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!

I have considered suspending this story and What Would You Give to a two week updating period. I'm not sure if I will yet, but just so you know. Keep reading the A/n's for more information.

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: Taunting You, 1656 (Life Three)

Omar Julian Malfoy and Annalisa Coralie Williams

"I will be back in but a moment," he said, gently kissing his wife's hand. She looked tired, and that was to be expected, since she was carrying their fourth child. It was late 1656, and the child would not be born until the following spring. He patted her slowly growing abdomen, before waving chastely at his other three children, turning to saunter off towards his best mate, Talin Wellington Zabini.

In the years since marrying his wife, Vivienne Clara Greengrass turned Malfoy, he had come to accept that Annalisa was forever out of reach. It pained him, but what could he do? She had married the summer before he had, and only had a six year old and a two year old to show for it. There was no doubt in Omar's mind that Annalisa loved the man she had married, and any resentment had disappeared after so much time with him. Was it true love? The blond completely doubted that, but he would do nothing about it. He now saw Anna on a regular basis whenever his wife Vivienne would invite her over for tea, and would at least attempt to make good conversation with her. It was hard though- Merlin was it hard- to pretend nothing bothered him.

He greeted his longtime friend Talin with a curt nod, and grabbed his cloak to head out into the frigid air and have a smoke, when his eldest child and son, Salem, bounded up behind the pair. The adults turned to the eight year old with critical eyes.

"May I come outside as well father? I am practically a man."

Omar suppressed a smile. His eldest son was ready to grow up, if nothing else. He was so different from his younger sisters, whom clung to their mothers side as though life depended on it, and rarely ever spoke up to their parents. Both the girls, Levana and Pandora loved their father as well, but seemed to have less of a connection with him though. Pandora, the elder of the two, was merely seven and had been born a squib. Omar's father had ordered the death of the girl when they found out she had no magical capabilities, but neither parent had allowed it. Worrying wouldn't be needed though, for the child would catch the bubonic plague in only a few months and die, leaving rather depressed parents behind. Levana was but four.

"I think not," the blond chirped, glancing at his half Italian, half French counterpart. The French genes in the Zabini family line would be lost in less than a century, making the family almost full fledge Italians once again. The marriage of Talin's grandfather to a French woman had ruined their untouched genes. "Thou is too young and shall not be joining. Go and play with thou friends."

The child's face fell, but Omar held his ground. He would not have his son smoking at eight. When the defeated raven haired boy finally turned, Talin nudged Omar and they walked out the door, ready for a brisk walk.

"Thou wife is expecting," Talin said casually, pulling out a pipe. The weather outside may have been bitter but the wind was non-existent, and made the habit of smoking easy.

"Yes, in several months we think."

The darker boy nodded, tipping his hat a bit. Racism may have been at large in the muggle world, but in the magical world, no one cared what color your skin was, only that you were Pureblood. That was why Talin secretly looked down on Omar for his daughter, but said naught about it. What if the new child was a squib too? "I am most happy for thee then."

"And thou," Omar asked in return, raising an eyebrow. Zabini had married a young Italian woman some months ago, and the blond just had to wonder if they were going to start expecting anytime soon. Then again, one never knew.

His friend shrugged indifferently. "We shall see. We have been married naught a year yet."

"I married Vivienne and had Salem but one year later," the blond replied, challenging him. Talin only shook his head in return, unsure how to reply to his persistent friend.

"I saw Annalisa just this morning," he said, making small talk. Annalisa's husband Gary worked closely with Zabini on a regular basis and he was thankful that his friend could never read the expression of pain on his face whenever he brought her up. "She had her son Tempest along to visit; the woman is quite kind."

"I know," Omar said, looking other places than his friend. "She often visits."

Zabini nodded. "Thou wife sometimes tells me that."

Malfoy didn't respond, just kept looking away. It took several moments for him to speak again. "It is late; I shall get back to my family."

"But we have only just got outside."

"Ah… yes, another time then," the blond hurried, walking briskly back onto his entranceway, glancing over his shoulder. "Does thou wish to wait inside for thee carriage?"

His friend shook his head, thrown by the blonds sudden denature. "Nay, it is just over there. I shall walk to it. It was pleasant chatting Malfoy," he said, not sounding like he thought it was pleasant at all. Turning quickly on his heal, he walked to the carriage, ignoring the bitter cold. With a sigh, Omar entered his Manor again, not bothering to wait for his house elf to do it for him.

Why did he always do that? Whenever Penelope's reincarnated form was brought up, he either got angry, sad or antsy. It was a delicate topic for him, and when it hurt to even mention her the last thing he wanted to do was have to talk about her. But Talin had no way of knowing that, and thus he had left his friend confused and possibly frustrated, again. Groaning, he removed his cloak and climbed the stairs. The children had been preparing for bed when he departed, and should be in their chambers now, which also meant his wife had retired to their room.

