial was the thing pushing her to believe him. But what was there to believe?

Hermione hurried off, not sparing a backwards glance. Had she, she would've seen the distressed form of Malfoy standing in the doorway, his heart breaking.

She knows and still she cannot stand you. There's no hope in this game anymore.

Hermione and Draco did not speak again for nearly two weeks. He noted that she seemed a bit off when she was around friends, but kept trying to discard her from his mind. He didn't know how to go about pressing the matter, and didn't want her screaming at him again that it was all a lie. That had possibly hurt more than when she had married other men. At least then she had not known, and had not outright denied him.

She on the other hand could not stop monitoring the blond. The first two days after she had left his room, he had seemed oddly depressed, but the third day she had thought he had been cutting. It wasn't until she fell asleep in her free hour that day that she realized why; it was November 26, the day she died in the first life. But why would that matter so much? She didn't understand.

Try as she may, she could not force his words from her mind. And that was odd to consider. When had Malfoy ever really given her a reason to believe a word he said? Granted, now she had these multiple images dancing in her head at all hours of the day, but still; they were images, not reasons to trust him.

As far as the reincarnation bit went, she had read herself to the brim of insanity through countless books in the library at every chance she got. Reincarnation had never been something she really bothered with until recently, and now she found herself drawn to the topic. Was she really going to trust him? Well, the only way to do that would be to talk to the blond, which would have to wait. She would be going to Hogsmeade in just two days with Harry and Ron to see Viktor, and Malfoy wouldn't be along for that.

In fact, she vaguely recalled nearly marrying an ancestor of his. She shuddered, knowing now that nothing would truly ever happen between them because it was just too creepy to consider. If any of this were real though, Malfoy would be unhappy considering he was the only candidate to be Lowell Malfoy in that life. The two men had hated each other, and if he found out she really did intend to go see him it would be awful.

Listen to yourself Hermione, you're letting yourself believe that shit was real! It was a game of Malfoy's, nothing more. Stop focusing on it and go and enjoy your Hogsmeade weekend with your friends. One of the bars allows seventh years in, perhaps you can forget your problems there. Yes, that's a fine idea.

Despite the great idea, she still found herself biting her nails. There was a feeling of familiarity around Malfoy- she had noticed since she saw these 'supposed' past lifetimes of theirs- that existed around no one else. Did she really care if she bothered him that much? Honestly she didn't know.

They were currently sitting in potions as usual, and today she was feeling the uncanny notion of being watched. She was certain that it wasn't Malfoy- who had been attempting to ignore her since the event without success- but who then?

Glancing up from her paper, she looked around. All the students were either talking amongst themselves or working. She was about to return to her work when she caught Professor Snape staring at her. Now that was odd, since the cold look in his eyes was filled with something else as well.

She felt her chair being pulled slightly, and in a moment it was pressed firmly against Draco's, who still wasn't looking at her but was eyeing the teacher darkly. She decided to ignore the entire ordeal, for Snape was being creepy and Malfoy was still something she didn't know how to handle. Despite that, she took comfort in his close proximity, feeling the eyes of her teacher move away.

A few minutes later a piece of paper was placed on her knee. She glanced at Malfoy, but he paid her no mind. With a sigh, she unfolded the paper.

Watch yourself around him. She scrunched up her face and moved her quill to write back, but the pricks hand got in the way, and she looked up- finally catching his eyes- to see him shaking his head slowly.

Oh, they were certainly going to have to talk now.

A/n: It's kind of short but tada! Something happened and we are set up now for some serious major events in the next chapters. Yay! Hope you enjoyed and please let me know your thoughts.

This is up early because tomorrow is Labor Day and I'm going to the Colorado State Fair! So I got it up now so it wouldn't be late :)