His assumption proved correct, and he opened the door to his rooms to find her already changed for the night, propped up in bed to take a sip of water. Removing his outer shirt as he walked over to her, he sat on the bed and gave her one of his seemingly real smiles.

"That was short," she observed, tilting her head to the side. "Is thou feeling well?"

"Quite," he replied, grabbing one of her hands to kiss. Her worry seemed to dissipate at that, and she turned back to get comfortable in bed again. Watching her, he resisted the urge to sigh. She loved him, so why did he always have to love someone else?

It was entirely unfair.

Part 2, Cold, But I'm Still Here, 1999 (Life Six)

Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger

Hermione was in her last class before she would be able to meet up with Harry and Ron and head off to Hogsmeade like everyone else, and she couldn't wait to find Viktor. They hadn't seen each other in ages.

She was still wary about what had conspired between her and his… past self in the first lifetime. Viktor did not seem to be like this Henry character had been, which gave her no reason to believe he would kill her, but she still couldn't shake the notion that something was wrong.

This was yet another class she shared with the blond git, but oddly enough, he was nowhere to be found, which was good, for she wasn't sure she could handle yet another class with him; she still had too much to think about. One thing she could certainly tolerate was having space from the git. Their situation had been awkward enough recently, and since she had yet to tell any of her friends what had happened, it made it hard to cope.

But really, who would believe her? He had stuck her between a rock and a hard place, unable to find a way out. If she told anyone they would quite possibly think she was delusional. Harry had once gotten visions as well, but it was due to a truly dark, evil wizard. She on the other hand was dealing with Draco Malfoy, who was a git and a nuisance at best.

So really, what could she do? Frowning, she tried to focus yet again on the teacher in front of her, but found her mind constantly wandering back to the absent blond Slytherin.

"I'm excited to see him again," Hermione said, ignoring the biting air as she walked alongside Harry and Ron and the other students towards Hogsmeade. School was out, yet she still had not seen eye or ear of Malfoy. "It's been a while since we have all spent some time together."

"I'm sure he's happy to see you too," Ron grumbled, and Harry elbowed him as Hermione shot him a venomous glare.

"Stop it already Ronald," she chirped, glancing at the trees surrounding the path. They were dense now, covered by snow and the wind was lightly blowing flurries of it out in front and around them. "I've had enough of your constant pestering. There is nothing going on between Viktor and me, nor Malfoy and me or anybody else. I am single and that's the bottom line."

"Until Krum woos you," he muttered, and she either chose to ignore his comment that time or simply didn't hear it.

From behind the thick, snowy trees, Draco Malfoy stood under a concealment charm, watching her. He had absolutely no plans to speak to her that day, simply to be around. He could never trust any Krum again, and the fact that she trusted the blundering idiots to help her (or whatever she thought they were going to do for her) was outrageous. So he would make sure nothing happened to her, even if it meant his entire Hogsmeade weekend would be spent under a spell constantly monitoring someone that currently couldn't stand him. Lovely, just lovely. Could one not think of a better way to spend their time?

Glancing through the trees as the three passed, he couldn't help thinking she looked quite beautiful.

Hello, I'm your martyr; will you be my gangster?

Can you feel my trigger hand, moving farther down your back?

It just wasn't fair that everything he had ever done had to be thrown back in his face like it had been. If he had known that kissing her in this life would spark her memory, he would've planned things out, planned what to say, and would've tried to of made it all seem less surreal. But he couldn't do that now, and as they continued on he slowly followed from his spot, never letting her out of his sight. The heavy, defeated feeling that had resided in his chest since she blew up at him some time ago was still there, and every day it made him feel a bit more depressed. Maybe he should've simply tried to of forgotten her entirely and looked off to another girl; Pansy, Astoria and Daphne all came to mind.

She looked happy walking with her friends, and it killed him. He did not believe he could ever make her smile like that; he hadn't actually, not in this life. In the past, he had made her smile bigger than anyone else could; he had made her cheeks hurt from grinning too much; when Penelope's mother had died, he had made her smile about other things then too. But presently, watching her walk he couldn't recall a time when he ever got her to smile like that, smile at him, Draco Malfoy like that.

When you hide, hide inside that body.

He wished she would look at him differently. He wished there was some sort of emotional connection between the memories and her mind. If she could feel emotions that she once had maybe she really would believe him and she really would remember, and the cycle would be over.

But would she even love him? He had loved her for centuries; he had remembered her for centuries, which put things into a different perspective. Just because she remembered and accepted didn't mean she did or ever would feel anything for him. That certainly put a damper on things.

The trio made a turn ahead, and he moved to follow once a group of fourth years had gone ahead. She was still in his vision, and because of the biting cold he could see her lightly shivering.

But just remember that when I touch you

The more you shake, the more you give away.

Following the three was only difficult in the crowded town until they walked up to a crowded person, and the three pushed through to see Krum. Draco decided to head up to a set of stairs and peer cautiously down from there. The four spoke, and as the crowd of students realized the Quidditch legend would be paying them no mind now everyone dispersed leaving behind a few bystanders who stared on with unreadable expressions as Viktor and Hermione hugged; you could not tell what anyone's thoughts were due to that action, because they did not allow emotions to show on their faces. Malfoy thought that was odd; why did bystanders care if you could read their faces? The majority of the people were female, but was it really that traumatic? It was just Krum after all; he may have money, but Draco had money and looks. He could never get over his arrogance, even if he was humbled by the knowledge he now possessed by knowing who he had been in the past. Still, there was nothing appeasing about Krum.

His heart clenched when she leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek, stepping back so he could speak with her as well as Potter and Weasley. It hurt to witness, and he was thankful for the concealment charm; children may just cower in fear if they saw his eyes.

Cold, but I'm still here; blind 'cause I'm so blind

Say never we're far from comfortable this time.

Wait, another minute here

The four teens moved to walk inside of a well-known hotel-like building- but it was too shabby in Malfoy's opinion to be considered one- and he quickly hurried to catch up, lest be stuck on the wrong side of the door. 'Invisible' people couldn't just go around opening doors after all.

The bitter cold outside washed away as he stepped into the warm space inside, but it only helped him physically. The bitter cold physically was gone, but emotionally and inwardly it was still there, freezing him from the inside out. And worst of all, he could do little to stop it.

Hermione could stop it, if she would maybe give him a chance. But it seemed that was never going to happen, and the cool temperature was going to continue to settle until he was cruel and heartless once again, just like when he began his schooling.

He watched the four sit down on some comfortable looking chairs and begin talking. The lower half of this complex looked vaguely like a cheap restaurant, and he wondered how a Quidditch star like Krum, who was used to the same luxuries like Draco, could tolerate a place like this. He scrunched up his nose and moved to a back corner where he could lift the concealment spell without being noticed. Sitting down, he rested his elbows on the table and leaned his face against his hands, watching. Something was beginning to feel a bit off about this entire situation. He had begun to notice it as soon as he caught sight of the trio coming from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade.

He had avoided his last two classes. Not to prepare to spy on Granger, but actually to get away from her. He had tried for space, tried to persuade himself that there was nothing he could do about Hermione's feelings towards him, but all it had gotten him was a lot of empty time to think of ways that she could die. Circumstances were lining up quite a bit like the night Penelope was originally killed, and he wondered if she had even acknowledged that. That had to be where the sense of dread was coming from; things were too similar.

He ordered a drink, then leaned back in his corner and watched. She looked happy, free, but only time would tell if that was going to stay, or if bad things were about to happen.

Time will kill us after all.

This was awkward to say the least. Hermione was laughing with her friends, laughing with Viktor and Harry and Ron, and all she kept getting was flashes of another life when these same people had looked so very different.

Damn it; Malfoy had done that to her. Now, she couldn't even focus on her friends and had to constantly blink and remind herself that Viktor Krum was very different from Henry Krum. The scene in front of her kept changing to a time when Ron had been Rupert and Harry had been Dennis.

Merlin, I've lost my mind! I blame Malfoy for this. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't be seeing any of this. He must think this is quite funny. Rupert and Dennis… as if. None of what he showed me was real, and I need to accept that before I let my mind run away with me again. This is my weekend to spend with my friends I just need to get rid of those thoughts until Monday and then I can resume pondering Malfoy's fucking game. What is the point of this? I can't believe I haven't figured it out yet! But there is one thing I know; none of it was real. Simple as that.

She took a bigger sip of her drink. They were not to the wizarding club yet that served seventh years alcohol, so she had no worries about how much she consumed. It would be tonight when she needed to watch herself. Ron and Harry were trustworthy and reliable when sober, but the toxin messed with anyone and those two always seemed to go overboard with just how much they consumed.

Sighing, she rubbed her eyes as yet another vision of men dressed in fancier, ruffled outfits flashed across her vision. Damnit, she was not going to have any fun this weekend if Malfoy's game kept messing with her head.

She looked around, doing a double take at a corner. Narrowing her eyes, she frowned. It certainly looked like a blond head of hair was sitting there, and she was willing to bet that unnatural blond belonged to the one and only Draco Malfoy. Just what did he think he was doing?

A hand came to rest on her thigh, and she nearly jumped. It wasn't too high up to be inappropriate, but it did startle her. Viktor had placed it there while leaning over her to explain something about a Quidditch game to her eager friends, something she was not at all interested in hearing. When she looked up at the corner again, the blond head was gone. All that remained was a glass of something, and she couldn't tell if it had been touched or not.

Can you feel that second hand, wrapped around your neck?

She pushed his hand away, feeling odd. Had he been watching them? She had not heard him go, nor had she seen the blond come in. But she suddenly felt like his abrupt disappearance shouldn't be taken lightly, and she had the oddest feeling it had to do with Viktor's hand placement.

After all, her 'past selves' always seemed to be linked to this Malfoy character, right?

Part 3: I'll Teach You, 1489 (Life One)

Lowell Belmont Malfoy and Penelope Elliana

She sat cross-legged across from him at the small table, trying to smile. The man in front of her could be pleasant at times, but usually had a harsh undertone that only came out when she didn't quite do exactly what he said. It was quite taxing.

Penelope was eating yet another dinner with her soon-to-be husband, the wedding was approaching, and each day she felt she died a bit more. She didn't love him- hell, she did not believe she loved anyone yet- but he was just too much for her. He could not hold her nicely and every single time their hands came into contact his grip was rough and dominating. He was going to be a demanding, rude husband.

About the only thing she could say about Henry Krum, was that he would never truly hurt her. Sure, he was obviously going to be rough, but it was plain as day that he felt something for her. What exactly that something was, she wasn't sure but she wasn't sure if she really wanted to figure it out either. She could not wait to escape to her room later that night and wait to see if Lowell would scale the side of her Mansion again. She enjoyed their late-night talks, for since the announcement of her planned marriage they had little time to talk. And in all honesty, when Krum was mean, she liked having Lowell to talk to; he was always understanding, and he would always defend her.

"Thou is naught happy," the man said, drawing her attention. Henry Krum was three years her senior, and although that was not uncommon she did not enjoy it. He was too blunt in many things he said and did- or at least, tried to do. She was not that kind of girl, and was sick of the man attempting to bed her before they were wed. Did he have no decency? It was tradition after all.

"I am but hungry," she lied, taking another bite of the dry meal he had ordered to have prepared for them. The bloke seemed to lack taste buds or something; it was dry and made her thirstier than anything.

"Thou lie," he said, slamming his hand down on the table. Startled, she lightly flinched, but the action was not uncommon. What Henry lacked for in taste buds and brains he made up for in brute force.

"Why do thee think this," she asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. If Henry was a bore, he was also entirely too thoughtful. The things he sometimes made up for her behavior were simply ridiculous.

He chuckled darkly. "Because thou is only happy when thee is with the Malfoy heir."

"Lowell is my best fere," she defended, sick of the same accusations. Whenever Henry was unhappy, or knew that she had been with the blond that day, he always found a way to work him into conversation somehow and yet again reflect his distaste in the boy. "I enjoy his company, but that tis all." She fought down the feeling in her chest, and the thoughts in her mind that told her she felt more, that proved to her their kisses were more than just kisses.

They had kissed seven times in the past week alone; little snippets in time and late at night in her rooms when she should be resting. Moments that she held dear when this brute was around, always throwing his hands and hitting things. Those secretive moments, the moments that should have never happened but had. They had never even courted, and now she was engaged to another man. Yes, she needed to fight those thoughts and feelings down before she ended up saying something rather stupid.

He was saying something, and Penelope decided to tune in. "-will teach thyself-"

"What," she interrupted, thrown. What in the world was he talking about?

"Thou must learn where thee lies," he said casually, taking a generous bite of his food. "Thou is too… rebellious love. Society shall not enjoy this. Thou must learn to control thyself before thee becomes my wife, or I shall have to teach thou to sit quietly myself."

She didn't like the malice in his tone, nor the way his eyes had grown darker now that they were on this topic. His calm demur had shifted drastically and it didn't comfort her. Wetting her lips, she nodded, avoiding having to actually answer. It satisfied him and he continued eating.

Penelope got the strangest feeling then that she wouldn't be liking this marriage, and not just because she was secretly seeing someone else. She would need to speak with Lowell soon about him.

If she only knew how little time they had to discuss things.

So fall into my eyes, fall into my lies

A/N: Chapter 12 everyone. I have good news; next chapter we find out how Penelope died, so leave me your ideas on how she did! I'm curious!

Not lots of Snape here, but we'll see him soon and lots of Hermione/Draco/Krum coming up for you.

Did you hate the random italics? I bet! Those are song lyrics from Evans Blue, "Cold, But I'm Still Here". You'll see the rest of the song fitted into the next couple chapters. Why is there random new lyrics fitted into the next chapters? Because I think it'll add a little something to the upcoming drama and discoveries :D Hope you enjoyed.